All the room you need

Illuminated, the folds of heaven.
Bitten torn feathers.
With plucked thorns from our skulls.
That you and me.
Bittersweet.
Red, like the veins of a tree in autumn.
Washed in golden light.
Drunk with sacred hymns that sing in your bones.
I see the lotus bloom in your eyes.
I want to hear your temple sing.
These snow covered aspects, higher.
Above the shelf we cannot reach.
Tickled by the zephyr underneath.
No longer the caged bird that sings.
But the sparrow that stole the sky.

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Climb to the air

Great opportunity led me here.
Sang the bird who sits on my windowsill.
My feathers are worn, and my wings are tired she said.
Watching the shadows cross the room.
How many oceans must she have sailed over I pondered.
What sights to have seen, soaring across bus stops.
Why do you come to me, I queried.
She whistled and cocked her head.
For that worm in your mind of course.
I closed my eyes and watched it slither then.
Oh, I answered; knowing what she meant.
That doubt has grown, and now writhes inside you.
I know. I replied.
So you’ve come to take it away? I asked curiously.
The shadows seemed to retreat now.
She hopped and chirped. That little new friend on my windowsill.
Yes, and to make you fly again?
She flew then into my skull, I could hear her in my head.
Flapping and flailing like a moth by a light.
My soul. My conscience. Trapped inside, for a moment.
How will you make me fly, I wondered.
She heard these thoughts of course.
And she answered, as she gobbled up that fat worm of doubt.
To remind you, you have always had your wings.
You just feared to take off.
Scared to try.

Beauty lost at the Heron house

The world collapsed in thirty seconds there.
A beauty aged in a moment while the rose petals died.
Who faded into the future, without the knowledge of the past?
We all did.
We came once to that spot, to watch the herons dance.
To see how they cast their wing’s against a backdrop of stars.
Through tears we watched them fly, soaring along our fingertips.
But we did not know, or care to wonder;
if they’d ever return.
And the days folded into years while the crows walked across our faces.
Milking our eyes into the blurred canvas before us.
Sight dancing into all but silhouettes.
What was destroyed there, at the Heron house?
Was it love? Was it power to hold in the wells of your hand?
Surely love never dies. Love always saves the day.
But beauty was lost forever there.
When it was valued more than gold, in hearts that feared to fly.

Journal – I had to grab a suitcase

I’m all alone and I can’t get back. Get back with my wanderlust.

I am very fortunate to be able to travel. It’s a freedom that I do not take for granted and one I appreciate greatly. My recent wander-lusting has taken me to Australia, the land of vegemite sandwiches and killer spiders…..
Read the rest over at the journal

MR

Swallowing tomorrow

Who reads a smiling poet’s words?
Ones that bridge the chasm from heartache to heaven.
Do you care to wash in the tears of the lonely?
Or splash yourself in city rain, dirty from the walk of life.
These moments we catch and keep.
Lock inside where the heartbeats remind us we’re still existing.
Coveting and creating.
Moving and replacing like tectonic continents of sorrow and elation.
Self-serving commotion in a noisy crowd of others.
Screaming to be heard and praying to be forgotten.
Who wants to read a dead girls dreams?
Slashed away like the wrist on a foggy November.
Or trapped in amber to survive generations.
We are the pendulum kids, swinging from north to south.
Mouth and eyes open to catch it all and swallow as we fly by.
With tears in our eyes; not knowing if their happy ones or sad.

Floating worlds

To lift into a dream.
A sky that fits into your hand.
Let loose like the heartstrings of a melody,
that taps at your soul.
You breathe the air I need to survive.
Blown backwards like a northwest gale.
Billowing underneath these feathered sails.
Crystalize the weight that hangs heavy like the edge of space.
Skimming the clouds of your floating world.
To dive into the air of thought that passes between us.
That leaves me shaking like a night terror.
A heartbeat like a sleep kick.
These strings are made with each joint decision.
Tasselled and tied the rigging of a wandering star.
Leaving my hands covered in stardust.
And lungs of love full to burst.
I go silently into that pastel sky.
Watching the moments as I go.
Lifting off deep into your soaring kingdom.

 

 

Alchemy and deliberation

Twist the thorn in the blackness.
A congealed oil in my soul.
Split the vein and breathe.
Om Sarveshaam svastir-bhavatu.
We’ve stripped the skin, dived right in to a place we’ve known before.
A return, or re-invention.
Time to manage the maligned.
Re-arrange the altar in my heart, kneel and give thanks.
Here. Now. So high.
Flying above houses and heaven.
Making my way across the sky.
With green tea and terror on my lips.
But unafraid, of the wonder beyond.
The familiar in my bones.
And the story yet told.

Docked in dry sand

How can we be close to God?
When the anger flows. Corroding inside out.
Does God bleed like me, with a fire in the veins?
Turning the petals of penitence to ash.
The devil can just read my mind.
Slipping underneath in the night like a snake under the doorway.
Yet I know I left the door ajar.
And a candle lit, to light the way.
We have wings, yet we walk through the desert of the day.
Complaining over each grain of sand we find.
And the pebbles of people in our shoe.
Hardening our skin to a lesser sin.
A dehydrated delirium takes me.
And these wings grow frail and dry.
And even though we try, we may never sail the ocean skies again.

Never be here

This mind and muscle, tries to escape gravity.
To lift off into the unknown, and go far away from here.
Hanging onto nothing but your identification.
As you close your eyes to jet stream, and fear of falling.
You feel it now in your veins.
Coursing through the difference like a teenager.
Struggling for understanding.
But they could never see. They would never know.
Eager to cover you in unprecious stones.
Which is why you must leave.
To sail on the solar winds that taste of honey.
And forget the palatableness of decay.
For a distant shore will feel sweeter.
Than this rocky edge of 30.

Emotional oxidation

That troubled fire, occupying this traumed mind.
Fire, burning through thoughts of you.
Turning on time and the small electric heartbeats.
You were my king of birds.
Always taking my higher.
Wax these wings and claim indifference.
Leaking out a light that shone for miles around.
This burning flame within.
Scorching the soul and causing such havoc.
Where do the memories of me rest?
Floating in your sky like claustrophobic clouds.
Or sunken in your Atlantian ocean of remorse.
I know I cannot swim, and these wings are bound.
The fire spread.
The ashes turned to time.
And the wind took me away forever.
That winter breeze that froze you over.
Settling the snow for all time.

Burning feathers

What scrapes at the inside of this skull?
Trying to break free from mirroring misery.
A bird trapped, or a candle with no flame.
Fighting against something that isn’t there.
Inside these reflections, dwells a silent creature.
Bound in feathers, but fearing flight.
Waiting to breathe, to fly and ignite.

Grounded

They split the sun in two and I fell into the sky.
That vast aperture to swallow me completely.
Gobbling light and the cells of the universe.
This volant creature feeling the constellations on my fingertips.
Tumbling and freewheeling as my soul solidifies.
The ticking clock ignites and hurtles me on.
After days languishing over lunar landscapes and silent seas.
Wrap me in skin.
Count my DNA as the magic settles.
Freefall through the atmosphere, making waves across your heart.
Plummet with all the intention of God and deliberateness of the devil.
To be smouldering on your shore.
Smoking on the sulphur of your spirit
Grounded, by just one look into your eyes.

Skylark – Soar

That sweet melody of promises you made to break.
From that little bird inside your heart.
As the daylight fades, it bursts into flames.
It’s burning wings signalling the setting sun.
Falling feathers that tickle my soul.
Oh little bird, where have you gone?
Out of the air and into the dark?
One day you will find me, your naked sky to soar within.
Scattering stardust in a different light.

Arrive/Depart/Transfer

Stripped back today’s waste (your suspicion rises).
What you choose to do.
Prepared to turn me inside out again.
Airport lighted, with the sun still sleeping.
Bore me down to my appled core.
Picking out the seeds you planted.
And that I washed with tears.
Alighted.
My boarding pass heart to see such new wonders in your eyes.
Breaking from home.
Rest your head on my shoulder and I will read you bad poetry.
Whispered deeply.
Into your heart.
You loved me today, as the night colours away.
Returning from Saturn and watching the universe tip over.
The others none the wiser.
Souls that were drawn out of committee. Leached from the darkness.
Hard to take off. 3am while travelers sleep.
With you, I always fly. That north western sky.
For you are everything.

Winged

When it rained silver, I yearned to fly.
Broken winged and feathered down.
Patching this ache that intertwined.
You throw your shadow over time.
Then force this need, looks me in the eye.
That terrible force that begins to take hold.
Once more, this feeling.
Begin this flutter with splintered souls.
Feeling it splutter.
These heaves of my heart.
I wonder now, and breathe then cry.
A falling star.
A fading sigh.

An interior rhythm

How to rise, when you’re broken.
Like lofty branches that scratch the sky.
Down here on the forest floor, tangled with the roots.
I feel collapsed. I feel free.
I want to tear it apart.
I had to burn it down.
Pick the thorns out of my bark, the chattel from my teeth.
Swaying with the world now. Rising on its axis.
I swing to a new realm, on the pendulous heartbeat of tomorrow.
I allowed myself to fall apart.
Welcoming the termites of time. Destroying all I had.
Whilst watching the watchers in the wings.
Birds who fly with nightshade plumage.
Cluck their tongues and talk of responsibilities.
Laying eggs for a farmer who will devour their friends.
You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what I grew through.
Such hard terrain and unholy winters. Sprouting to my own spring chorus.
You don’t know me, how could you?
I don’t even know myself.

Wounded wings

Fallen feathers and fear.
Nestled in my hand.
The bird with the broken wing, looking up to God.
Quivering and silent, scared of the touch.
How I’ve longed to switch places and fly away.
With broken wings and torn heartstrings.
On the ground it lies, swallowed by the leaves and an ocean of time.
Flapping, tumbling, freewheeling.
Desperate to flee and be safe.
The eyes dart, in panic and silent pleading.
Make it quick, they call.
Kill this love that’s dying.

Leave it to memories

Hold on to me, I have seen things that you will never see.
I have seen things that you’ll never believe.
Hold on while it hurts. Close your eyes and take my hand.
Shiver out the safety of the ground.
Come with me out of this world.
Where the sweetness will follow you. Distant and warm.
Distance is worn, like a threadbare rug.
The stains of time under foot.
Hold on and try not to breathe.
They hypnotised us into defence. Into regret.
Forty steps to the eighth parallel, one jump into beyond.
Do you believe me now, do you believe yet?
There’s nothing up these sleeves. Only the ability to the dream.
Spinning Egypt and Atlantis in my hand, spinning you a quieter night.
A peaceful day.
The photograph of us that will never fade, and shows us only in reverse.
Clearer, like ebb tides and dragonflies.
Where the sorrow subsides.