Assistance, then incapable

Wait, until this moment passes.
Captured in the heart.
Recorded now on my eyelids. The breaking waves of departure.
Moved out of London clay.
Planting me like an orchid into new surroundings.
You can lay tinsel over this new arrangement.
Speak to me in tones only my father would use.
Who my mother would marry, and then regret each day.
But the song has faded, and the spirit died like the Christmas tree of 97’.
I was the fruits of you conquest. That excruciating co-dependence.
Who was I to know that underneath you longed to devour.
This air I breathed. Or the words that caught in my throat.
Choked into a scene, a tableau of trauma that now hangs above my bed.
I was never awake as you were, in those days where we went from lovers;
to instant separation.
How supportive were those bruises on my heart.
Those creaking words of concern that masked the dictation.
You made me that child again, under my father’s fist.
Counting the seconds between shouts like the thunder between lightening.
Those storming days of youth
Watching as the need for validation crumpled into the corner.
Where I used to hide.
And you leave me now, shaking and stateless.
Yearning once more for the glance back over your shoulder.
Banished into my hypersensitivity.
Unresolved problems like a manic in-between poles.
Wondering if forgiveness is a pill I can swallow and no longer choke upon.
Hoping tomorrow still brings the sun.

Advertisements

Leviathan

You might never know it’s there.
It’s been quiet for so long.
Dormant, but strong like indecision.
The Leviathan of the soul.
Lying in its own blackness, biding its time.
It’s older than you, it came before us all.
Moving and shaping like the clouds across the sky.
It does not seek the calm waters, or the tangerine days of summer.
It comes with the storms, the hurricanes of the heart.
When your bow is breaking, and you’re taking on water.
When you are barely holding things together.
Caught on rocks and the shallows of shame.
It seizes those moments.
Gripping you in its darkened grips of despair.
Blocking out the sun with its inky nightmare.
Pulling you down fathoms gasping for air.
To float forever in the torrid turpentine seas below.

Taken from Leviathan of the soul

Leviathan: Of the soul – Out Aug 25th

3

Out Aug 25th

Lurking deep within all of us, even those familiar to the stormy seas, dwells the leviathan. The monster in the soul which takes hold when the sun is so easily burnt out. It is the bringer of the darkness, the chaos and the nightmares. Threatening your little raft of life, cast out into the world.
Journey here out onto the sea of poetry and short stories that explore the waves of emotions, horror and sadness. But keep an eye on the horizon, for that little splinter of hope that breaks from the sky.

‘Leviathan: Of the soul’ is a poetry and short story collection covering topics of death, mental illness, suicide and redemption. Hold on against its onslaught.

joojo (1)

Exuberant voices

The crystal bell in this head rings out.
Shattering the dark, sending the bats into flight.
Cavernous places these thoughts do dwell.
But the night light beckons and calls.
Whispers catch on the summer breeze.
Emerging back into a world unfamiliar.
They trickle down the spine, in thoughts so sublime that they leave me restless.
Waiting for the tide to turn.
How they put up streamers and plait the hair of my age into golden weaves.
Singing me to sleep with their lullabies.
These exuberant voices compete to lift this heavy spirit.
Bringing the heavens and the sky down to me.
But back in that cave, behind the rocks and darkness.
Lies a thought, a niggling worm at the core of me.
Now asking, these voices I hear; why are there more than one?