Cuttlefishes going out to the shops

Bluetooth sings in his water bottle of a cave 

In the cave a cuttlefishes garden 

She has but sucking flowers 

Goes on and on for hours and hours

Trying tinkles rye ropes 

Harping ways of timing crossing

Just as much the work 

Advertisements

Part and marshal 

Purple sky darkens 

I cannot apologize for this present marking 

Sealed with my lonely life

Peeled like a bone thife 

Marshal right

Why I’m so cold, distant from plight 

Partly my thoughts, partly my fright 

Scared like I am 

Of all these thing that can and have

Traumatized by their shouts and fights 

Mind anexity going at the speed of light 

Part and marshal, white distance frightful

Will any grass grow in my barren mind?

Salted as it is by hate, cold, hard, fire and brimstone that isn’t even real

It’s my birth of the color 

Caution, doors open outside your head but inside your mind

And mine were shut such a long time ago 

You were the only one who ever opened them 

I hold a card with the moon

Fruit cake. Fresh and ready to age.

Old cirious books. Cold weather.

Guitar heroine, in blond hair.

I hold this card

Little bit of paper

I’m nothing here

I not

Visit you

I’m sorry. 

Hollow now, I stand

The wombat I drew

I’m not even sure it got to you

I couldn’t come

I hold this card with the moon 

And I just can’t stop thinking about 

How I couldn’t visit you 

Rick and brother 

1. I’m just as bad as all of the rest

Telling the truth today 

It’s just a featherweight fighting for rate

Getting the bell because it’s used

Stony sand and a beer in a half pint 

Singing with motorcycles blooms 
Chorus:

But I don’t see how

Rick and his brother still love 

It’s all 9 hells and a few more to quell

Just down and down and down and down


2. I’m just as hurt as the man in the pond

Shooting up black opium

Hark the herald devils singing you home

Warehouse spaces left empty

Homeless emotions see the memory

Murder distance from trendil energies 

Hidden

NB: this is from my personal archive of poetry.

 

Closed inside my mind
I feel so tight
intwined
oversized
in doubt
no one to shout
no one to shudder
chartered and begotten
I want to belong
I don’t feel a part
Of this life
anymore

It’s not me
It’s not me
To feel this way I am so unfree
To feel this way I am so unfree
Make me whole

shadows you cast
the darkness is sort
the blackness of nought
the shades of shimmered shame
I shielded by my own innocence
my exposure is a discourse
a thinking sin-course
I no longer can stand it
I want no more part of it
I have to be free from it

It’s not me
It’s not me
To feel this way I am so unfree
To feel this way I am so unfree
Make me whole

moonrise
moonrise
moon shall rise tonight

moonset
moonset
moon shall set tonight

and in the darkness
just before dawn
there is a human
whose thoughts are lost and forlorn
whose night did not pass
whose name is known
was a mighty warrior shot down in the gloom

It’s not me
It’s not me
To feel this way I am so unfree
To feel this way I am so unfree
Make me whole

I need to express myself
I need to be free
I feel no longer this way about me

Take me home
Take me out
Take me to my love
Or just shoot me then shout

Let me make
My own mistakes
shelter me no more
from the world of the beef stake
the slaves who make shoes
the payers of rules
the knights who say ni
the seamless cloth
approach to management
the philosophy of dais

deus ex mechana
nullus anxitas
nill combustomus pro fumo

Closed inside my mind
I feel so tight
intwined
oversized
in doubt
no one to shout
no one to shudder
chartered and begotten
I want to belong
I don’t feel a part
Of this life
anymore

I am no longer hidden

Reassuring pain

Sometimes pain is hateful. Sharp, like a needle or a peice of ice. 

Fire in your leg

Knots in your arm 

Knives in your back

Sometimes it’s reassuring though

An old friend who has 

Come to visit

You don’t like her 

You don’t hate her

She brings some sweets and a bottle of wine

They aren’t the kind you like

But then she’s and old friend

You have known her for so long

You’re not really sure how you met

At a party or at the vets?

She has one of those cats

black as the ace of clubs

Down the early morning due

Hits your grass outside 

You remember she stayed the night on your couch

You both got rascally drunk and ate to much 

She’s sleeping their in short denim shorts 

A top that reveals more cleavage than it hides

Black odd squiggly tattoos 

A necklace that’s full of black beads

Cheep but also pretty 

Her dark black hair drapes down

Those bloody big earnings with the triangles

You know she will wake soon 

Maybe you will still be friends and you make her breakfast 

Or she’ll just get up and go to work 

She’s reassuring though 

Right now

She helped reminds you

Your alive still

Somehow 

It’s always going to be like this

But in a way

You don’t mind 

Copper heart

I’m empty in a crowd sometimes Their is a little sadness in my mind 

A phase of the fellowship we shared 

Now gone to a place I cannot find 
Else your taking the path of pains

Iced winds digging veins on my face

Unless close to this faded cloud 
Copper my heart, cross my mind

Blind to the thoughts that crafted

Still as a photograph it’s me
Dust and molted pain flows on winds 

Cast gaze to me please I wisper

I’m going through it all day 
What’s the thing done with this play? 

Acrid lonelyness insisted 

I’m

Bathed

In a statement 

The acrid 

Stink

The acid lonelyness

I’m not like that 

I’m not sure what I am

Bells toll on your words

Acrid days 

On the insisted distance 

I’m lonely. Not one of each of the nine.

I’m not even one of those who have

Or haven’t

Where do I belong? 

Called. Cast. Culled. Places like a spit.

Fires on my skin

The acrid

Arid days

Insidious minds

They, tell, me, to….

Survive.

My acrid lonelyness is insisted

Like a ghostly connection 

I’m not going to be meeting perfection

Misreable kingdom of sticky things that hit

Turning a blind

I’m loneliness

So I wander

Wander and call

Forme kind to answer 

Their are none. None here. 

My acrid lonelyness insisted 



Cell on a dime

Last meals of dead dog fish

It’s a peculiar dish

Walebone spoon, the atomic clouds loom

Dimes of soil, raining from the sky. 

All those silly little lies, lies, lies.
Capsules of hate, grading the best thoughts

I’m sure you’ve all bought

A ticket, to your own distarster

Don’t blame us, you were the fathers

All those silly little lies, lies, lies
Haven’t heeded the warning warming

Filling up the beach, 

little patter of feet

Worth and toils, to the sound of the meek

All those silly little lies, lies, lies
(Chorus)

Cell on a dime 

One last time 

Will we survive 

This fire filled time

All those silly little lies, lies, lies

  

Ovipositor

– This is a poem about dysphoria I felt in high school and how it returns to me sometimes,
even post transition. It’s about my past, present and my future. Its one of the poems I have tried to get into a poetry journal without success. I search for feedback on how to make thing better.

0. Ovipositor

It’s like a ovipositor

It’s not one thing or the over

It looks like them

The ones who have made me cry, alienated me from myself

1. Wasp

I’m like a wasp

All the hive is buzzing

All of them busy grey things in this nest

I’m trying to be like them

Trying

I’m doing the same things

I’m wearing the same full body grey suit

I’m helping with this grey mass we build

Mud, it’s so perfect a metaphor for my life

I’m like the sunshine on this mud

Heating it, hating it, making it solid

Into more hive

Strife, in a hive is dealt with quickly

I’m not sure why I wasn’t

They did that thing, the attack

The strike

The clipping

I’m not sure I can fly anymore

But they didn’t kill me

Like all the others

Ovipositor

I’m sure of it

2. Hive

On this day

This hateful day

Our grey bodies

Ready to go outside

I’m stuck in hear, in my mind at least

Leave the hive, but not really

I’m still grey

3. Cave

It’s dark

Cliff above us to the outside

One of them

Those others that pretend that I’m one of them

They drop a knife

It falls millimeters from my head

Anyone else see it?

That I was nearly dead?

Nope

I’m told to take the knife back

All the way up the cliffs

Carry the weapons of my enemies

I’m broken inside

I’m dead inside

I’m never going to escape the grey

4. Hyena

I’m in the library?

Not a wasp right now

I’m a reader

Reading about a hyena

Vagina that’s like mine

I’m a hyena?

I’m not, but I am

My piece, my bit feels like that

On the outside it looks like

On the inside

In my mind

It’s not

5. Escape

I’m out of the hive

Not in grey

I’m out

I’m me

I’m no longer pretending

But how long?

How long was it before?

I was outside

Still in their grasp

Like a dog?
6. Dog

I’m trained

I’m trying to be them

I’m pretending

I’m also trained

Like me, barking, sniffing, digging, pissing

But secret, shhhh I’m not. I just pretend

I’m not a good barker

7. Ovipositor (2)

I’m not pretending anymore

I still have my ovipositor

But I’m me

In many ways

One day, one day I can

Be all me

All I want to be

For now?

I’m as me as I can be

Ask me and I will say so

Transgender requiem

I’m stuck. 
In a whole of my own despair

Punk? I don’t care what you think
I’m past caring and not into hating you

I’m going to have another drink

Or three

I’ll tell you a tale

Ha! I’m the fucking cross that takes all the nails

Of the fucking woe that befalls my fellow trans 

Excuse me? You know you’re phobic


Those people 

You know who they are 

The blood on their hands

What a work is a rotting man?

More that you’ve ever imagined that they can have

More every day


Instead of protecting us? They tell us which loo to piss in

Makes a good joke on the tv you know. Do they know how much it hurts?

Take away our very existence 

Apparently telling our parents about ourselves is paramount, but what if we never have a home after?

We have to hide ourselves till we finally feel safe

If it’s not our parents, it’s everyone else

Safe? It’s new we were we are, concerned?

They tore at my flesh with bare hands


I’m was so scared of the after 

“Burn gay fag, burn” they said. 

Hide, hide, behind all the closed doors

Give in and your dead

Hide, hide, love is the beast in the Pandora’s box 

Hope doesn’t even exist anymore 
Trees, my savior, my home, books my sanctuary, little bits of information my requiem

Hiding like a koala does, or a mole

Trying out little secrets, covering the secrets in spells, covered by rituals, covered by spire of spite, and never come to use it to fight 

It’s a little more like the little bit of light

The library, holding deep secrets, hide yours in it, keeps them safely hidden

Like your fate.


I ask you little one

Where is the transgender mafia?

If they existed

If they were real

I wouldn’t have to deal with the other ones

Them. 

Requiem, the company of our souls, for even they are cursed by these people 


Windy back flanked by a hot argument 

  • The meeting 

Into the dark room, full of clapping skeletons 

Living person of the future sees this moment as one to change

It replays, a broken record of failure 

They all sit in the room

None take the action needed

Feasting on their own flesh

Cannibalizing their own business

Never seeing beyond a quality of a quarter year

  • The absence 

They call it something new, a foamy thing

Sucks that carbon right up

Sun powers it like a little engine that could

Will it be enough?

The absence of our own lives is perhaps what we will notice the most
We have been exhumed, exiled and exhausted by the fixing 

Building of the jelly 

  • Hearing the winds 

Out of the gusty trips, the winds are strong hear 

Burning the sky a brilliant red this evening 

Political winds will never curse us

Their is a better way, technology has responded to this curse

The wind directs its power, the change comes like the sands

We survive in our exhibition of new

I’m no expert, but human we are no longer, we have not been since before the clapping of those skeletons 

Grey concrete 

The grounds of the places

Walking lonely like a lost little sole

Unsure of myself and others

I’m a wanderer really

Lost in this great grey game

Bricks and metals cold and icy rain

Grey trees, bear leaf

I’m not in grief 

Implying I have lost

How can you loose what your never sure you had

The past is a dream 

Concrete 

Gray and lonely, slowly slowly going mad

Then that hate

Red and stright 

First and fists

Down and smelt

The fire won’t start

I’m given a chance 

I pick up a bit of your broken pieces 

I’m armed 

Fighting for my life

Then escape

Grey concrete, never seemed so full of color 

Bloated firestorm 

Every fire in my stomach 

Tired of the drive from this place

Gloating firefly in the doorway

Shutting down the black marble road

Crowds shoutout for anguish and drama 

Them are surprise to get it, is that the social karma?

Fifty fires, down inside, empathy of the day 

Just the frosty icing licks, just the hatful knife that wil kiss 

Postcard from a old God 

sweet pear

Missing one with some care

Attach to a soul without scrutinizing your foundation

Silver circle in the sky, green cross on your arm 

Eating, at a sensual cafe, it says that on yelp

Their barista could do with some considerable help

Red light, speed, wireless fidelity without a byte to spare

Down to the callar, for some wine and stake. discuss the demise of the shark.

Taking a breadstick in my pocket. I sigh as I leave. I notice the stark look of the man who closes up shop. Back later for his pity and maybe some plonk. 

I’m not one to pass judgement on those unpleasant men, whose bleeding makes my job so easy. Every cut taken in vain succles the essence I can tap it.

I ramble so long. You don’t even know my name. Or do you. 

Hope this card finds you well, though I rather doubt it. You know who I am by now. 

Coop 

Bottom inquiries lie absent

       Frozen Friday feelings

Heavens streetcar hammers screeching rails

      Transgentent necklace reeling

Amplfy the bay trees request for pale 

           But delight in green grass peeling away concrete

Possibly

In the higher days of possible place
Never knew on the mellow hand
Tricks I have seen in the morning
Awake now I’m going north

Elder architecture singing for lace
Marrow sand blowing on the land
Nicks of flesh out of the calling
Onwards to the point of mort

Blade

Shaken inside the juice
Knew the laughter was hilt and fake
Sitting at a table
Open and loud
Thoughts I have inside never to be spoken
Wounded if anyone knows
Who is in my mind
What I am doing there

Garish dance of macabre plates
Taken from meals of those who have done and who have not
Try not to think of starvation
Try not to think of those who suffer
Like every day
Wondered if anyone cares
Who is in my mind
What I am doing here

Empty places and full ones
Made of night and day
Buss your own tray
It’s now the time
Blade in my hand

I cut into my food

Will it ever give me pleasure?