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
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Category Zil
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
Carapace and stillness
An old beachfront is drying Oceans once were full now dry
Death stench now gone
Replacement is the carapace or corpses
Preaching over this new desert
White bones, dark sky
No rain will fall
My salty tears
The only wet thing left
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
Liversidge placard
my fair garden of unearthed might
Four square soildiers sent to flight
Placard diagonally thrusted, quite
ignored meadowlark screeching fright
House of nations thunder cainabal
Me and glass squarely reflecting mandibles
Egg and spoon triangulate the moon
Swoon those who swam the heated bloom
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?
