the pellucid morning light
strikes my skin of shining white
filling me with such rare pleasure
i feel myself a glinting treasure
i understand how beauty lives
the more receive, the more it gives
my mirror self withholds a power
has held my gaze for half an hour
asking what a girl in my position
knows about the art of kissing
i haven’t often contemplated
how my beauty might be rated
either i am quite alluring
or else seen as unassuming
to know for certain either way
i must relax in company
give out slowly to a man
as oil flows across a pan
try and not be too off put
by his fierce involving look
i must try and train my speech
until my voice sounds quite unique
it isn’t an annoying tone
it isn't deep like a trombone
nor is it a high whistle
i once was gangly as a thistle
these pearls, uncultured, were a gift
from a man my mother kissed
what a perfect precious sign
of my youthful paradigm
my resume though still quite brief
is long enough to guarantee
my rise into the office tree
in just five years i have ascended
to boardroom meetings in attendance
on businessmen of high import
the type who buy, who steal, who rort
as i sit and try to smile
it seems to me i stand on trial
when i speak to fill the void
i end up feeling paranoid
when no one dares to do the same
life then seems a vicious game
of hide and seek where each face
keeps its well-used hiding place
certainly a smart young mind like mine
senses it must bide its time.
terra nullius
all alone now, left in peace
granted simple, soft release.
let the sunlight gently tease
anything not yet in free
immensity, where nothing is,
or any leavings of existence:
thought none; failure nor yet is
all speech vain, ambition foolish:
where one is what one is, asleep
within a dream of life, complete.
elements
it is obvious, i guess,
how one pretends
to know nothing
yet tries to lend
the stress of failure
the laws of finish.
what is and seems:
the artist dreams
these two are one.
that they can’t be
brings awkwardness:
a valency or tension,
oppositional energy.
i suppose anxiety
has a chemistry
reactive to thought
which transports
old material,
revives ideas unborn.
if a work admits
due deference
it may live,
being a sign
which inwardly gives
a point beating near
the heart of feeling.
tip
if you rub
perfume on
your wrists
it’ll bruise
rather touch
the scent
by elbows
and behind
the knees
you’ll be
anybody’s
:-(
i told him i loved him
but he does not love me
i think about him constantly
what harm can there be
in keeping his warm body
safe in the bedroom
of my mind so when
you find me dying
he will be lying
next to me