We’ve not had poems on this blog for a wholes- something that I would say was the keystone of my blog. So here we go, here’s a few aesthetic little things.
I’m a blue butterfly
in a hysterical cry.
as the gallery glue dries.
I’d rather avoid rain-balls in the sky
than be judged on my body
and how succulent it can make your eyes.
with torn linoleum edges,
they decorate sporadic street corners
like a neon bauble.
Sticky coffee stains
and 25 pence bottles of blue sugar rush.
Curved acrylic change passers
with banned cigarette adverts.
A bite of local MSG.
Cuts & Bites
Our groups sits cross legged
on concrete, wood and coats.
Sticking out like a black rainbow.
Hearts beating for a VETO
on our law of “no smiles”
and silent bruises.
Wooden frame held together
by glue (the cheaper cousin of frankincense).
The only green light
that makes my heart thud.
Memories of a cold floor kneeling among
those thin candles that smoke like pretend caring,
Crowds of empty seats,
too busy with their stations of the cross
to renovate archways and stained glass windows
for a 50-year.
My caramel heart defense melts,
I’ve been told
how much I don’t know
about lying on Jesus’ chest.
Even though Protestantism is cheaper
I cold cry at the monstrance.
Cold house and a cigarette box,
grabbed in my runaway to town.
Stomping Doc Martens on concrete
– a thousand time lucky.