Sunday

I've spent the morning either typing on my laptop in the sunshine outside my house, or typing on my laptop in my favourite cafe, which I have just discovered, has free wireless. Honestly, I am so perfectly happy to sit here, listen to music, type emails and poetry and bask in my Sunday. I mean, sure, I'm drinking an organic fucking latte with my Mac in tow, which surely qualifies me as the biggest wanker in here, but I don't even care. I'm that happy with today. Although, my feet are getting a little cold.

I'm going to post a few things. One of them is long, and terribly angst-ridden. I don't think I've finished with it, but whatever, here we go. Today's offerings:


If this were all there was,
I would live it perfectly
Sequentially, for this is all
Calibrated rapture.
I will live in all of my
Determined bliss.

--

Cold feet perch on an
Oft-kicked wooden strut
Heralding a small question of
Departure.

--

Armour

A cathartic rip tears me and
Everything open
And breaks the withheld front
I've maintained always
Without knowing
How much of it drops at every
Minor attack.

Little murders dot my surface
Flecked horrors beading
Like clear water on sunshine
Skin - caught in the hairs, a
Snare for unwary hands
That I call and call,
Check my fall -
Bitter voice scratching over
Repeated pleas.

Please, find me soon.

I've a locked box
Strong with banded iron
That I'll crack open when
Boldness overruns me and
I've armored sufficiently.

I've wished to be steel
In the ruined past,
I'd mutter it over and again,
Willing my flesh to bubble and smelt into
Something bold and impenetrable,
That blood would slide off
(Although I never saw him bleed, just diminish)
To be held in bright glory
At the end.