Poetry | Stories | Photography
Chatter from all sides,
the sound of glasses,
cups, knives, forks, spoons.
Ambient comforting feelings
come and go as the
music starts to play.
Moonlight shines far off,
as the river calls for a
swim, you talk nonsense.
A dance begins, then
the wine flows faster,
the night spins, you relax.
We were the ones always taking action,
being the first to break taboos,
never afraid of what others thought.
Now we hide behind computer screens,
cook food most people will never taste,
think about moving up the social ladder.
We got caught up in a materialistic society,
moving closer to aggressive, heartless society;
fighting to make another dollar, and survive.
The many, the masses,
never look upwards.
There is the sky, patterns,
and ceilings of Filigree up there.
The many, the masses,
looking towards nothing.
There.
Up there is where
I go often;
looking upwards,
when they look towards nothing.
My ovaries laugh when he says kind things, yet they won’t get the chance to see you come into the world. You will be born of other parents, and I will remain barren and alone, or is it just the hormones telling me lies?
I have struggled with the choices I made for a few good reasons.
I struggle without my imaginary daughter; then I wonder if she came into the world, it would never be as I imagined.
There’s too much horror for broken people like me, so we:
mature later,
laugh hard, and
hurt more
for so many long-winded reasons.
I see the socially acceptable normal ones, the ones who have it all. I see them, and then I look deeper.
Cracks lay across the picture. Black ink seems to smear parts of the image. Underneath, there are pieces of them hurting, hating, hiding, hitting, kicking and screaming, dying, crying and lying.
I see no normal ones. Instead, I see many filters blocking out reality. I see myself in the mirror, and I know that life is about fate and destiny, yet life is also about strength and courage. Life is about love, but not this anger that’s consumed me for too long.
Sitting and feeling sadness boil into anger and resentment, I write it all out. Perhaps I will never have my daughter is a given now, yet perhaps so many others will not too.
uninhabited
city without a purpose
sitting sadly still
Looking back through social media,
at life shared with someone else’s kin.
You imagine your parents naming you.
Daesyn will be her name. The beloved;
All while texting and typing their lives away.
Anna walks towards the path, which turns into an arbour; Just before the Arbour, a man stands alone, rubbing a leaf between his palms.
Perplexed and intrigued, she asks, “What are you doing?“
Silence follows. She repeats the words.
He looks, “I’m collecting ideas“.
“Ideas for what?“
“I write poetry…“.
“You’re a Poet! I’m a poet to-“
“Poor you!“
Monday morning whirl
sky meets the train station lights
Autumn calms our hearts
Unrestrained ambitions push and pull at your ink heart;
a gun firing bullets of ambition at the sky.
Unintended victims suffer wounds that bleed your art,
a burning example of greed is good lies.
Unfeeling until karma splits your ambitious world apart.
In the aftermath
we sit wondering how it
came to be this way
C & K 