Earth

She existed only in the periphery of their vision. No one saw that in her was reflected truth. But maybe they had sensed it and that was why they never turned. She was a mirror, a fractured caricature of the society they tried to withhold.
They treated her presence like the absence of something long forgotten.
She was the earth and the bubble, the ecosystem that sustained them. Yet they dare not look.
The roads they paved both physically and metaphorically were scars upon her arms and wrists. And she bleeds away her sustainability while they continue to carve and crave more and more.
And while the Jays perch upon her oak crown and paint the forests, they cut them down. And sometimes she could forgive them, they were after all animals themselves. And some trees got put to good use but then they started to cut too much
And the land bared it’s bone.

Absence

The night was different shades of black with gold specs, and the moon was a silver goddess shining brightly onto the world when she left.
A fleeting love that died like the wilted roses of winter as snow blinkered all our colours in white.
The train came at 21:05, and that was that gone in a haze she was just a face staring back from a window with a tear writing sadness upon her cheek.
The snow of winter turned grey as it was muddied by the boots of people trudging their days away mindlessly while I noticed every little wish unfulfilled in the stars.
A plane shot through my vision, pointing as if it was going to the moon, a trail behind it that is poison in its own polluting way.
It occurred to me then that life itself was pollution, everything was spinning on this globe, and everything was interacting within it.
Yet we pulled ourselves outside of it with our distractions and words, but I know now it was only ever an illusion.
That we are the earth, as are the birds and the other beasts that share this world.
And the train shook on the tracks, our goodbyes said only in our staring eyes as the train rushed past, and I knew I’d never see her again.
yet she was still the earth as was I, even after the train tracks drew a divide between us
I didn’t yet know if that was comforting or all the more painful.
These goodbyes always feel like the end of the world, still, it turns, but somehow it doesn’t always help to remember that fact.
Our emotions never could stick to the notion of calendars and diary planners sometimes, an anniversary feels too quick in the heart and loss too long in the dark.
Neither of us waved, our eyes blinking through the sadness that words couldn’t express.
My eyes took a picture of her face in the window while it never left; it fades as the days go by, her absence getting more noticeable with every feature lost in the memory.
It seems to me absence is a lot like a cockroach
nothing can kill these beasts

Shut up buttercup

Photograph taken Silverbackgorilla/spacetryannosaur

Shut up buttercup and lay in the grass
We’ll watch the Jays fly past
his blue feathers not so covert
the king of the oaks
Watch him fly
and gleam all that he knows
His dinosaurian voice
And moustachioed wisdom
calling to us
the harshness of reality
as we lay back on fields of yellow
soft beneath our skin
yielding to our unrelenting bodies
in this monstrous
yet wondrous world

Carpenters in a crumbling house NaPoWriMo poem 18

An apocalypse reflected on our faces.
Beads of sweat dripping down
Or are they tears we haven’t wept
Yet?

We glow like cigarettes
being smoked down to the last
Sharpening our bayonets

Fighting for remnants of the past

An orange glow
Lit us up
No time to turn on back.

We are carpenters in a crumbling house.





For full transparency the title and last line is inspired by a reply to a post on Quora

Armageddon NaPoWriMo 16

The tank might be full
It doesn’t mean we should drive
Where would we go
When we’re all out of seconds
Armageddon
This arms race will forget us
In the blink of a butterfly
In the wings of time gone by

An apocalypse of hearts
Our falling house of cards
We will light up
And remember the laughs
and the nights we cried
And we will forget
this was the night we died