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March 07, 2010

In the words of Oscar Wilde…

A true friend stabs you in the front...
well that one felt like I was made to kneel with a bag over my head whilst you plunged a dagger into my kidneys.


March 04, 2010

Performance Poetry

Creative Writing assignment from last week, unfortunately I've been ill and was unable to go perform it with my class. I love Wednesday too, why do I have to be ill? Okay, self-pitying over (I've spent the entire day in bed feeling sorry for myself, no need to use up pixels and giga-space or whatever you call it, pitying myself any further...)

EVERYONE:
Your verbal venom
Like sherbet lemon

A palpable sunset

On your tongue

let it run, run, run
down your throat

MYSELF:
each note
the swelling of violins
your lips a flaming ring

crying

MALES: goodbye

MYSELF:

We dined

Certain of maturity
Ordering a bottle of red
the very one that led
to our untimely demise.
We lined
up our insecurities
like green bottles on a wall
and watched them fall
as we shot them down.

EVERYONE:
Your verbal venom
Like sherbet lemon

A palpable sunset

On your tongue

let it run, run, run
down your throat

MYSELF:
each note
the swelling of violins
your lips a flaming ring

crying

MALES: goodbye

MYSELF:

We entwined
And lost our purity
in the glorious sheets
that smelt sickly sweet
of your Mother’s perfume.

We timed
how long it took
17,468 desperate hours
only to realise our
traits didn’t match.

EVERYONE:
Your verbal venom
Like sherbet lemon

A palpable sunset

On your tongue

let it run, run, run
down your throat

EVERYONE WHISPERING AND GROWING SLOWLY LOUDER UNTIL END OF POEM:

Run, run, run, run.. etc.

MYSELF:
each note
the swelling of violins
your lips a flaming ring

crying
goodbye

We find
ourselves together
in two separate beds
replaying things said,
ruthless untruths.
Lies.
Crying things like
goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.


February 27, 2010

Musings on muses

I am itching to write this one poem that has haunted me for weeks. It's got it's claws into my shadow and I'm dragging it around with me when I shop for milk and take a shower. It's a jekyll on my back, a tumour on my soul. I shall take the scalpel and remove it before it becomes terminal.

emi.jpg