Tight

i am a limpet
in love
 
if i choose you
and
you, foolishly, choose me
i will leap
from the ground
and
wrap my arms
and legs
about you
tightly
tangled
in your hydroponic focus
 
giddy
and scalp bleeding
i promise
to grow a
lethal barnacle
around our love
cutting any
who
try to
crowbar
us
apart

with warmth
and moisture
between us
we grow our own
food
and live
oblivious
 
to
genocide
toxic contamination
and global warming
in our
pearly shell house
 

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losing you (alternatively named – that putrid organ inside me that is intent on my destruction)

I miss your arms so
and i’m slow and clumsy at parting
the stoic cynical me
pretends i’m used to losing
but deep down
i’m just paddling
to keep myself from drowning
one breath
at a time
is hard enough to manage

Published in Crannog, Ireland.

Am I

beneath the limpid light
I face the world alone
regarding our lost love
in memory etched like stone
the seat of our dependence
too often left unsaid
the call for independence
left soggy in the bed

where did we lose in this
A union of the mind
A century of doubt
A hidden set of lines
emerge to show a reason
to cope with joys and tears
an artificial verdict
that says it’s truth not fears

Am I……………

A retrospective gaze
reveals the danger zones
conditioned cliches ring
the bells of own to own
how did our understanding
of love and thoughts we shared
succumb to leafless friendship
and visions thus impaired

A stark and windswept mind
is left to muse in flight
passions of our days
divisions of our nights
I’m blown to secret corners
then left on a hill bare
A power is surging in me
I’m free to everywhere

Am I……………

realationshit

you’re well versed in your grievances
you cling close to your blame
you’ve dug deep in remembrances
you spit sparks at my name

you don’t hold with forgiveness
you won’t deal with your pain
you’re all boated with bitterness
enraged by fear and disdain

our shared history denounces me
cause i’ve faced our neglect
past crimes have no hold on me
i’ve grown my own self-respect

i miss the value of loving you
before the truth lost on trial
but now our garden is desolate
life choked by denial