Tools of violence

Identity violence

Symbolic violence

Communication violence

Historic violence

Revisionist violence

Repetitive violence

Infantilising violence

Nostalgic violence

Communication violence

Prejudiced violence

Tiring violence

Destructive violence

Sexual violence

Gendered violence

Religious violence

Spiritual violence

Class violence

Linguistic violence

Colourist violence

Male violence

White male violence

Co-opting violence

Toxic violence

Co-opted toxic violence

Ideological violence

Paternalistic violence

Patriarchal violence

Symbolically patriarchal violence

Promotional violence

Just violence

Violence violence

Tiring violence

Too tired coz I’m broken and it’s the result of all the above and more violence

Mental violence

Inferred violence

Implicit violence

Bright-eyed violence

Broken souls violence

The once you had bright eyes but then you got co-opted and are stuck but still need peeps and I get it but don’t you get that I get it, so why you gotta erase the stuff we excavate and stop us entering and flinging open the doors-no revision check, not open the doors break all these fracking symbolic capitalistic colonial walls – so that we can all evolve together and your tired eyes can weep and rejoice in celebration with us all, bold beautiful and brave and bound to the forward March of completing our shared ancestors abolitionist principles and journeys to create a new fair fresh deprogrammed society so we keep being we and us, and you and me, happy and free together… urgh! Gah! For f***! *sigh* but you can’t and that’s violent, violence.

So instead here we stand. Ina pyramid and I keep trying to educate and create and collate and collaborate while we survive and you thrive but I don’t even cry coz I’m proud inside that at least someone who got one part of our ancestral spirit souls good side to the table where it’s all about whose there to dine, and whose outside… not about our fellow people who die and are also pushed towards pipelines to die. Whether quickly or slowly, that’s for us all to see with our eyes.

I’m too tired to speak, so I’ll leave it to that… and sleeps for the night.

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#NaBloPoMo #18: An awakening of sorts

Sometimes I regret this youth’s rude awakening.

I am lost to an unknown world,
banished to roam it alone,
unknowable cannot relate this viewpoint I have,
straddling converging, conflicting thoughts and hopes,
constantly muted by each and every world,
all corners that conflate only in the instances to tell me I am wrong,
perverse, without a worthy soul or worth.
Rejected I lie,
wondering why I was ever,
ever once held in many loving arms?
Why my sensitivity and empathy was nurtured?
so that all I am left with is these deep feels.

I allowed myself to be moved for other’s good,
Hurt, poisoned, burdened and fettered to help other’s progress,
Now I keep trudging this narrow valley filled with darkened shards,
Constantly cut and ripped up,
The dull, whitehot, eternally searing pains feel so light,
Ever present soothed only by blindingly volcanic tears.

This woman is left safe in the knowledge that this soul will forever remain untouched.
Though my life, identity, body and eyes will no doubt keep being dirtied.

Unholy War. Float Away. Reconsider. Realise. Goodbye.

Some unholy war lyrics in my head

It all floats away like blossom in water

Like blossom in spring
It all floats away
Disintegrates

Like the eyes of field mice
Your stares cut me to ice

[Yours glitter like snow crystals
Full of the same filled promises
that lay unfilled
in my sink
of dirty dishes]

Yours irises dilate
her cheeks flush and blush
smiles dance
new loves romance

those eyes that loved me
that saw me
but a blissful moment ago
have turned and found it’s opposite desire

Like the eyes of magpies
She stares, you stare;
I’m reminded of your lies


My brain turns to fire
my voice cracks higher.

My opposites eyes dance
likewise mine
at this silent tennis match

Your repartees extend in time
find yet obscurer lines
shutting us out
as you seek a new supple mouth.

I reach out I speak.
I know I don’t have the reach.

I ask you (re)consider.
I pledge my liver.
Mama always said I was “too-much-of-a-giver”.

Don’t lie.
Please don’t fight.
I can’t take your dishonesty.
I can’t take yet more frugality, I don’t care for false fealty.

Just be fair, just stand,
Take this unconditional help
Build thyself
Embrace that inner man
With whose dreams you allowed my life to entwine

  just love. just stay.

Don’t make haste.

I don’t need you to be brave.

I want to support, love, honour and obey.
To Help You when You Sway.

As you do so now
Do you really have to let me drown?

Stop, think, consider.
Will anyone ever love you (or us) any dearer?

or else give me back my lungs,
and all the odes of you and us they sung
return my thoughts,
for they have gotten hoarse
help me build my forsaken boats
don’t sail away with flattered eyes
leaving mine in gangrened moats

give back my heart,
take back your feeble darts
Dost thou still have my soul?
Does it stay corked and gray?
While you and she yearn to maul?
when I am gone – that blissful day.

give back my eyes
you cannot quench these eternal cries

and finally my liver
so that I may live cleaner.

——

I hope when you realise all this,
Of the betrayal you committed
so painfully slow
i hope it was worth it

for every morning, noon and night
that you all conversed on Skype
for every moment I spent looking over
for every coarse word I uttered and apologised for forever
for all this hurt and betrayal you allowed me to commit against myself

i hope that when you are both in bed
metaphorical and literal
that it’s worth it 

That those eyes that you give her
those smiles
those shiny nuggets of you, your life
those attentive beautiful ears

those large comforting hands
that bat me away to whatever land

that you both have that life you deserve

build on my suggestive care and hope,
the future I keep alive for us both
I hope you enjoy it all as you make me travel back

as you cut me off. 

while I go to save pennies and make myself a success
as I keep to The Plan
like always. Ain’t that the mark of a true Man?

I stick to the regiment that you drilled out
attentively listened and yielding to your sound judgment

but you run from anything i utter
in any which way it is given.
yet you cannot fully cut yourself off
for deep down you know this is that one-in-a-lifetime love.

So give her that Hug, that Smile, that Kiss, that Mr Nice.
Let them all see that image that the World half-believes.
The one that I looked beyond but still allowed to cut into My Heart with a cleave.

 (Written 19th/20th August 2015)

I’m in Love with a Liar and a Coward.

I’m in love with a liar & a coward
Who is a perpetual man-baby
carting around a new love-sick puppy

A faker of the highest degree
Pledging innocent ignorance
as he flees
Into their shared lair
with all their cultural cool flair

Her only appeal, to your
incessant search for youthful zeal
is her proximity to the context
in which there’s no precedence
for our fair sex.

She is much sought
though she pledges she knows nought.
You all show far too much knowledge
to feign to play,
fully virginal, unwilling sacristans,
of your electric fonts.

She yearns for you and gives you
the sign that she approves
of your innocent interest
And your eyes alight on that
contest of which she is the only conquest.

You wish to win that unholy war
In a world where its all about score

All I am now is a holy whore
Devoid of any further value
Sat withered and alone,
with weathered skin and bones,
many hollowed holes,
a quietened tongue attached to an eternally fired mind.

(written August 20th/21st 2015 – My re-birth of poetic soul. I think.)

Flickered and Failing is Your Love’s Flame.

Flickered and Failing is your love’s flame.

Feigning a true lover’s play,
Leaving the marks of your stay,
Telling me it is worth it more
when I crave.
That I am best when I am wanton,
That true love exists in partings,
That I am an over-reacting dreamer.
I dream. I scheme.
An unfettered virgin,
unknowing of life,
of your manly strifes,
Unrealising of a suitable world.
Unable to fulfil my role.

I am a moth to your flame.
Eternal. For sure.
But for now you are a bore.
I am first a woman.
And I choose me.
I choose my creative streaks,
I choose exploring how I feel,
what I see,
where I want to roam and be,
and what I choose to depict of the time of you and me.

I fly and choose a fleetingly forged freedom,
I extinguish your plays.
I am blind to your flame.
But you will never go away.

An Eternal Lover’s Rhetorical Questions:

It’s only been a week and I wonder how you sleep,

whether it’s covered in rays of fluorescent light,

lonely like me or within a new lovers huddle?

Whose life is enhanced by your insight?

Whose creativity is a newly welcomed frivolous flight?

Whose lives will be within our muddled history’s puddle?

Will she be your new pillowed cushion?

Will I ever remove ‘I’ from our shared past life?

When will this pained, incessant, destructive side ever be quiet?

Do you have a similar, familiar, agitated side, as alive?

Or did it disappear the day you left,

Leaving me bereft?

My dreams twisted,

My faith clutching for it’s existence,

My eyes searching for missed intentions,

My heart melting without it’s thirst ever quenching,

And my mind telling me to write this internal spiting.

For the world needs to know you left me alone and we can never be, are never to become together once more.
I hope it was worth it all.

What do you think?

What do you know?

Implosion of Love

My love for you rages with the strength
of a thousand burning suns.

But all suns are acutely aware of
their own mortality, life span +
The destruction that will ensue
in it’s wake.

Once the universal light switch is flicked off.

I always see you in profile
many half-faces
so many expressions, emotions +
An ever-changing constant.

Though we’ve expanded,
deeper as universal seekers.
Shining deep voyager rays
under the very fabric of our beings.
into the micro-molecule of each other’s emotives.

Though our Cartesian civilisation has evolved,
Our interests and intellects pursuing opposite walls,
Atlantan in our hopes and feats,
Toiling to keep our house in top-peak.
We’ve gotten cultured,
wider,
your face fuller, your M higher,
my brooding breasts and belly broader,
Has mono-culture watered our heat?
Have we risked our getting closer?
Must our hearts burn now, as strangers?

Poem early morning’s prayer, pleas, wants and needs.

This came to me as I lay my head to sleep, around 3am, I’ve tried to keep it as close in structure as when I wrote it.

I miss the sanity and free space we had,
The easy negotiations.
Sharing ourselves so easily it went unseen,
And now we walk in phantom mists like unknowing, slumbering amputees.

Do you still think of the times we had. The snatched walks, the carefree days, listening to Halcyon lyrics of loves better emotives.
Bettering ourselves, furthering our intellect,
Together, in bed, laying side by side, your leg astride mine.
Sharing satisfied smiley sighs.

Or are the waking assunder heart-renching days still afresh?
The separate bedtimes, negotiated access, snatched “me-times”, mistrust, hurt, neglect, over-familiarity, knowing all, being known, escaped selves, lost souls, burnt and crashed creative corpse’s, of me, of you, of us, still there.

Haunting, hanging, probably never to leave, still there?
Its mocking. Shamefully its mocking and I can’t bear this..
Our shared deaths’ a tick, tick, tocking.