Grief it churns out carbon dioxide
Thoughts lead by military force
Grief it strikes you across your cheek
If you dare ignore the ones hurt by your defeat
Grief it conjures a body to sway against life’s tide
Grief is tics revealed by neurosis
Call it the quacks to lead us to another direct line
You will be just fine
Shift a bit in the corner
Let it leave our hearts
For a retrieval
A chance to shine
Turn to this moment.
March forwards to a beat instilling a sense of playful footwork to the dance of living by being.
*writing poem challenge: describe grief in physical terms
free writing mind mapping style.
“I weighed things up in my mind…” vervain
I look on at it.
Moved by my sentiment of
Its just a broken teacup.
merely spilt milk.
A tea towl, cleaning spray will fix this inconvenience
I look on at it. Not quite sure when the fear of inability became my creation .
Became the start of Depressive retardation setting in
This head ache could go away
I’ve painted over it in my mind
over and over
Then it would never have existed.
Nobody would know it was a hornets nest
This is not a painting.
This is reality.
I can’t make others pretend not to see
It never exsisted.
The power of denial
it makes us think life is stagnant
we can cover up with a single brush stroke.
Sometimes I feel like why do I bother.
Sometimes I feel like I’ve used up all my bear care
The cities I lived in .
The people I’ve engaged with.
started to stick two fingers up.
But only to the dickheads.
I dance to these beats cos I rise to the funk masters compilation.
I run for the hills , soul in arms, cos I’m scared of bereaving one beat closer to my final end.
Wasted kindness on friendships. One person knows what goes in my head.
Anxiety takes grip, and I turn on my only friend.
I don’t wanna feel like an unwanted graze.
Take me to a place I love.
Where people don’t talk in haze .
I don’t ever wanna feel like maple honey stuck to a face.
Take me to a place where I can finally come out from the virginal lace.
It’s hard to see the evil in people.
Harder to believe especially those covered treacle.
Atleast, I have a built in shit detector-
this city knows notof me.
My mask falls when the prison doors close.
I don’t ever wanna feel ignored by tramps with tongues for shoes.
Just get me out of this space where my compassion reduces me to tears,
Singing the wrong type of blues.
Under suicide bridge, another man lands face down on the ground.
Blood glitters all in an outline and I’ve got scared.
I’ve got to be prepared.
I won’t throw this body away for another
*song inspired by Red hot Chilli Peppers ‘ under the bridge’
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