Posted on by authorialintentions

The Boy Between Us

 

The boy between us inflames our faces

And fuels the feud in this decade long fight

It’s been a war alright, and it’s not over yet.

 

In fact, it began before the boy was between us.

I would not be trained in your regime

Nor tamed with pretty leather treats

Or meet your guidelines of what a woman should be

Don’t speak. Don’t learn. Don’t answer back.

Don’t you dare defy me!

During those years, to your annoyance,

All those orders fell on deafened ears

I’ve heard it all before

Just spat at me in a different tongue, a viler voice

But then, before, when I had no choice, no means of defence

I stored it all up, ready for the likes of you.

You don’t understand, this small iron and immovable frame

Was forged by far worse than you

See, long ago I was trained from a pup

Tethered to far worse than you

Do you hear me? Far worse than you.

Given music in exchange for silence

Given bruises to gain compliance

And when I say tethered, I mean tied,

And when I say tied, I mean bound and gagged.

And for all they trying and all the times

My leader led the way and yanked me back

Tired and trapped by the hand that held the leather strap

But that hand was stronger than yours

 

Then freedom came and began my reign of defiance

No more choked cries,

pillow-covered eyes

No more dead I

Do you hear me?

You will be fought to you death,

not mine.

 

 

 

Posted on by authorialintentions

Soundtrack

Voices guiding;

Bribing,

deep in negotiation.

 

Volumes fighting;

striving,

Slice in to speak.

 

Overarching shrieks

from drowning,

bitter tongues

fade to muffled tones.

 

Some sweet sounds hide,

heard underneath

Chip in, chime in

And in between with

Subtle chords to fit

That let rip and

land on the page,

or hover there –

mid-air to cause

a swarming war of rage

where ragged words

sing major slurs and

minor scales play shame.

Posted on by authorialintentions

A Ballelegy of Paternity

This tale to be told, of a man and his mind

Will tell of the power behind his decline

A terrible fiend lurked deep in his head

That cruelly and craftily led him to death.

 

A short life lived long while awaited the grave,

For the victim, through frenzied life, displayed

A tempestuous tongue full of venomous rage

Whipped franticly through its deceptive cage.

 

Deeds, like thorns, stab and prick with spiky tips

Like pointy pins they puncture skin, and yank to rip

Some land on fresh and perfect flesh,

While some seek scars to sink within.

 

 

In shallow sleep comes the jagged old man

Who feasts through the night on a cunning plan

Luring and luring; he reels in his prey

With bait of false promise of peace to claim

He coaxes the dreamer to follow his way.

 

 

The jagged old man lies clenched in wait

For the lids of the dreamer to open the gate

While poised on the brink of the realms of dark

He moves to the beat of the slowing heart

 

Step,

By step,

By step,

With creaking old limbs

He creeps to the dreamer

and taps to come in.

 

 

Crusted flesh forms the rim of a noxious cave

Where seeping sores wept tears of decay

The taut skin splits as parted lips move to speak

Exposing peaks of shards of teeth

Browned and weak, corroded and seared,

From the acidic breath of thousands of years.

 

 

Forth was forced a crackling sound

From the hollow of his dusty chest

Where could be found, no more no less,

A blackened heart that barely beats

 

 

And coming around from their rested phase

Shrivelled lungs recall their ways:

An arid wheeze progressed to a rasp,

Then the jagged old man spoke out at last.

 

Posted on by authorialintentions

I Gave You Fire

 

 

I gave you fire to fight this world.

Before you were born, it belonged to you. It was the only gift I had to give.

Growing bones, blood, and brain; you grew from flames.

Infused with the fire I grew for myself.

You fed from MY furnace.

 

I tried to teach you to summon flames to lick at the sharp edges of this harsh life,

to singe the outskirts of all that may try to extinguish you, so only you

can define and distinguish you.

I tried to teach you to use its force as your fuel.

I have been to hell to save you the trip, with my visitor’s pass, and each time returned,

burned; skin stripped, branded with ripped raw scars as souvenirs.

 

You would do well to remember: my fire knows yours too well.

It reared it, forged it for you, stoked it until you alone could keep it ablaze.

My fire feels your heat, and smiles proudly at the trail of embers that flare

and swirl up from the gust from the slammed door, or feels the burn

from a mouthful of your flames.

 

I gave you fire to fight this world, infused with the fire I grew for myself.

You fed and grew from my flames, and now,

for your greatest weapon,

I take the blame.

For your formidable defenses, I can only say:

 

Take care.

Beware.

The forger of fire

will fight you fair.

Posted on by authorialintentions

Shards

 

 

I found a piece at the foot of the cherry tree.

Ever so slightly, the rounded worn tip peeked

out from the earth. The rest of it hid; nestled,

embedded and muddied by the soiled years.

 

I found a piece wedged in a concrete slab.

Buried deep in dust in a hairline crack.

I must have dropped it when I lost my fear

of the crane flies that danced drowsily

in arcs across the path.

 

I found a piece stored in the corner of the varnished frame.

Flush to the portraits flat back, pinned against the virgin wall,

trapped behind stained times. I must have saved it there,

when I fled from him, and raced up the stairs.

 

All these shards

scattered through

the years of the past.

I did not gather them up.

I did not reclaim them,

or take them in.

Nor did I devour them.

I left them there

in their shallow graves

where I alone

can grieve them.

I let them remain

and kept them safe;

like scars, like stains,

like sharpened bones

at home on secret,

sordid thrones.

 

Posted on by authorialintentions

The dead, with you.

 

I chose to go to the dead with you

because all eyes there are blind

and all ears deaf to my utterances.

 

 

The dead cannot judge, and

those slack mouths that keep

tight lips, forever hold peace.

Underground whispers will never

find freedom to meet the air,

nor share the secrets set free there.

 

I chose to go to the dead with you

because the air is different there; thicker,

and thoughts move slower through its density.

 

I chose to go to the dead with you so

manic minds could not perceive protected thoughts.

They stay, undetected, except by you.

 

Only you sniff at the misty hint of them.

Posted on by authorialintentions

Possibilities

The cursed mind sees the possibilities of all things and turns, instinctively, to the dark.

 

The two used plates.

The two empty little plastic pots.

 

The possibilities:

The two plate, two fork,

Two pot possibilities.

 

Only two possibilities:

His, or theirs.

 

Hackles up

Stacking up evidence,

and me, backed up

against the wall by the door,

clutching a cup of steaming tea.

 

On the edge of leaving

the scene of the all, or nothing,

or the everything

this nothing could potentially mean.

 

The two plate, two fork, two pot possibilities.

Posted on by authorialintentions

The Edge

 

 

Lead me to the edge of darkness.

Show me all the colours

that exist beyond the ledge,

that I’ve been too afraid to

stretch myself to.

 

Stun me to silence.

Still my disquiet.

Tell me it’s safe to look.

Break me in, slowly,

to the unfolding vibrant.

Posted on by authorialintentions

I am

Do not dare to tell me who I am.

 

Do not presume to know me, or think you are providing me with insightful revelation.

Instead, let me enlighten YOU…

 

I am the 3am riotous peace. I am the racing heart of a cowering beast. I am pure indulgence and dramatic speech. I am the notes of the beat that speaks and the quick creak of ice cracking under your notorious foot. I am the mountain and its ridge, the hiker stunned at the precipice. I am the snow that sits at the very tip. I am the rider that mounts the waves, that counts the days ’til all the drops of the sea dry away. I am all rage and timidity. A bubbling cauldron of thick and unfounded righteousness. I am warped and amused, truth disguised in a perfect hoax, using abuse to save the abused. I am the soothing hand that tends the bruises made by the shots I shoot. I am the fragility that coats a melting pillar of tenacity, and here, I drip down in gathering lines of vengeful compliance.

I am breeze and silence. Restraint and defiance.

I am all love and destruction. Release and obstruction.

 

And you… you…

Do not presume to know me.