Boy in the corner

Trade your suit and glasses for sackcloth and ashes

Remain pure to your past self, unmasked and passive

Stay sophomoric and tragic, take slap shots, and don’t panic!

Affray? We’ll wreak havoc, you’ll be a mascot for the moribund

Stay savvy, trade your muses and nuance for fame and famine

Pyramid schemes for your dreams, is it fair?, oh you’ll manage

Imagine what we fashion when we see through your glasses.

Tape your education through conversation then charge you for classes

We’ll rape your souls in the marriage bed and claim it never happened.

So what will it be, your roots or our fruits?

The trenches or the barracks?

Do you believe anything will stick if we hold the field of carrots?

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Filed under Random Poetics

The End

I’m in love with….I could never finish the sentence
My regrets roused rancorous desires for regression
I was colour blind as the red flags flapped,
I felt so fly, the fact that I didn’t, feels impressive.
My ego was bedded by this boo as the crowd roared us on.
Economical with the truth about either of us being The One
We phoned in that blue light to the brain as though we were seeing
the sun.
The great depression was 3 rings away from speaking up.
Green was never my shade, yet blue was our colour.
We called a spade a spade while digging crates and graves for each other
To tolerate through desperation seemed a better vow than to love each other.
Desecrating the legacies of Father, Father and Mother.
Who we fancied remained a secret that not even mirrors could fathom.
If we get on, let’s see where it goes was the best chestnut, adage
We thought we had our onions in order so we ignored the sage.
This was a fools buffet, eat now and pay later
Needed more time to date but….
We were less diligent than a fan of James Yancey
Pilot of Aaliyah’s plane on an incredible flight of fancy
If you do best at a certain altitude, why lower the standards?
If our mutual anchor had matched us, the candle position was shifting.
If walking through hell was our job, we seemed fire resistant.
We did what was expected and found some return on the investment.
Blurring the burning yearning for affection with friendship.
The words house and mate were, for the most part, unconnected.
 The moment we took the breath away, I became we, with love in a sentence.
Now if this is a confession to someone who cannot give penance.
What are we to do with the fragments of our reflections?
We end.

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BGM

Little Girl boxing a box of trials
Life tessellating
Future soul spinning records and tales
Wagging tongues tales dogging you
Walls won’t wail like untuned ivory
When tinkled ebony stands alone
Abseiling from the stars
With memories of Mardi Gras
Moribund artisans tobogganing through torpor will want your fuel
You better stand while you bus so they can have a seat
Sew stars seeds of street lamps
Grow in the light
You’re Black, whole
Hot tar cannot be touched
This Black Girl magic is just.

Pure.

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Filed under Race, Random Poetics

Finding Fruit

I stopped by your poems

Hugged them line by line

Our heartbeats fell as silken petals

This long lost love made Courtney Pine

Silence eavesdropped on mystic kisses

Eager vibrations rekindled the affair

Your swirling prose meditative.

My unchained cadences cohesive

Perceptive curtains arrange our winds though

Love isn’t lost if the heart’s still beating

Is this mine or our evocative secret?

A final kiss on our achievements?

The silence still eavesdrops

The longing lusts evermore.

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Potters’ Arf Marathon – My Story

Potters arf Race no.

Although I took part in a half marathon 5 years ago for a charitable cause, fitness wise I’ve only recently begun to battle the early 30s bulge.
During the working week, I walk about 25 miles so  walking Stoke -on-Trent’s “Potters’ Arf” (half) marathon seemed a great fit for me.

Having lost a family member, bought and moved into a house in the last 2 months, I haven’t had much time to train. I didn’t know how fit I was or whether I would match the 3 hours and 50 minutes I did 5 years ago. Until the starting klaxon, butterflies were salsa dancing in my stomach.

While my “man in black” attire seemed at odds with the fluorescent offerings by the groups around me, the air was filled with focus and fun. On a grey and increasingly wet Sunday morning in June, I was certainly in the focus camp.

Today I would be a soloist surrounded by small orchestras while others hoped to raise money, my job was simply to get over the finish line in one piece.

Though I started in the front 15, I didn’t expect to stay there. The banter with a small group who would alternate between running and walking through sections of the course made for an entertaining first half.

I would pass them, then 5 minutes later I would hear buckets jangling as they passed me in a blur of pink.
I played pick the pacemaker with various people in front of me until they were too far ahead or behind. As my pace steadied, a 52-year-old guy called “Brian” and I begun a conversation. I’d say he made my decision to do this worthwhile.

Hearing about the cause he was doing this for would have had me in tears had it not been for the rain filling my eyes. Getting to know “Brian” throughout the middle of the race helped this overthinker relax and find my rhythm.
If I’d had my phone I would have focused on it and probably slowed down to check every mile. Instead, through our conversation and the rhythm we found, we managed to reel in and surpass those doing the run/ walk combo.
As the crowds started to thicken at around the 9-mile mark, I was starting to lose him and by the 10th mile when elite runners had passed me, he was out of sight.

From then on the energy from the crowd became my battery. I thanked or gave two thumbs up to everyone that applauded or told me to keep going.I officially crossed the line at 2 hours 58 minutes and 45 seconds.

“Brian” was right, we had hit a quick pace and somehow I’d managed to maintain it.As I scoured the official results, he was nowhere to be found, “Brian” must have been an Angel sent to encourage me, for that I am thankful.

I learned  several things about myself today,  simple as they may be, my 3 takeaways are:

  1. Focus doesn’t mean intense self-talk. Tune into your journey and the people or things that help you with it.
  2. Walk your walk. Your Brian will come and go, you still have to cross the line.
  3. Find the fun(ny) – a smile is a groove that may help you find yours.

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Filed under Non Poetic Blogs

Lip Service

You keep kissing me in front of all these people
Expecting me to fall in love with you.
We seem to meet before the party, then it’s hard to get in touch with you.
I died for more than double you.
Hold this L
If it’s not too much trouble how about a… hello?
Public displays of affection, rarely a conversation.
You pull up a pew and rearrange the table.
Snack with me and regurgitate it.
Why? Why take the plate if you’re not hungry?
Why tell me you love me in public?
You barely shake my hand or hug me.
You immerse in my water and refuse to plug me.
If our lips must combine like oxygen and hydrogen, why aren’t we more than friends?
Am I the luxury meat at your barbecue?
The pumice stone to your ego?
If I’m the cross road you take in a blue moon in spite of your better route
If to yourself you’re being true, this arrangement is shaky.
Sometimes I hate it.
Our snap chat, I’ll take it over an Amen on Facebook.
I might be on your speed dial for the sake of it,
It is your heart I’m truly taken with.
You are worth the chase and…although you say….
I do… without the declaration.
Some folk forsake marriage for a lifetime of dating.
The choice is yours, is this a love worth embracing?

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Filed under Faith, Random Poetics, Relationships, Society

11 / 30 – The switch

Sweet natured berry

Your pain left the world with you.

Love and pain blurring

The cycle pedaled

Your light’s ever bright

Framing you through us

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Filed under 30 day challenge, Random Poetics