Interregna

Moments Memories and Madness

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

Filthy filthy girl...

No matter how many times I bathe myself No matter how many times I scrub until I bleed Nothing can wash away those filthy memories Of the years when you mutilated my soul Day by day This is a cavity wrenched into my heart Fated to rot within me until there is nothing more

[buttonpoetry]

Support Button Poetry! Check out our new project, August 19-September 18!

Porsha Olayiwola - “Rekia Boyd” (NPS 2015)

“Two hundred black girls go missing in Nigeria, and America puts out a hashtag instead of a search party.”

Performing for The House Slam at the 2015 National Poetry Slam. The House Slam won the tournament.

[bostonpoetryslam]

you have to understand, that no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land

Warsan Shire, “Home,” published on SeekersHub (via bostonpoetryslam)

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

We are all broken: Shattered ice from the same statue We are all born from the same elements We are one Together we nourish But we are broken No one can drink No one can live Because we are broken - entirely.

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

@l.marx.writings

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

@l.marx.writings

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

"Please Sir, may we have no more?"

I know times have changed… But it’s great to see a kid on a bike Knowing the worst thing that Could happen is they may fall And they might bleed a bit And don’t have to lie in cold sweats Dreading where they might end up… I live for innocence: we are all children of the Son But this, THIS doesn’t give me cold sweats THIS doesn’t “worry” me at all This doesn’t give me cold sweats This WON’T be described by a single word. Anything I say will just be blasphemous to the Issue at hand… This needs to stop. Everywhere.

Are you proud of the souls you own The cries that grow in quantity and desperation Do you hear the mothers cry Their sons have died and daughters live To fly - in their minds Slaves of your dictators, governors and traitors Do you hear us?

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

Corners of your mouth tighten... Hold the tears my dear.

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

She was a loner amidst the crowd, always.

She sat at the bar: glasses, red lips, whisky and A cigarette butt for every page she had read Resting her chin on her wrist she was content She’d never been good at controlling her neckline But she’d never been good at picking up men They’d come, and swiftly go… She was a lonely girl and she loved it Like Bukowski said: the beauty of starvation Is in the delicious gratification of the next meal And oh, how she could devour a conversation… It’s always chess pieces and war games with her - With little land mines of unwavering opinions Hidden within each subtle question… She was the kind of girl you tell stories about She was the kind of girl that helped write your own But her beauty lies in the mortality of her presence In the brevity of her coexistence

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

Demons in Prada

I can lie all I want But I'm not over you I'm not over your touch I'll never forget your words I'm less than I was But more than I would have been I'm weaker, stronger and growing I'll make you hate me Want me You'll be the jealous bitch, love I'll be the girl in stilettos with my Head held high I'll be the actress but God knows I won't get over you

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

I'm still browsing...

“I’m looking for someone to settle down with, could you show me where to look” I asked plainly.

The librarian looked confused… I giggled a little, looked to the shelves and continued: “ I’m looking for someone to share every part of me. Someone who will go their own way and let me build a career. Someone I won’t see for months on end and when we’re together, never leave bed. Someone I’ll think about first and last each day. Someone I can miss, touch, adore. Someone to urge me on in tough times and leave me alone to grow. No pressure, no rules. A simple understanding and mutual respect. I want to love their strengths and have them love mine. I want close, I want space, I want normal within an adventure. Basically I want someone who will make a honeymoon to last a lifetime.”

“I think we’re out of stock but you can have a browse around if you like?”

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

Has your own breath ever scared you?

Have you ever exhaled and jumped at the sound of your own sign of life? And felt so dead that you don't remember taking a breath in the first place? I have.

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

@l.marx.writings

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

@l.marx.writings

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

Welcome darling

"Welcome to hell," she said from the outside. Can you even welcome someone if you're not actually there? In the passageway between fire and ice scoffers threw stones of hatred, guilt and unresolved issues my way. "Go to hell, scum-fuck!" Yelled a little blue eyed boy of about seven or eight. "Die bitch!" Yelped a girl from the corner of my eye, who politely added something about how it will be a slow, chew-my-own-arm-off kind of pain. Wonderful. Something she heard in the kitchen I presume. I continued down the path of damnation. It's the only ticket I got I guess... "Welcome to hell," she said from the outside again. And as I entered the realm evil doers and soul suckers, I realized I'd actually just escaped. I turned around to her: "welcome to hell dear."

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

“I can show you the copper sky and tangerine clouds

Hanging in perfect proportion with the gilded grass hills and coarse curled trunks

I can point out the silhouette sparrow swinging on a twiggy branch singing to the tree

If you listen well I can show you the little fox behind the shrubs whose black nose and wheat eyes come sniffing from under the rustling green and red berries

Sit very still and ill show you were the moon sleeps he has a bunny toy

Who cuddles with him everyday full moon and hides at every new

If you listen well I can take you there

I can show you every world

Between the red and black we can dream away from here and into a world where it is just us

And when you listen carefully you could see the tangerine sky

Silhouette sparrow and wheat eye fox all gathered by the curling tree on the gilded hills?

[hamishtheyrewatching-blog]

BoxMaster

“I used to think, without a shadow of a doubt, that when I walk into a room that I could unravel any secret others try to hide from me and predict their actions like clockwork - it was compelling game to me. People were my puppets and I was their puppet master, the master of the boxes. More often than not I would be right. It makes you lazy. It makes you feel powerful and maybe for a second life feels very tangible and intelligible. If you could just boil down the most seemingly complex being into a single algorithm, nothing can stop you. It’s easy.

Easier to deconstruct others while leaving yourself in an unmarked box, lodged deep inside a consciousness you don’t know you cannot grasp. It’s all fun and games until you realize those who can’t, teach and the advice you give so freely is more theirs than your own, because while you say the perfect things and followers do just as the puppet master says, you realize that everyone around you grows while the gardener forgets to eat and never sleeps.

Although I ran myself into the ground I was just deep enough to be rooted. All I needed was some water and a little light; needless to say I had soiled myself in mistakes enough to do the rest. What you need to grow? It seems simple enough, but what do you need? What is your water and what is your light? How on earth do I know which season’s conditions are in fact perfect? It’s all relative I suppose…”