Wingless Words

Documenting conflict, grief and freedom.

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Committed

It's all a lie  the lavish living of complete   not knowing where or what or how and so not finishing anything as if waiting for the answer to existence is the reason for not finishing anything. Lacking control lacking dedication looking for entertainment eating insignificance. Total centralisation total demoralisation looking for similarities feeling different.   Attempting nothing as if all has already been done seeing no point in the effort seeing no point in action seeing only reason for discussion regarding everyone else's mistakes. Thinking you are banking on them to change the world one day when actually you're watching the world age as it's trying to change itself without you.  Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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Lusting

Brewing defeat in a days work of tea, Love stands lost stirring staring through the mugs ting. 

Spent all day jumping between angst and accomplish Love had been lusting, but forgot to spend just a spoonful of time taking care of the dreams smiling up in his gut. 

Love had however; insisted and improved, travelled and ticked, listened and listed, planned and performed, read and repeated, messaged and mimicked, grabbed and guided, decided and devised, paid and prevented, inspired and invested a meal set of life to filling people's plates with Willy Wonker's wonders. 

Keeping bellies fired and full is a tiring task even for Love, but his lusting provides protection day after day serving everyone else ease. 

Although filled with completing, Love sighs deeply not realising all lusting activities are fueling the motions required to turn his stiring stare into a breath of fresh air. 

Wingless Words Hayley Frances 

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Whims

I understand feeling  more than the destination. 

I feel the warning before I learn it's need. 

Sitting under the breast plate, oil slick breath freezes action, and I pull out before a blurry finish. 

I act on impulse to make decisions feel easy  with adrenaline before thought to defend I know what I'm doing. 

Bristled skin anticipating loss, I greedily pounce to own the moment and I lose out after putting off what I want. I never know how to channel it,   I just know it's there and because I know this it never happens. 

I just keep feeling without acting to please it as if I know existence not needing to describe it.

But if I really knew  and trusted not needing, why would I be so frustrated with my self restricted feed that stuffs the tunnel with dissolving fads and whims?  Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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Slow Flow

It doesn’t feel like I don’t want it to end  it’s a countdown to sleeps freedom but I keep an honest act working backwards to a memory that I imagine will happen again. 

Flow dislikes the unnatural pattern of industry and in procrastination we find a focus for the mind while we figure out exactly what to do next which is always now before we know it. 

At first like all creation this is about me. Then I see me as we and describe the salvation in the fact we are so similar all of us and that is a comfort for my lacklustre. 

I suppose like many of you I never imagined project managing for men who do not know I exist to help numbers grow for them and pay the bills of life. 

But here we are all glittered up wondering how to get started on no-regrets and I am glad I'm not the only one trying to find the "I don't want it to end!"  in the paralysis of my thinking mind. Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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Occupied Existance

Preoccupied routine Provides reluctance With performance space To protude in denial and stress Pleading for silence Whilst in wound up opinion Regarding populace reaction To superficial rule Only aired to Provoke fear and Provide reinforcement That the wisest place to be Is in homemade secular security Where faith only shows it’s face When people under Occupations influence Suffer purpose ruin When it should have a place In the everyday struggle For recognised existance Playing in rapture For simply existing.

Hayley Frances Wingless Words

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Persephone Returning

I was no stolen child. I chose to grab the hundred-blossomed flower, To have earth open like a woman And the moss become my bridal veil. Rape is for fairy tales.

My body swelled As Pluto pierced the bloody fruit And fed me sweetness I could only taste From someone else’s hand. We wove our bones together On the clammy ground.

Now at my step The cold earth blooms And sex commands its dance. Returned, I skip among the buds. Mother takes me in her leafy arms. But the animals know –

Beneath my girlish face The Queen who dipped her feet Into the lake of death. I am both deserting daughter And abandoned mother holding back the rain. Mine are the dark mysteries, Mine, too, the secret of the grain. Grave dust blends with pollen in my hair.

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An unlikely share of words that tell my heart.

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Desperate Shadow

The troubled greed Made immaculate ornaments Moulded from discontent Stood them in front of you As a wish list Tempting you into Porcelain servitude With puckered competition Against the same unfeasable end Where the reality is a wax candle Burning each way To light the image of filters Painted by poverty’s liberty.

HF | WW Hayley Frances Wingless Words

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Just follow the light.

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Static

The whole world is a worry. My whole body is a pillow. My full mind is occupied with streams and recorded rivers.

Hayley Frances Wingless Words

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Your Entertainment

I have succumbed To the fear light Tantalising my eyes With its schizophrenia Numbing the wandering mind Dismissing progress Making lazy comfortable.

In the silent dark Where there is breath And white noise After all ease is consumed Full of gas I deflate Into the blankets With a racket inside my head.

I repeat this routine Give in to no energy Failing to ignight Inspiration out of propaganda And engage fully with modern culture Which defines carrots With neon white teeth Lining up like porn meat As an item for the news.

Disgusted I convince myself It is necessary for a short while Because I am resting But my body is still aching Doing nothing Thinking wildly With no get up and go As I’m so tired With a sick stomach That’s desperate for healing society I just pick up the light And lose myself In your entertainment.

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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Unnecessary

My weed root mind  pushes wood veins swelling wide through channels separating   fantasy and science as if filling caves where I am hidden away in a series of secret worlds swimming in warm sea dancing in a sunset crowd writing in the trees laughing with my parents crying with the swell of travel screaming in pleasure; and so I’m blocked in  embedding misunderstood flowers where freedom should flourish as if all that is unnecessary is important and all that is a dream is unnecessary and should be locked away for the very act of imagining. 

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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Half Time

Full of tired dragging  along half of myself in a silent stroke giving half smiles half eyes half ears half effort force frustrating us against the world against anger paralysis’s indecisive struggling accumulating in a clock circle meeting us in the same place at the same time in the same round with a strong face and a thread bare strap that just about makes it ticking a loud sound holding you all accountable for all of the cracks breaking all of the bones in the nonsense of a perfect world. 

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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The Verge

On the verge I’ve become a dam With a wall im paying for To protect those below me From drowning in my paranoia.

This plummeting volume Imposes an isolate distance Networks I can’t hack Glancing at the intimidating concrete Carry on in a smoke Deaf and blind Asleep in their recognition.

I’ve become my own barrier The impoundment of cries Is a still stagnant reservoir Providing power for people’s activities And completely taken advantage of.

Stored for every direction I react accordingly on the surface Plain and consistent Suppressed in adherence Used to drench the roots of sympathy I feel in this second suffocated in sad.

I know this because it’s all a blur Like floating in a tomb I’ve lost my senses My bodies a rusty cage Every impact is all the same And there is no difference between Love and hate.

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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SEAMS

Nothing is as it seems the seams are just there to tie it all together or force a hinged off door closed or shove a draw too full of life’s leftovers or disguise untidy mind or smooth the face of a broken heart. 

As we seek convenience the unnecessary expectation we feel forced to buy into gulps up our energy only built to knock us down - with the patience we give things  you would think they would just thank us for the taxes by simply working or looking after themselves yet every intervention every upheaval is a direction against our intentions - it’s the effect of being on the brink the fear of the edge the plummet off track the impact of change guarded by these imperfect solutions supposed to make our fucking lives easier. When you want something you know will incubate the harm of anxiety so badly that which seems to inflict others with nothing but joy and tearless lightness the lack of notice the limping acknowledgement the attainment of your entire being unattainable for whatever reason by yourself and for yourself living on in others - now you’re tuned in to it every single person is exactly what you want to be - and you’ve failed at it disastrously the bitter envy jealous in irritable headache cares so deeply for their recognition at the same time wished your horror wasn’t bestowed on them is a conflict where I can understand the weakness in sensitivity and the strength in hard faced sympathy. The colourless linear approach to getting on with it all accustomed to walking on the brink the confusion of not being able to change your state of mind no matter how well you seem no matter the force of positivity the want to not care so much all the time isn’t a weakness but a whole lot of muscle found in lonely stress-desperate to make something of myself and be recognised by the howling wind and dimmed clouds that I am also worthy of seeing life bloom it is because of this reckless naive that we are able to see how to please from all directions of every outcome that I am able to love everything behind my moaning hate.

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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Up Age Creek

I see an age in me  Creeks zip the bags Dark circles pool Swallow up my whole face Cheeks avalanche To my jawline Folding in a duvet To cushion my throat Chipped lips smothered In worry take the tear And make it real When all I want is smooth plumped Thinking that’s hiding in the Pink raw soreness My tea teeth peel unveils Plucked dip under Large pores hauding Dirt I never see One witches pube In a chin too heavy For the ends of a smile Feels like the only thing that won’t give up Recurring stiff thick and on time Shattered eyes puffed pink Take it all in frightened of time Lashes locked together Like a cheap blind Try to hide untidy mind 

Pale sunless cover Chapped in a depression Knows how to keep the blood From drowning With sections for drought And greasy landfill It can’t release the trees So they grow inside Bump up irritated in hibernation And I’m still a tickling birds nest I itch and leave raised heat Where I hope the cellulite won’t gel Noticing my pert breasts sunken Tummy muffin Lack lustre bum Pimple shoulders crying For some sun. And the past to be born again.  Smells stronger than taste Thoughts louder than sound Voice practically silent However loud I don’t know how to accept Feel from warm hands If I could squeeze the age out It would satisfy My limping hair That doesn’t know how to walk On the wind Anymore. 

Wingless Words Hayley Frances

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Finger Grasp Missing

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Piano

Her piano fingers Couldn’t play god Like my own calls to Her When I hear the sound When I hear the moon When I hear the cloud Every key player yearns to play It’s popularity forgotten With its uplifting pressure When my ears gasp so pleased to hear It’s precious gift Unexpectedly The worst moment Closed curtains Sink me In a sudden crunch Finding lost in a hand squeeze I think about us meeting again Cries ageing my face The only way is the end He holds on to the idea She’s just trying To find her way back I embrace it now Where I dismissed it before Sure there’s a body with her in it Despair the fabric of space Me pulling matter to our fate Freefalling in chains Choking the very veins That lead through the organ Of a religion the whole world should follow And I know she’s still out there In that moment of sound As if it unites our missing In a mirror only the mind can see.

Wingless Words Hayley Frances