Inconsequential Girl

This blog shall be the victim of my erratic poetry. Expect maudlin.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

The Trees Know What We Owe To Each Other

Flowers blossom on bruised thighs,

mycellial gasp shivers through us,

the forest calling for home brewed

Sacrifice, in this, this sacred place.

She hunches around her sweet tumour

murmuring of a self, returned to the 

roots long before.

The light dwindles, dwindles to a 

Richer dark.

Flowers blossom on bruised thighs,

but here the branches succor on

secrets none should bear,

Baring delicious joys and grievances

Each sussurating into inconsequence

in this, this sacred place.

Flowers blossom on bruised thighs,

they, both, shall wilt and pale when

lovingly overwatered not on shame,

but on proudest, hardest hope.

So here, reach deep to find those

motions, those connections which 

Endure when we recognise this,

This sacred place.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

it’s three in the morning,

fattened on drunken dancing,

we decide that now is the

right moment to reach

and understanding of God.

somehow in our cautionless

conversation we miss the

Divinity in this, this freedom

of hearts and tongues, in

the cloudy stars and our

stumbling efforts to find home,

in arms catching one another,

 a loose cobble

from a bloody outcome,

scraping faith off of

metaphorical clifftops, and

billowing up through us to... where?

tonight we wouldn’t try to say.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

Not Enough Yet

Fixed lipstick, splitting skin,

Public bathrooms thick with sin,

Body pressed strobes, chest shook

Bass strummed hearts expanding,

Straining to love everyone at once;

For how could we love any less in this

Bar bridged, frantic togetherness;

Each alone dying, dying, delivered,

And resurrected, mastered in the same melody,

Submitting to one shameless hope,

That we have not devoured enough

Of this life yet; enough of each other

Yet, enough pain, enough desire, enough

Tangling spirits in fervent prayer

To our personal gods, of love and blood.

Stranded, strangled, strangling ,slipping

Into thin, thin translucent wretches,

Howling, rolling into one another without

contact, connecting in spirals of maddest joy,

Demanding more of this, more of this private

Made public, made private made public,

Draining us out of ourselves,

Lancing isolation into conviction;

An orchestrated collision of souls.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

This Altar

We ask, we are asked, what we would give,

What we would give to feel that we are loved;

Not as ourselves but as the people we could be;

What would we give to sink into acceptance,

Without that urgent, urgent other voice

Questioning an ulterior motive, an

Impossibility of affection.

But i will love you, though i know you could

Turn in an instant; i’ll beleive you won’t till

The moment that you do.

We ask, we are asked, what we would give,

What we’d give just to dance without wondering

Which eyes might be watching;

To crack ourselves open and spill

Our loves onto the floor, into the air,

Without fear they’d be sold on, for cheap.

But i will love you, though i know you could

Turn in an instant; i’ll beleive you won’t till

The moment that you do.

Here, rip off my loves one by one,

Dissect how i have got off on each

Time my heart is broken.

And i will lay my life down,

Like plastic sheeting,

Like so much suspension for shattered souls,

To spatter shake and choke on top of.

But i will love you, though i know you could

Turn in an instant; i’ll beleive you won’t till

The moment that you do.

And i’ll keep on drinking, drinking that

Hope that we’ll be found,

Somehow; some such exasperating brow,

That raises at our self-loathing, that tells us

What we must ask, what we chant, what we pray,

To one another that we can be better than this.

But i will love you, though i know you could

Turn in an instant; i’ll beleive you won’t till

The moment that you do.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

A New Ending

For Aiste xx

We few, we many, we who weighed upon

Soul danced branches, we who move to the

Same stirrings; feel these interlaced

Affectations, affections, compelled each to

Twist, to turn, to one another in frightened

Anticipation; a foliage of slow mouths

Unsteadily beating out charms.

Spoiled hearts, shovelling unfastened

Promises, out of the surface guts of this

Moorland, till we catch in this susurrating

Sky of grief, a shard of life, slipped between

Leaves, stuffed with loss, choked by

Clinging to ourselves and not each other.

Glints, flints, sparking up a new inferno,

A new revolution burning fellows together;

Will the ashes of different boughs really

Taste so different? I hope so, i hope we taste

Of roses, of thorny sweets, of tangy love and

Obstinance, taste of the tunes we play, fold and

Fight, together, framing up our little imagined

heavens.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

Friendship at First Blush

Wind chime hearts, egg smoothed, weighed together,

A smiling eye, the right amount of hesitation between

Syllables to endear, cough fractured laughter,

Drunken innuendos wind to a stumbling sunrise lip,

That first thoughtless grin.

Framing sparkling webs gleamed;

In linked arms, shared straws, shoes

Soaked in the same muddy shortcut,

Secrets felled to common talk, lazy days

Witched to bliss, security discovered in this

Futurelessness, this precious impermanence,

Promiseless trusts, some static in a casual greeting.

Perspiring into significance,

Feathering open soul cabinets

To let our skeletons dance together,

Knowing not why but that somehow

We become ageless.

Massaging follies, inking each others

Imperfections, twisting mundane farce

Into oaths of grandeur. One chance

Breath, one oblivious choice and we are

Colliding storms, mangling starshine

And buffeting tempests to sway accidentally

In sync, sinking into this charm.

Not counteracting the curses we each wracked up,

But revelling in the moments between them;

Prisoners of our own ambitions,

Let us lend one another a little hope darling,

Hope and one more careless hug.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

Watery Wastes

Unholy Communion

Chrysalis skin, softness scoured away,

Wounds sanded to silver bone,

Worm-wriggled, man-soured, Night-bleached,

Exhibitionism, souls sunk to nibbled depths,

Ocean sockets drinking in the dark,

Don’t dare ripple the surface for fear they

Shall rise. Spitting teeth and pearls,

Shell-strung and humming misswum prophecies

Charting them on your organs, in your souls.

Burial At Sea

Raw knuckles, wind lashed back,

Eyes too salted to see a chance beam,

Splintered above plummets, a make-shift

Harpoon for a wrung out blood-bag,

They stitched me up, last thread through

The nose and, nameless, committed me

To the waves, gaunt pity engulfed.

No talking down here, no orders, and

All the ocean’s hunger ain’t my own,

Here in the whurling weeds we feed,

My gnarled flesh makes for poor snacking

Amongst the lush coral banks. I dangle here

And the sea, she plays my xylophone

Frame and here tis easy to beleive i

Was no loss to the loveless world above.

A Rising

The oceans are overflowing, swollen with shit,

With molten ice, with spent and curdled dreams,

She’s sick to her gorged vaults, she’s dragging

Up deadly forces, you’ll call unprovoked.

Digesting our waste, and our dead. She has

Accepted the cursed and wretched of an entire species,

Kept their cold fury, waiting, now she gifts them back to us.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

Monster Problem

The monster had a darkness, i cannot tell you its face,

Only that it was too heavy for the space it occupied,

Pounding after you like an overeager shadow,

Inevitable.

On days the world’s prism slices my eyes with fear,

My mama reminds me of my monster problem,

Long ago solved by five year old’s logic,

She means to tell me that all evil shall pass, it must pass.

The monster visited nightly, till i learned to dread my dreams,

To this day when sleep pumps my heart plump

Full of salt, when all terror at this vast vast world eclipses,

Or seems to, all courage, I wait, I wait and for now it doesn’t return.

‘Remember your monster problem’.

In the end i’d stopped running and permitted it to feast on me,

Sated by my small body, it departed, as yet unreturned,

i have waited for it every night of eighteen restless absent years.

But the monster isn’t waiting;

The monster got creative;

The monster laid its eggs and the more i grew the more it fed, till i

Know devouring from the inside is what it means to be ‘at peace’.

The monster got creative, for it knows that to feed on

Those who cannot survive it, is to feed on all our flesh,

It’s only luck that sways between us.

In the privilege of others’ arms

I let the monster eat its fill,

Willingly paying the price of its teeth in my lifeblood.

Let us never forget: we do not get to decide

That the monsters’ toll is worth paying by others,

Let us never be willing to pay for our joy in the blood of others.

The monsters will always feast; only together shall we survive them.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

‘Fungirl’

He leans in close enough

That i bend away from a kiss

Making him laugh at his own threat

As though it is some joke we’ve shared

I’m a taken man now he assures me

Feeling the need to explain continues

I mean you’re fun and all but you’re

Not girlfriend material are you?

The dry icea anger shocking my body

I recall the taste of cheap whiskey and the

Releif when he finished quickly and left

I so badly want to reassure him in turn

That no amount of alcohol could induce

Me to endure his touch ever again

But i remember in time that i’m supposed

To be a ‘fun girl’ so i laugh at this inside joke

Of ours and leave his arrogance uncorrected

Another night another long stale old fling

He leers over the shoulder of his latest lass

Looking at me with what he mistakenly seems

To think are ‘fuck me’ eyes searching to some

Sign of loss on my part

I choke on fingers long faded from my throat

Stifling the need to smack the smirk from

Off his face, ‘fun girls’ dont take

Betrayals to heart, so i smile and tilt my pint to his

Instead

Another night another stale old fling and i begin

To loathe ‘fun girl’ she laughs to hide me, she flirts

To hide me, to save me for later, and when they tease

And grope her i hate them silently while she giggles

And twirls wondering when the fuck later is, when the fuck

I’ll take charge of this defiled body, and when the fuck

I shall destroy them.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

The Growl Inside

Wood walker, night scourger

Here comes thy hour

Blood fastener moon drinker

Pace this way home

Clumped fur undernail

Claws trod to softest sound

Peel down weary skin

Till it changes, clogs the drain,

Revealing the ruined underside,

Leaf tongued whisper of hungers

Unreturned, this flesh unindulged

What will thy leave this wound unlicked?

This itch unscratched, condemned as the

Lust of another’s form, roam as a lamb

Amongst the beasts, till, tiring of

The proper charade, you loose

The growl inside and love at large.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

The Warfare of Kindness

For Aiste, Happy Birthday x

The world lies beneath us

Confused at our soaring bodies,

With a look we cast ourselves

Up through slippery clouds

To float at the moon's side,

She's plump full tonight

Eager to birth the morn,

Glaring her love down upon

An earth where only the

Dreamers are awake, the

Stillness is aching and

You, my dear, shine

Brilliant in the futureless dark,

For barely a moment I

Can see the nameless

Things you will accomplish,

Will forge strong and lightly,

The loves and hopes you will

Inspire, and the warmth you

Will gift regardless of who is

Deserving of it.

This year

I hope you

Can see you too.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

The List

How many lips now?

Twenty? Forty? More?

Spattered across skin,

Star-pickled eyelashes,

Cabaret of dreams.

How many looks now?

Sweet faltering things,

A wish to close in,

To move perchance

To touch, to hold, to catch.

What saccharine irony now?

How scorches these breaths?

The long, the wait, the great

Desire for the unexisting.

Recognise this fix now.

What precious space now?

Delicious air between unmet

Tongues, perhaps to remain

Split. One more want, each

Different from the one

Before.

Not one of them’s the last.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

The Nest

Lifting a gin soaked ashtray reveals

An unravelling of baby spiders,

Too tiny to be spiderous unless

In this collective scattering,

Wired together a wriggling

Faerie necklace, stringing up last night’s

Laughter and tears, their music note bodies,

A score to a plot now blooming

Into grey oblivion. Still, my hand

Hovers, a twitch from washing this

Miracle away, drowning their

Goosebump motions, don’t they know

You have to be pleasing to survive?

Hanging there, like so many cheeky

Whiskey menthol kisses, slow static pricking

Fingerprints, secrets gleaned then lost,

the glint of clouded eyes. But.

These small creatures cannot conceive

Of what it is to play innocence,

So I shall spare them for today.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

The River (Uncompromising)

For Vita, Happy Birthday x

Battle brim thoughts rimming the known world,

Demanding there be more yet to find; with

Boldest grin step through the last glade,

To this place of endless ways, streaming paths,

To each and every detail, every possible moment,

Every iteration of you, yourself and we.

The gloating guardsmen shall tell you

Turn back. Threaten to shave off your

Hair, your hands, your tongue, if you won't

Stretch yourself into swallowable shapes

To pitter patter along assigned routes, oh

How they must wish you'd be chided, wish

You'd be still, be meek, yet here you are.

At this gate you alone will square up,

Uncompromising, aware of what they

Can never see, of all the forms you may,

And will, someday take.

As you board this vessel, rafted from your

Own vastest imagination, you might wonder

Which current to follow in the river beyond.

Look. The iridescent flecks you thought fish

Are but threads, knotted by all your loves,

Past, present and future, if you but pluck

Them, they will pull you through any

Turbulence ahead. For your courage, you

Might be what you will, any time you choose.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

The Hatter

For Henry, Happy Birthday xx

Wanted, the smile on your face when you tease me,

Cheeky and fearless, reminding me we are unbreakable.

Wanted, the swoosh of your bright hair, we the only two

Dancing in the bar, pouting and reckless, reminding me

We can beat anything.

Wanted, your scarf, borrowed and still not returned,

Smokey and fuzzy, hugging me from you, reminding me

Sometimes we laugh when we ache, but that you can

Always paint my face into joy until it becomes true.

Wanted, the adventures we plot and sometimes even

Get round to, billowing seas and faerie expeditions alike.

Wanted, the endless hours distracted by pubs and

Cups of tea, deep thinkings and nonsensical chat.

Wanted, your love, and i have it; You know you have mine.

The world unpeels, offering itself to us, in our silly

Precious days, holding our friendship fast. As it always will.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

Shag (a feminist ode to bondage)

Gripped throat lotched breath

Neck extends in instinct,

Firm fingers biting sharp kisses

Grabbing sumptuous skin.

Pleasure from the permission

To ravish; for it is mine and

Yours and yours and mine and

Here, in this place, they become

One want.

This tugging tussling

Battle to stinging surrender

And all this desire, these lusts

And loves, their overlappings;

It’s all confused by words that

Won’t fit like hungry bodies can,

Syllables reshaping touches into

Definitions that just don’t work,

But here they are.

And here we are: inflagrante,

And i won’t say it doesn’t mean

Anything to share a taste of

One another, we gaze and wish.

To take, to give, to suck and slap,

A tectonic explosion felt only by

Us, labels and locks and

Sneering judgements are not

Welcome here.

Be we friends or star-struck lovers,

Challenges attempt to eclipse our

Rough motions.

Angry that you cannot tell us with

Conviction how to love, cannot

Claim that bonds are the same;

Consensual or no, equally

Earning a watermark, a cumstain,

Of shame. Your lies are obvious,

Flagrant, crude; so inconsequential

To us wrestling.

Here, sweaty work towards

An Understanding only

Bodies can explore, a

Carnal energy expressed in

Sticky sounds; sharing that which

Cannot be translated, transcribed or

Analysed, it, we, are raw.

We are undignified, beautiful

Fearless and glorious,

Naked raking limbs, employing

A simply stranger language

Where passion, not fluency,

Rings true.

[izzyrhiannonjones]

Cellophane

I have an apology to make.

I have an apology to make to my skin.

We have a love-hate relationship,

That’s more like indifference which

Honestly is worse, to ignore the

Only covering that i cannot really lose.

I am addicted to vulnerability;

Those scratchy secret moments

When terrible words are shared

Borne up by silly bubbles,

False happiness sudden true.

I must apologise to my skin

Of late i have felt her aging,

Curdling out too much booze,

Too many smokes, tanned in

Sweaty bars, brittle under

The path of too many tears spent,

Some unwarranted, some not.

I must apologise to my skin

For tis too rare that i am kind to her,

Lately i lay near-naked in the

Garden, a sexless sexual act,

Let bronze sky slick broken pores,

Smoothed out self-hate from brutalised limbs,

I imagine this is what peace might feel like.

I must apologise to my skin,

I blame her for the unwanted fingerprints

That I can never quite carve out of her

I might as well apologise for the

Wanted bruises too, those delicious

Little blue-green bites, soon faded

Sooner forgotten; apologise for the

Silver stretches no number of wholesome

Instagram posts will convince me are

Cute; apologise for the endlessly skinned

Clumsy knees; apologise for blaming her

When i think of God, of love, of hope

And kindness, but cannot feel them;

She is my imagined boundary between

Me and all the sweetness, the genuine glory

Often i can see but cannot touch.

I must apologise, and i must thank her too,

For the days that i can feel, for the simple

Pleasure of being embraced by a friend,

For her rough and her smooth and

Her never quite giving up; she will not

Allow me to break. I shall apologise,

Knowing there is worse and

There is better yet to come.