Poeminthesky

[poeminthesky]

There is something romantic

about space.

The knowledge that

we are no longer

and have never been,

the centre of the universe.

As if our tendency to

forget all else and focus

solely on the problems we create

or the beauty we instill

has simply been washed away

and replaced by

a mindful speculation that

we are so

so

small.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

She takes in the small square of night sky

that colours in her little square window.

And as she speculates the

distance and disconnection

that the place above the clouds

feels like from down here,

she observes a small light.

There,

in the distance and disconnection,

resting between the dark

and soft clouds.

Its shimmer begins to flicker,

gently

slowly

waving goodbye to her

as if it doesn’t want to leave her.

And then fades,

longingly

away into night sky.

-

And somewhere,

light years away-

Maybe days or maybe centuries ago,

a beautiful star has just died.

And the girl who looked up at the stars

through her little square window,

began to cry.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

[poeminthesky]

Cringe

You don’t want to stay here, do you?

Where your family is, and the trees

So native to your hometown

Grow dry and bronze, unlike

Anywhere else.

 You don’t want to stay in this place

where lights hardly shine, the sun

even flickers over this street.

The roads repulse you, it’s rules

For crossing so humiliating.

 Where is freedom though? Not here

Where your childhood bedroom slumbers

In wait for your return, your smell.

That picture on its wall scarred its paint

When you ripped it off to pack your suitcase.

 Even the airport sings your name, begging

You to stay, stay, stay.

I can’t stay you say, I’ve tried for so long

And still this place reeks of loneliness

And a cement so hard and wrong.

  You’ve never flown before, not

Even on a plane. Your hands are wet

as you board. From joy or despair,

You’ll never know. This place is behind you,

You’ll never return.

[poeminthesky]

My Friend

Love, love, you tell me you love me

And I love you too. I do.

It was after tonight, when we spoke until dawn

That the work had been done.

I was happy, I was over the moon

to talk at large with you. And still I cried

in the dark lonely room

when the phone disconnected and

I was left to think about how much I hate you.

 I’m grieving when I say it, I am struck

every time I do.

There’s no one closer to me than you

Yet I cry as dry as burnt sand

When I think about what you said

When I told you my plans.

 But I’m sensitive, truly yes I am.

I really am, I flinch at the slightest

And I ache at the touch of a hand.

I am the charged, convicted with your crime

And it makes me so happy that my sight, unbarbed

still sees you as my friend.

[poeminthesky]

The room is pale this morning on

the brink

of a new sun through the blinds.

Slats of light strike the walls

of the box I grew taller in

alone, all on my own.

 The kitchen stinks like a clogged

drain bubbling to the surface. There!

on the windowsill, it’s my dead

basil, parsley, and dill

bowing their heads to the lightless room

alone, all on their own.

 My steps print the dusty floor towards

Your bedroom, the door is open to me

The first time in my life. Soundless you are

Inside that room, gone from it.

It’s alone now, all on its own.

[poeminthesky]

When I woke up I wanted to cry.

the world seemed heavy and weighed

down by clouds that suffocate the sky.

Like my blood. You’ll see one day!

The way it clogs my veins and

Drags to my lungs,

                                  it likes the colour blue.

 Crying is what I did when I woke

and saw that my cup fell in my sleep.

There was red pooled on the floor

and I wondered, what did I do

to deserve such a thing.

 I spoke to no one, not even you

To spite those who think I am air.

I’ll show them I am nothing and I

Relish in the emptiness, so self-imposed,

At rest and horribly alone.

[poeminthesky]

my lover’s face

does not exist.

Eyes, solid and black,

are dead in the world.

Mouth, precious, the door

to magical words, locked by

it’s intangible kiss.

My lover’s face

does not exist.

Not his hair whose colour I cannot place

not his skin whose

texture I will never know.

My lover does not exist

so my body will go unknown

and my skin, untouched. My mouth,

firmly sealed unsmiling.

For if my lover does not exist,

neither can I.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

orange streetlights aglow. A

single lamp blurring through my

fogged up bedroom window.

I watch it’s still luminescence

that will stay until the sun comes

and tired drivers can see the road.

But for now, at 3am it stays with me

and i will watch it until my eyes

droop and morning appears

quickly and suddenly.

And when i wake, my

streetlight will be off and empty,

but i will wait the entire day to see

it turn on again and light this

dark, midnight room.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

I put you away in a cardboard box, 

One that will never be opened again. 

But sometimes there will be cracks in your skin. 

Enough so I can press my warm cheek 

Against your side and peer in. 

Anything I can get before my eye strains and you 

Are lost and hidden from me once again. 

 You’ve been painted green with a lid of blue. 

It reminds me of the abundance of trees that 

Give me the air to breathe. 

As well as the fresh-water lake 

Down the path. The one you held me in 

Because I can’t swim. 

 You’re far away from me now. 

I’ve locked you in your box until 

I can bear to see. 

And bear to feel the things you 

Make me breathe. 

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

Something is in the air,

You were in your home town

and I couldn’t be there.

So alone, your hood was up,

the men around you

knew that your gig was up.

From my secluded corner,

to your quiet, gated street

I couldn’t have reached that

town quite in time enough.

So well loved you need no security,

but dear please never, sincerely

leave your sides exposed

to the knives of those who love you most.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

What would it be like to be a memory?

Is it the ocean to the moon?

Or simply the green of rolling hills

which lead to no end,

but continue to go on rolling forever.

How do I find in the depths of the fields

the inkling of you that once flowed

so freely within my heart’s raging, frothing

waters.

Your little, soft hand within the still soft one of mine.

It stays within mine for the rest of your little life.

Even if you are long gone.

To no fault of your own, but that of your

older and wiser sister who

ignored your pleadings.

You your little self never knew

you were even calling.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

When life surrounds you in endless folds

of surprise and longing and grief and stress

and worry and nostalgia and depression;

when it seems that the days are endless and the end of the week is years away;

There is nothing easier to forget than life’s fast fleeting and slippery character.

Because when you let it’s presence overwhelm even the most minute trouble; life’s waters of love, joy and spontaneity will drain through the inevitable cracks of your fingers. It will one day soon be no more.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

A transit between you and I.

You are the flowering green and

myself; well I am the molten

that runs underneath.

Struggling towards you, my blistering blood lifts, pulsing, welling forcibly into the tips of my fingertips for you.

Alas, this earnest want of you can only be evil,

what else?

When success’ inevitable offspring is searing and deadly. It must be evil if it were to burn something so alive as you.

You, with more than warm blood coursing through you. Alongside it is streaming gold, paths of sunlight, the clearest water and cracks of lightning.

There is nothing so alive as you and as deathly as I.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

Zip the cruel mouth of your mind,

and bury the key deep.

Down, down in a place

where your mind’s well meaning

hands will never find and seek.

Do this,

and you’ll find that

you’re living a life

never lived before.

Stop pretending like

the cosmic ripples that

only you can forge

do not exist.

t.t.

[poeminthesky]

Our thoughts mean nothing,

give them no heed

or even a pinch of your time.

It’s what we speak that means something,

what pushes the earth

and remembers you as part of the sublime.

t.t.

[transiting]

don’t make other people’s decisions for them. apply for the job you don’t think you’ll get. let them decide if you have the skills they’re looking for. tell that person you like them even though you think they’re out of your league. let them decide if they like you. stop trying to predict and control everything. bring what you have to the table. let the rest go.