for archival purposes

it’s a new dawn, baby. poetry store to keep it together. you are entitled to ask about poems i tag you in. read with the knowledge that you may not like what you find.

[rubyisrising]

Missing Poems

A Recipe for Simnel Cake

Blue, Green, Brown

***** **

Memories

Please Miss, But

Silver Coins

Socks

The Alphabet According to Jas

Tu Me Manquerais

Where Else?

[rubyisrising]

goodnight

it follows me from place to place,

melodic and enshrined,

i shudder when i hear its call,

the lyrics left behind.

you wrote a poem of it once,

and how we sang its words

to different tunes, all summer long,

just us, guitar, and birds.

back then, i thought those nights might cause

my hatred to contract -

the irony has not been lost

that, instead, in fact,

it's one more thing about that song

that makes me want to cry-

though diff'rent, as at least this time

the problem? clearly I.

it follows me from place to place,

through trauma, friends, and work,

"today is gonna be the day"

is ref'renced and i jerk

back upright, i don't want to think

of all this untold woe.

but it follows me from place to place,

and everywhere i go.

[rubyisrising]

spotty memory (false, anyway)

he says “i’ve never” and

i say “would you” and he says

“not with a woman” and looks at me

with questions in his eyes.

he says “would you” and

i say “only if” and he holds me

against the trailer and tells me

not to move an inch.

he says “are you crying” and

i say “not because of you” and he

goes to let me move and i tell him

not to loosen his grip.

he says “that was” and

i say “yes” and he says “would you”

and i say “not with you again”.

he says “that bad” and

i say “no” and he says “i wouldn’t either”

and i say “that bad” and he says “no”.

he says “my brother’s here” and

i say “go” and he says “okay”.

[rubyisrising]

“some amount of money”

look back through years of

messages, wonder where the

scarlet thread has gone.

[rubyisrising]

watercolour fire

skies that were yours are

hers now too - two loves wrapped up

in pink and orange

[rubyisrising]

they are gone but so are you

one thing ends, another begins:

i am tossed from wall to wall as

the storm weathers the ship.

one thing ends, another begins:

my body starts to heal as my mind

rips itself to shreds.

[rubyisrising]

The Alphabet According To Abi

A is for always make sure i can see you,

B is for book it outside.

C is for calm meditational breathing,

D is for (try not to) die.

E is for everything near me exploding,

F is for feelings of shame.

G is for getting a grip on my body,

H is for hold on (not a game).

I is for i know im being unfair here,

J is for jumping in fear

K is for knuckles turned white from the straining,

L is for lu janvier.

M is for many nights crying or bloodied,

N is for never again,

O is for orlando (the song, not the city)

P is for phoning a friend.

Q is for quite a lot more than expected,

R is for ripping through skin.

S is for sobbing in somebody’s arms,

T is for trying to win.

U is for (not) understanding at all,

V is for very bad thoughts

W’s for why are emotions so high,

X is for coming up short.

Y is for yet, a word i trust less and less now,

Z is for (i feel like a) zoo animal.

[rubyisrising]

Millie Thomas, aged 13

fucking endless but

somehow over too quickly:

fitting. upsetting.

[rubyisrising]

gray

step outside and every

colour is more vivid than

it’s ever been: transfixed by flowers and

the moon.

[rubyisrising]

Moir

moon bright and low and

sepia: soft words, gentle

hands guide me to peace

[rubyisrising]

Præy

i would like nothing

more than for this hell to end.

for coexistence.

bitterly resent

the implication i am

enjoying my fear.

[rubyisrising]

LOTR and a sense of community

"all shall be ruled by fellowship, i say,

when we are ruled by the love of one another,

all shall be ruled by fellowship i say,

in the light that is coming in the morning

so sing, john ball, and tell it to them all,

and long live the day that is dawning -

i'll crow like a cock, i'll carol like a lark

in the light that is coming in the morning"

she wears purple and her voice cuts into

my heart as she sings, as they all sing. you wear

white and your voice cuts into my throat. you've never

sounded better. i've never hated it more.

we swim in cool waters and talk about you. i say

i want you to be happy. i mean it. i don't say i want

you to change but if i did, i would mean that too.

i think about hypocrisy and whether you would have

told me to leave if i'd shown up two months ago.

guitars make me cry and green makes me tense,

like a prey animal who hasn't found a hiding place

but can hear their predator. i think about "it's obvious" and

"don't quite know what to do with that" and especially especially

i think about what you said about sinking.

i tell everyone who presses me that this is not your fault.

i tell myself that this is not anyone's fault, and if it is, it is mine.

someone talks to me of shared blame and i nod but do not agree.

i do not think i will ever recover. i do not think this will ever be fixed.

i do not think you want to try.

she wears purple and her voice cuts into my heart and

i remember that i love people who have never known you. i remember

that i love the water and the birdsong and her and him and

i remember that across town, you are singing too.

there is dried blood by a house you don't live in anymore,

because in my desperate haze it was the only place

i wanted to be when i died.

[rubyisrising]

John Ball

can you honestly

and without pause, tell me it

would not upset you?

[rubyisrising]

we (our); theirs

there is a teacup,

in it harsh wind and waters.

there is a teacup.

[rubyisrising]

peeling vegetables

walk and talk, divulge

more than we planned. i feel blood

dripping. apt, really.

[rubyisrising]

“I Can Tell Things Are A Bit Better”

people tell me i look better,

say it’s clear i’m on the mend,

expect me to be capable

like it’s fixed and at an end.

people tell me i look better,

when in some ways i am worse-

time has patched the scars all wrong,

i’m down gearing into first.

people tell me i look better,

but waking makes me cry,

i’ve blacked out every night this week:

the truth is, i still want to die.

people tell me i look better,

and what i can, i hide,

a phantom walks in place of me.

in some ways, i’ve already died.

[rubyisrising]

121 days

she asks which is worse,

speaking or silence. i cry:

"let the cellos play."