Friday, 5 November 2010

Alphabetical polygons

A likes B
but B likes C
(and has a boyfriend anyway, poor A).
C likes D
and D likes E,
and E... well, I think he likes me.

E is hot. I really would,
but F's not over him. Well, good,
because I'm still not over G,
and I live with F, you see.

Tonight I might have upset D.
'cause E was cuddled up to me
And I can't turn a hug away.
(Oh. H was there; her ex is A.)

I'm sure it's not too hard to see
Why this is all too much for me.
I'm tempted to walk out; forget
The whole perplexing alphabet.

Well. I hope I've made it clear.
I'm simply wishing U were here.

Wednesday, 22 September 2010

Another untitled loss poem.

I waited up for you again,
Another night. You never came
To brush away the tears, and I
So seldom cry

but that's a lie I have to tell.
I've tried, and learned, to hide it well,
To push aside the pain and fear.
You're still not here

to pull me near and comfort me,
And that's how it will always be.
I can't take back a single day,
And that's the way

it is, they say. Perhaps it's true.
They tell me what I ought to do:
It's time to shed these grievances.
Perhaps it is.

Perhaps it is.

Friday, 17 September 2010

Facebook Anthem

Hey so GUESS WHAT! My housemate Ben and I wrote a song! And then we sang it! I played ukulele! He played guitar! Arthur held the microphone, it was MENTAL. (Shush, I'm overexcited.) Anyhow, because you're all so lovely and whatnot, here it is: the Facebook Anthem.


Saturday, 14 August 2010

Upon the realisation it feels like my brain is two sizes too big for my head.

Where did the day go? I stayed up 'til five
'Cause being with people makes me feel alive,
But if I don't sleep more I'll never survive;
I don't have the drive or foresight

To sort out my cycle and sleep in the night.
Waking at 3pm doesn't feel right;
I don't get much day and I'm missing the light,
It's such a sad plight. I'm unhappy,

My head always aching. It's easy to see
That sleeping in daytime is not good for me.
I'm turning nocturnal, a bad thing to be,
I'm longing to see myself thrive.

Tuesday, 3 August 2010


I wrestle with the paper,
Committing rubbish to it.
I’m bloody good at what I do,
So why, why can’t I do it?

I cast my eye around the room
In sheer exasperation;
Nothing seems to answer to
My plea for inspiration.
I sometimes sit for hours
(And that’s no exaggeration)
Waiting for my muse to strike
In tense antici...

... yeah.
Calliope must admire
My fervent dedication,
But even if she does
She doesn’t give an indication.

I want to write a poem
That will sweep across the nation!
Something to evoke such grief,
Or anger and elation!
But instead I suffer,
To my constant irritation,
The ugliest of writer’s blocks –
A lyrical castration.

“Where, oh Muse, where are you now?
Please end this mad frustration!
Why not give me something here,
Some cause for celebration?”
But never does she answer
To my plea for information,
So I just sit and grumble
At my lack of inspiration.

I wrestle with the paper,
Committing rubbish to it.
I’m bloody good at what I do,
So why? Why can’t I do it?

Wednesday, 23 June 2010


Oh God, oh God, I take it. Cold and heavy and scary, so scary. He's fine, so I'll be fine too - except it doesn't work like that. He's fine so I'm more likely to make a Pollock on the wall. I can feel their eyes on me, hoping that I'll - oh God, no, don't think about that. I'm getting out of debt today, one way or another.

He's fine so I'll be fine... the slaughterhouse goat. Instinct, stupid, stupid instinct.

Shit, do it. My hand's shaking. The trigger reluctantly eases a few millimetres and Janey, we'll be ok. You'll go to college. Daddy said he'd provide for you, there when I held you for the first time, I promised.

I'm afraid, and then I'm angry. You'd do this?! You'd make me abandon my girl? Fuck you, fuck you all! I see myself walking away, abandoning my investment. My family. I wouldn't make it to the door.

So I squeeze, a little more.

A little more -

Oh God, a little more, eyes shut tight, and -


Oh, it's not so bad! Cold, losing so much blood, but really... Janey

An argument

She is shouting at him. He is shouting at her.

They halt on your arrival, and stare - they did not see you approach. It seems that it is true: you cannot observe the action without affecting it. I forget whether it is Heisenberg or Schrödinger I should thank for this trick.

Never mind; as the author, I can lead you behind a veil and allow the couple to continue. They will forget we were here.

"You always tell me what to do!" she says, irritation showing in her voice. Her shoulders tensed, face obscured by her hair, looking at the ground. "And whenever I do things my way, you act like I'm a huge disappointment! Why can't you just let me make my own decisions?"

He isn't looking at her either. "I don't know why you feel like that. Try to see things from my perspective: every time I get a little bit of hope, and stop pushing you, you give up again."

She reaches across the table and puts her hand on his. "But I am getting better. Trust me."

Why should you care about them, if you know nothing about them? Allow me. I am the woman - or, at least, she is me. Me as I see me. And how far that is from Anna the Writer, I am least qualified to say.

Here, a lot is unsaid. They know the history, and you don't. Allow me. The woman has struggled with depression. She is teaching herself how to be brave again. The night of this conversation, she bailed on a commitment - a failure that she saw as making a free choice, and he saw as a relapse. The cursor is blinking at me. I didn't plan beyond this part. So, because I can, I think I shall bring resolution.

“I’ll try to get better. I am trying. I love you.” This time he takes her hand. She looks up, and their eyes finally meet.

They drop the subject, shelve it for next time they need something to resent, and sleep. You can go now.

On the tracks

He has his answer: it doesn’t stop.

“Does it ever stop hurting?” The question he doesn’t ask – his mother weeping openly – he feels the need to be strong, outwardly. Inwardly, he is already heading to the crossing.

The crossing. It’s dark; a mild, starless night. He tries not to think about the doctor.

The doctor, hiding behind her clipboard, muttering “I’m so sorry”s with a solemn, tearless face. He stares at his knuckles, white and pink from his fierce grip on absolutely nothing.

Nothing to stop him now. As he waits, his thoughts turn to heaven or oblivion. Which is worse? Best to say his goodbyes now, in any case. The note already does that, for the most part, but he wants to say something to his daughter.

His daughter, three years old, refuses to get into the pool. She doesn’t want to get her new swimming costume wet. It’s red, with a smiling yellow duck over the heart.

“Come on in, honey, Daddy’s gonna catch you!”

– on absolutely nothing –

He boards up the window she fell from, hammer and nails splitting the wood.

The wooden post piercing the earth; the last mark he’d make on this house; the last he’d allow it to make on him.

His eyes blur with choked apologies as the screaming demon train took him to whatever comes next.

Cliff edge

He is afraid. Heart pounding, he inches along the rocky ledge, only kept from despair by thoughts of home.

Home, where the salty air blurs the border between sea and sky. Home, where Rosie waits for him. He knows that he may die today. If the ledge crumbles, he might die.

He clings tighter to the cliff face, arms and chest scratched and bruised from his journey. The wind tugs at his clothes, trying to pull him aside. You could fly, it whispers.

An eagle soars in front of the setting sun, and there is a moment of unforgettable beauty. Nothing could ever be so perfect, he thinks. And he lets go.

Wednesday, 9 June 2010


Hop, skip, stumble and a jump
Got to dance the dance to escape this fucking dump.
Email, email, mobile call
Got to play the game if you want to live at all.

Not for you the good life, you'll never be a hermit
Can't earn any money if you haven't got a permit
Can't have a home or food if you're not bringing in the cash

(It's tempting just to leave your junk and burn it all to ash
Drop your life within the lines, I'd love to hear it smash
But don't do that, oh no, not yet, 'cause that's a little rash.)

Hop and skip and slide and fall
Got to do the paperwork or hit the fucking wall.
Got to follow rules you never told them they could make,
Obedience is goodness, so be good for goodness' sake.

Hopscotch, hopscotch. One foot, two.
Don't break the rules or the rules break you.
No tripping on the skipping rope and landing with a bump
Hop and skip and stumble jump.

Tuesday, 8 June 2010


I'm too hot, I can't sleep.
Tossing, turning, counting sheep.
I'm so tired that I can barely think -
Time to go and get a drink.

Get a drink of cool clear water,
Wonder what I'll name my daughter?
Will I have a daughter or will I have a son?
If I have a baby will I ever have fun?

Restless, writhing, getting quite annoyed.
I'll think of nearly anything to fill the fucking void.

Will I get married, and will I wear white?
Will I ever get to go to sleep tonight?
Will I have money, or will I have none?
If I marry him when will I ever have fun?

Hot and sticky, do you ever find
It's impossible to sleep when you've got so much on your mind?
Or there's so much on your mind 'cause it's impossible to sleep?
Can't tell if it's nonsense or I'm being really deep.

It is my deepest sorrow, I've already fucked tomorrow.
And I've used up every hope that I can beg or steal or borrow.
Will it be rainy, or will there be sun?
If I bother waking will I ever have fun?

Saturday, 5 June 2010

Fickle fidelity

Swear by all passing passions,
By the falling leaves
Swear by the wave-torn tempest
Swear, and I'll believe.

Swear by the sand-print handprint,
By the ice and snow.
Swear, and I'll believe you'll stay
Until the day you go.

Swear by all that's mutable,
Changeable, and free.
Swear by your unfaithfulness and
Swear by me.

Wednesday, 5 May 2010

Paper aeroplane

I folded the paper in half
Then the wings, then the tail.
And as I folded,
I was folded
Into and onto myself.
I drifted from the open window
Lifted by the breeze
Carried over trees
And with a deep breath, floated
Beyond my vision.

Monday, 12 April 2010

Dear Spring

Dear Spring,
Thank you for the flowers.
I had a great day yesterday, the sunshine lasted hours!
And I got to share it with you,
That's what made it great.
You did your normal thing of showing up a little late -
You know, every year I wonder
If you're going to come at all.
The others show up right on time - Winter, Summer, Fall;
But with you it's always different,
You like to keep us guessing,
And before we know you're there you've got the pretty girls undressing!
It's something in your nature,
The quintessential tease,
You tempt the song from songbirds, entice blossom to the trees.
And Spring, what makes it special
Is there's just no way to know
What you'll be like when you get here, and how long before you go.

Saturday, 10 April 2010

The Beast Below

Based on the Doctor Who episode of the same name. Best skip it if you haven seen ep. 2 yet, it's quite spoilery.

A disappointed face he wears,
To tell you to behave.
A demon's grimace sometimes stares
And bears you to your grave.
The final face, polite and gay,
The one you best recall;
The face that makes it seem ok,
And that's the worst of all.

Nowhere can we hide from it,
The Smilers' silhouette,
Who curses us with knowledge but
Permits us to forget.

And that's the power of our fear.
Amidst the lively throng
We all make sure we'll never hear
The whale's song.

Saturday, 3 April 2010


It puzzles me.
How can she be
So close to what I was?
A single voice
Of broken choice.
I'm scared for her because
I fought so long,
And went so wrong,
And she could stumble too.
And worst of all,
If she should fall,
I'd think our nightmares true.

Like me, she sees
The sky-wrapped trees
And wonders what they mean.
Like her, I saw
An open door
That promised things unseen.
And from her lips
And fingertips
I hear the words I'd use
To speak my fears,
And joy, and tears.
I think we share a muse.

(Crossposted on my main blog, and the reason I'm restarting this one.)

A new heart

I wish I had new eyes to see
The things I knew of old,
New eyes to find the hidden things
That we were never told.

I wish I had new ears to hear
The sweetest song of birds.
New ears to hear the secrets, that
We bury deep in words.

I wish I had a brand new heart,
Untried, untested, true -
A heart unsullied by the world
To love the world anew.