Land

We are all african, but I don't feel it.
I come from the secret garden,
That lost orchard-England of petticoats and farthings,
Of starlings and strawberries.
We are all young, but I don't feel it.
I know the old forest in my bones, the boar and stags
and
Stages of clearing clearings.
I know the huts and houses, horses and hounds that bent to our iron and will and still I feel the steel of what we are
Man works by hand and works the land, I understand.
We are all now,
But I don't know it. All times are mine.

FINISHED!

YES
I heard you
The first time
You told me
To pick up the laundry and pick up the pace and tidy my bedroom and reach out to space
"Work hard, and make your future fall in line"
I heard you.
The first time!
I appreciate encouragement,
And I admire your drive
But why've you made it your mission
To make me thrive?

I can't poem, I have alcohol in me.

Scars and wrinkles

Life has played games with my skin
Kept notes on it
Left memos: oh by the way
You fell and you bled here.
You grew too fast.
You burned and were scarred. You hurt and were scared.
You learned
At last
I've turned into a notebook
Or the back of an envelope.
Life has made maps of me.
I said I'd die unblemished,
But tattoos chose me,
Piercings found me
(thumbtack in my palm,
One prick requiring another in my arm to stave off tetanus)
So now I am covered with story,
Unchosen glory,
And every section's gory imperfections
Serve as answers to my questions.
Life's little lectures as living reflections of
Who I have been until now,
Somehow.
And sometimes when I'm looking in the mirror
I see glimmers of the woman that I'm one day going to be.
Neat crow's feet to remind me
That laughter lies behind me
It's lined me already.

Day 6 is a sorry one

Sorry it's a day late.
I'm not the most reliable
Person in the world,
A fact that's undeniable
However hard I try
I find I'm always liable
To postpone and procrastinate
Until it isn't viable.

Sorry this is late,
I got a bit distracted
And the words inside my head
Just couldn't be extracted
And this one-a-day idea
Has had some worth subtracted
But i've not packed it in this morning, I've acted.

"You guys is dicks, I have untold value."

They've tried to sell me, so they say,
Debating my merits as table or whore.
Claiming they've paid Jay to kill me:
"For the right price, I'll do anything."
"That's what his business cards say!"
The crueler they are,
The more crass and offensive,
The closer we get as a group.
I feel lucky to know people who'll ridicule and slander me
The way this lot do.
They're good people
Once you get past the whole sex offender thing.

Drag

It's all a drag act.
Fake femininity,
Aspiring to maintain
The dream of divinity
Goddess, Oh limit me:
Appearance, demeanour and voice,
The pedestal trinity.
I learn to sway the hips, to paint my lips,
Extranatural
Like a billboard larger-than-life.
As long as you want me I'm worth it
As long as I'm fake then I'm perfect
Servicing standards unfeasibly high
Oh woman, you're one when you learn how to lie.

The Bass

Most nights my line is "I can't dance, I'm fine" but tonight I can't stop 'cause this music is mine.
There's a buzz to it.
A fuzzy tremble-beat beneath my feet
And with every fibre humming
It's so sweet to feel complete in the movement, in a moment of becoming.
It commemorates the muse in me,
Amusing me:
Are all the ways
I jerk and sway
A kind of praise?

Especially I treasure the lack of inner pressure;
I do it at my leisure
My time
My place
My change of pace, this perfect space.
The roar in the floor
The call in the wall
The bass.