Little Green Man

When you are an alien, not only are you green
But also things look weird, and muddled in between.
You try to eat an ice-cream stick, but leave the cone behind.
You fly up an escalator, to be told you should have climbed.

When you are an alien, not only are you green
But you are also muddled and weird in between.
You make snowballs of shaving foam, but find real snow too cold.
You collect tinfoil from the bin, but aren't so sure of gold.

When you are an alien, not only are you green
But people are so weird, you're muddled in between.
They want you to be quiet, then ask what they have done.
They go on scary rides, then say it was for fun.

When you are an alien, not only are you green.
But home seems so far away and its hard being between.
You want to know how things should work, while you are still on earth
But your eyes are fixed on what you've known, since your second birth.

This one is from many years ago, not the best poem I've ever written, but it's one that always sticks in my mind. It probably needs some work but it would feel weird to go back and edit it all these years later I think, so here it is, in it's original form. 

Capture

And from the same season....

The stars shine brighter tonight:
They celebrate as I rip off my second skin.
Beauty and darkness fight it out,
To wrench the pain from my body.
It is pain that this is pain to me.
How can I look at myself and you,
With this blemish on me,
That spreads like cancer over my soul?
To hold lies because they feel safe,
To risk sinking and drowning,
So I can hold a useless stone in my hand?
I choose true beauty: I choose you, Lord.

Turning Away

I wrote this one a while ago....

I give birth to adieu,
The pain of release returning,
Yet this is a fresh battle,
Spiked as never before.
It is death to hold it in.
I grab my face, forcing it round:
I must see your choice.
You choose and choose and choose...
Maybe there is rejuvenation,
After this cull.
All I'm doing, is walking as I should have,
But I have to wrench myself onto that path.

Jail

Inside my ribs it aches without you.

Or it would, if I hadn't encased my heart with glass

So that my body could carry on:

Perfectly isolating and containing the problem,

So that I would continue smoothly,

Like a glass lake on a still day.

Now I battle within, asking myself,

Is this the end of the poem?

Do I carry on walking away?

Why would anyone open the gates,

Knowing poison would flow through the streets?

But is living under siege, living at all?

If you cut off supplies, the people will die,

My body needs oxygen to live.

But facts remain facts,

You are still far from me,

Even, if I shatter that glass.

25/4/10

One-way mirror

Your broken image stares back at you:
Cowering, hiding, casting furtive glances.
The clock ticks and you hear nothing changes.
You’ve ticked off the last of your chances.

You sit alone, covering both mirrors:
With sweetness, with metal, with orange glasses.
You are the only key but you don’t fit.
Another day, another night, morning passes.

On the other side of the wall
We can see you, a flower unfolding.
You are encrusted with jewels.
You are so beautiful it hurts.


Inspired by L, C & C,
other people I’ve known,
times in my life,
& a line from a U2 song.

24/2/09