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.

Inverse Sadness

I have something to say, but even I don't know what it is.
Maybe if I go to sleep with a pen beside my dreams,
Or do an ink impression off my heart,
We can both read what is written there.

The heart-head line has been severed:
It makes educated guesses that are factually correct,
Looking in from outside, cool and detached,
Reflecting you.

My heart begins to reveal it's cards,
Like the final round of knock-out whist.
Still you look expectantly, but now without the magnifying glass.
Soon you will wander on, forgetting I'm not fine.

What would you have me do?
Plunge my hand deep into my chest,
And pull out the offending heart,
So we can cross-examine it into submission?

Perhaps, I should operate to reconnect
The dodgy plumbing?
I can't map this out for you,
Because the mirror comes up blank.

11/1/14

Message in a bottle

The code seems unbreakable,

The environ a swirling mess,

I can't join the dots,

All I do is guess.

I have no idea what kind of hand I hold,

Although, I have all my cards face-up.

I know I missed class,

The day they set this up,

And I've been improvising since,

The effort eats me up.

I walk and crawl but never run,

The child inside is overcome.

I oscillate unintentionally,

..........Or maybe I don't.

The crime cannot be judged by the defendant,

But the judge cannot understand.

I've come so far, but not yet passed the starting line.

I am a message in a bottle.

Written: April 2009

A collection of thoughts: not a poem really, more a collection of statements.

The ugly duckling thought it was ugly because it didn't know it was a swan.

It seems that those who shine brightest, are surrounded by darkness.

Sometimes this world is too confined for them to breathe.

They cough and splutter through treacle, with grit in their shoes.

There are a million faces looking back at me in hope and despair.

Each one turned towards the sun that makes and breaks their world.

The storm clouds gather, rolling across the sky in grey foreboding.

A challenge to our comfort as we choke back the taste of waiting.

I've heard there's a God up there who holds us as we breathe.

My heart breaks a thousand times a day at the absence we are feeling.

The child in me senses I belong nowhere on this earth.

But the adult walks through brambles and thickets, knowing the dead end is an illusion.

27/8/10

[Last line of 2nd verse partially inspired by a line in the film "Amazing Grace".

The above is inspired by beautiful people I have or have had the honour to know or know of and recent events in Haiti and Pakistan, as well as God's love in the midst of chaos.]

Words

I want to say something

But I'm scared to open my mouth,

I don't know what will come out:

Black or White.

Will I harm or heal with my words,

Will you hear what I say,

Or another configuration

Of these words that tumble out?

Will I say what I mean,

Or something else?

Will you filter it through your own glasses,

That distort and disfigure my thoughts?

How do I know if we'll meet,

Or graze each other in passing?

It seems easier to stand still,

Not talking.

But the words tumble out

From some strange place inside

That INSISTS on being heard,

Regardless of the cost.

And so I say it all

While saying nothing,

Playing hide-and-seek with you,

While I'm choking.

8/5/10