To be free, one size fits all

To stand alone in a wet field, in a damp
Marsh, under a blazing sunset. Cotton candy streaks race
Towards you prepared to strike

Standing alone. Apart. Aside.
There is no freedom in a crowd. Nothing to express
In a collective. No individualism when you are
Butting heads, singular ideas smeared with others
Coloured by logos, rhymed with slogans, brightened
By long forgotten adverts
Entrenched in the reservoir of the mind

And yet who am I to dictate absolutes
To lay down terms and conditions
Shaping freedom, directing expression. Does this not
Make me freedom’s worse enemy?
Yet what is it? Without a framework within
Which to consider ideas,
Where do we start?
Minds are stretched like eternal empty canvases
Prospects of infinity
Impending fears on the contrary
That the elastic might snap
The canvas might break
A little hole. And all is lost.

Sucked into the abyss, our creativity, our uniqueness
Those ideas to die for, passions to kill for.
So in fear we ignore
Subdue, suppress
Follow the lone idiot
Who dares express
The remnants of their own philosophy, a flickering
Candle illuminating the darkness of conformity
That oppressive ambience

That thick dense one-size-fits-all blanket

Is that not our slogan?
Our theme?
The song of our marching band?
It plays with a ring and a stamp
Through adverts.
Buy this product. Go to that club. Travel on that holiday. Indulge at that restaurant. Let’s all do the
Same thing. One size fits all.

Try standing on your own for nothing.
Everyone thinks they are fighting
They think they are fighting against something
Fighting for something
Fighting to change the world
Make it better. Brighter. More identical.
Fighting for an upgrade
What about a downgrade?
Or a strip back?

Try standing on your own for nothing.

In a wet marsh under a blazing sunset. Alone. Look at those things that cannot be mimicked
Understood. Explained.
Doesn’t have a size.
Does it even have a purpose? A reason? A meaning?
Let go off all those trappings.

And then express
Yourself.

Goodbye

Bittersweet
Or simply sad?
Bitter implies regret
Maybe in the heart of all endings, there lies a pool of resentment. That word.
That sullen expression
Those chewed lips, held back tears
“We do not have to say goodbye”
“Must I cut you from my life?”
That tripe about chapters seems so trite

Shall we stay and hold and hold and hug
And do it all again?

Nod.
Duck your head. Too late its coming – arms are out, chests will bump, smiles imprint, words to cloth, fabric absorbs, it’s the brain it missed.
Walk. Walk Away. Quietly, Smoothly.
Lock eyes for a moment, then bow out.

But that is rude and crude and cruel, to be bright eyed bushytailed 90% of the time
Then at the last hurrah, your inner subtlety like a fountain springs from a solid well
We thought we knew you. You we recognise. Always familial, demure was never your
Style

Thos parting words, how naff, how weak
“See you soon?” No you won’t.
“Have a good time” A good time at life?
“Have a nice life” What a fucking word. To sum up a life as “nice”. I wish you blessings and fruitfulness, how the hell does nice sound now?

Hollow inside. Teardrops like water running down the smoothest of shells. Sometimes the hug is tight the emotions raw, Often I want to kick them through the fricking door. Avoid the eye. Miss the tears. Have no empty platitudes
To fall on deaf ears

What follows. Numbness. Something is not lost, a cord is merely broken. For those who feel with red raw hearts, the world does not bounce back. You can look at times, missed, swooped by
You have gone wonting
That slice of life in this arena
What it means to feel. So much.
Your skin breaks and red ropes
Of love
Roll
Slippery. From that tell-tale heart
Beating even under
The floorboard
Of rationalism

I don’t like the word. I don’t like the sentiment. I don’t like the act. Why not duck it all. Collect that which is yours. Mock a royal wave. Smile a rueful smile. Wryly shut the door.

Can the living grieve for their lives?

Can the living grieve for their lives?
A forgotten door now firmly shut

Suddenly your skies have limits

Worn from walking this far

Halt

Curtain call

You are not invincible
We are not forever
Not everything is possible

The fragility of opportunity, it trembles at the touch

A fairy’s wing against a window pane
Breathtaking to catch, a treasure to attain
Compare it to banality
The sprinkling dust of hope
- it makes you sneeze
Shut your eyes
Your nose is raw

Gleaming gold
Glowing fists
Smooth
Streamlined
Success
Phelps beat his own record
All at once
You are your only competitor

Now or never
Else in the future
Which is really just as bad

Milestones to reach, mountains to climb
Jagged rock leads to open knees, spilling freely down the sides

Stand at the top in front ahead

Your guts in a squishy heap
Swimming in the waters below
If you’re lucky
It could have been your soul
Extinguished by your very own roughened palm crushed between calloused finger tips
In exchange for weathered stone smooth as success heaving you to the top

What do we do after we seek and we find and succeed? Seek the ultimate, the endless, the internal, the impossible

Thoughts are leaping into my head,
Landing badly like car crash victims
Smashed and squelched and slapped against my skull
Seeping badly. Seeping fast.

‘til I cannot read, they are no longer there and I have only the sense of an elusive truth missed
A message never conveyed or even processed

Vivid
Vibrant

You bathe in it, hide in it, sink into it with no explanations
Embrace by day or postpone it
They are rich in quality
Sometimes

The multicoloured glory of an array of fireworks
The flickering transformation of a black and white TV
They can lick your wounds, soothe your ego, feed your desire, drive you to the foot and fly over that mountain, sacrificing nothing, beholden to none

Or leave you shrunken, Old Mad Broken
Rocking in a chair. Sitting on the floor.
Stooped in despair.
Bottles are your friends. Rain that old enemy.
The bed a sinister comfort
The outside a needless truth

Jingling of money. Clank of an award. Smear of a sticky kiss. Beam of a secret smile.

Dancing alone. Bowing amidst applause.
In a darkened room, the truth is nought but yours

Yellow. Yellow. Yellow.

Yellow-Gold
Goldy-Yellow
Gold
Yellowy-Gold
Yellowy-Green

Green. Green. Green.

Sticky-Green
Sickly-Green
Bitter-Green

Lone. Lone. Lone.

Suddenly I loathe everyone.
You too.

What is this horizon?

What is this horizon?

Why is it the symbol
For hopes
Dreams
Opportunities

What is this horizon?
Except the markings of a beautiful scene
What does it offer?
Or simply suggest

Does it give rise
To that which lies within?
That lust to which we
Scarcely admit

Powerful as an animal
Reckless as one rabid
That thirsts for freedom
Finds a brethren in chaos

It seeks simply to indulge
And to satisfy its latent indulgent
Desires

One does not oft
Stare upon
The sunset
On the horizon

We are too busy
Restrained in our suits
Arrested by wristwatches
Blocked in by deadlines
Diaries
Confinements

Or maybe we are
Too frightened
Maybe our suits
Deadlines
Wristwatches

Are they restraints we willingly
Snap
Onto our wrists
To protect us from that
Which we fear

That which we don’t speak of.

What is this horizon?
What does it promise?

Unfold

Unfold

You say that you have

Questions

I know that you expect

Answers

I can’t make you any

Promises

Don’t force me to

Reveal Myself

I’m not ready to

Unfold

I’m not the usual

Insecure Type

I’m confident and

Brave – But when it comes

To the

Heart

Here I stand

Wondering what to say

To You

I know you expect

Answers

I’m not the girl

You thought I

Was

Deep down I’m not

So Confident

Deep down I’m not

So Brave

But

Don’t force me to

Reveal Myself

I’m not ready to

Give that Away

Morning Yearning

Morning Yearning

Sky is bright, but your

Heart is dull

Gap is widening

Bridge is crumbling

Pain is a synonym

Overused

Sometimes love is burning

Loss and loneliness stem from the same

Something

Missing

Yearning is desperation

Strengthened over time

Sweetened with

A promise

Of

The end of yearning

It returning

Promises have no essence

Neither does time

Nor does love

Nor heartache

Left to mourn

The naivety

Over

Years of yearning

For it returning

Watch the daybreak

Its beauty

A new day

Same old love

Burning.

I am

I am.

I am the mother who raised me

I am the philosophy that shaped me

I am Jesus who taught me to love

I am my sister who believes in me

I am my father who doesn’t like me and does not care

I am the friends whose lives have taught me how not to live

I am the insecurity that eats me from within

I am the vanity with fragile foundations

I am the arrogance that got me far, won me respect, made me work hard and made me enemies

I am the Italy 03, New York 04, Israel 06, Nigeria 07, Paris 08

I am all the teachers who thought I was wasting my potential

I am everyone who did not think I would get this far

I am the tsunami victims, the 9/11 victims – and when I say victims I mean survivors

I am the individualists also known as the conservatives who care only about themselves and their profits

I am Albert Camus who taught me the hypocrisy of man

I am Barack Obama who replaced my anti-American scepticism with hope

I am Professor Tsu who taught me that even freedom is dictated

I am the Jericho sand that redefined the word “hot” and stressed the importance of sandals

I am Jay Gatsby, believer in all that is idealistic and unrealistic

I am the Big Issue seller who thanks me in an Old Etonian voice

I am the academic structure that I loathe

I am the idiots in Plato’s Cave who refused to believe just because they had not seen

I am every eighteen year old named Victoria in England

I am the male affable directionless protagonists in Haruki Murakami’s novels

I am the hope that drives me towards the light and away from the noose

I am the dream world that I live in

I am the dawn that I like to watch breaking

I am the full moon that sends chills and awe down my spine and into my heart

I am the cynicism through which I view the world

I am… still here