LVE

It’s been  while since we’ve spoke, 

I wonder…  because if stigmatised truth or dearth of substance. 

I feel it’s the subject, it turned an obscure ombre.

A minds regard of the quiet clandestine workings of a wandering eye. 

And a relative conscious. 

I read love poems of devotions and pure affection. They too like the gloss movies, a reality away from the compromises and warmth of daily love. 

In fiction it vanquishes all, but I see it beaten by jealousy, pettiness and self pity.

A sacred pantomime we all dance to, I’ve found mine but still I wonder. 

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Anxiety 

I suppose we all think of the decisions we made   or didn’t… 

Unaware of their innate fate.  

Your days   where you’ve learned hard lessons; their impossibly unique circumstances. 

The world then lead up to the fact, 

and it still didn’t happen.

Group Chat 

“The way I see it is all this race stuff is a social construction, an illusion used to divide and dominate.

 If it’s constructed it’s made up by someone or some group, so we can choose to not believe it and perpetuate the lies. 

Yes we’ll still and always be in the system but we can stop adding to the delusions it creates, delusions of worth, beauty and ability. 

We having this conversation means that at the very least aware of it, 

and at best we will start to pass our awareness to others, 

slowly breaking the too long told narrative of race and worth.”

Replacement 

The sky ‘s a warm grey today.

I sit above it all in a leisurely replacement service. 

Tupac’s lamenting his life to his unborn love. 

I pass homes   neglected   and freshly built. 

I do try to be a good person, but wonder… 

 – A friend once told me if I wonder I needn’t worry. 

The Old Victorians hold witness to lives around and inside. 

Again I wonder if I will ever be filled

with characters and stories 

or a hushing quiet. 

I see pools of sky blue, as the grey gives way.  

Art & ink 

I always wondered if rappers run out of lyrics and a painter water from their fountainous muse

Advice has always been the same, an unearthing of truth, a discovery of the preexisting, reforming it and presenting it anew

As a poet, artist or scientist we don’t discover but reflect our novel understanding of the All before us   aloof to our existence …

and I see until the earth grows cold and dark    no sooner will ink and paint

Sxhool

There seems to be a nouveau management style – a bullish approach

Destroying the hard fought scraps of legislation pieced together with the blood, tears and years of lost pay.

Our gaze no longer leaves our own vicinity our group our perspective our pay.

32 staff left my school last year. Natural Wastage.

Refuse considerately ridding themselves it would seem.

A narrative preferable to mismanagement and resignation.

Bullying is everyday

mundane as air in an exhale