CLAY

Conception.

Now you mould me.

Maybe you held the image of my form before conception. I am your clay. Not a soul but born as microscopic elements all for you Dad.

 

Phagocytosis. Every bit of pain in your solar system will be filled with my microbial being, I will seek out every cell of hurt and engulf them into my membrane. Even if the process kills me in autophagy.

 

I will fast so long, a whole lifetime, from my own desires, that ketosis will be my constant state.

I will not know homeostasis with God, only co-dependent father daughter stasis. Chained up and bound.

 

My soil was born with potentialities of singing arias to fill the nights sky and stars.

My hands were born to run across frets, strings, keys, gardens, and my soulmates form.

 

But instead, my soil became the dirt that you would mix with your chemical water of taking.

 

My soul does not feel like its from God, instead I feel like dust, dirt and soil dredged from the earth for you.

 

Instead of a soul I became a clay slab, no shape, no colour, just a mouldable matrix.

So complex and infinite in potential, yet just sitting there waiting to be turned into who you wanted me to be.

 

And where the fuck were you God? Why did you not show me I was a treble clef and not a slab of clay?

Why didn’t you colour the minerals of my souls soil as Gold and let them shimmer so bright my father dare not ever mould them as he would know they were Holy? Why?

Instead my potentials were invisible, all he saw is the shape, the design, the statue he wanted me to be.

I was there for him, to be who he wanted me to be, never just there to grow into me.

 

Mould some big breasts and hips, mould some big eyes. Then she will never forget her purpose is sex.

Fawn will be her middle name and she will fawn over you always, never to know herself.

If she ages I don’t care, that’s her problem to deal with. I am moulding what I want from her, the waste is hers to digest.

Mould some long arms to hug and wrap around me, her hugs and touch are all for me.

Mould her personality to pander to my every whim before I have one. Warp and knead her God given warmth into a tendress of my emotions.

Mould her voice to attune to mine so she never knows her own.

Mould so much self doubt that she is pliable and controllable incase she ever wants to leave.

If she grows a desire to leave, squash that bit of clay down and mould it back to fit my sculpt. Squash down that time she left for France, squash down that time she tried to create her own music and band, squash down her opera, squash down her intellect, squash down her love for anyone but me. Those part better not exist, if they do breathe life the threat of my hand is there.

 

Keep my chemical water wet over this mould so she will always remain pliable and taste my flavour, even while she sleeps, even while with other men.

 

God, Will I ever know an equal love in this life? Will I ever know happiness in my own body?

Will my body ever feel like mine, a resonant body of music and heart, not a sexual object for men?

Will I ever feel clean. Pure?

Will I ever feel whole?

 

2021-11-10T15:12:34+00:00Poetry|

Lavander. A word so feminine I cannot spell it. Lavender.

I grow up in Provence

It’s warm, I live outside often

My mum is so feminine and beautiful, and the word beautiful doesn’t send my stomach into knots

She encourages soft gentleness

She wears pastels and flower print

Sandals and flowing skirts

She wraps my cheeks in a silk scarf coloured lavender

And I spin and kiss her cheek which has soft blush pressed on

 

We hold hands

We skip

We dance

We sing

We hug

 

She reads me poetry

And tells me of foreign lands

She tells me stories of love

And teaches me it’s ok to love a man

I am held and honoured

I am encouraged to be me, softly and fierce fully me

 

I wake up. Wind and Rain hammers the window so hard it bends. Doors slam, I’m sneered at, sugar bowl flies towards me and I realise I will never know that fantasy.

She sits in the car refusing to come in the house, I clean trying to earn her love.

She lies numbed out on the floor on sugary tea and soaps. She sleeps and silent dread suffocates the air as I feel her resentment. Everything I am, seems to provoke her.

I am motherless, she disappears, I am alone, I am afraid.

Confused and ashamed of my femininity.

It feels innate yet foreign.

Polluted yet pure

Lavender yet bloodied maroon.

 

Mum I long for you

I weep for you

I don’t know where your pain ends and I begin

 

When you didn’t recognise me, no poetic words came out of me, no initial tears but to inhale a silent “Fuck Me.” Knowing I was entering this chapter. I give up controlling the pain around me and that feels free. The imagined head scarf ruffles in the wind.

How can I truly become my women if our mother daughter relationship is the source of my deepest pain?

 

I heard someone talk of how their mum would hold them up and tell them they are beautiful and it shook me awake, knowing my first thoughts of myself have always been turning the lights out at the hospital.

Screaming, eczema, greedy, fat, ringlets, ugly. Was I that or was I shamed?

 

I think my eyes of innocence were seen as eyes of seduction, and I am left even confused if my eyes are right or not. I was only using them to see the world then.

Sense of self muddied, never lavender.

 

I will wear lavender hair scarves

I will think of you, a life chained that should have been as free as your scarves and Laura Ashley skirts.

I mourn for your cartwheels that turned into dads laundry maid

I mourn for your stunning artwork turned into soul crushing office jobs that plenished his narcissistic projects.

I mourn for your beauty, never nurtured or seen or held by him.

I mourn for your little girl never mothered either.

It’s all sad but I promise you I will try and end this cycle with God. You gave me a single fire spark in my belly amongst all the shaming and I thank you for that.

I will take it and set a forest fire alight with truth. It will smell of lavender and the hue will be pastels of purple and no shame will exist.

For now I will take some cuttings of the fragrant dark lavender bush from the road towards Glenda’s, the one that I strim a small piece through my fingers, and pluck and crush and smell in my hands to bring me 2 minutes of calm and restoration before diving inside myself. And I will plant it in my kitchen as a sign of the start of the reclamation.

 

09/11/21

2021-11-12T08:31:49+00:00Poetry|

Distracted, Refracted, Collapsing

Looking for ways to survive it

Coffee, tea, starch and carbs

Tv, Instagram, movies and sleep

Fantasy, delusion, denial and out of body

 

Yet all of that only leads me to feeling so lonely

 

God help me choose the narrow way

To feel it all

 

I am not humble to my grief

I am fighting it tooth and nail

 

Please reach in and help soften me

Please help guide me away from distraction

And into reality

 

No. matter. how. much. it. hurts.

 

It is with my mustard grain of faith I pray

2021-09-16T13:53:37+00:00Poetry|

Anytime I talk to you, I go to church

I hold my heart up to you God

Fleshy, bruised, damaged and sore.

Sunken and aching.

Hollow and rigid in parts.

Angry and sad, mostly I am sad right now Lord.

 

I’m terrified of my grief, help me soften into it like the little child you made me to be.

Help me know that my me is:

Sensitive not over dramatic

Expressive not a show off

A Performer not demonstrative

Damaged not a nuisance

Empathetic not pathetic.

 

Revive me Lord.

Resuscitate me God.

 

Enliven my flesh so it reflects your love.

Take the charred, bruised and sunken hollow parts of my heart and breathe life back into me.

 

No matter how much they try and dampen my keys with their foot on the pedal.

No matter how much they try and mute my strings.

They can take away the bow to my hearts violin and yet I will still express my sorrow, despite it all. With you and because of your love.

No matter how much they try and dim my light,

Let it not go out my Lord, my God.

 

As Sampha said, no one knows me like the piano in my mother’s home.

Help me understand my parents choices and not take it all on as my own fault.

 

The shame and worry I feel when I express your gift of music you gave to me is an error, help me know that and release it fully my Lord.

Help me embrace my me fully. And see my person as a gift not a problem.

Help me not be bitter about it all, help me stay as soft as a baby.

 

Help me restore my lost melodies, my hidden caverns, my sorrow and my goodness.

Restore the longings I felt God in Venice’s piazzas, France’s alps, Scotlands purple heather, the lonely apartments I’ve been lost in. The lonely, loud cities.

 

Restore me.

Restore the unspoken words, the unwritten agreements and the broken hearts from my past relationships.

 

Restore me God

Revive me God

Resuscitate me my Lord.

 

In my aching heart I write to you, you who is only feeling and good, you who will not ever chastise my sorrow but instead hold and soothe me through it. This is all so unknown, so scary and I am terrified.

 

Amen.

2021-11-04T07:32:01+00:00Poetry, Uncategorized|

Who would I be?

Who would I be God if I had a mother that loved me?

To know love and gentleness over a sneer.

To play music freely with her not watching over me

To embrace my femininity with none of their jealousy.

 

I have worn baggy black jumper dresses for 15 years and yet I still don’t hide enough

Somehow in my blackness and hiding I am still too much?

 

God, I saw your petals of love rain down on me

I felt the grace of you and yet it feels too unbearable

How can such contrast exist, and why?

I do not understand why you put me with her?

I am so angry and lost and confused.

I do not understand your plan God, please show me, guide me, direct me so I understand.

 

I am exhausted from holding in my breath

Always waiting for women to hurt me inside my heart, inside my chest.

 

I am so angry I couldn’t say no, and just went back for more and more

I cant even blame anyone for this, I seem to want their scorn.

 

God please show me your mothering touch,

please show me that my me is not too much.

 

I love you. And my heart breaks to know you

 

 

2021-09-14T15:00:40+00:00Poetry|

It is under your wing I want to nestle forever, and be revived

Life sometimes feels like it breaks you

But my best friend, true parent God, let it break me till nothing fake is left in me

Let it break me till I can barely breathe a false breathe

Let it break me so the rage leaves my body like steam out my mouth and soul and evaporates far into the atmosphere to never hurt another again

Let it break me so my limbs know no more stress, no more fright, so that I am no longer bound up by expectations and failures

Let it break me so that my diaphragm can finally drop and not be held up taught in terror

Let it break me until every error of love ever taught inside me is shattered

And please Lord let all of the broken breaks, heaving heartaches and mis-steps and miss-takes, leave such shattered pieces exposed so that they glisten in your sun

And let your suns light help me find every why, and revive the shards into molten liquid gold

Which forms into a song and love so full that it can go on forever and join hands across fires anywhere in these worlds

 

God let me know love

Let me know song

Let me know sorrow so deep I know your melody of love

Let me know shame so hot I know true compassion

Let me see my own sins and scars, scrapes and scratches, bumps and bruises with a microscope so I never judge another

Let me own every emotion of hurt and all the ways I was cut in my soul, so I do not bleed anymore on those who never hurt me

 

Let me know my own pain like a well studied map that leads to the treasure

The treasure that is truth, the treasure that is you

You are the pot of Gold, the light and my True North

You are every pure element and can wash away all of my impurities

Gold yet water, light yet you reflect all the darkness to give us the chance to transmute it

You whisper and yet your laws are as clear and loud as a bird

You hold me in an embrace but only when I want you

Force does not exist in your vocabulary

Help me bend my head and my heart to you and nestle it under your wing, instead of jut my jaw out with pride and falsehoods

Help me soften and surrender, so I can be revived by your love.

2021-11-12T11:35:06+00:00Poetry|

Broken Heart

Is it possible for the human heart to shatter?

Is it possible for every blood cell to turn into ash?

A once flourishing red heart now an empty fireplace of burned out white coal and grief

Is it possible for the human heart to break in two and separate its parts?

Will it then float around as two separate pumps in the body?

Two chambers of oxygen, empty, struggling to breathe and pump life 

Never together always broken apart

Working but not well

Beating out of sync

Aortas disconnected

Valves closed tight and tangled up

God only you can resuscitate my heart as us humans seem to only break each others

2021-08-04T20:53:34+00:00Poetry|

Paralysis

I am a writer not writing

Spreadsheets and nothingness instead of a pen replaced

 

I am a singer not singing

My voice lives in Ursula and Titan’s cave

 

If I sing she will disapprove

So I don’t dare sing a note let alone an Aria

 

I am a dancer not dancing

My limbs have frozen like when Gunther shot Corelli in Cephalonia

 

I am a thinker not thinking

Dads voice is loud, my own brain is eroding

 

I wrote a goodbye to you

I felt like I was being dipped deeper in acid, my metal shine corroding

 

I am a joker not joking

Women’s scorn became too loud

 

I am a hopeless romantic not romancing

My last relationship saw me drown

 

I am a reader not reading

Thoughts and screens race with no relief

 

I am a mother not mothering

From an abortion and a weight of associated grief

 

I am a friend barely reaching out

So busy figuring my own shit out

 

I am an animal lover and vegan

With guilt, hurt and allergies from being born to a farming house

 

I am madly and deeply in love with you God

But I barely let it show as I was taught to believe in you is ridiculous

 

I long to talk of you God over fires and camping hikes

But I stay in small job sin small cities spending money on what is frivolous

 

I am a deep, fiery, feisty soul

Vivacious to my core

Staying alone in my room

Paralysing myself – God, my heart is sore.

2021-08-05T12:00:23+00:00Poetry|

Misogyny

The only time you have ever cared for my health was when you didn’t want me to get the vaccine.

And that had absolutely nothing, zero to do with me.

But was all about how you wanted me to be the carrier of your seed.

As you’d read somewhere it would affect women’s pregnancies.

 

You expect me to carry your child.

Whilst you’ve never once made me smile?

You want me to be a carrier of your lineage.

While you want and watch my dreams to die?

 

You want my womb yet not my soul,

to create your bloodline and control my life?

Want to use me and never allow me to burn bright?

 

Misogyny runs deep.

Deeper than deep.

I have scars on my arms from the frustration deep,

I have life unlived frustration deep.

I have ghosts and voices in my sleep frustration deep.

Sitting on piles of unreleased albums deep.

Sitting on a burning thirsty soul frustration deep.

Sitting on screams of agony deep.

Sitting on my mums unpainted canvas deep.

Sitting in her unbuilt studio deep,

That dad promised to build her but never intended to deep.

Sitting on feelings of seeing mums bright soul waste away to nothing but a modern day depressed slave deep.

Sitting on my grandmas beaten face frustration deep.

Recycling the cycle of my mother frustration deep.

While I learned of my fathers unfaithfulness frustration deep.

While I lose faith in humanity frustration deep.

 

As my father still tries to control me frustration. Scream.

 

But sure, I will just shut up, let my dreams die and just carry your seed?

For what? so I can let my resentment and unfulfilled dreams be spat out on my baby while she weeps?

Just like my own mother did to me, so I’ve lived a life of self hatred see?

Scared of every women hating me so I stay so small, dumbed down and weak?

 

Can you not see what you are doing to me?

 

Fuck this I just need to scream.

2021-08-03T18:20:56+00:00Poetry|

Dear Truth

Truth my best friend,

my breaker of chains.

I wish I had known you more for most of my days.

 

I wish I’d been your best friend and partner in crime,

I wish we’d held hands as I walked and always been entwined.

 

You’re setting me free, breaking me from my pains and my chains.

You are helping me be wild and free but in the realest of ways.

 

It’s overwhelming and shocking, all these lies I’ve been taught.

Often times I find myself broken, holding you on the floor.

But your magic within, your strong honest sword,

cuts straight through the bullshit that’s been keeping me wrought.

 

I was a captive to lies, a slave to power play so abusive,

it turned me from me, into an addict caught using.

You’ve come into my life and are making me true again.

No more hard heart, no more pretending seducing.

I stumble and fall backwards, make mistakes and self destruct.

But nothing can shake the fact I’ve felt the beauty of life, with you in my hand’s clutch.

 

You broke through the ice, shattered the confusion.

You help show me what is good and what is mud sinking in delusion.

 

I was in cycles and cycles and cycles of pain.

Destroying myself and others around me again.

 

I lost myself to dead end jobs, seeking approval from mum,

if I stay small maybe then she will not tell me that my me is too much.

 

Lies spoke ‘you are beneath, look up to her ways,’

even if they make no sense her power always reigned.

 

The lies told me I’m a fuck up, a show off, a clown.

A flirty too tall girl, born seeking a crown.

 

Inherently wrong, inherently bad.

Inherently awful, annoying when sad.

 

I’ve hated this hell, this derision this torture.

Before I knew you I invited it and women accepted in plethora.

 

Truth I love and adore you, I honour and care.

I need to learn more of you, you are so abundant to share.

 

You make everything right.

You make everything good.

You are intrinsically bright.

Your are intrinsically just so good.

 

Truth when I don’t know you,

when I break from your hand.

When I’m confused and in doubt,

I feel I’m wading in sinking sands.

 

I feel lost without you,

I don’t know where to turn.

You pull me out from the swamps.

Rescue me from that Islay boggy burn.

 

Truth please stay by my side.

Please hold onto my hand.

Please walk with me in struggles,

I will seek you out when I stand.

 

You connect me to me.

Connect me to God.

You are the way and the channel,

to all that is holy when I’m lost.

 

I cant believe I’ve never really known your stunning powerful Grace.

Cant believe we’ve been so fissured, arrogant men took your place.

 

The loss from your hand,

feels so sad and so real.

I became a puppet to dad,

my soul he very nearly did steal.

 

But Truth you came along,

like  a best friend when drowning.

Speaking sense with such love,

giving hugs that have hope.

 

I want to learn to honour you more.

And let you help me reconnect my sorrow to my soul.

I will cling to you in the shallows,

to bring me back to my parent, my God.

 

Thank you for being there for me,

you are my one truest love.

 

 

Written January 2021

2021-02-01T23:23:04+00:00Poetry|
Go to Top
Close Bitnami banner
Bitnami