I’ve discovered carbon paper. I knew it existed of course but now it’s become all that I think about, sort of.
This poem is about being a carbon copy of what you were before without any of the substance. Forgetting yourself in order to survive or get through rough, horrible, awful life shit.
Its about putting on a brave face and keeping on going, even when you don’t know how.
Tuesday, January 03, 2012
Monday, December 12, 2011
Saturday, December 03, 2011
Garlands join me
It’s a birthday gift to my friend Esme. My wonderful, beautiful friend without whom I would disintegrate. It is everything that I want her to know, always.
Happy Birthday Esalmeberry.
Happy Birthday Esalmeberry.
A love letter for Joanna
I’ve been reading and rereading John Keats love letters to Fanny Brawne for the last few weeks. His devotion to her has kept me buoyed and has reminded me how good love is.
This is my love letter to Joanna Lumley. It is everything I would say to her if our lives were different. They would have to be pretty different mind but somehow, love would be champion. The woman is utterly magnificent. Thank goodness there is somebody in the world living a life as full as hers.
This is my love letter to Joanna Lumley. It is everything I would say to her if our lives were different. They would have to be pretty different mind but somehow, love would be champion. The woman is utterly magnificent. Thank goodness there is somebody in the world living a life as full as hers.
Monday, November 07, 2011
As I walk through streets
It is about being on the edge of something, too frightened to move forward whilst knowing that its the only thing there is left to do. Nothing changes if nothing changes.
If I end up in the same place
It is really about surrendering yourself to the inevitability of never really knowing. There is nothing more than what we have and no matter how we go about things the result is going to be the same.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I wish it looked like something else
This week I’ve been unable to shake the feeling that I’m screwing up every aspect of my life. That combined with having a pencil and notepad by the side of my bed at 11.30pm has resulted in this poem. It isn’t how I feel always, just how I feel at the moment.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Friday, September 02, 2011
Somehow I cope (a time for something)
Its about doing what you can to get through each minute, coping mechanisms and indiosyncrasies that help us not to drive into the sea.
Its about finding what works.
Its about finding what works.