Month: September 2017

#PoeticAnswers 96 – How Do You Say “I Love You”?

Sometimes.”I love you”
Isn’t something I can say.
Sometimes it’s just an
Outstretched hand in an awkward silence
Or a look of admiration in a moment of pride.

I say “I love you” in
Early morning cups of coffee and
Unexpectedly ironed bedclothes.
In unsolicited text messages and
Midnight instant messenger conversations
And emails of kittens at work.

I say “I love you” in
Long walks in the sunset
And sacrificed jackets in the rain.
In shared tears and
Inappropriate laughter at
Inappropriate jokes.

But most of all,
I say “I love you” with meaning
And without speaking.
By showing you my hands
As I gesture “I love you”
In a language that
Only we understand.

Question from Sarah P. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 95 – When Did You Realise How Good You Are?

It’s was never exactly obvious,
It was more like the longest
Dawning of the day, except
It wasn’t a twenty-four hour
Turn-around time for it to
Come around, it was more like
Several years of night skies and
Never shining out of the darkness.
Feeling a sort of substandard
That could only be applauded
By best friends and parents.

But since starting to write
And stage these poems,
I’ve seen real people,
Rooms of strangers
Clinging onto every word,
I’ve heard them laugh,
I’ve hugged them when they’ve cried,
I have had statements from people stating
That they can relate to
The work that I’m making.
Even though it’s not anything
Particularly groundbreaking,
The fact that it can actually
Mean something to someone.

This never happened overnight,
I never expected any of this,
I never expected to find this bliss
Or happiness in performing
Poetry.
I never imagined feeling
Good about myself or
Having other people
Appreciate and listen.
It doesn’t feel real,
It doesn’t feel every day,
But in this moment of
Existential realisation,
I’ve come to realise:
I’m pretty fantastic.

Question from Megan C. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 94 – How Did Your Gig Go?

I wore my heart and soul
On my sleeve and vocal chords.
My heart jumped out my throat
And my soul dripped onto the floor
Like invisible rain,
Letting me get out the pent up rage
And depression that has
Inspired and incentivised
My life’s work.
Or at least my work from the past few months,
Because I’ve been writing everyday
For a hundred days.
It feels like a hundred seconds,
And tonight felt like a hundred minutes
As I took my time to tumble and stumble
Over each carefully crafted word and rhyme
That took a hundred hours of my time
To piece together like a jigsaw that
Didn’t want to be solved.
The audience listened but
I don’t know if they heard the
Meanings and cries for help
Dispersed among the one lines
And stanzas of depression-infused
Derivative metaphors.
But I stood on the stage,
And I got to speak.
I spoke like a man too afraid to stop speaking,
Too afraid for the stage lights to fall,
To afraid to lose the moment and
Get lost in the moment.
Adrenaline and benzodiazepine
Running at the same time,
Dancing with each other
To an off-beat rhythm that they’re both playing.
I stood on the stage
And I felt alive.
And it felt fantastic

#PoeticAnswers 93 – Would You Memorise This Poem If Your True Love’s Life Depended On It?

If it meant that
Every word I had to say
Was another pulse of your
Heartbeat then I would talk until
My lungs gave out and my voice box breaks
Until all I can do is whisper a prayer on repeat
Because the only way I could let you die is if words themselves ran out.

If I had to
Memorise a poem to
Keep you safe and warm
Then I would write the most
Simple, precious and beautiful poem
With the most precious and beautiful words I know on repeat;
Your name.

Question from Michael Clark from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 92 – Are You Ready?

I am down,
I am psyched,
I am on the ball,
I am ready to rock,
I am ready to roll,
I am prepared,
I am waiting,
I am good,
I am so,
Definitely,
Absolutely,
Affirmatively,
Conclusively,
Positively,
Totally,
Truly,
Deeply,
Irrevocably,
Frustratingly,
Unapologetically
Painstakingly,
Not exactly
Not really,
Ready.

Question from Megan C. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 91 – Why Do We Bring Pets Into Our Lives Knowing That In 10 Or So Years We’re Going To Be Devastated By Their Deaths?

For the longest time,
I felt like I didn’t know how to feel.
Like I was putting on a
Pathetic attempt at empathy,
Making a poor production of sympathy
While remaining apathetic as fuck.

And It’s not that I’m a complete dickhead,
It was just my luck that I was blessed
With Asperger’s Syndrome.
So despite my prickish tendencies and
My problems with thank yous and apologies,
Please don’t think that it’s personal.

My parents bought me a pet,
And by that, I mean
They bought a family puppy
In the hopes that I would get
Feelings and friendlier and
A little bit more normal.

He was a little pettable pillow,
A warm, fuzzy, yellow
Bundle of fuzz and fluff.
And through him I learned
How to be more gentle and less rough,
And how to look after a life.

As we both grew up,
His paw prints became imprints
On my personality as he taught me
How to play and be happy,
Bringing me out of apathy
And being always there for me.

When the day came that
He was too old and too in pain to play
I was heartbroken.
My tears fell into an ocean breaking
Into tidal waves of emotion
And it was strange.

Strange because I had never
Felt this way about anything,
Leaving me wondering if I was broken
As I stared at his toys and tokens
Of his life and affection and devotion
As my family told me that it was okay.

For the longest time,
I felt like I didn’t know how to feel.
He changed that for me.
Even though I was the one training him
Fetch and heel and high five,
He was the one who was teaching me.

Teaching me how to
Smile and laugh and be happy,
Teaching me how to
Care and cry and be sad,
Teaching me how to
Feel and appreciate the time and life I have.

And for that, thank you.
You were a good boy.

Question from Jasmyne M. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 90 – Why Do We Drive On Parkways And Park On Driveways?

It could be because it’s because
They are the way to their destination,
Driving on a parkway on our way to park,
Parking on a drive way before it leads to the road to drive on.
And maybe this sounds like poetic drivel
And like I’m trying to drive a point home
But the truth is:
The English language doesn’t make sense.

The whole thing has gone down in flames
Because flammable and inflammable
Both mean the same.
My nose has done more running than my legs
And I’ve seen people play more football with my hands.
And don’t get me talking about spelling
Because in Scotland and England
Spelled is spelt spelt but to an American
Spelt isn’t spelled spelt, it’s spelt spelled and
Although I’m very thorough with my reading,
Trying to read in Reading makes reading a bit tougher to do.

I thought I knew the English language,
But today I learned something new,
I am not all that learned in the English language,
I think I’ll switch to French,
Now adieu.

Question from Molli T. from Facebook

#PoeticAnswers 89 – What Were You Wearing?

I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Were you expecting me to say
Something more fitting,
More form fitting,
Something more pretty?
Or would you rather I said
I was wearing a shirt and tie so
You can fetishize my school uniform
To try and justify his actions
And make the victim him and not me?

Were you hoping I would say
I was wearing nothing but
My sexuality on my sleeve
And leggings so you could say
“They were practically begging”
And then pin the blame on me?
Then go on to say that I was
“Preying on his fragile masculinity”
Twisting the situation and implying
That the problem was me?

Because the truth is
I wasn’t wearing anything that would
Let you dress consent as a foregone privilege
Instead of a basic right.
And the only reason his
Arms and ego are bruised is because
I tried to fight back and tried not to
Not let it happen but I was
Too frightened and pinned down
With brute force and fear.

I still feel his hand
Over my mouth,
Forcing my screams
To back down my throat.
I am forced to wear scars
Carved by his nails and I’m
Stained with bruises that
No shower can wash away and
No knife or razor can cut out.
And I’ve tried.

No noose or antidepressant
Can change the way that
I have been changed.
And if you think,
If you believe,
That I would ask for this,
For my life to be hollowed out,
For my body to be mutilated to the point
I don’t recognise my reflection,
Then you are just as much to blame as him.

I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt,
Now they’re stained, tattered and torn
And strewn amongst the shreds of
My dignity and innocence and
Shards of shattered dreams that
Have given way to nightmares that
Don’t let me sleep
And broken-record memories
That play over and over and over,
That remind me the victim was me.

#PoeticAnswers 88 – You Coming To The Pub?

I’ll pop out for just a drink,
I won’t stay out too long,
If we hit up the karaoke bar
I’ll stay for just a song.

I’ll stay out for just another,
I enjoy the company
And the liquor and the ambience-
Hold on, I need to pee

I’m down to my last twenty pound,
I think that that’s my lot.
The manager’s buying the next round?
Barkeep, what whisky have you got?

Oh god, who bought the tequila?
Why am I drinking gin?
Why are there no Jaegerbombs?
Is the room starting to spin?

I think I’ve lost my wallet,
And I’ve missed the midnight train.
I’ll see you in the office on Monday.
Next Friday, same again?

Question from a work colleague. I went to the pub. I didn’t drink. It was a good evening.

#PoeticAnswers 87 – How Do I Get My Children To Flush?

Through a vast amount of trial and error,
I’ve found a way to make
My three foot terror
Flush the bloody toilet.

After many tries to be inventive and
Failed offerings of food and cash incentives,
The little buggers now
Flush the bloody toilet.

And though they didn’t react
When I put them up for adoption,
The little bastards now have no option but to
Flush the bloody toilet.

Now thanks to gravity and super glue,
I don’t have to see their number ones or twos.
Now the only thing that they can do is
Flush the bloody toilet.

Question from Kristin S. from Facebook