Monday, 1 March 2010

Salt Spiked Honey

I have been known to tell amusing anecdotes:
Now they slip my mind

In my rather chaotic book-stacked study, alive with jittery monochrome cats, JOhnny Animal pats me on the head, I can smell his testosterone, he says
"Don't look so pensive Tillie, interesting lives are often bittersweet.
Pain can illuminate a path to peace, you would not love so strongly if your losses had not been felt so profoundly"
He is a Buddha.
My entire situation, not knowing where the kids are, or how they feel, is a minefield of dread and self doubt. it's a horrible mental process akin to untangling living threads like coiling parasites, tangled like wool in the emotional archipeligo of my mind.
How the Hell did it come to this?

I am beng offered the fulfillment of dreams I daren't not envisage on the back of guilt and remorse, like planting flower beds on landfill.#

Childer me

One grey Friday
the black eyed woman
with clever words
and deflated hopes
lies on a bed
on a mound
of her absent children's clothes
and crying
from her toes
her chakra's sodden soaked rags
her best efforts stuffed into bin bags
And only Angels can hold her strong
her tears a salve to ease her
into a salted mollasses tomorrow
of bittersweet sighs
Where all pleasures are sensory
Ah, Garlic, Rosemary
for memories
Smooth smooth pearls
Sad sad melodies.
Beautiful beautiful hope
Yes beautiful beautiful hope
like s Spring born willow

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