Began writing this after the inspiration of Plastercine Poetry at the Victory last night. I feel it is part of the book I’m going to write during NaNoWriMo.

When you set your sights small sometimes it becomes easier to see them through. I thought we were through and then you came back to me, ever wanting, and yet unable to deliver the goods. Promises made became empty beds full of longing and memory. Trapped inside one’s body, one pretended to envelope the change, accept it, let go. Transform it, or you. Once admitted the dysfunction was no fault of one’s own it became possible to walk on the moon. Or any other such surface you desired. I played upon that desire. I didn’t mean to, it was just my own selfish transcendence of inhibitions. How far I’d let myself go into wanderings and trails obviously well trodden but not so much as the other ones. I… handed over my calvary in an attempt to bid for peace, bide for time or at least trade for some oranges. I hadn’t come this far to return with nothing.

But what I got was an aftertaste, some say bitterness, but I never saw that as a negative, I really enjoyed the ascent. Even though I now know it to be some disease, the way it played out for me I was able to surf, if for a short time, relatively in life span, but like a frog leaping from pad to pad I went exploring, walking on water to everyone’s disbelief. Now everyone can do it of course but I like to think I was a pioneer, at least for my tribe. And here’s where the apology I suppose could enter in. After all you could just say she was doing her job, like everyone else, caught up in a web of coercion, to which negation means finalization. And not in a good way.

Also a number of people received my free poem, good times.

ive started a rumour mill

of quiet revolution

a feeling of welling and telling solutions

i wage with a warm open fire

and potion, i cage up the bottom of my emotion.

im drawn to the fire

i open the page

i sit with the masters and see them enraged

i am but my maker

in all that it slays

i am but entirely of mater in chains

i am but a myriad, a microcosm of change

i start in the classroom, i start on the page

i do it with deliverance,

i do it all day

i’ll do it to the end of my formatted ways

it doesn’t need to be a prisoner

it doesn’t need to be strong, it can’t last for a lifetime

or last in a song

i am but a strand and a flan made of bone

I’m daughted by no one,

i care not for blame

the only thing that is important is we go on our way

Live it up! Sip from the cup!

We’re all in this together,

we must fight for it to control the weather,

the whether or not we’re gonna do it, weather or not we’re gonna weather thru it.

cheers, grab hold of yer matey, limey, blimey, mistress Katy

perrier is sold all over the world, probably owned by coke a cola

wouldn’t fight for it so i told ya, quitting coffee is what i gotta do,

i can do anything you can do better,

so I put on my sweater, and said, I have a cold dear,

gotta stay in bed, perhaps shave my head

run naked in the sun, and the rain, dive into the ocean

protect your right to cross borders,

dived undecided                         (x divided)

derided, derision, it was my decision,

where to go what to do the next direction isn’t up to,

you its up to me, i will be free

i will be greeting you,

at the door,

telling you what I done for,

dressing you down with my eyes,

all in an attempt to undisguise

my truth

all abourd                                z

matey, ahoy

and lately, have you seen a little boy

wandering around here at all,

he’s about yea’ tall…

actually he’s really just learned to crawl,

then he’ll stand himself against the wall

and brace himself against the side of the table,

moving forward ifin heez abel.

Ya, my name’s Mabel,

I’m an old sould,

di-send-id from the gentlin’

cross fit in the main strip,

eerily cage-lit

i dropped off your package,

and here’s how you take it,

just sip it in doses

and don’t forget to space it.

with food, fragrance,

hypnotic cadence

whenever my tameless

strangeless

pageless

pagan

superman

comes

home

then

I’ll

be

one.

still lonely, wondering, wandering

a cloud, vapour

plug back in and get to work

a deadline, a line

in the sand

a future plan

i wonce had fans.

But time passes.

people forget,

a man dies,

there are kids.

I can’t do it,

its all too overwhelming

a child has grown

the adults have showen

how not to

do what i say

not what i do

i know what’s right

but i just can’t right now.

always the wrong pace,

the wrong choice, spontaneity.

i’m spoiled like rotten milk

lost faith, how could I?

Make someone believe in me,

someone I wanna be.

Fragments cast away in this omnibus strategy,

you kissed me more when I asked for it.

your face, your face

is so endearing to me

i want to de-age you,

melt the stress, tension and worry.

clean the fury

when i met up with him he reviewed the conspiracy

the hemp car, the pulp ban

cortina, besos, tranquilla

los presas en el aqua, los presas en el agua

sola

pas campagna

dancing faster

the heron chased my bus.