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#poetry

826.

and then the moments
you forget, the moments
it’s almost not real
at all, the moments
it almost isn’t happening
except

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Kieran Lennon
Today was more normal than yesterday. Not because it was,
But because it was as strange as yesterday.
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a neurography of
your chemtrails that
illustrates your (head)space
like early star maps: constellations
broken how syllables are
when children first read aloud;
darkness washing in & out

adumbrating stars enough,
you wouldn’t know they’re there;
unless you spoke astrologist.

your map Tinderized, swiped
& searched by someone else
looking for something “Sirius”–
a camera flash in the panorama
of each person’s own night sky–
short on Xanaxorcists, we Xanax
and (X)annex others into our
sad domains, sometimes ending
with a [dot] com // always: “edging”
toward a ledge with an interrobang;
as th‽s symbol, non-anthropomorphic,
personifies more heads than a “69”.

selfoscoping, you leave
your non-COVID self-quarantine
and declare, deep-throated,
that you are ready to reintegrate;
with whom is irrelevant, for
the only thing cross here is not
your jewelry–as you play i† by the ear–
but how you always betray yourself
and then pin “it” at a 45° angle;
nailing, like a crucifix, the X
in “exist” for someone else;

casting several foreshadows
to escape your self-escapism,
you are never face-to-face with
yourself–and each future your umbrage
sees into is unpainted visages
and vistas of beauty, which inevitably become
more Sad Clown, Bad Summer
than any Atmosphere EP.

there is no “trying to find a balance”,
for it is as trendy to be eXtreme as
was omitting the first “e” in the ‘90s;
and like Tony Hawk about-faced 4x in '84
just to land, 14 years later, a last 180°–
amid Gay Twists and all manner of Fakies–
our own X Games looks quite the same.

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In retrospect

maybe we should’ve left it at the fantasies

cos I got nothing from you

but this cringey fucking feeling

when I think about the way you looked at me

within that shallow darkness

referring to yourself in third person saying

“how’s Daddy’s cock feel, huh?”

to be honest Daddy’s cock feels like

every other cock I’ve ever jacked off

just lacking any actual

fucking reciprocation

& as a masochist I thought this was gonna be a good time

but it wasn’t

& I vomit a bit in my mouth when I think about

you calling me your babygirl

bitch I’m not your babygirl I was just bored

& you fell asleep when I was horny so

what am I even doing here

& I left you having gained nothing but

traumatic flashbacks & a little lost dignity

& when you say

“make sure Daddy comes hard next time”

I think son,

there ain’t gonna be a next time.  

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I can feel the screams under my skin

Loud and powerful as the ocean in a storm

They stretch my skin as I fight to hide

i can’t help but let them slip

They’re in my too loud laughter

In my quick to blaze anger

Sometimes they grow too large for me to hide

I have to release the pressure before it ruins me

So I let tears stream down my face while I scream to the car radio

I let the car door slam

I let my boots stomp in the mud

I walk to the edge of the cliff overlooking the water

Waves lap at the shore

My fists curl and I let out a scream that shreds my throat and cracks my ribs

It pushes the waters back so the wave grows and grows until I’m out of breath

I drop to my knees in the mud and inhale sharply

The tension is released and the water surges

I look to the lighthouse that stands tall and steady on the rocks

There’s a silhouette at the top that disappears the next time the light swings around

The water calms and I walk back to the car with muddy legs

Pulling onto the road with the radio silent I wonder

Is anyone listening?

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I know now

that I must properly move on from you

& it’s easy

now that I’ve got something to move onto

but I guess what was holding me back

was that I never told you the truth

which is that I love you

from the start until forever

even as your image fades

replaced by something new

even as I forget

those little things you say & do

even as time goes by & minimises

something which was once so much of

my whole world

& in retrospect

despite all the doubt & the overthinking

I reckon I loved you right

cos I could never have loved you any different

any less loudly

any less outspokenly

any less strong

& don’t you ever get me wrong

loving you was the best thing that could’ve happened to me

& though now that I’m closing the book

now that I’m setting you free

it was a good fucking read

& I know beyond knowing’s logicality

that loving you was my destiny 

& it all turned out

as it was irrevocably meant to be.

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I don’t feel alive some days

Days where my ribcage is broke open

Days where you can see the vines tethering me to the earth

Hyacinths and Lillies growing out of my skull

A sapling in my stomach and Moss on my spine

If I try to speak the only thing that comes out is dirt

My hands are wooden with birds perched on my fingers

My legs are covered in mushrooms

I don’t have thoughts on those days

Nothing but the sound of water lapping at the shore

Nothing but birdsong as they nest in my hair

Or is it wild grass now

There’s days I feel like bones being returned to the earth

Sun-bleached and brittle

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Halloween

The 🏡 is full of 🎃

👾 would come out at the time of the year

🥱 say, soon 😴

Groups of 😈 run around

🎭, like 🥁 without 🎻

“Do 🤹🏻 actually know what 🌗 is?”

Inquiry from a hollow 🐚

When 🐡 left a rugged carcass

Run over by millions of 🚗

🧟 and 🧛🏿‍♀️ flying

Eating 🌭, but thinking about 🍕 instead

“Are you afraid for being a 👶🏻?”

Since 🧚🏽‍♂️ cheers everybody up

🦖 she’s 💦, not even 🐊

So when I, with 👻 in mind, see you

I know as it 🌧 you will be my ☂

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Cold seeps into my bones as the stars dim

My clothes soak in the dewy grass where I lay

Bare feet push against the dirt

Hands grab at the ground

Dirt and grass in my grasp

The night is too loud with thoughts

Dawn brings me a moment of peace

With quiet in my head I’m grounded

The sun peeks over the horizon

I sit up, frozen toes and fingers

The sun smiles on my face

I stand and stretch with a sigh

The sky brightens to a pale blue

I move inside to shower and start the day

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it’s easier to swallow vodka

than it is to swallow the lies

that you feed me

but here I sit,

and with each gulp

it is like swallowing a knife.

it is what I imagine it felt like

when my friend decided she wanted to become a sword swallower

and thought she could practice on her own.

the vodka goes down easily,

and pairs well with your words.

I accept what you say as I would accept another drink from the bartender

as he tells me it is fromthe man across the room

who hasn’t left me alone all night

and even now is staring.

I swallow every last drop

with a smirk on my lips

and a tear in my eye.

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image

There are so many feelings

And thoughts that fill my mind

Joys, concerns and loves I have

The Wisdom I might I find


Like a fog, confusion comes

Blocking out the warming sun

Trying to find, deep sleep at night

A battle I’ve not won…


I do not fear, I do not cave

But thoughts keep flowing thru

Like waves that come

I toss and turn, I try to swim unto


A place so still

An island where

The water’s clear

The Palm trees sway

The breaking waves

Is all hear

Sounds that sooths the soul


Life is so encompassing

The daylight and the night

Eyes that see, plant seeds

The mind will not lose sight


There are so many feelings

Thoughts that fill my mind

Joys, concerns and loves I have

The Wisdom I might I find


I do not fear, I do not cave

But thoughts keep flowing thru

Like waves that come

I toss and turn, I try to swim unto


A place so still

An island where the water’s clear

The Palm trees sway

The breaking waves Is all hear

Sounds that soothes the soul


That soothes the soul

That soothes the soul

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revmegQuote
from “How to decorate an egg Ukranian style” by Nancy Nase Thomas, in A Widening Light: Poems of the Incarnation edited by Luci Shaw, p. 94
Choose your symbols thoughtfully–
the fish, the grapes, 
the line that circles without ending or beginning.
Your hand may tremble; it’s difficult to conceive
of the idea of forever, even on an egg.
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