do not print these on your t-shirt

when all your firsts
have been coerced,
nostalgia is more bitter than sweet

sooner or later
all unrewarded behaviour
however good, will cease

if all endings
were new beginnings
no one would mourn them much

still I make the best
of the next best thing
though it never mesures up

perseverance is praised
only when it pays off
else it’s harassment or waste

now all I want
is to be surprised
but in a really good way


fine words

Those were perfectly fine
last words chosen to define
the space between
where we were
and are
and won’t be
But there were words
I swirled in my head
and rolled in my throat
never reaching my tongue
to pass from my lips to yours
words swallowed back to emerge
from my fingers
imprinting stains on my heart
on their way to a page
that remains as indifferent
to them as you


you pulled away
like a loose thread
you had weaved your way through all my thoughts
billowing my heart
with enough will
to move me
from one moment
to the next
now my days are in tatters
and little much matters
as I float unravelled
from tide to tide
with no shore
on which to alight
or marker to incite
or track change

honest bio

X lives with her husband and two kids in a house that is bit bigger than their needs, though they share it with their cat and the creatures he hasn’t yet managed to kill. X has a job she likes and does well enough to be appreciated without making a fuss.
X has done lot of different and some unexpected things but never long enough or well enough to be exceptional at any of them, and has thus not been bestowed any awards or distnctions, though she has applied and coped decently with numerous rejections.
She avoids conflict as it usually leaves her in a dimished position, so she swallows back globs of anger and frustration, and bile sometimes rises to make her jokes and smiles too bitter to be liked by most people.
She laughs loud and sings softly under her breath, and her most significant and intense experiences have been mostly in her head. Lately she has been battling the loss of expectation and desire but still fondles hope like a smooth pebble in her pocket before it too is lost. X is extraordinarily ordinary and worth little mention but a bio is customary and as she is usually just bypassed when she tries to stand purposefully apart, she acquiesced this time.

this jester’s end

I told you of thorns
in my side
and pebbles in my shoe
of flakes slowly falling
dithering my views
of lines crossing
coin tossing
the names for snow
just to show
I had one for you
and all those lies
just to deny
rocks’ molten birth
and all you were worth

I drew up pictures
dissected views
offered comments on the news
I sang of pains
and gains and losses
posted signs
on paper crosses
set afloat to reach you

then i sat
and quietly yearned
to know of what
you may have learned
or simply that you’d heard
in my words
something to stir in you
some wonder or just
raise you from your slumber
and then one day
to my dismay
you finally came on out to say–
thank you for all that you gave
now please kindly go away


Silence erases gestures
Fades gazes to a blur
Muffling expression
before it can find words

Silence shoves intentions
To the bottom of the bin
Under stillborn efforts
Aborted from within

Silence blights the ego
With doubt infested sores
Draining all the wonder
From what came before

Silence denies hunger
And despair’s just desserts
Left dangling like dead leaves
Uselessly inert

Silence dispels illusions
That once fueled desires
Heaping flesh and bones
Into a listless pile

Silence rakes up memories
Scarifying the ground
Making sure no spot
To take root can be found

Silence cancels well laid plans
Evading clever tricks
To draw out confessions
And bring some sense to this

Silence removes all targets
Keeping armies at bay
Long enough for walls to rise
Repelling ifs and mays

Thus silence begs one more attack
Though it be doomed to fail
A final act to put an end
To a pointless play

But silence ablates the will
It hollows out the core
Leaving desolation
Where temptation thrived before

So shatter silence with a scream
And raze history to the ground
Rage and riot till your heart’s content
Just do not go without a sound


I never cared much for statistics
until you were one of them.
Now I scan them for patterns
and correlations
to find significant factors
and probabilities of effect size
but only that outlier
hints that you were ever there
and the effect mesurable
only in the absence at my side.

grieving with words

pour them all out
heat them to a roiling boil
even if they sputter and burn
then let them stew
scoop the detritus and flotsam
from the surface
and let simmer some more
skim the fat, the excess
and turn the heat down low
as they thicken
their colour will change
their odour will rise
and meet your hunger
only then add the spices
to bring out their flavour
then let them sit with time
they will harden into crystals
and finally forms you can handle and shape and give names to
name them over and over again
repeat their names
until they lose their sense
beat them and mistreat them
until falling to pieces
they finally explete something
worth more than all that was lost

the big picture

Yes, I see
the big picture
The one
with commitments
Arching over
every horizon
And goals thickening
in the sky
But it doesn’t sustain
my focus
Like the details
that poke through the fog–
The feel of the back of your neck
against the palm of my hand
The nuance in colour
between your skin and your lips
The inflection of your voice
thickening with intent
The arch of your eyebrows
awaiting an answer
you may not like
And your eyes flashing
at a challenge–
I let my mind trip
and my heart rip
upon these protrusions
before they too fade
into the big picture

originally posted 17.12.2015

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