Ban the burka bullshit

The tool of poverty,

Sharpens the knifes

Filling the jails with empty bellies

And skewed statistics

Supporting their latest cause

.

And the men,

With their eyes on their wallets

And stained hands pressed firmly against your breast

Declare sexism in religious attire

Politely reminding her to undress

It’s a mess

But we pretend we are free

Liberate her from her identity

Make her look more like me

.

Stand with London

Stand with Yemen

Stand with France and Syria

But the suits keep us tied to the chairs

Unable to declare,

Anything but war.

Hoping hashtags can stop the pain

.

It’s unfair,

But it’s all part of the game

As we tell our children alternative bedtime stories

Where power is created by good not wealth

.

we watch, Idly by

Whilst our kids assault their own skin

To escape the world we’ve created

Destroy themselves from within

We tattoo snowflake on their hearts

And then wonder why they freeze.

Unable to feel anything but numb

.

Boxer chanting “I must work harder”

Becomes an every day motif

Promoting the fake news of prosperity

The truth hidden beneath

.

It’s sad to proclaim,

Although we all understand

It’s easier to thrive

With your head in the sand

.

But the beach is overcrowded

And the demons within

It’s time to step forward

We won’t let them win

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Insecurity

Tear stained mirrors cannot lie

Or mask the grotesque

Nor the disappointment in their lust filled eyes

When they realise I am their prize

…..

Racing to turn out the bedroom light,

Grateful they’re only here for one night.

Out of sight, out of mind

As they slam themselves deeply inside

Conducting their alibis, protecting their pride

…..

Glancing at my scar-filled thighs

They wince, treat me like one of the guys

Forcing themselves to ignore the disguise of femininity

Buried under repulsive skin

Tarnished and tainted, trapped deep within.

……

So they smile, make a harmless joke

At my unappealing frame

Accepting that I am out of the game

“Beauty is within”, they grin.

Gazing longingly at her chest

Unable to desire the body I posses.

I’m a mess

…..

And in a moment of pious support

They tell me I’m fine for a last resort.

As long they make it crystal clear,

To anyone lingering near

I’m their final choice

One step up from their hand

Not an encounter they ever had planned

…….

So I search,

For that zip on my flesh

Shedding my intolerable form

And yet when I raise my eyes from the floor

The mirror screams the word “whore.”

Apple tree

My body is an apple tree

The branches weave so far down my throat

I spend most days

attempting not to choke.

.

Yet

You can’t have a fire

Without any smoke – and I am burning.

.

My body is an apple tree

Some days the twigs expand,

entwining around my lungs

until I’m sure each breath will be my last.

.

Yet it will pass.

And the birds will still sing,

Each breath will become a wonderful thing

Though even the maggots

can see through my grin.

.

My body is an apple tree.

.

The fruit filled with allure,

An illusion of perfection

And rotten to the core

.

Inquisitive delusion, a lesson to learn

Visitors are plentiful, but never return

.

A lifetime of loneliness

Is no more than I’ve earned

.

A long time worn,

Yet the roots hold strong

Throughout internalised scorn

And the notion that I can never belong

Is it so wrong

.

To need some relief

A moment of weakness

A lifetime of grief

Unevolved from the child

Hiding under bed sheets

.

My body is an apple tree

.

Through the storm and the sun

The light and the dark

The old and the young

.

Entrapped in existence

With one final plea

My mind is in turmoil

.

My body an apple tree

Home

You’re an independent woman

till you’re pushed to your knees,

As he pulls back your hair

His lips whispers please

.

And the voices are strong,

Screaming time to go home

Yet the memories that haunt

Are far worse when alone

.

Home houses the knifes,

Too accustomed to skin

You’ve swallowed them whole

Now they cut from within

.

And that full length mirror

Gave to you as a gift

Captured the moment

You first made yourself sick

.

Whilst Invisible ink

Surrounds your four walls

Every bad word you’ve spoken

Accessible to all

.

So you comply without haste

You don’t deserve any more

Take one shallow breath

And dissolve to the floor

Chasing nightmares

He stands.

Changing the world in 140 characters or less

It’s a mess.

We all bow our heads

And pretend we are distressed.

we say he’s harmless, an unwanted joke

But  you can’t light match then complain about the smoke

.

Fighting for change with our eyes tightly shut

With a look of surprise that we’re stuck in this rut

Hoping our children can finally be strong enough

Yet before their voice breaks, they make their cut.

.

They take their first drug before they can drive

Have sex with strangers, so they feel alive,

Child suicide figures quickly on the rise

Broken before they learn how to survive.

.

The media is powerful, a key for their lock

Keeping us fearful of the next knock,

Yet there’s always an iPhone to film all the shock

Society narrated by Rupert Murdock.

.

With wrinkles come doubt,

A resigned disposition.

The years stole away with their hopes and ambition

now unexpected kindness, raises only suspicion

They no longer question, just blind submission

.

And when thoughts of equality enter their head

They are forced to focus on their struggles instead

I can only surmise that it’s true what they said

“Everyone is equal when they are dead.”

Little boy to little man

Tearful eyes with tiny shoes,

powerless against the flames.

Gritted teeth and swinging fists,

Are different kinds of games.

.

Inquisitive boy soon learns to hush, 

Wishing he was strong .

But when a fly’s locked in a spider’s web,

Bravery can’t last long.

.

As the boy’s too big for the web,

He’s lead to the serpents lair. 

Broken voice, yet breaking down 

Fed only on despair. 

.

A cappellas of insults drown out The Smiths, 

Head pounding to the base.

Fear takes root, deep in his mind,

Watered with his hate. 

.

Little boy to little man,

In a world he can’t control.

Conflicting claims and twisted words

Are bound to take their toll.

.

Then one night, as the hurricane rains 

His courage starts to wobble.

Just one more punch, one more word 

he’s reaching for the bottle. 

.

It silences the voice, that says he’s weak,

Granting him some peace.

The dangerous drug cannot be wrong,

If he can finally sleep.

.

Angry eyes and size 10 feet,

Flinch as tall men come near.

Yet forty years from his escape 

he cannot quench his fear. 
.

The monster 

Razor blades tumble from your lips

Your articulate tongue shredding 

those words of comfort 

.
I hold your hand 

And you crumble at my side

unable to hide the sorrow 

you disdain to express

.

And suddenly I am a sandcastle

With walls so sturdy and thick 

Forgetting I can be destroyed by the 

smallest of waves.

 .

This is a tsunami.

.

They say you can ignore the storm

by focusing on sandbagging the pier

But when the bag bursts in your palms

You can’t suppress your fear
.

 When bracing for the water 

you underestimate the creatures that swim

Your brain tries to comprehend

 how the world can still spin

Only aware of the monster 

as it tears you limb from limb

 And yet by this point the pain is a welcome relief

 . 

Then it’s over

.
And they act like it never begun

Smile at waves, complement the sun

And the holiday makers return to the sand 

Yet you cannot sunbath in silence

.
When people ask why it took so long 

I can only surmise : 

In order to scream you have to be able to breath

.
I can finally breath. 

Mary Magdalene

 The Mary Madeline, 

tied to her crib 

But the welds on her wrists 

Won’t compare to his. 

.

Hiding in the shadows

Validation unclear 

Sprinting into action

Only when he is near

.

Mothood and maiden 

A Crone for the king

The lost soul for the savior 

A tale to begin? 

.

Wiping out her existence

Limiting her time

Shaming her life style 

Been forced into crime 

.

Now the children are starving 

She scrambles, undressed 

The world crumbles around her

Yet they say she’s blessed. 

.

Their eyes are hurricanes

Destructive and deep

A statue of stone,

Too pious to weep. 

 .

A sinner with the savior 

Yet the irony is lost 

We’ll bury the memory 

And pray to the cross. 

Commute 

Individual reality

With no means of control

Secluded and peaceful

You shut down your soul

.
Headphones and crisp packets

Breathily killing time 

Silent and still 

As his eyes meet mine 

.

Lipstick lined with confidence 

Innocence with lust

Lost in the motion 

A mutual distrust 

.

A lullaby so gentle

The mother’s arms are steel 

Preparing for arrival

Unable to feel

.

Separation comes quickly 

A harsh fall from grace 

The senses are muted 

You return to your place. 

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