I split in two, I divide,
I side with me, with you, I hide
from the out, from the in,
run from the religion who damn as a sin
the divide, the division of soul,
of confusion where help needs a goal,
but, where rational thought,
I won’t play the game, play the stereotype,
live up to the hype
of the image that’s played
and no matter what’s said,
I can’t become that and it’s wrong to assume
the pretty-thing room
is the end of the road,
I follow a different code.
I’m forced to take blame in splendour
for all the idiots of my gender,
while facing the ultimate snub
from those in the opposite club
so, I split in two, I divide,
I hold my head up alone,
‘Quarrels with the Gender Binary’ – an upcoming anthology exploring the diverse spectrum of gender discourse and experience: Click Here
Deep within the darkest shadows’ dance
lies unseen, the bright new moon,
and so my unanswered questions fall
and leave me in this empty room.
But enduring loss the night sky shines
and blazes with a different wonder,
while my deepest questions are left to probe
past lightning and past thunder.
So standing here, under this new night,
my darkest questions should leave,
but in shadows cast by a different light
they all remain and grieve.
Daily Post Word Prompt: Suspicious
Waves still crash, soft on the hammered shore,
while people dance, and sing,
nursing what went before,
though why this long line in the sand?
Living in deep waters, riding high on a crest,
we always sang, and knew our place,
and our place in Paradise is close, but lest
you steal it away,
while grains of sand create a beach,
in our single, softly trodden patch, we sway
in rising storms,
and now, where merging waters kiss
under open skies, and warm sun bakes,
and ask you journey with us,
for all our sakes.
With my fingers all a quiver
And we begin our merry dance.
What wondrous chance
Has sought us two out
To come together in this way.
And soft sounds silence the air
As we sway as one
Entwined, a love so rare
My heart-strings pulled, stretched, fulfilled,
Overcome as we ignore all other types.
There’s just me, with you,
My fingers dancing
On my Irish pipes.
Finding my voice, in this choir of calamity,
each chorus a mystery,
singing parts I can not reach
is a task I’ve been set
by choristers and masters alike,
demanding I find it, own it,
look for it in places I find hard to seek,
and instead settle into
my comfort zone, humming, drone,
soft circle of my personal scale
and feel some nurture there.
Big bite in the neck.
Little more blood
Oh, what the heck:
Eight pints of red nectar
To keep alive the haunting spectre
And enter the hallowed fraternity,
Not just for Halloween,
But for all of damned eternity.
Running, running in a race
Faster, faster feels the pace
Cut through the water
Over the blocked path
Breathless push now up the hill
Only a few miles to go
Nearer then against the foe
Positioning at the top men
Getting right beside them
Seeing the last klick coming
Concentrating on the running
Last few hundred now in sight
Powering home to win the fight