'I Saw It Too' Knocked down, by words of indecision, like the opposite of a revolution. A nasty judder, like a blow, like a kick from a slug, like teeth closing over a tongue, probing for a taste 1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry

Peak this, peak that. Peak horseshit.

'Hahahaha" Confession in written whispers, blood from a pen. The taste of cranberry, like subterfuge upon stretched lips. Trite words. A scraped thought, like a throat. An unfeeling trope, dearth and aimless as a zombie. #poetry #TashPoetry

I think my state of mind, I mean my #poetry is getting worse.

'After-image' The haze of persists, to remind with a swell of colour, the decisions of a secret life. Observe the crumpled ashes that had once shimmered as a beloved before shedding a soul's worth of weight to die. For all such moments, one must eventually smile. 1/2 #poetry #writing #TashPoetry

'Sensory Other' Call me out for a Friday dance — a tryst and trick, on the way out, fuck,  unbothered by the world dragging slowly behind. Take me, show me a newborn sorrow, a debutante's swan song, a whirling semaphore for a brain, too blown out to encode 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

Stifle the cracks with laughter and warmth. Fill a husk into a being, not unlike a house. To smile, unlike a simile, undone by neurosis. #poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem

A faltering mind, divining; delving for the loved and lost, a decay of thought like a passing ghost, seeking nowhere. The body, tired but strong from the fighting, fucking, though we hate that word, strong, like cleverness, like easy. Poetry, unforming the self like leprosy. #poetry #TashPoetry

A sense and instinct for depth & descent; a lodestone for trouble. To slip & stream, hurtle towards the ache like a plummeting myth: Handmaiden of Persephone, wing-shorn into a quaking waste into a land that shifts like a fickle shadow; like a true lover's whim & indenture. #poetry #TashPoetry

Try posting poetry on social media, they said... Sure. I forgot that I do not do well with the social part.

Busy-ness or business, new trends, or perhaps old business — the re-glossed, chipped nails of indoctrination, scarified at the altar of good housekeeping. Servitude is a Sahara — 11 countries across to vacuum, a never-ending vacuum, just to please you. Goodness, no. #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

'Potpourri' Chasing conversation remnants in emptying rooms, filling with loneliness. The party, devolving into recalcitrance — the music, for one, to sway to, glasses, tipped and two strangers to lean into; hands, too tired for habits. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

Matia Mou' I swallowed an unknown offering in blindness, acceptance, like justice blindfolded though sustainment continues, regardless with my eyes turning askance, like my internal emptiness, rolling. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

A conversation crosses a latent thought, and I return, harken a klaxon — a Preacher that recalls an existential fall into loneliness, and the neon, burrrowing lines from a song to empty, or should that be fill, to submerge, or perhaps, to surface? I am always uncertain. 1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry

'South Of Here' A Southern weather promise, and I am contented by the untended spaces — the beach, an emptied place of peoples and partisan misbehaviours; the coastal stones, cold but encompassing, graffitied and waiting 1/3 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

'I Allusion' Time travelling, between two voids — work, and some other thing I was made for. Hole-hearted, hole-headed; holes, so close to whole but not as close as whore, what this isn't NZ poetry — nothing to read here, not this scrawl of a reclusive's excuse 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

'Somewhere In The World, A Goddess Faltered' So how were you short- changed, sugar? To bear these misconducts of mediocrity without the refrain of sanity; intellect reserved for another day. A siren call to banshee — a segue to a different reality, from lips for sin to mournful hate. 1/2 #poetry

A dissonance with the Word, juxtaposed with a tiredness; a vagueness, with the news swallowed into my newness, my instructed auspiciousness: Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness. Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness. Smile-less. Breath-less. Stillness. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

Gardens' Where or when did I wake, and whatever for, in this wilderness— the catchment of God and Devil, though mostly just the same when rephrased by men. Walk with the guardedness of experience. Run, as though chased and chaste. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

Simple devotions in elegant diminutives... Her, passing the fine china, tea leaves settling to within my reach, cantilevered to the tips, like a diver returning to a familiar precipice and the inward breath before the linger, & the emptying breath, into the depths where I never belonged. #poetry

'Call' One way or another, providence will rattle and fall like any other coin, called heads or tails, though he always asks for heads, as if it were a new joke rather than the old trope he reserves for his whores. #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

Why seek Heaven, when angels remain unseen? Why try to change an eternity’s refrain? Portals and doorways with enticement of abandonment for new lives — 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

'The Time' I lost a watch today, and I was sent into circuitous circles, to anxious alarm in little spirals and mutters. The exposed wrist seems unreliable, flexor tendons, uncommunicative, without its missives in quarter circles: 1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem

'With God's Blessing' A halo only exists when there is a spotlight and its gradation, into a void though there is the noise, a vexation. There is an audience — accomplices for the pain, and the blood of a fighter's ringed indifference. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

'The Rock And The Hard Place' #poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem

Lift the heels and fade into an existential pico — a flicker of a shifting discoordinate, like a promise that eschews closeness for a hillside battle with fate. Lean in, into an unbidden secret as Sisyphus would do, with filicide horror in his mind. The boulder, like free will, slipping.

'Whatever' This a glamour-less poem. No metaphors, metamorphosis, no bittersweet sundowns while driving through the naked lights of an endless downtown. And even if I could, would I write a poem for you? The sunrise comes for me alone. #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

'Records' Cool Sundays at the record fair — circling time into petit routines. Unwinding knots, withholding attention, cueing one's self to think of some other remission. Part 1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem

Ergo, Abigail spoke and claimed that I was a concubine to fate — a Cassandra herald, for no one's refrain. The world splits easily as childhoods do: Schadenfreude tribes for the shouting; the fortunate, skeptic and the raging, 1/2 #poetry #TashPoetry #mypoem

The altered dusk had shifted — the neon shimmer ceded to the LED glitter, like the real world's relinquishment to some other wave of measure. The crowd presses close; the requests, even closer, for digits and accounts, 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

I am thinking about stopping being on BlueSky for a while. I am trying to get my health and fitness back on track again, and my discipline has not been the greatest. I can also tell when I am wearing on others, and my engagement falls, both ways. I post to share, not to advertise. #TashPoetry

'My Lover's House' Whet my appetite when I am down and around with your left-of-center smiles above your primly crossed thighs while I recall, somehow your cinnamon girls, this house and the wetness of the plunge and divide in-between a girl & her second chance. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

What was hope, but a maddening whim? A gift from Pandora for one — a bell jar blackened to the brim. What was hope, but a maddening whim? In sickness and in death, a bride’s dread dream; drugs, chemo, radiotherapy almost done. What was hope, but a maddening whim? A gift from Pandora for one. #poetry

I seem to be losing followers. Perhaps I had been too dour as of late.

Check the mirror, for its abstruse owner — all nerves, jangling to possibility and a hazardous thought, born from the tinnitus of a punk record. There is truth, and there is history, and the room is a mess, even if only to perception — 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

I settle, breathless, in tempo impaled & suspended on a shivered déjà vu moment, a liquid, spurious recall of another doorway; a thoracic rhythm, dulled. Was it me, before? I cannot recall your face, your limbs. Not in these daydreams of a dry house with its fiction of a heart. #poetry #mypoem

'Stop, Please' Trip, without being saved, without certainty and reach. No saving reactions, no clutch of hands, no feet, no face, no need, no mouth with which to sin; to cry and echo who you were before the Fall, before you were much of anything at all. #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

Winter livery — wrapped in night-bleached scarves & hidden scars... We danced in the scant light that dripped limpid from whispering willows above. Do you remember diving down, swirling, into a molten dream — a red sea of delineation; the touch of windswept emblazoning leaves? #poetry #mypoem

Loss precedes grief, but it also describes the quality of the latter perfectly. I feel empty, both of emotion and of any planned action. A marionette, waiting for the puppeteer to return.

FYI. Credits for pictures used in my posts are in the alt text. If there is no credit, then it is my own image.

I think I have a simpatico relationship with my readers. I write something and they tacitly understand never to speak of having read it.

I vacillate like a cat in a mad scientist's box.

'Trompe L'oeil' 24 hours, dressed in diaphanous delight; melodious movements, revealing. A flimsy deception, with the world, still tilted; the sun, too bright for a paramour's instruction, the curtains closed to preserve the illusion 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

I could rise from the depths to repose as a rainbow sheen in a half-glass of nonchalance. I can smile brightly, have my thoughts dulled by a medicated circumstance. There is a storm in my cup with a void for its centre. There is a whirlpool stirred within my glass. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

'Good Game' Coin a conversation and the day might seem brighter, the evening, warmer still, bare-shouldered to the wit & touch of another, a hope evolving — acceptance, perhaps, a spark of a joy, a kernel of being, but most probably, not, just another attempt lost. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

It is difficult to write anything personal these days. My dissociation locks me out most hours of the day, and I have no processing time, even for grief.

There is a tiny possibility that caffeine may amplify my quarantine; a smallest push, a rush so I can live, explore my mind beyond my constant, flickering screens and scenes of what I have endured before; quell my perpetual restlessness 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

Procrastinate, and a fugue will decay into a carrion. Time killing, with the bodies, arrayed and avulsed — secreting stories, unremembered, stacked against their kin. 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

'Automatica' Driving through the hailstorm, left headlight flickering body bruised, aching; stitched synaesthesia, roaring as we slash through another gorge with its ricochet of ice and thought, that clamours on and on 1/2 #poetry #mypoem #TashPoetry

Existence sometimes divides into mitotic fragments, & it is difficult to recall every thought & action that we've ever shared; every life we've ever loved. Out there, in here, the stars of our moments burn, beyond artificiality. Some day I hope to count & remember them all. #poetry #mypoem