Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Saturday, 10 May 2025

Autoimmune

I have never carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. 

I have had to carry it in my cells.

Turning cartilage to bone

Turning heartache to pain


I don't have the heart of an empath,

I have the biological markers of one. 

The weight has turned my cells on or off, 

either that or

I carry it well, they'll say, if they even notice

This weight 


As it moves, burrows in new places

As it hides, waiting for another trigger

Turning cartilage to bone

Turning wars to pain


There's no changing who I am on a molecular  level

Just as there's no changing the whole world,

So I hold it all for you, 

For them, for those who will never know me. 

In the hope that the weight of the world is lighter for you, 

For them, for those who will never know me.

Turning cartilage to bone

Turning love to pain.


@lattejunkienz 2025

Saturday, 8 September 2018

How to change the world

How to change the world:

Speak clearly and with conviction but
Don't sound too confident, you don't want to sound bossy do you?
Don't call him on being rude or overbearing,
He's showing you he cares, by treating you as less
Stand up straight, shoulders open, take up space, but
Put one foot in front of the other, dip your hip, curve your shoulders so that your collar bones have a shadow, tongue to the top of your palate and smile
Smile but don't smile too much, he'll think you're flirty or ditsy
Wear clothes that make you feel good but
Don't wear anything too bright, short, revealing or provocative
Stand your ground but learn to capitulate, his ego won't take it well
Do your best, but remember boys don't like to be beaten
Be sexually confident but
Don't experiment, buy toys or have too many relationships
Initiate conversation but
Don't talk about yourself too much.
Learn to do it yourself but
He'll feel bad if you do it without asking him for help
Be true to yourself but
Don't let your life goals impact on his
Be the change he wants to see in his world.

Friday, 7 September 2018

Together is

Together is

Together is
Easy words, fleeting loneliness,
Holding hands, candlelight
Slow dancing and learning lyrics
Discomfort, housework,
Using your inside voice and
Putting the toilet seat down

Together is
Crying, hurting and forgiving
Coffee dates, tea in bed,
Cold toast and runny eggs
Tissues, plasters and air freshener
Holding a door, a hand and biting your tongue

Together is
Shared playlists and Netflix passwords
Opening jars, minds and intentional communication
Code words, safe words and fewer excuses
Super king duvets, throw pillows and the shelf you swore would fit all the books

Together is
Making memories, promises and taking action
A kind heart and gentle truths,
Broken hearts, glue guns and No More Gaps
Learning to love that colour,
those shoes and that shirt

Together is
Following a map,
Getting lost, lighting matches
Toasting marshmallows and burnt egos
Risk, monopoly, poker faces
Losing badly and winning well

Together is
An effort, a complication,
A reminder, a password
An ambition
A safe haven, a home
A love
And three words
You and me.

In the dark.

In the dark.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
In my chaotic heart
To be held, phone lighting the sand,

When your arms found me
As I began to fall apart.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
To be there again
On that beach,
Crying….Again….
And how it felt like home.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
To feel you breathe under my cheek
As I watched the waves,
And to feel your hand tracing circles
As you held me in that moment.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
To want to step back,
Because you are my safety net;
And I owe you more than you'll ever ask for.
And because I am too scared to lose you.
But maybe, just maybe, you do need me as much as I need you.

I'd tell you the truth, about how it felt
To stare at the stars, holding back tears,
Feeling the warmth of you
As you stood near enough to hear my doubt.

And I'd tell you the truth, about how it feels when you smile
And I am reminded that I love you.
And there is no explanation to make that truth more true -

Than your strength,
Whispered on a beach,
With silver waves and the light of a phone -
Because you know that I can't see in the dark.


©LattejunkieNZ 2018

Together

It confuses me still

And it confuses me still,
That practiced pause in your argument.
The sudden switch to voiced concern
To check that I am focused and ok -

Ok to let you continue telling me when, and where,
We were standing the first time you doubted.
How you felt the first time you loved another -

And another -

And another -

And came home to tell me why you had to feel and do.
Because,
I was not doing more
To make you feel like you were part of a whole.

And how I should breathe deeper to smell the scent of their skin
And the Dutch courage it took to allow yourself that release.

About how I should feel guilt
and blame only myself,
Because I made you do this.

Because I get caught in a word or a phrase
And I think I'm doing better at holding us together.
Until you pause to make sure

I'm

Listening

To

Hear

How I should take the blame today.


© LattejunkieNZ 2018

Sunday, 1 July 2018

Twin

Her voice carries over the sound of wheels on wet tar,
Over the shift of a bag, a guitar slung over a shoulder,
Knee hitting the body of the other bag, rhythmically
Part knell, part heartbeat,
Driving him to the hill,
To the two lakes,
To her last wish.
To set her loose,
to allow himself to become one.
No longer tied to him, no longer tied to anything,
More than that, to let her be apart from him,
but a part of all.
For him to be one for the first time.

Monday, 26 February 2018

Ask Me

Ask me

Ask me a question,

Actually, wait

Ask me a good question,

One that will prompt a story to flow from my heart

But, maybe not one that will make me remember the last time I was asked it,

Because I'm not going to tell you that story today.

Go on, ask me a question,

One that will open your eyes wide as I become something you've never guessed at

But maybe not that one?

Because then I'd have to couch it in explanations that would mar the velvet and rend the gossamer memory,

Rather,

Ask me about how it felt to hear his last kind word,

Ask me about how it felt to feel my first broken heart, not the last,

Ask me about how his tears tasted the night he first kissed me after she died,

Ask me about how the café smelt of coffee and cake as he fucked me on the steel countertop,

Ask me how it'll sound when your voice breaks as you finally understand the ending of the poem you've always suspected was about you,

Ask me how it will be when I finally find the answer to your question,

Ask me if I'll tell you.

Wednesday, 14 February 2018

Tomorrow's Thoughts.

As the sun set and the clouds became the night black

The glamour failed and they saw the other side,

A bay of red and crimson, banked by peaks and shadowed cliffs,

A place that existed for them to marvel at,

A glimpse into a world where it had never happened,

Where it was all still, as it used to be, as it should have been,

Stretched out beyond their grasp, lingering to remind them that within the intake of breath and the receding whisper of the waves -

Was the rhythm of tomorrow's thoughts and the beating of a heart only bruised.

Saturday, 10 February 2018

Counted

If we're born with our map to the end of our race in hand

And our minutes are already counted

And everyone we'll ever meet is already going to meet us

And everyone we'll love, loves us already even though they don't know us yet,

And those who will in turn hate us, already carry it safely in their heart like a lump of coal not destined to become a diamond

And every tear, smile, laugh and hug is accounted for

And every fake orgasm is stored next to the real ones in wrapping that is seemingly exactly the same

And every meal is planned, trip booked, book lined up on a shelf,

Why do we try so hard to make each moment count twice?

Spoons

I create room in my heart by wearing more and more of it on my sleeve,
For there is always more to fit into it,
New songs, moments of magic and of suspended disbelief,
Sadness, hope, trust and warning signs,
People who become treasures of my soul and who will never be asked to move,
Eternal room-mates who will linger and become beloved like the faded blanket I fold into on days when it all becomes too much or when their arms are out of reach
The real estate of my heart comes at a price,
It costs salt, from my eyes or from my hard work
It costs bitterly, in apologies and in mistakes
Or in the acidic burns of slights, harsh words and painful moments of growth
And still sweetly, in laughter, love and warm words, arms that hold it all together
My sleeves are almost full, embroidered in blood red satin chain stitch, fading to palest pink,
But now I can pour it into spoons to be carried on my hands,
Hands that can hold more and can continue to protect the growth of my heart.

Sunday, 5 November 2017

Shrug

eyes averted, shoulders dismissive
it's hard to even write the words 
because they're not there
they're replaced with dried up husks
of excuses and simple phrases 
that don't touch the sides of the hole you're in
shrug
smile
shake your head
try to be in the moment
while sifting through days and years
stuck in your mind to accidentally find a solution
or even a word to help fill the silence
in your head as you watch the world
passing behind the shadow of whatever it is you're feeling
because without the words you're just....
shrug
smile
shake your head
and trying to fill the whole with nothing.

Sunday, 22 October 2017

1997 - A thesaurus; Learning the meanings of old words

1997 - A thesaurus; Learning the meanings of old words

Necklace, no longer just the clutched pearls at Grandmother's throat,
Now they are the mark of shame of submission to a man,
Or the mark of a feminist statement declaring independence of thought,
Or the burning of rubber and flesh to absolve the sins of one to another,
Or a warning to those watching, hoping to rise beyond their station.

Freedom, burning the 18 candles in a room of women -yet to be friends,
Dancing past curfews, drinking in the life of those whom one wants to be like,
Stupid words, dangerous flirting, knowing the risk of casually forgetting -
Three letters always thought but never said, because of the colour of her skin,
Freedom from consequence, invincible hope and faith in a God that has yet to fail, yet to fall from grace.

Fear, driven by a need for new experiences, driven in vans filled with intimate strangers,
To and from work or university or one gamble to the next,
Guns and warnings from old women who had seen too much to forget -
To keep another mother's child from falling into the wrong crowd.
Broken glass, spent needles and used people, walked past and forgotten,
Car tyres bursting, breaking through barriers and, yet, building more,
Nails and bombs punctuating the school days that pass as distrust becomes a blanket
Of black and white and brown, mixing but not coalescing.

Sadness, that children will watch their mother burn for a love that is a Shakespearian theatre,
And that letters from home will be edited and parsed by the eagerness and immortality of youth,
And the truth of the cancer that grows will be hidden in the broken telephone calls late at night and deliberate miscommunication.

Brave, a long walk down to the pool bar or a quicker walk to the tequila shots?
Visiting Rhodes at midnight, 20 years before he'll be purged from memory,
Not flinching when car alarms and gunfire punctuate each stroll home,
Smiling through the confusion as the obvious is presented in a way that maked it visible,
And in its visibility it becomes a burden of shame and it discolours our liberal self image.

Miscellaneous, visiting a psychiatrist to find out if the breaking of your mind is medical or an example of causality,
That lectures on paradigm shifting in a world that is no longer black and white can trigger a fractured family to collapse into a kaleidoscope of foreign shores and scapegoats,
That there will be no going back, because history cannot be re-lived nor can it be rewritten, it can only be translated into new words.

1997 - the year I learnt the thesaurus of a new South Africa.


Ghosts

The ghosts visited again today,
Blurs of rose and silver rising
From behind closed doors
Bringing with them the scent of summer
And the taste of tears
Bringing the promises made -
Sitting on the benches in the sun,
In city streets after midnight -
Whispered in the predawn light.

Shivers of words, promises and love
Running down her spine
Pooling in her eyes
Caught tight in her throat
They spilled out slowly,
As the scissors cut,
Trying to ease the pain
To send them back behind the iron doors
Or to see them swept away,
For if they can’t recognise her
They can’t find her.

For the ghosts will visit again.

Monday, 24 October 2016

The Wolf And I





In between now and then
Skipping between the shadows
We dance
Longer, even during the nights,
Waltzing in the moonlight,
Our feet kicking up the past,
Ghosts dance under a night sky,
Fading as we break into a new day,
In the growing light we dance on
Hidden amongst the obvious
We dance.

Trailing hands in the River
Dipping in and dipping out
Following the melody
All the while, I wait for a pause.
A break, a moment
Where we are not one,
When the wolf is not at  my back
Nor at my door
Where I do not have to dance with the wolf,
For when I dance alone
Through the new day
And the terror stays in the night,
I will be free.

But for now
We dance
The wolf and I -
I and the wolf
We dance,
Partnered together
The light and the dark
We are one
For without the wolf
I am no-one.

Tuesday, 29 March 2016

Song

When the song plays and your face is all I see,
Taken out of context, stolen from the photo I took in the river, summer-warm,
Frozen smiles, secrets of youth, sunlit,
Taken before we spent timeless days dancing the dance of misheard lyrics and stubbed toes
I wonder where it is now
That other life, that other me?

When he sings along to the song,
His voice hides a smile, the words tickle him,
When the song plays, and he sings,
I can smile again.
I wonder at that dance,
That old life, that old me.

Tuesday, 22 March 2016

Moonrise

Moonrise

You used to look at me like that,
Like the world has stopped,
Like we were the only reason for being,

You used to look at me like that,
Under the full moon,
Under the colours I painted,

You used to look at me like that,
Until you saw under the veil,
Until the words and smiles faded,

You used to look at me like that,
Until the moon rose,
Until I stopped smiling,

You used to look at me like that.

Saturday, 21 March 2015

Sat at the edge

I sat, under the plastic roof,
Rain tiptoeing down the grooves.


Warmth held tight in my hands,
Thoughts of you not far from my heart.


My name in your voice was murmured by the wind,
As the leaves caught the tears I should have shed.

At the edge of the day I sat, watching the sun fight the clouds.

At the edge I sat, watching it win, willing it to win. For us.



Monday, 19 January 2015

A Box Of Sunlight - a poem

For Grifball. 
Because you asked.
 And my brain wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote it.


A box of sunlight

He asked for a box of sunlight, and, in time she sent him a box
wrapped in gold and shimmer. He opened it and found it black
with a circle of yellow, words filling it...

If I could believe in angels, I would ask to borrow their wings,
and as we passed the sun, I would reach for the light -
burning my fingers - to trap it, and its heat, in a box, for you

But I am doubt-tethered to this earth, and can only promise you a season of sunlight.
If you are able to pass through the darkness that surrounds you,
and carry that which weighs down on you.
In return I will send the Summer

It's the only way I know how to keep the sun - by losing it
in the snowy nights, and weeks of grey. To earn it
by marveling at the frost and the beauty of its cold embrace

Sunlight will return to you, so bright your eyes will tear and shine
and you will marvel at the heat - and in turn, I will ask for it back
and you will say, with burnt fingers, that it cannot be boxed -
it can only be earned by finding the beauty in its absence.

Friday, 24 October 2014

Riding in cars with boys


Moving with the road, 
Hugging the cliffs and sea
Music pounding and strobing
Streetlights and headlights
Bass beats and tenor voices

A strange calm amidst the noise
She counted stars and reflections
Head tilted up to the sky as 
He drove to the night's end
As they laughed and swore that it would never be less than it was

In that moment of feeling infinitely powerful and small
Stood at the edge of the water
And at the top of the slide into the dark unknown
They filled the questions with happy noise

Hiding the answers in bravado as they drove
To the night's end. But not to dawn
For they hoped it would never break
That tonight would be enough



Thursday, 23 October 2014

If I Count

If I Count

Even the smallest movement of air can bring down the house of cards
We built from dust and syllables strung together

Three words whispered in the noon bright
Or shouted into the desolate quiet of night
Bring the hands of fate falling to their knees.

If I count the breaths you take before you speak or,
The blinks it takes before the tears stop
I will lose myself in the infinities between truths, and those tucked beneath the house of cards
As it falls around us
While we count on another breath.