November 25th: a poem: can't word

the waft of coffee that fills this house
marks a job
well done
poorly done
hardly done
marks a denial
a refusal
omittance
persistence denied and uncoddled
like a child
crying for the mother that’ll never come

what happens to the child without
love

bastard limbs and cleft lip
boneless
sightless
speechless
no tongue to wail
or pose indignation
a child to destroy
to conquer
to defeat
crying beneath a tree for a
mother that’ll never come. 

November 23rd: a poem: all we want

all we want is to
love
without constraint
without fear
without hate

without knowing our love
is circumstantial based on our
financials
political
sexual
social
understandings of who we’ve been
to allot us a box to
sit
and stare
and wait
for our days to end
our time to fly
to wait

but wait
for virtuous patience
and good dissidence
to rise above the walls
built to keep us from touching
our kin across worlds
and cultures
and experiences
imagine how much we could learn
if we had no
fear built between us
imagine what we could see
could feel
could love
without fear built between us.

November 21st: a poem: about nothing

I’d like to prop a chair by my window
and sit
stare
watch
note
how the lives of strangers
feel so like
my own
how the charge of cars
and the
screams of birds
feel so
like my own

Billie Holiday plays through the window
and no one can hear her
feel her
be her
Intoxicate my soul
with her eyes
her voice
her yearn
I’ll learn
I’ll be

I’ll light a candle
and burn
everything I own
everything I’ve touched
but me
I’ll survive the
fire
the stare
the cars
the birds
take a Holiday
Intoxicated
in my Solitude. 

November 14th: Adopt a bartender today

It's been a monh now. The shadows grow, reaching out from their depthless recesses to pull me to their embrace. My foe calls to me, desperate and monstrous, threatening to wrap me in it's coarse embrace and ne'er let go. The dark pull of habitual inanities have taken everything and dashed it to nothingness. I am so fucking bored. A month. A MONTH. Longer! Even. Two months! I have been unemployed for TWO MONTHS and I'm dying. I made Danishes at 4am the other morning. Why? Because I could. I made ANZAC Biccies the other day. They were delicious, yes, lovely and moist, but necessary? Also yes. But still.

This sudden bout of unemoloyment was not sudden. For the past twenty odd years I've had the odd though terribly inviting pull to move to the UK. And now I'm here. YAY! I'm unemployed and dying, but I'm here. And that's nice.

I'VE EVEN STARTED WRITING POETRY?! Two things I can't do. Cook and write poetry.

I've taken to sending cold emails out. I tried bribing them with Haribo. Haribo is yet to sponser my hunt.