I have spent the better part of my life
In a never ending state of comparison
That's been impossible to escape,
Scrutinising every inch of me
Down to the bone,
Looking in the mirror
Feeling wholelly alone.
I marked in my head
All the things I would change.
None of me was safe
From the silent surgery I'd make,
Not even myself
Down to the core.
I'd observe other people,
Adopting quirks and habits
In the hopes of becoming more admirable
To everyone I knew or would meet
Until the few existing layers
Of my own that still remained,
Were covered so well in the ground,
Existing in their own graves
That forever goes untouched.
Never have I been able to escape
This state of comparison I seem to exist in.
Forever am I the pathological people pleaser,
Willing to change just to be liked,
Never truly feeling like I could be enough as I am.
piercing eyes of wisdom
soul searching in depth
the intensity of the stare
her soul is scrutinising
mine
summer is climbing over
spring in our steps
vines of my thoughts
clambering over
her tender intricate
wants
our souls in a deep
embrace
lips slipping into virgin
kisses
yellow river over flowing
honey bees dancing in
pairs
fluttering butterflies of
red and black
the return of the master
love flies without resting
aching lips numbing tongue
hands are waiting
to caress to comfort to stroke
our kisses are creamed
scrutinising eyes of
the female dog
transparent paws
under the naked tree
shedding green leaves
i am exposed
muddy brown water
from the yellow river
he is shaking delirious
she is selling pink flowers
of peace quietly
they are dancing
to the drums of the ruined
northern temple
Stuffed Toys And Boardgames
A tinker mending
clockwork trains
And other broken things,
Peered over his
wiry spectacles
Scrutinising unwound springs.
Between the jars
of shiny screws,
Bits of wire and naked flames
Were tiny nuts
and fiddly bolts
Stuffed toys and boardgames.
He wryly smiled
with a friendly wink
At a little boy who stood by his side
Full of amazing
questions
With ears and eyes opened wide,
He watched
the tinker tinkering,
Opening and closing drawers,
Crooked fingers
that busily twirled
Oily wheels and carriage doors.
It reminded him
of a being a child
Watching his father sew and trim,
And asked the boy
the question
His father asked of him,
"When I have gone
and you grow up,
what would you like to be?"
The little boy
thought a while
In awe of all he could see,
"I want to be
an engineer
to fix trains and make things go"
Then, with his mother,
left the shop
With a teddy bear and ludo.
not looking hearing or speaking
nailed by the side of the humming
naked ocean at the feet waving
beating crashing reincarnating
in every eternal moment
rampant rivers of love crescendoing
remnants of the flood of lust decelerating
rumble of the prayerful sea invigorating
rays the fragments of light softening
ceaselessly aware of the moment
driven by the sweetness of our destiny
castigating the rising desires of the flesh
we sat there silently back to the back
on the edge of the old sea bridge
closely scrutinising, waiting peacefully
for the new life in the
belly of a distant
star
You're my miniature Messiah,
You're my temporary saint.
You naively think you own me
And have a right to voice complaint.
You tell me I'm the sinner,
And chastise the things I do.
But to demonise the blood of Christ
Is surely sinning too.
So I ask you psuedo-saviour,
What on Earth would Jesus do,
If he looked down on your life
And started scrutinising you?
So judge me, scorn me, look down on me,
And I think you will find:
A sober heart is often spoken
Through a drunken mind.
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