Tuesday, 20 November 2012

Women of the Light

Some suffer alone, without ever telling anyone,
with only the night time to comfort them,
with only the moon and the stars to guide them; reminding them of their light.

These angels become wise without even realising,
 and they hold a wisdom so strong, that they themselves don't even recognise it.
These angels are women of the night, in search of, and finding their way – towards the light.

Women of the night, become women of the light.

Sunday, 18 November 2012

Crimson love

Roses in your heart, confirm your love for me.
Recoil memories from your childhood's heartbeat.
Resist your crown of love,
resist it all for me.

Tender is your heart, tenderist it's been.
Memories of your soul, glittering like gold.
Do you remember me?

Forgotten through the years,
She unwrapped herself in tears.
Shining like the sun, her life has now begun.

Protector of one in crimson,
loving the earthly sheets.
I am no man,
nor beast,
but woman.


Tuesday, 13 November 2012

Star Maiden

My egg
wrapped in netting.
Grounded by five
spikes of the porcupine; out of Africa,
a woman She became.


She had no legs, 
just an ovary
of infinite size.
Compatibly sweet and uniform.
Her name, dazzles like the stars,
and shines upon her face;
Ever watching and warming - 
our sweetest Angel, Grace.


(A swan protecting her eggs)





Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Ribbon and Rose

Rose petals scattered in the sink

''Let yourself in,'' said the dearest.

And with the faintest of a twitch, the wise old witch spoke but one final verse..
''Our dearest earth; do with it what you will, but in all that you claim, and all that you carry, you should know but only this...''
But before she could finish her brave spoken words, her last riddle of breath became fled and dampened by the young girl's sudden absence, and all that she left behind her, in the grave sullen sink, were three tiny petals, of lily, rose and pink.
''Such sweet little curls,'' the white witch admired,
''Such a sweet little girl.''

In a ribbon of three..I unfurl


Monday, 5 November 2012


He roams as a distant follower
unaware of her charm;
her real charm.
Instead he just floats, and forgets
and buries his hurt
into her own,
one that she carries, all alone.
Waiting for a love
so pure,
all because
he was unsure.
Now she hovers like a rainbow,
appearing only when it rains,
in his darkened, dampened sky.
But soon she'll hover elsewhere
in someone else's sky.
She never deserved the pain.


For now she hides under a blanket of rust
hiding her tears in her fingers.
She crouches low and hides her desire.
She longs to travel and to share her fire.
Flames of a broken heart beat gently.
He savaged her icy breath.
The waves of a pearl ride gently,
rowing their way towards death.

June '12

Sunday, 4 November 2012


The other night I went to see the film 'Rust and Bone' - a French film with English subtitles.
A beautiful story of a man and woman who come together through their traumatic experiences.
I was utterly transfixed and absorbed, it was a very 'real' film that triggered on raw, human emotion.
Some scenes are quite upsetting, some scenes are beautiful, tragic, erotic, brutal - and yet they all worked so well together in the film. The emotions the actors portrayed and carried on their faces throughout this film was beautifully strong yet tender, and they delivered them truly. I probably could have watched this film without the subtitles and would still have been as transfixed. I was in awe, from the very beginning to the end, and I left the cinema feeling deeply touched and inspired. This is what I love about films, and this is why I only treat myself to watch them every once in a while, I watch films to feel something, to feel inspired and motivated, and when films like this come along, films that make me tingle from the inside out, I can't help but write about it and share it with others. I would say that you should go and see this film, but whenever someone tells me this about films, I can't help but be put off by it straight away, not all of us get the same feelings from a film, we each take away something different , we each have different view points and we each have different perspectives on reality. So, I will share with you what I took away with me from the film.
For the last few weeks I've been aware that I have been suppressing some of my emotions, not dealing with things that have been niggling away at me; over thinking and even rushing a little in my everyday tasks, and I've also abandoned my writing, I still write every day, but have taken a back seat in how much I'm writing; taken a back seat on myself; emotionally neglecting myself in a way. Some of this has been necessary, but only to an extent, as now when I find myself becoming agitated and restless, I know that I need to draw inwards and find out what's causing me to act this way, instead of taking a back seat and ignoring it, I need to get back on the steering wheel.
In taking a step back from my writing, thinking that it would calm my mind, I actually became more over thought and more agitated. By not recognising how I was really feeling, through my writing, or being aware of my mental patterns, I struggled to digest new emotions/feelings/thoughts on top of new ones that I still hadn't properly digested, I had swallowed myself but I was stuck - mentally constipated - and I needed to shift my excess waste in order to make room for the new.
After watching this film I unleashed this awareness and began writing again, getting back on track with my awareness and mental and emotional state. I beckoned my being and she recognised me, without no questioning or need for reasoning. 
She is me and I am She.
The relationship between the two in this film was honest and beautiful, their paths coming together at first as friends, with their attraction for one another gradually blossoming, at first without them consciously knowing. Their relationship together was beautiful and honest as together they dealt with their own emotional obstacles and traumas that were at first caging them from life and from their own realities. In being there for one another, each of them being a strong back bone and inspiration to one another; accepting their flaws and all, they then recognised their own back bone and became an inspiration to themselves.
I realised, after watching this film, that in order to make room for a mutual merging of male and female, we must at first recognise and learn to shift whatever fears and obstacles reside within us, whether doing that together, or alone, but in doing so with true devotion to yourself always.
Every tingle in my heart was touched by this film, and there was also a song that played in the film that really touched me and left me wanting to skip out of the cinema, a song by an artist I've never really listened to before, but this song, her words and her voice made me want to sing as I skipped back home...the song 'Firework' by Katy Perry. I would say you should listen to this song, but whenever someone tells me this about a song, the feeling is never quite the same. For my reality is a different view from yours...

She kissed my eyes
She got candy eyes
Take me to the skies


Thursday, 1 November 2012

Cotton Flower

It was locked under a broken bone,
At a time when she was so alone.
She never heard the rabbit
She never heard the bird
Until that bone was lifted,
Then came their voices heard


It had eyes,
The blood in her veins had eyes,
and she danced until her blood ran black

Tiny little acorn fell through cotton flower

Could you run to a higher flame?
How far could you push yourself?

Lilac birds fly
And lilac birds sing.

Time, never noticed my number

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Spider Web

''You can die but you're never dead, spider web.''

As she pulls and weaves in each of her threads,
her veins trigger salty nerves.


Each little finger bleeds amongst the fur.

My lovely little girl
My lovely little girl 

When you die bleeding,
and come out screaming,
all that remains within you is joy;
pure pearls of timeless wisdom.

''I would give anything in my silence,''
she said

as her fingers carried her threads, and she crawled back peacefully,
back inside her spider's web.


Tuesday, 16 October 2012


When you find your soul, never look back

I pray for love
And I pray for guidance.
Reasoning matters not,
For reasoning beyond your understanding leads to madness.

Sheets of red linen
Curl upon the floor.
A tear drop stains 
The eyes of an innocent child.
A curse,
Or a gift, to be alive?

''Naked beauties - alive, abandoned, devoted.''

She silenced her whispering
And spoke the words she had just read - 
''Feeling is the language of the soul.''
And to her surprise, with an answer, God softly said..
''If you want to know what's true for you about something, look to how you're feeling about it.''

Transparent, transient
Intricate, delicate
But stronger than you could ever know

I will never leave you


Saturday, 6 October 2012

The hush of Venus

''Society, I feared, still believed the sexually forward woman to be harmful to the fabric of civilization.''

What is it in woman, inside us, that is feared? That we ourselves are afraid of?
Is it life? Death?
Do we veil a secret that has been so long for kept?
Do we fear both the symbol of life and the symbol of woman? The secret that is hidden inside of us? The gateway to eternal pleasure? This symbol that has been portrayed as the goat; as the Devil, for many years, and thus why we've been hidden, hushed away in the dark, our silence eating away at us.
We hold the Devil's mark, he lives within our blood.
Time to make a change.
We've been silent for long enough.

''Wisdom, she says, lies in tearing out the heart as soon as possible, before sorrow settles in it.''

Tempered little jewel,
mistake me not for evil
I am wise beyond my years
The secret lies inside you

''You are creating it, as it is creating you.''

Floating in transparency, I fall
through pigments in time.

Tempered little jewel.

''I am mine.''

Wednesday, 3 October 2012

''Crime, punishment''

..as beautiful as the strong atavistic bonds between man and the earth, deep, cosmic, simply - 

''The police find them, together, the two of them, in the first flare of twilight, completely naked, painting long phallusoid candles on the wall with yellow paint, the sickly colour of tuberculosis.
Enough fucking around, say the policemen.
Amedeo Modigliani drops his paintbrush, turns and looks blatantly at the gentleman with moustaches.
Get ready, they say.
Ten minutes later, he sets off down the dark stairway, treading slowly, at an almost funereal pace, accompanied by the tense gentlemen with moustaches.''

Ambers jagged edges come clean.
They remain, as yet, unseen.

''A beautiful bird
came to them
and said - 


Monday, 24 September 2012

''For those of little dust''

''Kept hidden like the scars of birth.
Nature unable to soften the words.''

I fell to my knees in tears, leaving a silky residue that softened my cheeks, from my eyes,
and then I smiled.

I believe I began to open, every so slightly ; a mere slit of an opening - when I was eighteen.
It was summer, I was sad, lonely and lost, not knowing who I was or where I was going in life - no direction at all. One evening, walking home with a friend, I was run over by a drunk driver, I never saw it coming. The  car -  a six seater people carrier, reversed into me at a fairly fast speed and trapped me between a wall, crushing my left leg with its bonnet as it did so. I felt no pain, only shock, it was surreal, I couldn't figure out what had just happened. As the car had me squashed against the wall, my hands fell onto its boot, as if it was a leaning point, or as if to try to stop it, and I remember how still everything felt. Right there, for a tiny second, although it seemed a little longer, everything fell still and silent, then as the driver drove off, not realising he'd hit me, reality kicked in and I fell to the ground and began screaming. I saw blood, I panicked, and then the pain set in.
During my recovery, I developed anorexia nervosa, restricting my food intake, controlling my body and what I ate as I had no control over anything else in my life at that point. 
Once I recovered (from my injury) and began to walk again, my self created hunger developed her creative side, and I began to draw and to paint and to write.
This was my creative opening.
Over the last seven years I've slowly began to open even more, going through pains and hurts and heartaches along the way, but also experiencing love and joy and peace.
Now, at twenty five, I feel grateful for my life so far, and grateful for having had the chance to become opened at a young age.
I was one of those ''of little dust,'' I saw the light in front of me, and instead of ignoring it or chasing it away, I chose to embrace it, or rather, let it embrace me.

''Most of humanity, have eyes that are so caked shut with the dust of deception they will never see the truth, no matter who tries to help them.'' *

Once awakened, once we know the secret, we smile. It is only when we question and set the mind into a state of worry that we become fragile. The power of the mind is knowing how to use it for its rightful purpose.
In the stillness of our minds we become free.
There is some part of me, the part that speaks to me when I'm at my most calmest and peaceful, that tells me, in her own language, who I really am and where I really belong.

''We're angels you and me mum.''

Words I whispered to my mum not so long ago as she lay beside me in bed and nursed me at my most vulnerable state yet.
That night, I almost died, my heart almost stopped after being in an exhaustive state of panic for four days, with no sleep, little food and no water. I lye sweating in bed, next to my mum, not knowing if I was conscious or dreaming, but I was falling, through a darkened tunnel, and I saw something menacing swimming towards me, I tried to scream, but I couldn't breathe. Then suddenly, my mum shot up out of bed, and I suddenly became conscious to find her panicked in the next room, saying to her partner that she'd seen something menacing hovering above us both. 
Whatever it was, my mum willed it away and I slept like a baby.
The week spent recovering was one of the most challenging weeks of my life as yet, but I'm glad it happened, I feel stronger for it, and as I recovered, I shifted that last tiny speckle of dust that was blocking my view.

Angels may lose their way, but they never lose their grace.


Friday, 7 September 2012


Shackled by flames
Presence protrudes
and forgives
''Don't push me too far.''
in a far off fire,
woven in her heart
like a torch.
Petal breath in palm,
dipped in frog spawn rivers,
her nipples sweetly kissed
her fine rimmed surface.
towards the edges of their hearts.
They moved fine on the swing
until their heads became faint,
but Angelene knew nothing 
of the kisses they sent,
because they were never truly felt.
''As I send my love in masks,
use not your head but your hearts.''

Real love ripples in the dark.


Wednesday, 5 September 2012


''There is a seashell in me...polished smooth by the sand...gleaming in the sunlight...beautiful and interesting...admired by many people...
Like a seashell, I am empty inside.
There is a flounder in me...always trying to fit it...blending in with the background...never standing out...always changing colours...afraid of being seen...
Like a flounder, I make myself invisible.
There is a sponge in me...stationary and immobile...stuck in one place...watching other fish live their lives...absorbing everything that swims in its way...
Like a sponge, I am frustrated by my powerlessness.
There is a dolphin in me...childishly playful...cleaver and bright...kind and good natured...strong but gentle...
Like a dolphin, I befriend all that know me.
There is a shark in me...fearlessly bold...ruthlessly vicious...threatening and intimidating...insensitive and unfeeling...attacking anyone who swims too close...
Like a shark, I only think about my own survival.
I am an ocean, deep, and sometimes dark, full of life and sunken treasure, hiding beneath a surface of blue-green waves.'' *

*A poem by a young girl suffering from anorexia nervosa, written at the age of 13
Biting the hand that starves you

Tuesday, 4 September 2012


The Lions gaze unfolds in Threes
A single flame
One doesn't work without Three

Sunday, 2 September 2012


I disappeared
And revealed myself..

Fervent little flower


Tuesday, 21 August 2012

Golden Curse

I knew I was blessed,
Before I was cursed.

Just like fairy dust,
They shot our splinters
And ground our dust into gold.

Now heaven no longer needs us,
Because she already has our souls.

Splinters and arrows
Form into rust.

Splinters and arrows
Turn into dust

Treasured, just like Gold

Saturday, 18 August 2012

'A merging of Male and Female'

''There has always been sexual suggestiveness in my work. Sometimes I am totally concerned with female shapes - clusters of breasts like clouds - but often I merge the imagery - phallic breasts, male and female, active and passive. This marble sculpture - my Femme Cocteau - embodies the polarity of woman, the destructive and the seductive. Why do women become hatchet women? They were not born that way. They were made that way out of fear. In the Femme Cocteau, the woman turns into a blade, she is defensive. She identifies with the penis to defend herself. A girl can be terrified of the world. She feels vulnerable because she can be wounded by the penis. So she tries to take on the weapon of the aggressor. There is a problem stemming from childhood and from lack of sensible, sympathetic education. When I was young, sex was talked of as a dangerous thing; sexuality was forbidden. It is important to show girls that it is natural to be sexual and that men also can feel helpless and vulnerable. When I was at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts in Paris, we had a nude male model. One day he looked around and saw a woman student and suddenly he had an erection. I was shocked - then I thought, what a fantastic thing, to reveal your vulnerability, to be so publicly exposed. We are all vulnerable in some way, and we are all male-female.''

- Louise Bourgeois

Tuesday, 14 August 2012


''What you call cruelty,'' the Goddess of love retorted,'' is the very substance of sensual and natural love. It is woman's true nature to give herself wherever she loves and to love whatever pleases her.''

Memories are warm, like milk.
I coughed and I sank in the silk; bliss.
Sweet remnants of a kiss.
The hush of a heartbeat, the hush of a scent comes crawling back,
in the ribbons of a flower whilst I writhe;
loins burning, lions rearing.
A protective sex is emerging, lying in the fragments of sand.
Glittering microbes,
give me your hand.

Love, a temptation?
We no longer let ourselves be loved.
Because when we love and when we're loved, we're dangerous – we come alive – love makes us come alive and it makes us true, true to our own hearts and to others, love makes us calm and truthful, and the society in which we live is afraid of that, because it's a damage to the system.
Love reeks havoc on capitalism, so the system drowns it out of us, it sucks the life from us and leaves us lifeless and loveless..afraid of touch and truth for fear of offending anyone.

Lambs little ears are perched, 
undoing silent buttons in the background.
I feel no hurts, I make no sound.
The body I am in is mine.
Beg to take rest in a bed full of riddles and charms.
How could we ever unravel a riddle, without first ever knowing our hearts.

''...but if one of you so much as dares to kiss my crimson lips..

Saturday, 11 August 2012

Life is Sex

''I must learn to choose who I should open my heart to.''

Sex is an expression of how we're feeling, through sex our emotions are expressed, and they can either be loving or violent, aggressive or tender, confused or conscious.
Through sex we express our soul and if our soul is nourished and aware, we are then free to choose who we open our hearts to with sensual awareness and care.

''Life is sex.''

If the jagged edges fit,
curl amongst my clit,
I'll always remember it.
A finger slips
through time.
Take your time.
A deer I did follow,
and through sands,
I melted.
Your hands became mine.
Floating through time.
Floating through time.
Through sex,
I came alive.

Life is sexuality. You're sexuality is life.
Your life.
''Life is sex.''

Tuesday, 7 August 2012

Porcelain Petal

She shivered a castaways dream
Life remained unseen
Until a familiar touch
A familiar sting
Opened her gateway to being.

In the centre of my crown
I inject
I glisten in robes
And welcome, the noble warrior from home.
As gentle as my innards
And as subtle as my screams
This man in me did enter
The pathway to my dreams.
''Such a beautiful rose
Such a beautiful feather''
Father subsided and drowned
And in my heart I found
The child I had shut out
And the woman who I'd drowned.
Bathed in blossomed buckets
I gently raised her head
From the blood stained tepid water.
Rose petals scattered her cheeks.
Falling from the sky;
Rosy tears
Moistened blackened eyes.
She came alive
She came alive in my arms
And as she knelt forwards
She melted her lips to my feet
And on soggy soddened ground
We merged.
Her head rose up as she stiffened,
We twirled into one,
I accepted my darkness
I accepted 
Aloud and in song
We merged into one
We merged into one


Wings of a golden heart
Replaced by a silver tongue
Leopard races through time
Lion dutifully waits
She waits for the right one
Her protector is her prey
She never followed his way
But instead she waited
She waited for her heart to be captured
For her love to be devoured.
A calling from her master
Awakened her natural senses
And she followed his scent to the heavens
She followed his scent to touch
And without ever knowing too much
She breathed in his breath
Fragments falling within each beat
Of her bleeding heart
Inconsistent and itchy
Itching from her own unintentional spell
Uncovering a radar so deep
That no man ever found the words to tell
That his hunter was his protector 
and his protector was his prey.
Lion leaves no image 
Only a tongue
Of ribboned scars
Falling flat and juicy
Her eyes rest in the stars

Friday, 27 July 2012

Arrow root

An arrow sailed across her eyes
The sun is shining
Rising on feeling and love

Did he whisper when you moved?

''I'm always in the mood,'' 
she said

And as the light followed the moon
She revelled in her unexpectedness
As clear as silver,
a clean coated kiss

Brown eyes blossomed
As she gave him her hand
His brown eyes blossomed
but he never made a sound

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Monday, 9 July 2012

Threads 08.07.12

''...we find ourselves stuck in patterns which prevent us from changing. A pattern is by nature repetitive, but easily changeable.''

As I headed home in the early hours of Sunday morning, confused and hazy, lots; lonely, I walked past a couple, a man and a woman, I heard them before I saw them; a soft moan coming from the woman. I glanced as I walked past and they were kissing, the woman still moaning, I wasn't going to turn back, I wished I hadn't, but I did, I was curious. They were having sex up against the wall, in full public view, fully clothed, the man's trousers just below his arse, the woman's legs slightly raised and edged apart, and in a drunken embrace they held each other, or rather, held each other up, the woman could barely hold herself up, her head bobbing to one side, eyes closed and hair falling over her face. The man stood stiff and upright, holding position of the woman against the wall. It was awful. I felt sick. It was so disconnected, so saddening to see. A man and a woman, so capable of loving and caring for one another, each holding the ability within themselves to love each other passionately and consciously, to listen and to give, and yet they don't know how to show it properly - both the couple in the corner, and myself and the man who I had just left.
What's gone wrong between our species? How did our threads begin to disconnect?
Instead of showing our true feelings we either drown them down with alcohol and then act in hurtful and unconscious ways, doing damage to ourselves and to the other, unknowingly, and scarily, this is accepted and seen as the norm in our society.
Others don't say anything to each other, keeping their true feelings and things they long to say at bay through fear of being hurt or rejected again, and ending up in silent states of awkwardness. A pattern which for me and the other has become all too repetitive, but now that I'm aware of it, now that I'm conscious of it, I can begin to change it.
Are man and woman ever able to join their threads?

Thursday, 28 June 2012

Murmurs of Nature

Delicate moths light up the darkest of night, but dwell in the darkness in order to notice the light.
A wing'd flame rests below her cheek
 ''a relationship fed with curiosity and spiced with danger.''
The softest touch from the murmurs of nature.
The rhythms and the moans, felt from the outer, felt from within, feed each other
''a shifting web of meanings that we felt on our skin.''

Nature is a beauty of sound and sight.
Resting in the darkness, resting in the night.
Darkness feeds light.
Darkness feeds light.

Sunday, 24 June 2012

The Devil has no name

''She's full of sex, that demon is, full of sex and untold secrets.''

She who possesses and feels the red blood flowing through her veins, She who cries out in the middle of the night, She who has no shame. She is the Devil, for the Devil has no name.

Friday, 22 June 2012


‘OUR’ big society

Ok ‘Dave’ (my, that’s a very chummy name you have there, I bet you were a right lad in your youth), since you still proceed with your Big Society idea we’ll form one! The thing is, our big society might not be what you were wanting.
If you think the state is so unnecessarily bloated, well our big society’s OK with that: we’ll get rid of the state, all of it.
There can never be 'no such thing as society,' but there can be no such thing as state. Maybe you and your party, in all your pomposity, have actually gone too far this time, and whilst you were trying to return us to the harshness’s of the past, whilst you clawed back the land, you’ve actually made us realise we no longer need the likes of you.

- John Ledger

Society of Guilt

Communication is a language, human sexuality is a language. Intimacy and secrecy are vital to human sexuality, sexuality brings us a desire for immateriality. Love and sexuality are immaterial.
The more we are consuming, the more we are pushing aside our true feelings. Why do we consume? To make ourselves feel better – a short term happiness, but material objects don’t really satisfy our happiness, for if they did, we wouldn’t feel the need to keep on consuming. Our desire to consume becomes ever more hungry. Are we afraid to deal with the truth? To confront our fears, our reality and our sexuality?

- Jade Lauren

Globalsapiens. x

Sunday, 17 June 2012


''His loving touch.''

''He knew what he was doing.''

But does she know what she wants?

You said you beat inside my heart

I felt a part of His loneliness

I felt a part of His pain

Real love ripples in the dark,

..but the only one I loved, never knew my heart.


Nestled between my armpit and my palm,
rests my breast,
soft and full
between my palm and my chest.
She breathes,
alive and well,
just as I breathe,
now I am well.

''Allow the body to unfold in its own time.''

Friday, 15 June 2012


We strange little creatures get attached to things much too easily.
A raindrop attach's not to the rose as it falls onto her petal lips, they feel each other and know each other right there in the moment; in that moment, and then they move on, they keep living, feeling and growing as they do so.
But we creatures cling, we cling and we attach, craving the same touch and the same feelings over again, maybe to feed our unconscious desires, or to stay close to what we know for comfort and safety.
But what if we opened up to our conscious desires?
What if we became open to other conscious feelings and touch?
Wouldn't we open up a consciousness in ourselves? Wouldn't we grow along the way? Wouldn't we blossom and change?
A flower doesn't grow alone
Wouldn't we then become a part of life; conscious and active? Sexually active - ever changing, experiencing and feeling?
A beat in the heart of life's modern eye.
A conscious change. Evolving.

''Be in a world which includes everything. Not just what you want.''

A petal painted her lips, dew drops dripped south
Falling, ever so gently, along a red and vibrant mouth.

''Life is sex''

Thursday, 31 May 2012


He was like a ray of sunshine in my heavy heart

Where did he tremble to?
He remembers the rain
He remembers her skin
He remembers her crying
She never gave in
But he gave up
way too easily
And slept through her fire
He remembers the day all too clearly
Vividly haunting him in his restless hours
He remembered everything
But he never remembered me


The bed rolled her knickers right up
She remembered his tender touch
It was never enough
She never realised it was never enough
But he could feel it
And it hurt
It hurt until it boiled his veins

A love that began so sweetly
That tasted so pure
Now ends in contented confusion
They were both never really sure


I never saw my eye
I never found it
Until I sucked myself

Her heart never beat the same

Maybe sweat released her inner self
Bound by an inward breath

She found her heart
Clenched between her teeth
Lips coated in juices
Above a restless tongue
And in there lye
Knitting neatly
Was her own eye
As she sang
Oh so sweetly
''They never found the needles
They never found the needles.''

Tuesday, 29 May 2012

Night #1 - 20.04.12

I felt contented after seeing this film.
I felt content and I didn't feel alone, I found that I wasn't alone because the characters in the film were just as alone and lonely as I felt, both of them attracted to their darkness, always in search of it.
At the beginning of the film I felt a little sick, the sex scene made me uneasy, from start to finish. I had flashbacks of lovers I'd been with, the sex seemed so disconnected and lost, the two lovers not really sure what they're looking for, just fucking for the sake of it, because they're lost, lonely.
As the film opened up, and the two got to know each other throughout the night, personally and emotionally, it then became beautiful to me. The truth in them seeped out, their feelings and bodies both raw and honest.
It's a little sad to me that in reality we feel that we can just discard someone as quickly as we can just sleep with them, to ignore or pretend that person/moment never existed or happened; maybe for acting on impulse, then feeling regret or shame for having acted so primitively.
But if we opened up and became our true selves, openly and intimately, even with a stranger, maybe we wouldn't feel the shame or guilt that comes as soon as we're back 'in reality' - if we didn't shut ourselves off from reality when fucking, if we didn't become unconscious, then maybe we wouldn't feel these emotions that society makes us feel, or indeed, that we pressure ourselves to feel.
What are we looking for when we fuck someone, when we seek out a stranger to have sex with? I think we're searching for a part of ourselves, because only through another can we discover something in ourselves, whether it be through talking or fucking - through communication - sexual communication.
In the film she said: ''I wanted you to see something in me that I couldn't.''
I remember that he once did, he saw something in me that I could only feel. Something real.
Only through another can we taste the scent of ourselves.
I taste myself through you.
I'm lost until I'm tasted.
I'll taste myself to death.

Tuesday, 15 May 2012


It's me you can't disguise
Under a red ribboned tongue
I live within your blood
Smooth my skin to a milky touch
The moon it rose and it rises
In a pale purpled sky

My flesh, my bones, my soul, my spirit - is woman

Monday, 30 April 2012

South mirrors South

Why does it keep going out?
Should I put it in my mouth?

She ventures South
Focusing awareness on intricate acts
Precise and minuscule
Are the bones on her back
And as he looks down
Her feathers slowly hatch

She ventured South
She never looked back

Friday, 27 April 2012

Inside the porcelain

''..in her own queer, female way, she was serious to the bottom of her soul.''

Leave the light on
Leave the light on, please

Heart is heavy
Sunken in blood
Not ready for love

She struggled to digest it

''There was nothing inside the porcelain.''

Wednesday, 4 April 2012

Perfect Stars

We long to be imperfect
We fade among the stars

Life always seemed so perfect
as you held me in your arms

He longed to be imperfect
He faded among the stars

I long to be imperfect
I swim towards the stars



There are some things in life that are mysteries
Some things in life that need no reason why
Some things in life that have no answers, no questions
There are some things in life that are innocent, no matter how tainted or torn
These creatures are silent, and have remained a mystery since the day they were born

''How foolish human creatures can be''

Wednesday, 28 March 2012

Fair thee well Poppet

''Fair thee well''
he said, with a poppet in hand.

Fair thee well

Red was the colour in his hands.
He handed her a bunch of Roses
with a smile cut sharp
across his face

''There's a baby in there''

There's a baby in there

Red was the colour of his hands

Sunday, 18 March 2012

Sunday, 11 March 2012

Nature as Woman, Woman as Nature

He uses, abuses and rapes her,
neglects and destroys her.
Thinking her nothing
whilst she hurts and bleeds alone.
But when he needs her most, when his tears fall in the dark,
she is there for him,
no matter what.
Because she's always there,
always feeling,
always breathing.
Just like Nature,
she forgives and she forgets.

Tuesday, 28 February 2012

Silence is still

Steam from a hot cup
blows upwards, against candlelight.
It caught my eye just as I sat, and I thought, in the still and silent space where I sit, that the dancing steam is just as alive as I am, just as present as I am, without ever being recognised but only in the silence and in the stillness..

I sat down to eat my lunch today, in a quiet cafeteria (which was like being back in school) two other girls joined the table. I got my food out of my bag, and it fell silent, as though I'd just placed a tub of shit on the table. I could feel the stares as I was eating (not shit, but a colourful salad with grains, beans, squash, spinach and hummus), but I carried on. Then one girl said..''Is that all you eat?'' It took me a few seconds to answer..''No, I eat more than this..this is my lunch.'' She looked at me as if for another explanation. ''I'm vegan, I don't eat meat or dairy.'' I said, with a smile. And she seemed a little uncomfortable and defensive. Then the table fell silent again. I felt like an alien, an alien eating alien food, but I let the feeling pass and continued to enjoy my tasty food. The girl finished her food quickly (pork pie, chips and pizza) and left for the next class.
When arriving at the classroom, our next lesson was ''food hygiene and food handling.'' We were shown a film about how to keep clean with handling food in and out of the kitchen. Then, it went on to talk about the dangers of raw food. The main foods that were the highest risk were meat and dairy products..meat, poultry, dairy, eggs, shellfish, and also rice..which can be dangerous if re-heated more than once as bacteria can spread and become harmful. Doesn't this tell us something about meat and dairy? Can it really be that good for us? We can eat veggies and fruit raw..and there is a massive variety of these.. and eating it has massive health benefits and there are no side effects from eating it..as there is with meat and dairy..(sat fats, raises blood pressure, high cholesterol) and fruits and veggies don't contain hormones, enzymes, blood, mucus.....
As the film played, pictures of cooked meat and poultry were shown, each time they were I could feel the girls' (from lunch) eyes looking at me, her head quickly turning, as if waiting for a reaction, but she seemed to be quite horrified by the sight of the images..making gagging and retching noises. I wanted to say to her..if it makes you retch at the sight of it, then why do you eat it?
She made me quite uncomfortable. Yes, it makes me sick the thought of eating anything from an animal, and makes me very sad and upset at the very sight of it on someone's plate when I'm sat opposite them in a cafeteria, but I don't sit there giving funny looks or looking at them as if they have shit on there plate, because it's rude and disrespectful and makes that person feel alienated and separate.
What they have taught us here so far is that we're all individual, we're all different - having different views, beliefs, religions etc, and that we each should respect that of one another.
I wonder if that's sunken in to anyone on the course yet?
Yes, we all have different views and beliefs, and we should respect each person for that and their own choices that they make. Everyone has a right to their own choices..of what they want to eat, to wear, how they wish to live, but we're all one, deep down we're all the same, and I'm a little weary of this term that they use ''we're all different'' ''we're all individuals.'' I think it's a little contradictive and mixed up. It separates people into thinking/believing that we're all different from one another, alienating us more.
With the intention they have of bringing people together, it's actually pulling people apart and disconnecting people.
We're not all different. We're all one.
We eat, we shit, we love, we feel, we breathe.
What makes us ''different'' and ''individual'' is the ego we create/portray, and in most parts of the world are encouraged to do so. If the ego isn't portrayed or recognised it becomes defensive, and will judge.

Be in touch with being, with feeling and with breathing, and be comfortable with who you are. Show yourself with love and with grace..and the ripples will travel far.

Love x

Thursday, 16 February 2012


I always knew you were there.
Like a witches finger,
scrawling up my back.
Your tiny little bones,
edged in deep
and fit perfectly
with the ridges in my back.
Now we're connected
and there's no turning back.
For the roots in my heart
form the outline of a child,
whose threads that went missing
are the same ones as mine.

A child is starved
A child is fed
And we'll weave this way forever
until we rest among the dead.

Monday, 13 February 2012

Indian song

She had shed no tears for days,
until the Indian sang his song.
Her eyes began to bleed.
for her father
soaked her pillow.
''I know he's well now,
I know he's at peace.''
Her tears drowned her sadness.
For now
she no longer knew what she had missed.
The Indian sang;
sung her to sleep,
and cradled her gently,
with a midnights kiss.


Sunday, 29 January 2012

''But perhaps...

..their strong and aristocratic silence, the silence of strong trees, meant something else.''

Women's bodies merged out of the trees, dark, bulbous trees.
They appeared everywhere.
Soft, low voices.
Women's voices, breathless.

Stood, at the top of a small hill,
looking up at the sky.
It was bright, sunny.
Yellow/orange circle filled my eyes
and there lye a symbol,
a star,
and in the middle of the star, an eye,
a women's eye,
a child's eye,
the Devils eye,
cast over like a shadow
in the deepened yellow/orange sky.

Thursday, 26 January 2012


I will reap my soul into the deep, and curdle words against my skin

Thursday, 19 January 2012


Legs of a lamb
lips painted red.
Under your eyes,
uneasy and unfed.
Stained against the mirror,
legs buckle and unfurl.
In the arms of your mother,
just a little girl.
Just a little girl.


Hidden Child

She won't admit it
She's too clever,
She hides it well,
under a painted smile. red.
A quiet one she is,
she'll never tell.
Only in me
will she hide,
and in her
I will dwell.

A hidden child, will never tell.

Monday, 16 January 2012

Blood red

When prison walls decay
you'll find yourself
It opens itself in on you,
you'll find it in the garden.
Shrouds of dirt begin to bleed
and draw their veins into the seams
of opened skin
so red
it feeds upon your body,
Come with me,
come walk with me,
to that place untold,
We'll share the sun 
and drown
alone inside the river
Now all that's left
for us to give,
is our dying flesh
that rots
so beautifully,
to the souls that crave
for our purity.

Sunday, 15 January 2012

Pretty Pettle

''She's a funny looking thing isn't she?''

I'd like to, fade away.

''Yes, a funny little thing.''

..and the moss on the moors remains the same.

''You'll always find your way'', he said, you'll always find your way..

Pretty, little petal


Friday, 6 January 2012

Album artwork

Am very proud to have been involved in creating some artwork for a local band in Sheffield: InFictions, along with other local artists too.
I was chuffed to bits when I saw they'd chosen to use the drawing I'd done for their album cover..and I think it looks ace!!

You can find the band here: