Women.

Devil Women.

The Devil's women.

''I taste his breath on my tongue, and it is beautiful.''

Pale Dew

Poems from Penistone Poets Anthology..

Reverie

Her eyes deepened with curdled joy

seeping sadness towards the foggy moors

with the misty mildew trailing South

she danced and wandered along its vehement mouth.

'It makes me hurt

but I'll never give myself to you, ever

Come walk with me, over the misty fields

and promise me there

that you'll leave me be, forever.'

Pale Dew

I am not willing to breathe

you stand in front of me

the shivers sing

and bones hang thin

but oh,

you can't look at yourself

you're too weak to undress

I must have died to have begun

I come from within

from the depths of beneath

my senses inept, alert

I detect, a miserable

stench of folly

Digress

I find my way

although misled and unkempt

do I know who I am?

I know I come from death

unlaid and regressed

every part of me outstretched

wholeheartedly and repeatedly

unrecognised

Reaching for life, but yet again

deceived

by this tormented grief.

Painting by myself, for the cover of the book.

untitled II

''A womans legs can be spread as wide as the frogs. Our lips are as shiny as their skin. Theirs is green, yet ours is not..''

Seeds

Suppose there really is nothing there, suppose there never was anyway; that we never touched it, never knew it, never tasted it..then why do we feel it? That something we know is there, but that we find so hard to put into words, that is so difficult to explain, yet we connect to it, we share it – unspeakabily unsaid – but we know it’s there because it haunts us, everyday. We shy away from it, we’re afraid of it, we try to avoid it, but in the pit of our stomachs we know that feeling is right – or it feels right. That something that they can never take away from us, because it is embedded within us. It is our seed, and our seeds need to be planted – to grow and to share – to sprout and to live amongst other seeds. We just need to trust our seed and not be afraid of it, because all our seeds are the same; our seeds are true and what we need to plant and share is the truth.

''..a longing that disturbs her piece of mind.''

Across the glimmering gashes, 

shy and uneasy

not quite there but nearly. 

I want to show you my insides. 

I want to share with you the pieces in me that are hidden. 

Burning, broken blisters

reveal themselves; 

unashamed parts in me that glisten, 

unspoken and insane.

Silken grace, 

stricken down by ignorance. 

I see your face, mocking my intelligence.

Maybe my insides are best left hidden,

locked away, unridden

wearing me away, 

day by day, 

by day, 

by day..

How far really, is death away?

A confrontation of two Natures

One of my favourite films from a young child was Gone With the Wind. I first watched the film when I was seven years old and was captivated by it, I wanted to watch it over and over, never really knowing why. The image shown below of Rhett and Scarlett hangs on my wall at home, as I catch a glance of it every morning, it fills me with a silent comfort.

Until a couple of weeks ago I never really thought much about the image and what it represented, until a fresh eye saw the photo hanging on my wall and asked about it. I described the film to Him; a love triangle between one woman and two men, a story told during the Civil War.

Around about the same time when I was thinking about the image of Rhett and Scarlett, I'd been listening to the album Blowback by Tricky. The image on the album cover highly struck me, and on the same night that He asked about the image of Rhett and Scarlett on my wall, he also said something that made a mark in my mind..something about the way the woman looks up to the man and the man looks down on her and how that image of Man and Woman is probably a lot different now. I find these two images very alike in contrasting ways, a modern day version of Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara, perhaps.

A woman in control of herself, her sex and the man - who seems to crave her and obeys, the image oozes dominance and pleasure, reflecting a sexual connection and acceptance of equality.

Who dominates who? Who fears who? Who protects who? Who obeys who? Is there ever an equal?

I think the roles of being doted on, protected, feared and dominated do change all the time for men and women..and I don't think there ever will be an equal in a realistic sense because we're a different species..aren't we?

''It is a law of nature that a dream carried far too long inside you must, eventually, begin to rot.''

Patience

Buried are my bruises, that shine in your reflection.

A heap of mess, decaying in on itself, once shone; beaming in light, now hides shamelessly in nothingness.

Unscented, unscathed, untouched by man's hand, but yet to his eye remains, completely mislaid.