truth-1

So here’s to you
My yo yo love
We wound each other up
Nice and tight
Snug and happy
Then the let go-ing
We become unwound
Farther and farther from the center
With each rotation,
A shedding:
Want
Care
Longing
Need
Love.
The distance is stretched to its limits
There is much clenching, gritting, gnarling, clawing and scratching

Do we roll back up?
Will the nice and tight-ness be the same?
Can there be snug happiness again?

If we decide to roll back up and find our things altered
May we kill each other with much letting of blood,
That our next lovers will feast only on our scraps

my winter is here with lots of rain
it is cold and unfeeling
like breaking up over the internet

on a sunday evening suddenly

when will i be rescued?
when will i realise i dont need to be rescued?
when will i be content?
when will i have what i want?
when will my thoughts bounce back inspiring me to let them out again?
when will there be a really strong hand to hold the weight of my shapelessness?
when will my new clothes fit me and when will i wear my old ones again?
when will i find direction?
when will i write perfectly and not search for words?
when will i stop trying to allude to strange ridiculous things
digging out archaic words
when will i learn to play guitar?
when will i write my first song?
when will i take a good picture?
when will i be happy with the person i am with?
when will i stop desiring the unattainable?
when will i learn to let go of old loves?
when will i appreciate my present?
when will i think only good thoughts for a whole day?
when will i stop silently obsessing over my skinny legs?
when will i read all the books i tell myself ill read?
when will i have my own house
and children
and grandchildren
and be a wise old woman doling out stories of my crazy wild ridiculous youth
to my grandchildren?
when will my mother be a grandmother?

posts from alanisutopia

HANDS. 26th aug/'06 2:45 a.m

the re-memory of the weight of hand upon hand weighs me down.

there is not a better time than now to hold my hand.

the emptiness of the inside of my palm leaves me marooned.


HOTEL ROOM 9 a.m ( 27th june 2006)

what she does in
the absence of sleep
and talk
is
scribble.
to fill space
and lack of touch
and want for need.

SUNSHINE

linear
bright
and tall
just like my man,
is the light stealing into the room.

(crescent day? full of the promise of piranhas chasing after your tail!)


YOU SAY ( may 12th 2006)

you say:i love you so
you say: im happy if youre happy

between ten thousand miles of time and space
assurances never reach in time to make one feel
happy
and
loved.

MINUTES AFTER I DECIDED TO LEAVE YOU

minutes after i decided to leave you, i retracted my decision.
fear it was,
that you did not fight it
nor question.
and i could not bring myself to face the night with truth
rrrrrripping me apart!

I could not have left you
not for the true promise of my Utopia
because you know this well
you keep me at a continents lenght
and give me 'love' from afar

RETURNING A FAVOUR

she is buckling under the weight of her attempt to overwhelm his faithlessness

WE CANNOT HELP IT

i fear my need for you has the vengeance
to eat you up whole
and you fear the same

it is this fear
which has plundered our kingdom

WE

who have
not
the courage
to accept
the death
of magic(of love)


21st century prince ( 18th april 2006)

is busier than God.


meets his princess in a club, smoke-ridden(dances to electronica)

he wears denim over dirty keds and washes his mouth with vodka and cigarettes
he sticks his "gallant" tongue inside
rides on a rubbered horse
rides, with the calm assurance that the damsel will ride with him
terms of endearment travel through wireless
gagged and dying


21st century prince is shit scared of an ever after .
and buckled under the weight of a three-month separation.

its not dark yet, but we're getting there!!!!!!!!!!!

call for a rendezvous

it is possible to forget that there are memories of people
when such said people go away from you. when they leave no trace. no trails. and life assumes a sense of calm.
in the gut, the gut misses the adventure. the tumult. the rage and roar of the ram.

then
such memories as were asleep, are poked and prodded to wakefulness.
what a cruel thing to have happen to you. just such a situation.

and cinder-ella flinches, BIGLY!

the love we are given

a baby girl came into the world
her mother and father young and unsure:
'do we want to be together?'
'because of her?'
'for her?'
'must we?'

what love there was seems doomed to be lost in the sea of responsibility, because it will threaten their youth(because they are young), their peace and love of peace.
baby girl will cry
and the young shaky father will ask
'was she my soul-mate, must she be, must i make her be?'

i see them and smile.
because i had a soul-mate. and i let him go.

dear frog prince

last night a vision of you broke
my heart
this morning the debris lies
in my stomach
there is recollection
of the missing thoughts
of me missing you