And too much
To think about
That isn't exam.
Too much forgiveness
I want to give it.
Do you mean it?
Do I need it?
How do I keep on
And your timing
Has, as always,
An effortless way
Where it will
Always hone in
On my spirit, my wairua,
When I need it the most
And the least.
Yeah it's like cranes in the sky.
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those little things.
The Phone Bill.
My mum sits on the phone talking Tongan. The phone bill sticks to the fridge behind her counting down the days left; threatening her ability to speak in the language she thinks in.
My uncle sits on the phone talking Tongan. The phone bill sits on the coffee table beside him; threatening his ability to speak in the language he thinks in.
My cousin sits on the phone talking in Tongan. Their phone bill presses against their cheek on the screen of their iphone; threatening their ability to speak in the language they think in.
I sit on the phone talking in English. My phone bill is paid and next months one threatens only my ability to connect instantly wi...
And I am reminded about how I love to leave a podcast playing after scrolling myself to sleep.
Letting myself breathe into my stomach, not conscious of anyone else at all. I forgot this - how much I love sleeping alone.
You taught me patience, to listen and love. I understand now; your lectures on why an oily glass shouldn't rest on a steel bench. You taught me how to be wise, how to be still.
Kelly said it best, that you learned how to do family as you went along and I never realized that I watched you do some of that; figuring it out; always learning. And I followed.
You are the reason I get to understand now, what family is and how it is. You are the reason I know, that things carry on. Love carries on, and I can't get over how lucky I am to know that, to feel it and be it.
Your hand movements are imprinted on my heart. I would have asked you to walk me down the aisle. The way you chop vegetabl...
Paralyzed by the strive for perfection.
I have talked myself into brilliant and back out again into dismal, too many times now. I am tired and it is just an essay. You don't need to change thought patterns with this topic. You are the only person expecting so much of yourself right now.
All you need to do, is just, to hand it in.
Hand it in
Hand it in
Hand it in
Word of the day: Gala
Serving tray in hand, I moved between fur coats and silk gowns without a drop of falling bubbles - that was until the elevator doors closed. Bubbles turned to liquid and flutes turned to glass as my confidence fell with them.
Landing in the lobby of the gala, I raced to get a dustpan before the doors would close again. I missed and when the doors opened again, a lady in fur next to a man in braces crouched in position, picking up the biggest shards of glass. I apologized and they smiled.
She said "many hands make light work, and it looks like your load is heavier than mine." And with that, from smiling fur and braces, my confidence came back.
Knowing how mu...
There haven't been any, who have said the words that I can't let out, when they need to be heard; or who have witnessed what I am, longer than one cycle. You have reached further and I am terrified.
Just write something, hit send, it's been too long.
No one cares what you have to say, no one expects you to use a word more mesmerizing than "good", except yourself.
Say something, you will forget how to speak otherwise.Remember- when you stayed home for a week and didn't talk to anyone for 3 consecutive days? Yeah- you scared yourself didn't you? Your voice was too loud and it all tried to come out at once; a different sound through each nook and cranny between your teeth.You know why right? Because you had been too quiet for too damn long.
Take a pill, learn to trust it again - one day at a time.
Just write something, hit send.
Heart's get tired. Did you know?
Heart's have palpitations, where they jump, trying to find the nearest thing to cling too because they've become comfortable running away.
People commonly don't believe this, till they live it. They think it's metaphorical babble till the songs all make sense. It's physical, it's a reality of your body and mind colliding.
It takes over your entire body, and Nothing ensues. And the Nothing wins.
Your heart tells you when too many decisions have gone wrong, and the wider world needs to be given some time to heal.
We wander, thinking that jumping is normal, necessary even - it won't hurt so bad - all of it takes your heart further; jumping fur...
Sometimes, it is so worth remembering, that the globe is spinning right now.
You are in it. Your cells; they change it - just by being.
Today I skipped the messier half of a byo dinner for a cuppa tea and a little one who should have gone to bed way earlier than he did.
Little guy ran to greet me for the first time. He caught me before i could clean my teeth and hands. I smelt like alcohol and cigarettes and my belly dropped at how excited he was and how startled he would've been at my cuddle.
Once this vignette would have been about revisiting a pub I used to frequent too much - with company I should have refused more often. [insert here - how times change, things are empty or some troubled shit like that]. There's little feeling left for that me. She serves now as comparison; what I used to reach for thinkin...
"Cut the wire.
Be a bird.
Shoot the messenger
before he can say a word.
We have nothing left
to keep quiet about.
We have nothing left
and share everything"
Tonight I worked the door for this gig. It was epic. I am 27. I have not been in an environment like that since I was 19. It felt beautiful to be there but not be there. Not mingle. Just sit and listen while the youngsters, energized on whatever they figured best.
I went home sober and alone. I met moments on the way that once upon a time, I might have followed, clinging onto; trying to keep feelings of distraction. Feelings of a youth I no longer feel the need to explore.
I am an only child. I never had...
The wind stops and the strands sit still. Crumbled upon each other like a drawing from a toddler.
Uninterrupted from oppression,
With the right song,
they dance, as if conducted,
swaying, throwing their stretches;
reaching to the tips
of things they might not see.
When do our words become the oppressor? When do theories conduct the sway of grass strands? Grass; that has roots we don't see and barely stop to consider.
What are your roots that help you stretch and sway? What are the roots others don't consider?
tag your response #mygrassroots #stretchtomytips
A sad secret for this space.
I overdosed. I went quiet.
I've had my body traumatized by multiple people but this was the worst.
And there is
a sickening empowerment
in harming my own body better
than anyone else has
My bruised arm
took weeks to heal.
I would look at it - guessing
the name of the nurse
rushed off their feet
troubling to find
this Jane Doe's veins.
of a compassion
telling my friends
"I can't make her want to live"
How peaceful that quiet was.
Where are her parents? Have you text your mum?
Each day I take a pi...
--IN A NEW HOUSE--
active ears towards
yours - that has had
too many ears
a cigarette and a sip
the quiet we all
It's been awhile...
I've been sitting with my head stubbornly forward; scared of spiders crawling from nooks into my curls.
Writing hasn't happened.
How sad it is
That next time
I see you
My eyes won't
fill with fixation
My body won't jump in tune
My chest won't pump
with hunger to
You've made it into my memory;
A series of vague forgottens
That I can't feel anymore
This is when I should request
To "+ add friend"
The water was always
running wasn't it?
Under the bridge
of the next bridge
I built on top of the one
We once made
Single people in
5 seater cars
Of Ones who have
the first time
I learned to drive
Like the sip of a cigarette from an old addict; the ways the ones we know, grow - with new ways to love them more.
I miss you like silk misses movement. Other eyes still think me pretty, but my shimmer; it's missing...
.TILL ONE DAY YOU JUST FORGET.
"We'll touch base once a year or so. We will both be okay" I look at his mouth in disbelief at what it's said. The backyard behind him falls blurry. All I can think about is how I won't see that backyard anymore; grazing paint; uneven paths; and the red- "You're my best friend" he said and the world paused.
If I could go back I'd say "You're kidding? Worst fucking friend I ever had..." though if time travel is an option there's many other steps I'd alter.
That's the thing about heart break, till you experience it first hand, all these words just sit on a page, predictable as shit and without consequence stabbing at nothing. I write, so I should be intere...
How glad the many millions of Tom's and Dick's and William's would be to capture me but you had such persistence you wore down my resistance; I fell and it was swell. It's not that you're attractive but oh my heart grew active when you came into view. I've got a crush on you sweetie pie
all the day and night time hear me sigh. I never had the least notion that I could fall with so much emotion. Could you coo? Could you care? For a cunning cottage we could share. The world will pardon my mush cause I've got a crush my baby on you. - Ira Gershwin
"My name is Build" he said.
"I am Broken" she replied.
And still, you do, you cannibalize me. You zoom in on my B, on my R and my E.
You look at each line like it's never been seen. And give energy till each line, each dot, feels new.
I am unarmoured under your gentle hands.
"I need to tell you something" said the caption under her photo. All at once I saw the 'firsts' I was going to miss and the love worth venturing home for.
I now understand 'bittersweet'
When we talk I laugh and not the giggly type. I laugh like-I can't hold it in, annoying everyone in the internet cafe; type of laugh.
Everything is just right with you. You're so cool. But my heart still hurts without you. I miss you so much.
I'm going to test out some character writing in here for a character I've had boiling away in my head for a while now. I will try to always use this background theme and will tag each excerpt as "CABCharacter" I hope you enjoy. And I welcome feedback :-)
Thanks Lettrs land,
I think I will aim to always keep a part time job as a cleaner; to keep my feet firmly on the ground. I reckon dirt is the remnants of a life being well lived. Don't you?
Today as I cleaned I thought about the mess a person leaves behind and how much can be told about them by the mess that they forget. You can see perspectives a person hopes to po...
"Beholden to me" she whispered purposefully to his ear.
"Be golden for me" he heard, so he went and disappeared!
Instead, she sat scrumdging papers beneath the table where he ate.
He asked "Whatever is keeping you so far from civil as we eat?"
She apologized "its the words - I'm sorry - they are just too much fun too see!"
He searched each crevice, each corner, each height for the marbles he kept - that he used to juggle. One afternoon, after nurses checks, he found them hidden in the bottom of a bottle.
Weekly Writing Challenge
---I DIDN'T SEE---
My hands reach to hold my head. My mouth wanting water, my body aches for rest. Then I see him - of course it's him here. He always walks in when my conscience walks out...Who am I kidding, self esteem is what I mean.
The one that got away laying next to me, with my morning after make up and his goddamningly, delightful girlfriend out of town. I sigh in frustration. It's complicated, we're complicated. ..and comfortable. That's it.
I put last nights clothes on and hold my shoes in hand to avoid his noisy wooden floors that i had advised him to get way back when. And yes, chuckle all you like at the irony in trapping m...