To call this season... Summer
We may require the sun
But remember we're in England
Down the road
The water runs
A cup of tea
Inside a blanket
& listening to the downpour
This English summer was here for a day
Teasing you with some warmth
& then the weather switched 3 times
& that was just before you'd had lunch
Yeah, yeah I'm loving the weather
& your sarcasm
Thanks a bunch
How do you know
That I’m real?
How do you know that
I’m not AI generated
On the ‘internet’
But
Even If you have
Met me
Are you even real?
My cheeks are sore
Soaked with tears
I’m living each second
But my minds not here
Blank face and have little care
Feeling suicidal
Motivation stripped bare
I held onto the thought of us
I held onto our friendship
& the fact that we considered each other
Family
You were my best friend
& my brother
We could be ourselves
Around each other
We wouldn’t judge
But once I’d met
The real you
Fucking hell
It all made sense
You’re the worst human being
I’d ever met
& I’m glad our ‘friendship’
Is in the past tense
I’d love to create a portrait
Of myself
But it would be abstract
It would be my mind & soul
Splattered on a page
3d, 4d
You’d hear bizarre sounds
You’d feel the flush
Of my cheeks
& you’d feel a cat
On your lap
Because a basic portrait
Has never been further from
My vibe
When our lips touch,
my heart explodes,
Passion whirls around the room.
The rain on your windows,
Under the duvet,
Body goals.
I'm in love with you,
It's time to watch our life unfold.
Falling for you harder
every time you say my name
No matter the distance our feelings stay the same
Your laugh and your smile
Will always fill me with glee
I don’t think you realise Kieran
How happy you’ve made me
Being a writer is...
Writing on the back of receipts
It’s crumpled drafts
Bus tickets
Half a poem written
But...
In four different inks
I could have sworn
This pen worked yesterday
But the universe is trying to stop me
Connect the dots
Connect the links...
There’s a lot of pressure
to fit into a box
A box that’s too small
A box that you must lose weight to get into
Or a box that you have to fit in perfectly but it’s too big
And will fit a family of four in
A box that you have to get through security to enter
No tattoos
No piercings
Blonde hair
Big boobs
A job that’s considered acceptable
Your hobbies should consist of
Yoga or Zumba
And slimming world
You should complain about your husbands and how tired you are and how your kids are just being trouble recently…
You constantly lose your temper and your husband escapes at any opportunity possible because a simple shopping trip or even watching TV just consists of stress…
Why would I want to live that way?
Why should I fit into your box?
Shaved legs
Matching underwear
Makeup & washed hair
Is not a sign that a
Woman loves you
Try a messy bun
A stained t-shirt
& prickly legs
Bad breath
Morning sex
Stopping in the middle
To fart...
That’s what real love is
Who gives a shit about
How many likes
Your last post got
Oh right...
You do
& I used to be the same
Wondering what I could do... to...
Reach fame...
& at the end of the day...
I’d rather have 10 likes
On a poem that I worked
My ass off for
Than a sexy pic of...
My ass
Because 10 people in a room
Is much mor than I’d
Be comfortable with
Really
& those 10 people
May even comment
& I’ll read them all
We may even continue
The conversation
& build up a relationship
Based on me chatting shit
So why chase likes & validation?
Instead chase your dreams
Put a pen to paper
& just write
Write everything you
See
Feel
Breathe
Poetry is where life is
It’s here for you
More than you believe
& there’s people who are on
The same journey as you...
Different parts of the journey
But you’ve made it to the same road
Not distracted by signposts
That scream
Lack of dignity or toxicity
Because I crave simplicity
In these times of need
So we may not be on the
Same wavelength
But as long as our morals
Overlap & intertwine
Then our friendship
Will be just fine
Fuck
What’s considered acceptable
If you’re happy?
Because if you put your
Love & hobbies first
Then to me
You
Are the most
Respectable
It upsets me to think
That people look to religion
For answers
Instead of the inner voice
That they label as
‘God’
When in reality
The gut feeling
The voice that they hear
The ideas
Are all their
Gut feelings
And egos
So instead of praying
To a so-called ‘God’
Please
Listen to yourself
First
Codewords
Rambling
Talking shit
Or am I?
Am I a villain...
Or a am I a genius?
The groups of men
Smoking outside
The coffee shop
Gold cigarette ends
Leave a trail
Stained ash trays
Red chairs
Sugar packets soaked
Drowning
In ignored
Last gulps
Abandoned
Wonky tables
Damp
At an angle
Toastie packets
Cheese tangled
Ham, cold
Rejected & recycled
By the birds
But the cigarette butts
Are digesting
In the poor birds’ guts
Apparently
There are two brains
In our bodies
One in our head &
One in our gut
It’s where our gut feeling comes from
I see it as one of our senses
See
Smell
Taste
Hear
Touch
Gut feeling...
Support your local jester
Support your local theif
Support your local tree
Support your local leaf
Support your local druggie
Support your local Chinese
But don’t support the government
Or those that cause you grief
Support your local poet
The one who holds a pen
Don’t support the government
I must repeat again
Support your friends
& their dreams
Back them at all costs
Support the local businesses
& those that you love lots
I think my calls
Are recorded
My whereabouts are tracked
I think my details are saved
I’ve probably been hacked
It doesn’t help that I talk
About things that may make you sick
But to me I find it interesting
How other people think
I’d like to get some inspo
It’s only for a book
Let me get on with life
& continue to do some research
I am not a psycho
I won’t commit a crime
Us writers would never do such thing
We’d never find the time
With this many blocks
I might as well
Build myself
A house
I am so hungry
For not just food
But the warmth of your lips
On my cold cheeks
I am hungry for your love
& your body
Pressed against mine
Exchanging heat
I am so hungry for when
Your fingers run through my hair
Whilst our limbs intertwine
& our eyes meet
I am hungry for you
Like a wolf is for a sheep
I am hungry for you
& my God
You look tasty enough
To eat
I like writing
The word ‘Love’
I like the flow
Of the ‘L’ and the ‘O’
It’s just a beautiful word
To write
We need more love
In the world
& if I could spread it
By writing the word
A million times
Well
I would just love it...
I think love is the best emotion
& much deeper than people realise
When you really love something
Or someone
You’ll understand people’s fascination
With worship & religion...
Real love will make you commit crimes
It will give you tunnel vision.
The next time someone tells me
“I love you”
I want them to prove it
I want them to kill for me
The gentle purring and buzzing
Right next to my ear
Fish of different kinds
Much tamer
Swimming near
The statement about their memory
Is simply just a myth
As soon as they see us
We give them a little lift
Beef hearts & blood worms
Splash into the tank
They all come out of caves
& click & eat
So loud
But the loudest part
Is not actually the fish
It’s the filter under my pillow
Humming & purring
Sort of like white noise
It makes me piss.
Awakening me from
A deep slumber...
You’d think it would
Be a cat
Paws & sounds
And jumping
From the windowsill
To my back
But the rude awakening
Doesn’t meow
Or nibble my hair
The brightness & the heat
Usually come as a pair
Oh, the light
Her presence is made
& now I’m awake much earlier
Then you’d anticipate
You will never see me angry…
Just sad
My therapist says it’s because when I was a baby
And I was screaming to be fed
No one came to help
subconsciously I gave up shouting
Avoided conflict and fighting
Stopped asking for help
Pushed aside how I really felt
Solitary confinement is unlawful
For more than 72 hours
But try feeling abandoned since birth
No one can hurt me anymore because it will never be as bad
As what I’ve experienced before
It’s cold out here
I want to start bringing blankets
Wherever I go
But what if others judge me?
How old is too old
To want to be back inside
Your mothers womb?
He sits in the same seat
Every morning
He orders the same coffee
& makes the same jokes
Expects you to bring it to him
With good service and a smile
At first
We all greeted him
Politely
Until
One by one
He made our stomachs
Churn
Dirty comments
& innuendos
Stares from across the room
No
I don’t work in a pub
And he is not a drunk
Its 8am
In a coffee shop
& my body is
Covered up
He came to me
& he blessed the book
Gave me his word
& he made me shook
I looked at him
In disbelief
I said his name in vein
I swore Jesus
Then handed him a pen
So we could write free verse
God has Blessed Me With His Personal Quill
- 6:16 PM
- By Jazmine Cartwright
- 0 Comments
My flow was dead
Resurrected Jesus
I bowed my head
& prayed
Forgive me Lord
For I have sinned
But this masterpiece
Is on the way
Please
I pray
Please
Ignore
The many drafts
I have binned
I let my cup of coffee go cold
It shakes with every stroke of a pen
A chocolate chip from a biscuit dip
Looks lonely
Floating around the edge of the cup
I tip the cup
& swirl it
The chip follows
Looking for love
When people describe their dream holiday
A beach is never far
Sun & sea & alcohol
Benidorm or Malaga
I’d much rather a city break
While exploring on my feet
I want to see the buildings
Especially those made of concrete
Architecture makes my eyes go wide
It’s something I’ll always seek
Because
I’d choose brutalist buildings
Over the beach
Any day of the week...
I don’t know what started me off crying
This morning.
I don’t know what it looks like outside
Wiping tears and drinking water
Trying to remove the headache
I need to call my Nan today
But I’m crying
And she will be crying
And we will end up crying together
But I’m exhausted of holding it together
For other people
For all the family that are grieving
And mourning
And I’m there handing out tissues
Hugging them
Telling them it will be okay.
If I was selfish I’d of killed myself a few months ago
But the last thing this family needs is another death
So I wipe my tears
And practise a smile in the mirror
I trace my acne on my cheeks
Red raw
And sore
And get ready for another day
Of smiles.
You’ve got to be cruel
To be kind
A mother with
Pent up anger
Because she received a
Mother’s Day card
A day late...
She repeats that she will
Give them a taste of their
Own medicine
She’ll forget their birthday
Because it will suit her
As they’ve made their bed
And laid in it
I hope she never has to deal
With the pain of losing someone
Because a shitty card
Is nowhere near as important
As someone’s life