Archive for we-

relationship with a room

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on October 13, 2019 by malartart

having a relationship with a room is more than having a relationship in a room/ the ceiling lays upon the floor propping up a Vitruvian Man star-standing in a corner

bed is situated between the arms so safety and warmth are an embrace away/ pillows hear night dreaming and believes it to be its own unconscious

a bookshelf knows who it is where it is and what it wants/ a comfy chair sits at rest waiting for a soul to rest and make it sit up

reading the epic poem ‘Death from a Thousand Cuts’ slowly over time day be day morn to noon until slowly subsumed by meaning and context

text soup on a drip that nourishes the soul through the tip of the tongue/ sense is only made when the eyes are closed and the brain is switched off

no television no radio no histrionics but a diegetic soundtrack from an advert 24/7 selling nothing but the moment to ourselves through ourselves because of ourselves

So Near Yet So… (2019 Only a Day Past 2018)

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on January 1, 2019 by malartart

Wake and shake away that

Fear it’ll be the death of me

Piss and shit and tea and

Sympathy stain

The same; irregularities are

Necessary switch off

The TV

And count to 10

Wake me in the shaken state

Guns raised a flag planted down

The barrel

A vase goes off and splinters spill

Upwards                    If

sharks can be cannibals

then we could be next

 

Slipping Into NY-LON

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on February 14, 2018 by malartart

Cities on legs

Towns on arms

Villages as hands

People together

are a fist

Made Up (Be)Longing  

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on December 1, 2015 by malartart

 

Narrator/ Tutor………. the lodge: it only ever existed in an imagination. It could have been anyone’s but I was certain whose it wasn’t: it wasn’t mine. They had come from miles around/ away to learn how to create and control; and even though they had never met before strong feelings were found to draw them together like an invisible net capturing lost fish. It was up to me to find the right thread to pull; to see if all I saw could be slowly tightened shut or come undone.

It was written and had been for a while: “Notepads open with anticipation and pens full of ink. Heads cocksure; they thought they were ready to create something better. They weren’t ready: nobody could ever be that ready.”

Sat before Narrator/ Tutor- who looks as out of place as we feel= we listen but never learn

‘Not what fiction is but what it one day will become= writing says on black board/white board

Narrator/ Tutor taps at it twice with chalk/ felt pen

Narrator/ Tutor……………What is real?

The small group looks around at each other, almost searching for permission to be able to answer the question

One student finally says……….Anything that wants to be

Now the silence is broken there can be a beginning

Others follow, words are spat at Tutor. What follows is a short selection………

The new

                     The old

Choice

                     Silence

Freedom

                    Feeling blue

Power

                      Endings

Tutor smiles and nods; but not in agreement

                      Finally from Tutor………… Your confidence and certainty, well- I really couldn’t make it up

The woods, the lodge: they only existed in an imagination

Tutor…………………………………………………….Pens ready. Exercise 1

Write about the day ahead

Tutor circles the room like a vulture (as a metaphor too over the top? Can reconsider if needs be)………………………………………………

(Remember: Find the others)

         Al to Su…………………‘What’s your name?’

                                                                ‘Su.’

                                                    ‘Al.’

                       Tutor…………………..‘Oh dear… no names… we are all nameless here. You really should have read your membership pack fully before arriving- the instructions were as clear as day.’ (Is this a strong simile? Others that would be more original= Clear as glass, Clear as crystal, Clear as water, Clear as light)

                                           Su & Al………….. ‘Sorry.’

Tutor………….It’s just that… well it could be a problem later on.

Both nod even though they don’t agree/ understand/ care (delete where applicable).

Tutor circles room………………………………………………

Al…  What are you working on at the moment?

Su… It’s called ‘The Science of Snowflakes’.

Tutor circles and lands………….

                    ……………… Make sure it is no longer than three pages and a half.

Su……………..Why?

Tutor…………………… Because I will wield my authority even in the face of talent- if there is any here.

The student nodded in agreement. The nodding was bare faced lying.

Tutor…………………………………………………………..Exercise 2

Quickly write a description of the room- but leave out the wall- board.

All does as Tutor says……………

The wall-board had never been there

Su… It’s gone.

Al… What has?

Su… I don’t know.

Third exercise: the class is full/ there are only two of you/ or are both statements correct?

I.e. – there was only two places to begin with (the tutor does not make this clear as he moves onto the next exercise [we are then left to presume])

Tutor…………………Fourth and Final Exercise………….How should all this end?

Al turns to

       Su

Su turns to

       Al

Al asks Su is she ready………………………………………………………………………………..She decides to pack light

Outside- is it a sun or moon? Car lights or stars? Suppose it depends on how you look at it. How do you look at it? Do you let it wash over you like unexpected rain or do you read into it far too much?

The car feels real, Al feels in charge, Su feels like they are not quite there yet

Su to Al……..Damn-

                                                      -She suddenly realises (or does she?)  I never finished my story

Tutor… Sentences crossed out, words negated, a past no longer in the past

He takes their application forms and rips them into two, and then again, over and over & over + where were The Others?…

The Science of Snowflakes is that they congregate by attraction not need and then … it’s all downhill from there and… crash

By the stone covered in snow- snow that covers ice- by the two bodies that lay in/out of the car that was on/off the road that was by/in the tree- it read on an engraving with clear markings:

R.I.P.

Ripped

Into

Pieces

 

My Pain is Private

Posted in poetry with tags , , on November 17, 2015 by malartart

My pain is private

It stands to attention

In a hope to be promoted

Even though it has yet to earn its stripes

 

My pain is private

It does not work well with others

(As I do not work well alone)

And even though it despises its own company

It refuses to leave the family home

 

My pain is private

Regular as clockwork

Even though the cogs are clogged

And the tickings and tockings

Have decided to stop

 

My pain is private

It is hurried and indecisive

Heating me up to try and stop me cold

Creating a bloody skirmish

So my manic mind slows me down

 

My pain is private

And yet we have spoken too much about it

Feeding its insatiable ego and uncontrollable appetite

Greed is good others would have you believe

Yes, as helpful as a blind sailor setting out to cross the sea

 

Well… my pain maybe private

But, please, do not let that stop you talking about the way you feel

As in my mind, you’ll always be more important than me