to a young(er) friend

underwater-by unsplash-1150045_1920

 

ok, let’s talk about it
that thing that disturbs so many

oh god, not again 
#sigh #rollseyes
though somewhere I read that
porn has become the new sex-ed

um, what?

i don’t even know what to think of that
where to start where to end
and, oh, the visuals
endless, endless
sunk deep into the web

which makes things so difficult
when the deed is actually to be done
because intercourse
depends on one thing a screen can’t provide
(not that people don’t try…)

bodies.
real bodies. alive.
living, breathing
actual people
humans
with skin and hands and mouths
personal scents and personal sounds.

touch. feeling.
such small words
doors to so many worlds.

#obvious I know
but think about it

a person’s presence
cannot be fast-forwarded
freeze-framed
clicked away
edited
photoshopped
or otherwise modified

not to mention their preferences
their pasts and presents
their hopes for the future
in unknown beds

that one moment in their lives
that can outlast all others for
hours, days
years on end
it all depends

on what actually happened.

there are infinite variations
like flowers and bees
and all the other species on the planet.
so let’s talk about it
that thing that disturbs so many

y’know
what needed to happen
for you to be here in the first place :D

oh my god TMI!!!

 

© 2016 threegoodwords

questions asked

image

Q:
Are we really taught
to understand
what it means to grow?
And why up?
Why not down?
Like down to earth and down payment
such adult little things
where you’re suddenly the one saying
“Keep it down” to the kids.

I mean, so many questions
are left unasked
until the envelopes arrive
stamped and signed
asking, demanding
most politely
for you to sign off
your right to be alive.

A:
Well, child
What am I to say?
We’re all just muddling along
doing our best to stay warm
be happy
and avoid strife.
That’s what it’s all about
this thing called life.

So be warm
stay happy
and when faced with
a hitch, a turbulance
a bona fide forest fire
fix it
fight it
ride it out.

It is, after all, your life.

© 2016 threegoodwords

alma mater

image

strange to retrace
the steps you once took
eagerly expecting an eduction
and getting more, way more
than you first expected

not just the books bought
and the papers written
but the friends and heartbreak
the clandestine lovers
breaking up in furious tears and shouting
once discussed and inevitably discovered
yes, you two, I know who you are…

the novelties found
the loyalties broken
the real friends made
those many words said
and unspoken
in between and all around
the hours sitting, pouring, agonizing
studying, practicing, memorising
and finally, finally, understanding
all those things you’ll actually
– I guarantee you –
really need later on
in the big bad rest of the world
with its sharp fangs and cold snout

that wide open place where suddenly
being clueless is a country of its own
which you have a permanent visa for
coz it doesn’t get better, does it?
oh no, it gets so much more
like an effing sitcom

where time and again
you’re made to understand
the connection between bat excrement (urgh)
and fucking crazy, excuse my French
(why French anyway?)

and you know youth is not wasted on the young
it’s exactly what’s needed to get through it all
and not end up neurotic, eccentric,
not to mention unnecessarily high strung

oh, wait…
naw, it’s all good
it’s the simple fact that
now, years later
you’re no longer either one
or the other
you’re who you are:
still a kid and genuinely grown up.

© 2015 threegoodwords

how it came to pass

image

we are all
one to another
sutured to our pasts
that peak in our presents
suddenly
terrifying in their clarity

an unexpected glimpse
into a place long buried
in the sands of hours
days and time

passing, past
startlingly bright
like photographs in a dark room
blooming to life

sprouting questions
that need real answers
of why this is that
and that ain’t this
no more

and how it came to pass
that for three seconds at least
we became the exact copy of
our parents.

© 2014 threegoodwords

34 Willow Drive

 

coffee 7

34 Willow Drive was a very tidy place, with a neat front garden and perfectly cut grass in the back. You took off your shoes before stepping into the main house, and you took your plate to the kitchen after dinner. Prayers were said before you ate, and on Sundays the whole family dressed up smartly and went to church where there were other families with Sunday clothes on.

In the beginning the other parents were very curious about Caden, and asked Mr and Mrs Corrigan questions, giving Caden pitying looks after those conversations. The children were more forward, asking him if his Dad really almost beat him to death and wanted to see his bruises. The Willow Drive children were fascinated, and Caden was thought to be tough and dangerous since he had survived such violence. Matthew and Stephanie, (who liked to be called Steff, with two fs), liked to brag and show off with him as long as Caden was a novelty. In school they introduced him as a cousin from far away who had a dark past that made everyone curious, but after a few weeks the latest computer game came out and there was Christmas to think of and Caden was like everyone else.

Matthew and Stephanie, who, after the excitement of novelty had worn off, realised that Caden was not a guest, but had actually come to stay, Matt and Steff lost their benevolence and did their best to ignore him. They enjoyed calling him Rice or Riceboy when their parents weren’t listening, simply because Caden liked rice. He’d never eaten it outside the curry shop, and they only went if Aunt Vicky remembered to. When allowed to join in their games, Caden was responsible for all the menial jobs. He was always the servant, the worker, the villain. He enjoyed being the Red Indian most. Others might have thought Matt and Steff’s behaviour mean, but Caden, who had never lived a day in peace at home since Mother left, who never knew how it was to have siblings, who had never had the opportunity of regular meals, clean clothes and a bed that didn’t turn into a trap if someone came home drunk and violent, Caden did not feel the effects of their behaviour until much later. In the beginning he was just content with having another life. He often looked to the sky and wondered if his mother had seen how bad things were and finally found a way to save him. He didn’t know. He went to church and heard about God, but what the Vicar said didn’t really interest him. Caden said the prayers at dinner and made sure to tie his tie correctly before church, (Aunt Vicky had shown him, mumbling there was nothing sillier than a man who couldn’t tie his own shirt, her cigarette hopping up and down while she talked, ashes flying everywhere) but otherwise that part of life at the Corrigan’s remained closed to him. Caden preferred thinking that his mother was on a cloud somewhere, or that the Force actually existed. To Caden at ten, that made much more sense.

 *

Mr and Mrs Corrigan were what people called ‘steady’. They treated Caden as one of their family and never favoured him to their own children, nor their children to him. They worked hard, had strict schedules and did not like being interrupted if they were busy unless it was serious. Every Wednesday, Mrs Corrigan went to her bridge evening and on Thursday nights Mr Corrigan liked to play darts with his friends. He always came home smelling of cigarettes. The Corrigans were not the kind of happy couple you saw on TV, the kind that always laughed and cuddled their kids, living in the big shiny houses. They smiled if you did something well or patted your head. Physical contact, as they called it, was rare in the Corrigans’ house, even between Mr and Mrs Corrigan. They did not hug or cuddle Matt and Steff either, and Caden, who had had too much physical contact for his first ten years, Caden was relieved that no one would be touching him constantly like Aunt Vicky liked to do.

Speaking of Aunt Vicky, she always came at least once a year to see Caden after he moved to the Corrigans’. In the beginning Caden thought it a little tedious to have her come, but in later years he came to enjoy Aunt Vicky’s chaotic visits that always lasted a whole weekend. In his teens he discovered her great talent of making people laugh. She was someone who didn’t expect anything from you except to enjoy yourself and have a good time. She smoked, she drank, she was loud and what Mrs Corrigan called ‘vulgar’, but she was also the kind of person you could ask anything, and Caden took advantage of that when it came to those questions he would never ask the Corrigans. To them, the world was made up of fixed facts of good and bad, order and chaos, enemies and friends, and for a teen like Caden who knew how twisted and out of sync things could be, their answers were always lacking.

At least Aunt Vicky heard you out, maybe asking a few questions in this direction or that. Caden never fully understood them, but at least she asked. And she tended to let him come to his own conclusions. If it was good she smiled and nodded, if she thought it could do with some improvement, she would purse her lips like Mrs Corrigan and continue whatever she was doing. Another thing Caden enjoyed about Aunt Vicky was how she irritated Matt and Steff. They never knew how to take her. She wasn’t fashionable, but she was fun. She wasn’t posh, but she was funny. And she made Caden feel normal again. Having Aunt Vicky come visit always felt like a holiday, a three-day holiday outside his usual life in 34 Willow Drive and by the time Caden passed his GCSEs her visits weren’t something he would have wanted to miss.

©2014 threegoodwords

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