togetherness – three good words

March 19, 2016May 16, 2020

outsourced

we need to re-learn how to take care of each other
we have outsourced so much
even the care of those closest to us
those who were, once, beloved.

we have to re-learn how to take care of each other
to offer solace without fear
without plots of retribution
without vitriol and viciousness
but with that rare thing: kindness, gentleness, sincerity.

why has that become so rare?
why is that not something we can expect
why is it the exception, rather than the rule?
a lot has come to my attention recently
about those left outside, alone, ‘to the winds’
freezing with a body warm
utterly lost with Google Maps uploaded.

we have un-learned the language of emotion
we can no longer speak of love without deconstruction
without cynicism and scoffing
we have no vocabulary to articulate the sublime
that allowed a poet, once, to stand on a bridge
and hail the sun, the sky, an entire realm.

we have lost that primal sound of succour
that beating-drum directness that reaches heart and soul
deep down into the darkest parts of the human condition
breaking through the man-made clouds with a ray of
sublime light that others of less sophisticated times
would have called divine.

we need to learn again
this language of love
langue, parole, signifier, signified
all meanings together, wrapped into each other
used in all languages known to man, woman, child
even if they were once warped by Barbara Cartland.

(and so what for the lace and corsets
so what for the gentlemen in bespoke suits
leaving their card at the door?
they have their place in the joyous abandon of make-believe.)

does that lessen the value of a warm hug, a sweet embrace?
that moment where you come together
with someone who is genuinely lonesome
and needs that one thing you can give, freely:
solace, comfort
peace.

March 7, 2015March 16, 2015

words, spoken

funny, this expectation
this surprise.

why on earth
what made you think
you were the first one?

that you to me
are the first speaker
and i the first listener
in this little-large world of ours?

there have been others, you know
we each have lived our own lives
before this sudden together

there are histories to consider
moments watching
hours witnessing another
fudge and shift
and squirm in their seat
piling up half-truths, barefacedly
until they amounted to lies.

so, why this surprise?
why this annoyance, frustration
this sudden sulking at my silence
my lack of faith
in the words spoken
in these first creation days
of you and me and us?

why the accusation of reflex scrutiny
born of sentences heard
turned over once, twice
and, too often, found wanting?

i ask only for patience
while i practice mine
until you calm down
and find your way to words
that make sense
speaking of the you
you are
when you’ve brushed your teeth
and are bound for bed.

i ask only for ‘this was this
and that was that’
no maybe, could be, might have been, possibly
no ‘i didn’t know how to tell you
i didn’t know what to say’
speak, yes
explain, articulate
but truthfully
this is no virtual space
no hip little place
no bar, no party
no office, café

this is me
with you
in a first together
and what else is needed
than those words that speak of you
as you
living, being?

they are the ones worthy
to be listened to
answered
spoken.
© 2015 threegoodwords

January 6, 2015February 9, 2015

one to another

to write about the touch
the moment
to write because you miss
a kiss
the warmth of a known body
the smoothness of once-touched skin

to know you
and yet i don’t
not entirely
but intimately
between yes and no
and unspoken words
like the swish of sheets
in between

we’ve met before
known each other
in a time
another place
long ago
days, weeks, months
and moments together
one to another

for a heart remembers
runs and jumps
at a long-lost sight
while that which cautions
worries
cries foul in the brightest light
sings itself to sleep

within the embrace
smooth like water
an unclenched fist
open wide
to memories, present
a quiet rejoicing
together,
no longer apart.

August 8, 2014August 8, 2014

badfic, coffee and cereal cannibalism

Meh

It’s strange how everything can work rather well and you look around one evening and it’s all just… meh. That meh is the worst thing. It’s not boredom, it’s not dissatisfaction, there’s really nothing to complain about but everything’s still just… meh, and meh is very bad company. It makes even the greatest movie stupid and the best book dull. Even talking to someone you like, love can be… oh, I can’t be bothered.

It’s very selfish, meh. It spreads it’s mehness all over your private space, inviting itself over to your lunch break, and just basically hogs all the niceness around.

Or maybe it’s just the Friday blues. The week’s over, you’re exhausted, you’re finally home and don’t have to bother too much about tomorrow. Except that staying in’s not really an option. I mean it’s Friday, right? But going out, meeting friends and seeing people means having to dig yourself out of your sweats and sweater. Shower. Dress. Apply some of that and that and that, male or female it’s still just make up. And then you’re ready to open the door and walk out there to meet other humans. Not just the ones you see every day. New ones. Not necessarily better, just different. We are social animals after all.

So I will not stay in and join the meh. I will go out and see people. Join people who like joining me in all this seeing and weekending and living. Because all this work, all this Mon-Fri, 9-5 – that’s not life is it? It’s all the fun times and lovely spaces, it’s all the Me-ness in between. Me without the uh, ugh, eh, coz that’s just meh, and that’s just not me.

Breakfast

There’s a cereal advertisement on TV here, where one cubey cinnamony piece of cereal eats all other cubey cinnamony pieces of cereal the moment it’s let out of the cereal box. It’s very survival of the fittest – whoever is quickest gets to eat everyone else. Even if that means munching through walls of chocolate. Apparently that’s supposed to show just how delicious the cubey cinnamony cereal is. But… they’re eating each other. And if they’re the same species of cubey cinnamony cereal that’s… cannibalism. Cannibalism. Cubey, cinnamony, cereal cannibalism.

Now here’s me wondering: Why should I buy horrifying cereal?

Pages of Note

I just found So Bad It Hurts, a fab tumblr on bad fanfiction – or badfic – as blogger Mama Yuzu calls it. It’s a fun way to find out what is going on in those incubators of ebooks that are fanfiction sites… with a bit of a twist of course, Mama Yuzu can be very lemony when she wants to be. (Mary Sue Problems is just as fun by the way).

Coffee

My local barista told me he drinks a triple-shot espresso before he goes to bed so that he’ll wake up fresh and chirpy in the morning. He’s said it twice now.

I think he actually means it.