Lists

Things that stress me out:
Fees. Bills. Applications. Job or PhD? Thesis. Essays. Deadline projects. Staying in touch.
The bottomless pit of introspection. Inconsistent meditation. Skipping gym.
Taking out the bin. Chipped ceramics. Unopenable tuna tins. Forgetting packed lunches.
Open microwave doors. Guest toilets that won’t flush. Frightful dreams.

Words that I like:
Dawn. Dusk. Quintessential. Pharaoh. Swift. Twilight. Autumn; rather than Fall.
Sustainable. Solar plexus. Tranquillity; tempted to tattoo it down my chest.
Thighs; preferably preceded with thick. Gazelle; horns sharp, twisted and tall.
Kiss. Lick. Bite. Lust and Summer; seasons best enjoyed undressed.
Qi; potential sixty two points on Scrabble, a life force when played right.
Triumph. Grace. Villanelle. Nemesis. Willy. Boobies; my first explicit search.
Giggle. Voluptuous. Suave. Cinnamon. Bun. Celsius; rather than Fahrenheit.
Whisper. Lavender. Sweet. Silence; as the reverential solace in church.

Things that I like:
The colour purple. Clean floors, matching tiles, smooth sheets. Quiet coach F on the Eastern Link.
Defiant desert shrubs. Closed doors. Seedless grapes. Greasy drippy bacon. Three egg omelettes.
To do Lists. Corsets and high heels; together. Pepperoni pizzas in the AM post cheap drinks.
Cold water the morning after. Crunchy peanut butter on toast. Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough.
Tea tree oil. Peppermint tea. Naps. Dead leaves. Ink on Papyrus. Story telling trees.
Double duvets in the winter. Flight tickets. Notes in my wallet. Fellatio.

2015 Resolutions:
Be there. Wear more purple. Drink more water. Eat more pizzas, less peanut butter. Get that tattoo.
Listen. Laugh without cause. Call mum on random Mondays. Write sonnets, sing songs, kiss more.
Breathe in, breathe out, purposefully, fifteen minutes each day. Put others on the prayer menu.
Read books written by women. Be unnecessarily kind (to yourself too). Put gratitude at your core.

Cloudy

There are a cloud full of metaphors
I could torrent you with
but winter winds will whip through
the streets soon, clip sleeves, make oars
out of trees, tease earth with wet kisses,
seize the blue with a fistful of grey then
the thunder will settle to a meow
and you will forget me
like a stowaway leaf on the wings of frost

Millennials

Time Magazine and the like call us “Millennials” in their headlines
An unclaimed moniker increasingly used to describe or explain away
The microwave, new-age-wave, I-want-it-right now,
Wi-Fi, possibly-bi, download-won’t-buy Generation Y,
Restless youth. Silence treated like a curse, distraction a staple

We participate in. Like I am now, setting my evening meal
Before my tablet, playing the 24 hour news channel,
It’s 7.30 exactly and a new batch of news is brewing

EBOLA, lands on the screen with a hard hitting drum beat
Like an afro electronic boy band headlining a tribute concert
With fans in masks or body bags swooning at their touch
And side-line newscasters declaring quarantine on unkempt Africans

Next on the agenda: IMMIGRATION, how PC can we be about POC say the BBC
Eh? You mean to say they’re taking our jobs and taking our benefits
At the same time sir? White men on podiums dressed in stern looks
And fixed gazes shaking their pink cheeks like British bulldogs

TERRORISM ALERT; OMG someone tried to assassinate the queen,
Pakistani or Somali or Saudi, the three Muslim musketeers
Someone tried to blow up somewhere for some reason
One for all and all for one, doesn’t matter which one as long as they’re all gone

Now time for the weather Jeff…
I get up and wash my plate, amazed
Xenophobia so well cooked, spiced and served
Easily digested with pasta and chicken soup

You don’t need an incentive to hate here.

Yet this seemingly fucked up, quasi empty, broke
Not broken, searching-for-salvation generation
Won’t taste, won’t chew, won’t swallow it,
Will spit, will chant, will beat, will be beaten,
We’ll get back up, we’ll spit, we’ll chant, we’ll beat
Spit chant beat and the ages will declare that is when
The kingdom of heaven began.

KABUL, CHIBOK, BANGKOK, HONG KONG, CAIRO, FERGUSON,
TRIPOLI, DAMASCUS, IGUALA, ISTANBUL, GAZA,
Millennials are sanctifying the streets
Becoming mortar and brick between tribes and tongues
Amplifying our voices, bringing down regime walls
Finding significance in being more than just hope
Only justice and peace can satisfy us.