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"Open Oceans"



Kneeling on pearls
wisdom preys

praying
preying

hungry hearts
count the days 

wasting away
in all that preying 

for prayers 
to be answered

children become
strangers

reading 
strange words

finding 
themselves puzzled

genuflecting to a deity
they do not know, nor wish to

fumbling
mouths closed,

swallowed hole
in the mouth of a black whale

hidden deep 
within an obtuse family

voices not heard
no answers

nightclubs and bars
like a gecko climbing walls

they effortlessly 
change colours

swallowing their 
own truths 

on velvet tongues
that pass secrets

to please 
what they think 

It ALL… IS
Could Be -

these beautiful
f***** up

intrepid kind, yet 
vicious sociopaths

pleasing 
all

losing their hearts
their true selves

in a lie 
close to Hell

embracing strange
gardeners

virile
unknown firsts

they travel …
tightly strung, 

tired, 
so tired

long dangerous
journeys they take

in strange cars, 
they go

towards tomorrow
into an unknown

“Home”

they
go

abrasively seeking
their perception 

of the way 
of what they have lost

the Love of
lost mothers ...

and …

half-buried
fathers

eyes inky
words lost

Long-legged
mascara run 

their rabid tears
pour onto a page

that is crumpled
fortunes of futures

wasted

then thrown casually
unwanted into Life’s bin

Where the ‘Likes’ are
all "numbered" 

by trolls 
with blunt unremarkable dull fins

they find themselves
dipping slowly below

the water mark
the tide line

this is how it 
really goes...

complacent brandy girls
and sycophantic yes siree boys

pretending to be
poets and lovers

they all want to be
glow worms or fireflies

in someone else's
eyes

they shine brightest
in their caves

they are all
counting numbers

they are counting
their days

the child woman
on her knees

literal and afflicted
tries to be brave

that’s the way 
Love … Is

Isn’t it?
when you’re a study 

in lost
innocence

the slow
tea bags dip and rise 

sipping each other 
no real taste 

read swiftly
accolades posthaste

and sessions with shrinks
goodwill sinking slowly

the kid 
now woman

looks ferociously 
for the kind and good ... mother

like an empty spoon
phantom sugar

perhaps one day
they'll meet

they'll sit 
then stand 

strangers

watching 
each other

like stagnant 
weak black tea

waiting to be
lifted to lips

but nobody
speaks

backs 
turned

the division
is driven

the recidivist
smiles along with 
the interloper

mission 
accomplished

then the grey years arrive
grey hounds 

sad eyes 
barking

left undone
ignoble

barking too long 
for long lost love

or something
close to beautiful

immaculate
surreal

the poets roll in
sugary accolades

it is all over in a 
second

a chameleon cavalcade
lost and disheveled

eyes like vacant windows
winter frosted 

they close
their machines

laptops are now lazy
naked doesn’t rest easy ...

anymore,

winter is here
bodies buried in 

flanelette 
sheets

lock down
was early 

the familial protectors
too late?

muster
guzzled

the green life
buzzing in a prison

like blow flies
on a dead rotting body

strung in Min numbers
lost Time

this world blandly entices 
covetous women 
the would be mothers
who missed their ride

to steal the jewel carried
by true mothers

the hearts of 
lost children

last calls 
bars open

scratched 
kodachrome

is that You... 
smiling?

on an ancient 
Kodak slide?

Life,

Treading water
in Open Oceans

with barren interlopers 
sister of spider circling

webs sticky, spinster fingers
holding fast and hard 

to not their child
never letting go 

the betrayed
the heartbroken

children treading water
lost 

in an open ocean

swallowed 
by the whale

stolen
Warriors

brilliant 
shining 
broken

Numbers?

2
key

Kintsugi


(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
gvlm






"Giant" / The The
https://youtu.be/unVf6EUX2GU

"I am a stranger to myself
And nobody knows I'm here
When I looked into my face
It wasn't myself I'd seen
But who I've tried to be....
I'm thinking of things -

I'd hoped to forget "








 “I am a strong woman because a strong woman raised me.”




 “Mother is she who can take the place of all others,
but whose place - no one else can take.” 




"My mother is the strongest human I know 
and her blood runs through my veins. 
It pumps through my veins,
hot as the lava that spills forth in Hell. 
She is formidable and she is in ...me. Always. 
This is at once both frightening and liberating.
I know no other love like this - 
it is all consuming, feral, exhilarating, wild. 
She says, one day I will meet my match. 
I asked her, who will that be? 
She responded, You will know. 
I wonder. 
Will it be my lover, or my child?"



















https://www.theschooloflife.com/thebookoflife/kintsugi/

https://mymodernmet.com/kintsugi-kintsukuroi/

"Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art."

"This unique method celebrates each artifact's unique history by emphasizing its fractures and breaks instead of hiding or disguising them. In fact, Kintsugi often makes the repaired piece even more beautiful than the original, revitalizing it with a new look and giving it a second life."

"In an age that worships youth, perfection and the new, the art of kintsugi retains a particular wisdom – as applicable to our own lives as it is to a broken tea cup. The care and love expended on the shattered pots should lend us the confidence to respect what is damaged and scarred, vulnerable and imperfect – starting with ourselves and those around us."

"There should be no attempt to disguise the damage, the point is to render the fault-lines beautiful and strong."
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