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BY Gee

03/01 Direct Link
This is an inspired idea. Really.
Today was beautiful. Even though there were tears, my heart was full of love and happiness and sun.
He is all I think about. I can do nothing else. Love is so wonderful, it is the strange shaped clouds in the sky and the surprised laughter of flowers for no reason. Love is to be dishevelled and carefree. Every moment I am not with him I am just waiting to be with him.
I digress.
I hope I'll get better at these as the month goes on. Write some crazy-long poetry. I can hope.
03/02 Direct Link
Sometimes you can look at people and think:
“Do you really know me?”
You exist in a mindless state of togetherness and go along balancing those things in common, created for those moments when each questions the other. This simple smiling always, with a debatable duty to each other; is this mechanical or is it a desperate need to fulfil some higher sense of emotion?
Then one plays the ace. Shock turns to horror turns to indifference.
You realise you never really had that much in common in the first place.
Do you have it in you to walk away?
03/03 Direct Link
Now I want to shout and rave because I’m not with you and there are four days and thirty miles between us.
I am restless.
I want to drive and sing out loud and spend tonight in your arms. I want to see your face when I hear your beautiful voice tell me of your love.
Instead I am tied to repetition and endless days of word counts and ignorance.
You are my saving grace.
Only you.
I count my lucky stars every time I think of you as mine. Worse luck you’re not here under my stars this night.
03/04 Direct Link
Woke up angry,
breathless and with a million things to do.
Like I'd been running and falling behind in my dreams.
Losing.
Failing.
My sieve-like memory serving me exactly how it says on the tin.
Panic, the closing in of the clock's second hand as regular as heartbeat.
Helpless, suspended in hours of daylight spent frivolous.
Heartache too.
Lonely.
Such a naked feeling is loneliness.
As if ice is slipping through your body to the core and just waiting to be melted.
Well, the morning sun is melting the frost.
I need you today, my sunshine, to melt me.
03/05 Direct Link
We are not selfless.
We are not hopeful.
Open eyes into darkness
and wonder why the morning has not come.
Catch your breath
and wonder why your heart beats slow.
Hold this pen
and wonder why the ink is blood red and dripping.
We are not wondrous.
We are not lasting.
Your throat is this grip.
Your words recorded, stuck and erring.
I know them.
Off by heart.
Out of heart.
Take my hand
and wonder why your face says nothing.
Whisper love
and wonder why you know you’re lying.
I am the cynic
and you are a distant dream.
03/06 Direct Link
There comes a day when you must ask a question that you fear the answer to.
Is this personal torture or necessity?
You wrestle with your heart,
wringing it and turning it over and over
in your hands.
It pumps outwards between your fingers, ceaseless.
You steel yourself. Cold as steel.
Hard and glinting.
Armour.
The words pour out in a torrent
and blood rushes back
to fill the space it abandoned when you decided to take the plunge.
You clutch your breath. Claw at your insides.
Silence gnaws. Fear buffets the metal plates.
The answer comes.
The answer.
The.
03/07 Direct Link
This sleepiness is enveloping.
Ever I wish to be folded into you.
You are my origami, my paper swan.
’Your Honour... a goose’
Making these memories from bits of birthday cards
Or a Valentine.
’I give you an onion...a moon wrapped in brown paper’
28 days, this lunar month.
Our month.
‘You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down’
This restlessness is consuming.
Ever I wish to be in your arms.
You are my silence, my seconds of static tongue and teeth.
’For I am in love with you’
03/08 Direct Link
I am so sad
after ‘Home is so sad’ by Philip Larkin


I am so sad. I stay just as you left me,
Lingering on the whisper of your last parting words
As if to catch them in my cracking hands. Instead, alone
Without your tender kiss, I wither so,
Having no heart to refuse you leave

And call your bluff as you walk away,
A futile attempt to win you back –
I hold my tongue. You know how it is:
Look at the dappled sunlight and the piles of books.
The lyrics on the piano lid. That voice.
03/09 Direct Link
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I loads miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
03/10 Direct Link
From this steel fence
I adore you.
Reaching out with eyes that swallow you with bursts of colour –
the fix of the mix
and your mouth bluebell blue.

My heart in six eight time,
the ukulele my strings.

I am alive.

A boy like you –
from this floor
breathe southern smoke
and kiss the roots of music.

Your halo golden-yellow,
fades from dark nights
into the major key.
You are home.
Branded heaven
this stage where you play out every hope.
Reaching out with fingers that capture your voice in coils –
the stretch of the rest
to your lighthouse haven.
03/11 Direct Link
Now I want to sleep the time away and cry quiet tears because I’m not with you and there are three days and one hundred and fifty five miles between us.
The wind is filing in through the open window and standing to attention,
between the stalks of paper flowers and pages of this book I’ve yet to write in.
I am cold and have to wear socks to bed.
I wait up to hear your voice
before stark realisation slices the night
that this wind is chanting too loud for me to hear it.
I resign myself to waiting.
03/12 Direct Link
During the three years directly preceding reform, Catholic Emancipation, Whig intentions and the political manoeuvring of Earl Grey were the principal factors that caused the break down of anti-reform resistance and that opened the floodgates for further reform to come later. The passage of the Reform Act in June 1832 was not the outcome of a country gripped in the throes of revolutionary threat, but of one that since the first major reform of 1829 had been desperately crying out for a fundamental change to the unreformed system that would force it into relevance in the progression of modern politics.
03/13 Direct Link
I close my eyes for a moment and at this speed I veer off the road. Free falling on burning rubber. Your face is the only thing that fills my eyes, suspended in this moment between speeding and unconsciousness. I grip the wheel and pull, the thought of being without you desperate and unrelenting. Panic. Sheer panic.
I am on the road again.
My sigh audible even over screeching tyres and the wind ripping through the crack in the window. Safe and these sounds. I utter thanks in prayer and know your face was the only thing that saved me.
03/14 Direct Link
I miss your skin.
The way it curves over your bones and emanates heat like hot iron.
Your hair sweeping over your forehead.
I miss your eyes.
Your sad eyes, so beautiful and deep that I fall forever.
You are my sunshine, my moon, my ink and my paper.
Every beat of your heart is in tune to the song of my soul.
I miss your gladdening smile.
The way it envelops me every time I look at you.
Every moment without you is wasted.
In the mirror, we try on each other’s faces.
You are my missing piece.
Jigsaw.
03/15 Direct Link
I call you bear. You call me sugar.

I believe in love. You believe it too.
You believe in me. I believe in you.
I am your angel. You are my grace.
You know my heart. I know your face.
I love the morning. You love the noon.
You are my sunshine. I’ll be your moon.
I am your sense. You are my folly.
You share your smiles. I sing melancholy.
I want your soul. You want my spirit.
You have the voice. I want to hear it.
I am wise. You are clever.
You say always. I say forever.
03/16 Direct Link
“I want to tell you something”
“You do?”
“I do. I want to tell you that I love you”
“You love me?”
“I really love you”
“You do?”
“I do. More surely than the sea washes rocks to sand. More definitely than the sun gives way to the cool moon. More certainly than oxygen bubbles in your blood”
“I want to be better than oxygen. So you can breathe when you’re drowning and weak at the knees”
“You are better than oxygen”
“I am?”
“You are. Without oxygen I wouldn’t survive for long. Without you I wouldn’t survive at all”
03/17 Direct Link
I took a blade to that curl you traced so gently, sliced it through with steel, held it against my cheek. I folded it into the envelope and between those pages I wept onto. The ink ran. This week you’re in the sea. You rode there from the forest on the scattering wind to tease me. I bottled this love for you. It’s on the mantelpiece. Next week, you’ll be at the ends of the earth. I’ll run on water to find you. You never hear me. I closed the door to that preaching man and prayed to you instead.
03/18 Direct Link
Eyes Alight
for you, my love.

When eyes are rock pools dark and deep
and heart a ticking clock,
strong arms are a fisherman’s keep
where lovers come to dock.

Her skin was undisturbed a rose,
a blush of cherry pink.
A button was her tiny nose,
a needle’s eye her wink.

His hold was of a winter’s scarf
and words a fitted glove.
Her touch was burning, blazing hearth,
her eyes alight with love.

When lips are coals of hot desire
and breath a breathless fight,
then kisses are the works of fire
that wake the sky each night.
03/19 Direct Link
I thought of you. My heart skipped a beat.
In the moment it took to recover, it was bowled over by a million other thoughts of you. It jumped, it writhed, it scrunched under the weight of your smile and eyes and loveliness.
The sun shone today, he had his hat on. His face, the moon’s face, and every face I see is yours these days. My heart strides and yearns. It was crushed by the pressure of your love batted back on a forehand.
My heart is the tennis ball. You are the racket. This is the game. Love.
03/20 Direct Link
When emptiness is filled with you

When emptiness is filled with you
Is time for my surrender
To glowing embers of the flame
That’s burned since I remember

These verses sung without the words
Make music for the taste
To match the chorus of our lives
And dreams that we have chased

When darkness turns to silky blue
Is cue for our new morning
To lift us off the scent of sleep
And break the day by dawning

When emptiness is filled with you
Is time for my surrender
To glowing embers of the flame
That burns from now, forever
03/21 Direct Link
The Leaf

Later, when I thought back to it,
I wished that you had been there
to witness that one moment
when endless ended.

Stripped, as the day you were born
and spiralling downwards
in a suicide of foliage –
a single leaf,
veined and cracking,
a prophecy of your own end.

Later, when I thought back to it,
you had been there.
In body.
Your mind was still gripped in winter’s frost,
preserving.

The leaf reached for redemption.
All too late.
The silent epic of the fall
and fatality with the distant ground
marked the end
of our endless summer.
03/22 Direct Link
Sinned By Her Caressed

Upon this dark, unruly night
Between her silky thighs
I find mine own ecstasy
Among the starry skies

She does not dare to protest
As her I do enthral
Although I live in shadows
Watching over all

Silence in the mirror
As her breath draws out a tune
Reflecting on her fantasy,
Her lover, the moon

Words cannot be spoken
With our hearts beating as one
Within her pure and untouched flesh
My will enough be done

Wrapped again in my ardour
She sleeps upon my chest
Reminiscing of the hours
I sinned by her caressed
03/23 Direct Link
Am I sure of you?
Such doubts do linger in this mind
tainted with unkind.
The legacy you stamped on my heart
when you didn’t look back.

This is not rain,
but the drunkenness of being caught in it unawares.
This is not sunshine, this is not light,
though it burns through my reverie
of indifference.

Is it a shadow?
A needle pricking at my skin?
Or my conscience coming back
to shout at me
“you trust too easily”?

Is it love?
Or rather a memory that still remains
Of our days
When love was more
Than just one word.
03/24 Direct Link
The tragic hero of Aristotle’s definition has potential to be great, with a fatal flaw that leads to downfall. From the mighty Oedipus to the mislead King Lear, the tragic hero has been illustrated in various forms throughout literature. Doctor Faustus is a figure encompassing many of the ‘traditional’ aspects of the tragic hero and who suffers ultimately at his own hand, yet he is not the complete tragic character we expect. Are we justified in regarding Doctor Faustus thus, by the standard of Aristotle, disregarding definition? Or, despite his inconsistencies, does Faustus still deserve the title of tragic hero?
03/25 Direct Link
Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear. Sugar bear.
03/26 Direct Link
Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy Jealousy.


Frustration screams –
scratching, burning scent
catches in the throat
and tastes of blood

metallic, hot, thick

The knife blade sits on the jugular
and rings with high-pitched laughter
to the beat of the thumping heart

cut out

and struggling for love on the table
03/27 Direct Link
Doubt

Perpetual habit,
this nervous laughter.
It floats like decayed grey smoke
away from the lips that made it.
Am I ever sure of you?
This wringing of wrists,
tongue blood raw from silence.
Silence: it gnaws.

The accused pleads not guilty,
a revolver in his back pocket.
A hot shot lawyer he’s got.
A quick smart, here’s the proof kinda guy
who sleep walks to that graveyard every damn night.
In this for the money.
Homicidal maniac gets off scot free.
C’est la vie.

What do you do
when you’re not sure?
Black and white were certain
in 1964.
03/28 Direct Link
Like the moon loves the earth enough
never to cool it
is how much I love you
Like the sea loves a fish enough
never to drown it
is how much I love you
Like the grass loves the ground enough
never to dry it
is how much I love you
Like the sun loves the sky enough
never to burn it
is how much I love you
Like the trees love a bird enough
never to silence it
is how much I love you
Like I love you enough
never to leave you
is how much I love you.
03/29 Direct Link
I had such a beautiful day.
There was a mirror in the air.
The sky was your smile.
The sunshine bounced off your cheeks and lit up the whole world.
The clouds formed faces, faded under the eminence of yours.
The grass split for your tread.
You moulded the earth.
Your voice commanded the wind.
It ceased at one breath.
I lay at your feet. Watched you. Was content.
Everything that is beautiful and wonderful is everything you are.
The sun, the sky, the clouds, the earth are grey in comparison.
You are heaven in technicolour. Love in no words.
03/30 Direct Link
The response of a repressive totalitarian regime to the individual within society is a psychological challenge that requires devotion, fear and conformity. With the removal of freedom of speech, free will and choice, a society can be created in which exists not one individual. The spectre of punishment, of pain and of death are crippling when faced with an alternative of peaceful co-operation. The ultimate goal of a regime is to strip away each individual to leave a shell, a vessel for the furthering of the dystopian society. The individual in a repressive totalitarian regime is indeed just another number.
03/31 Direct Link
For everyone there is another in their dreams. Each night could last for all time with that thought suspended. This is the cusp between sleep and awake.


That Night

The sun set to silky black
the night the frost glinted in moonshine
as the cold stars.
I watched skywards
An epic world,
sudden in snow.
With its bitter kiss
shrunk to nearness,
frozen moments ticked to nothing in sleep.

That night I was dreaming of you
and even now, and now
I wish for the moon
to stay forever,
for the dark heavens to stain the day.