Shut the door, & enclose
into an echo chamber of Eurydice,
vituperative thoughts rising,
scornful,
with the adrenaline,

oh, with the wow
and flutter
of a severed nerve,

a malefaction, analogous
to the real thing —
a real fucking thing, like

a crack of thunder
chasing the lightning;
waiting for its turn.

The music cuts through the din, as

a hypermobile pigeon-toed kid
drifts on in a skid;
gliding on,

on and on,
with her white noise & debris;
hindsight
softly languishing.
#poetry #writing

I disappear often, as dissociative people are wont to do.

My poetry, fortunately, is more enduring, and you can peruse them through my profile.

Comments and thoughtful critiques are always welcome.

Aroha nui,
Tash

#poetry #writing #TashPoetry #TashInTheClouds

'Bedroom II'

Amend the morning's dues,
the news and the rue,
head, dry of wit and substance
journeyed from sleep
eternal.

Amen, to this —
the soma’s persistence
through
incapacitance,

the inchoate, this
grace and eminence.

I think, I see,
a ghost

with a name
for reference,
looking for more headroom.

#poetry #TashPoetry #writing

'Silent Night'

Sudden bereavement
and lingering Christmas lights,

the night was silent, for the stars
and this wrongly paused moment.

I can see your face,
but can't recall

your quietened words,
my indifferent decision,
my deafness to love,
in my slowly clouding vision.

#TashPoetry #poetry #writing

There are songs,
and there are tragedies.

Choral memoried narrations,
chiral self-reflections,
distortions in brittle antimony.

Trailing lines of thought
in unresolved harmony.

To fade and unravel
as from a cocoon, a thraldom.
A song of love, shriven.
A song of hate, forgiven.

To emerge, unfeeling,
deaf to the world's mysteries,
unlike a child.

#poetry #TashPoetry #writing

Oh, this isn't a poem,
just a Friday evening's refrain
from yours truly to
the mainsprings of mediocrity,

winding my world down,
winding me up
until stuck,
9-to-5, like a Dolly,
without the D cups;

aww shucks, what
go the cheap seats,
back benchers, the pervs,
the do-nothings
upstanding

dicks of politics,
always a bunch of pricks,

Oh, I'm so sorry,
please don't mind me
'cause I'm gonna bounce
like it'll all be okay

though this ain't a poem,
just like it isn't Friday.

#TashPoetry

'Washhouse Whore'

In the laundry for the quiet
and cleanlines,
the stains and daydreams
shifting themselves,

unlike the company
and the words,
always the nonsense,

sorrowful and plain,
pushed about,

like offcuts — old rags of thought,
off the cuff,

hello, I need you again,
hello again, to needful love

and the confidences
renew, tacitly,

just like the pain.

#TashPoetry #poetry #writing

'I Saw It Too'

Knocked down, by words
of indecision,
like the opposite of a revolution.

A nasty judder, like a blow,
like a kick from a slug,
like teeth closing over a tongue,
probing for a taste.

Poison, like us, bitter
coloured, anesthesia-hearted,
so unlike lovers, stockinged
for the cold, the night ahead

instead of looking back,
or in pretense; a Gorgon,
with a mirrored shard of a smile.

#writing #poetry #TashPoetry