vélo-boulot-do-do // other word vomit

vélo boulot do-do
boulot do-do vélo

do vélo do boulot
do boulot do vélo

boulot de vélo
vélo de boulot

boulot de do-do
do-do de boulot

do-do de vélo
vélo de do-do

do lot de boulot
do lot de vélo

love de vélo
love de boulot

love de do
do de love

love de lot
lot de love

do love
love do

love
love

love

lol


a girl around LSE
carries great quantities three
offensive boring dams to
the current of her fighting
walk a snail-trail of droplets
whilst the trees falling sorely
out her hands save the trees don’t
let them go she thought as he
asked to help the dam problem
don’t leave twigs behind don’t mix
leaves up as she searched for her
silent library card


Glowing laptop screen –
my thirsty eyes in search of
a fresh cigarette.


General trivia

It was a few weeks ago that I had the idea of mixing both English and French in a poem, and wowee last night it just appeared out of nowhere from the depths of my difficult slumber. And when I started reading over this patch of unexpected word vomit I broke into a laughing fit, which has also never ever happened to me with regards to my writing. I’ve rarely written something this strange, so please share your thoughts about it with the Noggin.

The events in the second poem did not happen to me personally.

I’m not very good at Haikus. That one there was a last minute addition.


Endnote

Look after yourself and one another.
Take some time on your balcony.

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Ode to Exams / The Balcony

Hello exams.

My old friends.

I know what you do now. You change us.

You grab the frogspawn of the cosy pond and chuck it onto the ground like a bunch of black marbles. You take our friends away with a click of the spiky latch of the door by sucking the air out of their bedrooms; the only syllable I’ll hear from them and not even uttered by a human mouth. Continue reading

I Am A Queen

I am a queen
in a scarlet nail varnish chariot
the shade of No. 168.

My people – mine
because they are seen
by me and are as mine as thine
own vision and curiosity –

do they see
me as an inquisitive
neck, or as a pair
of uncomfortable
wrists and glaring nostrils?

I am a queen off
to the King’s to spend my day
with his walls, lifeless
soldiers and servants

In his chambers. I pay
my courtesies and fulfil
my duties all
for some mere respect

In return. I am lonely
and awake; I must find a way to entertain
myself – play with toys on paper, bruise
my hands with ink – to remember that I am

The Queen
of the greasy crown
and sleepy eye curtains
hooked behind my ears,
of chapped heels
and spring onion
fingernails that hover over my lip

When I am waiting.
Obedient and secret,
like Hermione I am

brut on the face but
blushing. Since 16 years
no carver can slice out
the air singing through
my teeth, no painter can
try my life and sand down
the bones of my muffled interior.

I will wear the amethysts my mother gave me
and invent spells as wonderful as eating.


Also re-wrote Orange with some new line break ideas and extra words. Can’t seem to insert spaces between words on WordPress so here it is in PNG format.

Orange (II)


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The Ultimate Survival Guide for April 2017

Make sure you don’t go to the library.

Make sure you don’t eat your contact lenses.

Make sure your eyes are still watered.

Make sure your skin still flakes off.

Make sure your tongue is still slimy.

Make sure you’re not walking with your hands and elbows.

Make sure your fingernails are still firm and stuck on the tips.

Make sure your voice doesn’t sound like a duet between a stained tupperware box and a mouldy piece of bread.

Make sure your back isn’t bubble-wrap, but if it is make sure you don’t get addicted to popping it.

Make sure you are not petrified by humans.

Make sure you look left, right, up and down.

Make sure you try different costumes.

Make sure your daily alarm is called “Remember, you are not a dustbin nor are you a piece of broken tarmac.”

Make sure you know that the washing machine is not a bathtub.

Make sure your coughs exit the body.

Make sure you are not the fantasy and travel sections of a bookshop.

Make sure you’re not wearing the bathmat as a scarf.

Make sure you brush and floss in time to the music.

Make sure you recognise yourself in the mirror.

Bruxelles

They told me
Travelling is perfect
Even to the capital
of the death

of Europe.

One single purpose:

Go.


 

On Mont des Arts

Met the pads and the palms
of the man on a drum
with my wooden knuckles in the strings

Together perfecting
the weather between
them

 

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Revelation at Eurostar Check-in

Did I know that

burger means
citizen in Flemish
anyway, it’s bürger in German.

It all makes sense now
why some cities end

with -burgh
like Edinburgh

why some
end -bourg like
Strasbourg and why

some with -burg
Freiburg aha and

why, it feels good

to make burgers.

Home

I

sunlight humming
caressing blood
body corridor he
knows she knows
I know we know
doors speaking a coffee
thinking alive toilet is
necessary showery
laughing keys
culpability
have a pot of tea
therapy laundry

II

Shedding the skin of the day;
Drinking the glitter from the window pane.


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Orange

If I held your mind
in my hand
like an M&S orange

I’d press my thumb into the rind
push closer to the pulse
hear the gasp as
it broke and the baby
swirl of smoke coughs
out of the tiny eye

I’d smile at the smell
I knew I’d find

Wouldn’t it be nice
to dig my nails under the white

scoop out the weighty segments
golden and generous (like your laugh)
pull them apart (like tissue sheets)
and place them over my eyes.

Every morning
wake up

to fireflies

 


 

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Three Word Experiments – 3 April 2017

20170403_181158


Puppy

Sometimes I feel like a tired, hungry puppy
Pulled at the leash to places in positions
That no longer make me look like a doggy.

Oh why do humans do this?
Can’t you see
I like to stand on four legs
not just three. Continue reading

I want to do with you

17620102_946627325440863_7631672005451999286_o

 

 

I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

I want
to do with you what fingers do with sensitive knees.

I want
to do with you what breezes do with the waves.

I want
to do with you what Turner did with the seas.

 

I want
to do with you what kids do with the ice-cream.

I want
to do with you what their hands do with the runny glue.

I want
to do with you what gold leaf does with painting.

I want
to do with you what the sun does with the moon.

 

I want
to do with you what fire does with the wax.

I want
to do with you what an oven does with the dough.

I want
to do with you what custard does with the sponge cake.

I want
to do with you what the spoon does with the bowl.

 

I want
to do with you what we do with the hours.

I want
to do with you what perfume does with a smell.

I want
to do with you what Monet does with his flowers.

I want
to do with you what sand does with the shell.

 

I want
to do with you what Chopin does with the keys.

I want
to do with you what Shakespeare does with his plays.

I want
to do with you what music does with the hips.

I want
to do with you what potters do with the clays.

 

 

I want
to do with you what hands do with the trapeze

what silk does with the skin

what chocolate does with the tongue

what lips do with the lips

 


Inspired by the last line of Pablo Neruda’s poem Every Day You Play.