And so I shall move, completely naturally, to the point. *casually places hand to hip and leans towards you with an awkward jaunt* Say folks, did y'all know that April is National Poetry Writing Month? You didn't? Why, then it's lucky I'm here, isn't it? I don't know, is it? Is anything really down to luck? Or are we all just swimming through a cesspit of indecision, constantly searching for the small glances of light that help to guide us in our choices?
Whatever you believe, I'm going to be posting some more poetry this month. I KNOW! You were all super depressed when I stopped last week, and unlike a lot of people, I actually feel guilt, so I could deny you no longer! Be safe, be calm, be loved by being lovers.
NaPoWriMo Day 1!
Out in the garden there’s a scar
shaped like a fat-lipped mouth fighting off sickness.
If you speak to it, you’ll come away
feeling like a sack of vehement diarrhoea,
the kind that keeps you up all night;
the kind that makes you pull at your flesh
and cry for the safe slogans
of your mother’s voice.
The more you press the scar
the more violently it will attack
with the little spears of livid grass
that have rooted around its stubborn edges.
I read somewhere recently that I’m a liar.
That scar would sing blue murder
to keep itself out of the shit.
But we can’t trust a word I say now, can we?