You Win

November 18, 2012 - 2 Responses

It’s not just the fairy-tales that are fakes.

It’s the T.V. shows too, and the adverts

In between. The newspaper headlines,

The stories are just stories.

Songs about ‘real-life’ are there

For distraction purposes only.

The bus timetable is a lie.

The lecturers promote a false ideology.

The lie after lie after lie that you spout

Has infected everything else.

The only thing honest is the laughter

You try to stifle as you pull the rope

Tighter. You love the short shallow breaths.

The eyes rich with adrenaline.

Groping and choking, this is just a game.

Advertisements

Running

November 14, 2012 - 2 Responses
I want to run through life, run to the places
That books are made of. Where life
Is lived. Where colours are painted
In new shapes and sizes round every block.
 
I want to run through life, talk to strange faces
And drink with the locals. I will drive cars
I can’t afford to buy – yet – and maybe
They’ll print my name where you can see.
 
I want to run through life, I can’t wait
Any longer. These hills look taller when
You’re standing right on top.
So will you run with me, or just sit down in the dirt?
 
 
I’ve been told that to inspire a more ‘communative blog’ or whatever that means, the blogger should ask a question to readers about a particular topic. So I’ll give it a go.
 
Is there anything you feel you can’t achieve because of circumstances holding you down?

three cheers

November 7, 2012 - Leave a Response

by Elexa Rose

 

three cheers for the individual
that spray painted giant genitalia
on the side of the bus shelter
that i stand underneath every single day.
never before have i seen a pair of bollocks
not only large than my head
but also at the same height.
i can peek through their outline
like a porthole
or a frame for the rest of the world.

three cheers for the individual
that smoked a blunt behind the lecture block.
that small space near the bins
that i use as a short-cut to keep on time.
now everyone can do the same.
i couldn’t have hoped to spread the word
more thoroughly.

and three cheers for the kid who first yelled
FUCK IT.
and we did.
because without that kid i guess i would care more
about every ball sack i see
and every red-eyed stoner
and every walk of shame through the corridor.
fuck it, none of us care any more.

Petrarchan Sonnet

October 3, 2012 - 2 Responses

my heart

my heart, to you, is a throw away thing
it’s a cheap plastic lighter
running out of gas.
the more i burn
the less i am.
and i cannot do, but yearn
and scream,
“just stop.”

my heart, to you, is a throw away thing.
wasting like the core of finished fruit
faded from your eye.
those lashes flicker away from me now,
and gaze
the other way.

Television

August 28, 2012 - Leave a Response

by Elexa Rose

i hate it when people
constantly
talk when watching films
or programs on the T.V.
talk and forget or miss
what’s really happening.
they talk to these people
pretend they are real.
care more for their lives than
their own.

i hate watching people
watching T.V.
their faces become wasted
and dead.
contorted by an unrelenting
stream of faked stimuli.
scripted words,
practiced postures
and endless take after take
just so we can sit and talk over it.
and forget what we just saw.

Mermaid

June 13, 2012 - 2 Responses
by Elexa Rose
 
I hold my breath
And I can lower myself
Under the water.
 
I can swim
Or rather I can’t but
I can look like I am.
 
It feels like it should
And I’m like everybody else
But better.
 
No one can see I’m faking it
Because no can see
Under here.
 
Smooth lines are distorted
It’s all out of focus
Under here.
 
And the water is a little warm
So that against my skin
I can barely feel it.
 
I can move
With slow resistance
With little thought.
 
But my lungs strain
I can’t hold it
For long.
 
And bursting through
The surface breaks
Thunder bangs on my ears.
 
I gasp at air
For a moment
Until I can go back down.

Trash

May 25, 2012 - Leave a Response
by Elexa Rose
 
I don’t want to breathe
unless I’m
breathing in sickly sweet.
I will unwrap and suck and swallow.
I watch lights
in shapes of people,
they speak but
I don’t care.
My body
doesn’t want to move.
Why should it?
It sticks out where it should
slope inwards.
I wish my
eyes had that look,
that look that catches.
 
Trash
it spills over and
up the walls and
over my toes.
It runs.
 
Please don’t look at me
unless you really
want
something.
I’ll let you hold my
hands
and we’ll watch trash and
listen to trash
talk trash
smoke trash.
Intricate symbols
and electrical impulses
in our heads
let us feel
beautiful.
 

Lying

May 3, 2012 - One Response

by Elexa Rose

what did you do with him today
what did you give him
can it be that you
saw him like the others
walls watch you
from all four sides
pale beige walls
painted and peeling
like burnt skin

roll up roll up
its a mystery here today
rolled up the grass
within soft blades
looking up and watching
cupping your curves
round your bones
supple under your weight
comforting in your aid

hunting for angels

May 3, 2012 - Leave a Response

by Elexa Rose

sip
if i wanted to
sip our drinks
glass lips
we reinterprate
whisps of words
we sink drowsily
slipping
groom long dark ideas
in liquids
that sit on with
us like sin
groping outward claws
pad at thin air
like hunting
for angels

Golden Syrup

May 3, 2012 - One Response
by Elexa Rose

my chest is lined with golden syrup
turned pink by the touch of my blood
i breathe in hard
the walls of my lungs
stick together
wrapped around my heart and
the veins going in and going out
it's solidifying
grabbing
a rich golden fist
it trickles out of my ears and nose
clogs my tear ducts
there are lumps in my throat
you can feel them if you press
on my neck
my sweat gets stuck
my voice is a thin husk
as i heave and swell
and burst slowly
still slowing.