Wednesday, January 27, 2010


as i pretend to stare into her eyes,
trying to channel some spark of clarity
so that i can see who she really is.
but that will never happen
not in a million years
she is as unfathomable as a black hole
with the colours of a prism
that only show
when you look at it the way it wants you to.
she shines
on the inside
more beautiful than anyone
but lets people see what she wants them to
what they want to
it hurts that i cant see her
i wanted to be the person to
but maybe
its alright
as long as i understand
that she's there somewhere
as long as i know
that she knows herself too.


i look at her
and wonder,
whether she knows how well i know her.
and then think a little more.
and i realize,
she knows me better than i know myself
she makes me laugh like noone else knows how to
she's seen me cry the ugliest tears i had
and still loved me
she dances around
and turns the world on its head
and makes me pale in insignificance,
and still feel beautiful
sometimes i wonder
why she bothers with me
but then i know
that i dont have to think so much.
she whirls and spins
and makes the world dance to her tunes
and makes the sky fall in love with her
and rainbows seem commonplace
flitters like a fairy
is as happy as an elephant
laughs like a boy
and is the most beautiful thing in the world.
i'm scared to tell her how beautiful she is
because i'm so scared
that she'll vanish
not in a puff of smoke
but that she'll corrode away
and fall to pieces
and turn into something else.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


stale smells,
lingering so long
they pale into green-grey insignificance
the world spins on its head
whirls madly
laughing at you
your fingers slip desperately,
refusing to do anything you tell them to
with monsters crawling out of the covers
and seeping into your brain
until time seems more confused than you are.
stale, lingering disgust.
it was always there
not bothering to hide
for you to notice it
it curls the edges of everything
taints all it touches
making it impossible for anything to be beautiful too long.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

in the Hundred Acre Wood

sometimes, all you need to hear is a word that makes your tongue roll around it, and wibble and wobble around inside your tummy till you're forced to smile. sometimes the thought of marshmallows is more delicious than the overly sweet multi-coloured disappointing little blobs that they turn out to be. sometimes, you just need something to Delight you, to tickle something inside your brain and make you laugh out loud. and that’s when you should read Winnie the Pooh.

“It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily. "So it is." "And freezing." "Is it?" "Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately.”

i love Eeyore. and his balloon. and tail. he makes me smile.

“He respects Owl, because you can't help respecting anybody who can spell TUESDAY, even if he doesn't spell it right.”

as I respect all those opinionated, talkative people, who talk because talking is their passion, not because they have much to say. how true is pooh? we all meet these people, the talkers, who we can’t help but love. we all know at least one person, who can spell Tuesday wrong, don't we?

“When late morning rolls around and you're feeling a bit out of sorts, don't worry; you're probably just a little eleven o'clockish.”

“People who don't Think probably don't have Brains; rather, they have grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake.”

“"Well," said Pooh, "what I like best -- " and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn't know what it was called”

you can learn a lot from Pooh. sometimes, children's books make more sense when you're a grown up. sometimes, when you remember a poem from when you were tiny, can recite it backwards, and then suddenly read it again, it becomes even more delightful. sneezles and wheezles are always important to think about. as are Heffalumps.

“Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. And all you can do is go where they can find you.”

“When having a smackerel of something with a friend, don't eat so much that you get stuck in the doorway trying to get out.”

now how smart is that?

And finally…

“"I don't see much sense in that," said Rabbit.
"No," said Pooh humbly, "there isn't. But there was going to be when I began it. It's just that something happened to it along the way."”