Poem -
a tell to the bird
thoughts play out
Radio
above my head
a shelf alive
Vibrations + wood
disjointed voices
Utterly wed
I'll be leaving soon
I tell to the air
I am disjointed sound waves
untethered somewhere
I am leaving soon
a tell to the bird
He is pecking the ledge
Industrious bird
radios
Above his head
he will not look up
I don't think he's heard
he is already free
M
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Oh my goodness, Marion! I don't know quite what to say This poem is just about as dark as they come. It is deeper than despair. My dear friend ... hugs, tea and cream cakes xx
Hello Tina, its so nice to see you here.
Your presence and comments always lift me up... so thankyou deeply for that 💕
Always glad to hear from you, aswell.
Now, then. More cream cakes? I've just put the kettle on and am trying to decide upon chocolate éclairs or something more doughnutty. Perhaps a big slice of victoria sponge made with real strawberries and cream? A cream slice? Xx
All of the above maybe??? 😆😆😆
Cool. All of he above it will be, then 😉 xx
Younger me
Disjointed voices
Is that like disembodied voices, I wonder?
The most fucked up, schizophrenic thing
Known to man!
You're a disjointed voice, not being heard
Or taken seriously?
And if birds weren't made to be free, I would
Keep one, or two, just that I could never
Clip the wings.
This poem in the distinctive voice we all know
As yours
A radio spills disjointed voices to our ears
We are all disjointed voices to the wild bird
Yet psychics and schizophrenics hear disjointed voices all the time
I am neither but it doesn't stop me talking to the dead....
And answering for them... which mostly I post on cosmo...go figure 😆😆😆
PS... I was referring to a real radio... on a shelf... in my kitchen... x
Real radios are the worst