Boss Ass Bitch

I am an up and down person to be with. One moment I’m made of marmalade butterflies sipping tea with pages of Woolf… “For in all she said, however open she seemed and voluptuous, there was something hidden; in all she did, however daring, there was something concealed. So the green flame seems hidden in Emerald, or the sun prisoned in a hill.”

And the next I am volatile. Silent tears streaking glasses over boys who said nothing or too much- over why I write janky or if my excessive drinking habits make me an alcho or sad or both?!?! “LIFE IS SO HARD” I sob, singing along to indie heartbreak songs and reading articles about abortion rights or child trafficking or fucking STRONG AND STABLE MONEY TREES in my world where the eternal She is one shadow behind man for ‘god’.

Without friendship I would be hollow like a canoe on a dried up river. I’d be smarties all sucked dry- that pale white sugar shell after motherfuckers took the rainbow away. Even though today HAS NOT BEEN A WASTE (I managed to start Orlando, find some amazing new songs and walk my dogs to happiness)- it has been improved in the heartbeating feeling of solid earthenware skin that life is not just this body. It kisses other noses and my best friend has a job with Cambridge University doing what she loves best, digging up old bones and lives unravelling time for us all.

ZAB has worked so fucking hard to get where she is. I feel like a frivolous wimp compared to how she rewrote her lost coursework at school without being a diva. She DOES NOT let boys treat her like candy and she wears her make up as art not a mask. She has taught me so many things- angel card sorcery, the importance of Eglantine and how to ride a horse bareback. She is this day’s modern Venus and basically what I’m trying to say is- THE LIMITS BETWEEN OURSELVES AND OTHERS ARE ONLY CONFINES OF THE MIND AND BORDERS OF FLESH. THROUGH OTHERS I FEEL SUCH LIFE AND WONDER EVEN IF MY OIL IS BURNT. LONG LIVE GIRL POWER THAT TASTES OF PARMA VIOLETS AND JANE AUSTEN’S AFTERNOON TEA. LONG LIVE HEARTLINES AND SECRETS TOLD IN CORN FIELDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today’s poem is about ZAB, it is one of my earlier ones, and it is full of soul- i love you ZAB, and if i filled a ship with all the praise that you deserved it would sink right into the oceans deepest sands and you’d have to come save us and dig it up again xoxoxoxo

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In Defence of Monkey Language

I moaned that us dog-earing love poetry was like
monkeys studying NASA instructions to fly
up and away moonwards. We both wanted hands
we could never hold and so secrets ebbed gently
from thought-caverns; I treasured them close to my collar bones,
soft lockets of hair or cow parsley.
She is a bowl full of yellow roses and to think of her
is to taste the pink laughter of Love Hearts
and Parma Violets sparkling tiddly-winks on my tongue, the same
intensity as her welsh-star horse slamming hooves into apple-fresh
grasses. “FIRST LOVE”.
She put me huddled in the trough of her horse-barn, feet dangling
like cherries as John Clare dust floated in the
snug airs of cereals
“I hid my love when young”. Not with her.
She tempered the honey dripping down from my ribcage and onto the
bent-neck poppies below.
She craved kisses and taffeta plucked from Russian novels.
Tolstoy almost clipped her peach-heart from beating, so
we ran to the hymns of evening-river banks.
A splash of ducks in green and the world starts over.
She looks up and grins, tells me that NASA has orbited monkeys through milky-way stars
now, that monkey language love poems are useful.
Her eyes are big blue operas my smiles can’t help but latch onto.

Author: mollygbeale

POETESS AND FAIRY GRRRL Got tomboy graces and a phat heart singin' "middle fingers up fuck the system" because nothing about you aint' precious

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