Child

It’s the way the ocean slides

from your eyes

Slides over lips still full

Rounded and soft

for kissing

(me)

And your arms hang happily never tiring

you climbed a mountain

child,

there you sit an apex

A world of beauty

born from rust

(Infused)

with turmeric and sun

and these vessels sporting

creatures like you

throngs

tsunami’s

schools

of small

rapid things

of heart led dancing

and yet

straw still spins

and the doors

are blowing in the wind

 see more art? > http://www.arnabaartz.com

A Tiny Screeching Demon

 

she blew in on rotten air

her eyes dark and bitter green

her lips the shade of plum…cresting a wave of lies

a virtual shroud dressing the whore of  insecurity

and yes when I peered close I could see a smaller version of myself mirrored there

a poor child

yet in her case the ageing did not produce any smooth rose

but instead  vinegar

and like broken branches

losing their way  in a flourishing tree

she struggled grey and sharp

growling and gnawing at my children

her magic was ugly and took the long route….

her dirty paws tucked in their wet beds,

and poked at an abscess of miscommunication that grew in one little boys jaw

she led the way for dead mothers and zombies,

filing proudly past dreamcatchers….

tiny confused fingers waved, clawing at my throat, pulling at my feet,

a weak goodbye, off to the  house of horrors,

yes it had nice curtains.

~

We watched with eyes as deep as lakes as she drove an axe through the tender trunk of Joey’s tree,

her jealousy shrill that there be a memory there of me.

Joey lives in my heart I said  and the little ones trusted.

It is true.

We relied on love, you see, nurtured concepts of forgiveness.

We spoke of people having sadness like a fishing sinker, hanging from their heart

creating weight that deranges the mind

and causes strange and painful words to swing,

words that have the power to nestle in and fester

and we persevered with love , the only thing we really knew….

in the face of her shaking anxiety and awkward tyre slitting rage

until HE  began to notice a pounding, swelling hepatitis,

and realised he was using her to kill himself

to distort his own aged and dogeared pain.

To give him credit then,

he didn’t linger much longer….

shearing through woody tangle

to extricate himself from the fever of her wailing sex.

Evil stepmothers belong only in fairy tales

they are not real

they do not exist…..not anymore

like tiny screeching demons that lift you by the hair

we faced her

and killed her

with LOVE

 

 

 

Free Parenting LOVE

Interrupting my poetic expression to ask are there any parents, educators (or anyone really 🙂 )

who’d be interested in receiving my NEW FREE PARENTING E-MAGAZINE!

The TRUE POWER OF PARENTING brings together a few delightful articles and a mixture of info to empower children and uplift families.

If you would like to receive this emag every two months please pop over to THE I AM PROGRAM and put your email address in the box.

NEVER fear  I refuse to clog up your personal email with boring, persistent attention seeking messages, just the occasional event notification, and your magazine!

LOTS of LOVE

ARNA

Bubble Wrap

 

 

No bubble wrap here

only mud

iceblock sticks

and footprints on the car.

long

orange

ropes

curled

ready to strike!

And boards skating

myriad plastic joy….

towels on the lawn and bubbles in the sky

taps on full

in fluent wasteful race!

Here?

not much disinfectant

but rivers of tears

and bloody scabs peeled with glee!

My fleshly birds are dancing free

with smiles

that crack earth

or make it rain!

No cotton wool balls

except the kind to plug your ears

and stuff of crafty fun,

depending on the need…..

Ahh nope,

no bubble wrap here

but an occasion for

triumphant

wriggling

to the sound

of natures fecund tune!

Starman

 

Springing like carbonated pulp

my insides are making

slow circles

outward,

silver and pink…..

is this The BIG Bang?

YES

THIS is what I want!

My wishes are butterscotch gold

present inside

like little pots

of

glitter

dust

and space.

I AM The Star M A N

waiting in the sky,

they told us not to blow it ’cause they know its all worthwhile………he told me,

Let the children lose it

Let the children use it

Let all the children boogie!!

Lions and Rockets

 

 

There is noise in this house,

my mind

extreme roaring like

lions and rockets

it brandishes its false bravado across the valley

and loses me

branch to branch like a monkey

the external being is neatly fooled

by stimulants,

touch and wine

by a bouncing, noisy love that

travels, wrapped in blankets

huddled in big eyes

dancing across smiles and swinging

hand to hand on frightened squeals

this morning the band

is set to screamer

when I would sincerely

prefer Vivaldi