Between

ring1Good day then

fais de beaux rêves

between the spectacle

shut your eyes tight

always keep them open

conviction

affliction

conducting weather veins

bristling they ebb

pointing into heavens

would they could talk

up there up there

they look and mock our drama

what we believe ourselves to be

quietly observant at the pew

head down knees knocking

Forgive me Father for I have sinned

the day I turned on others and rubbed in

the same welt

gory and open for flies

to lay their magnitude

little children

little liars

come hold hands by the roses

learn a thorn can prick but words are mightier

wielding penchant for harm

like a crystal ball

hear the soft foot fall of night

clothe us in redeeming disguise

fingers behind our backs twix crossed

one for ourselves, one for luck

nothing left to add to the stew

all poison all venom all malice is

but easy fitting shoes on lusty urge

stay your hand my girl

spend time among the rich of heart

they hold less in their pockets

more in their eyes

as first rays of morning

broker subsuming clouds

of darkness

breaking past

releasing

light

Female friendship

Before I answer the question of what I value most in friendship let me make a few points about the nature of female based friendships that I have noticed.

Madonna wasn’t wrong to say women hate other women. She wasn’t wrong to say the greatest pain in her life has been betrayal by her own gender, or that Hillary Clinton’s defeat (I wouldn’t have wished her to win anymore than the man who did) was in part owing to women hating other women. She also said that as a woman if you make a mistake you pay a higher price, and other women are the first to turn on you.

Madonna said the way she survived was to believe in herself, without this she would have not been able to. My entire life I have struggled with self-belief and confidence, mostly for the obvious reasons (highly critical family, no emotional support, lots of negatives blah blah) and much as I’m of an age where childhood things should NOT still influence me today, they do.

I’ve been lucky enough to be blessed with some wonderful friendships throughout my life. Equally male and female though most of my closest have been with women. Yes I’m a feminist but no man hater, and yes I find it hard being a feminist when so much of the bad things that happen to women are sanctioned or caused by other women. Have I envied men and their simpler lives? Hell yeah. They seem to be more trustworthy as friends, more stable emotionally and more loyal (in friendships) and they play fewer games. That’s my take on things thus far.

Whether you hate or love Madonna she has a point. We screw ourselves.

Many women I talk to say the same thing, “I don’t have many female friends” and when explaining why they point to games, bad experiences and competition as leading causes.

As a woman who believes in championing other women for no other reason than because I believe it helps them, I am dismayed that there is truth to this trait of not being able to lean upon other women as much as we should be able to.

The friend who told me to go to hell the other week, she wasn’t a real friend, more of an acquaintance, but one whom foolishly I had told a few of my vulnerabilities to. Thinking that she would never use them against me as I would never dream of doing this to someone else. She did use them against me, stating “the reason you have lost so many friends is your fault it’s something in YOU” This was said deliberately to undermine my faith in my ability to have good friendships. Briefly it worked. Then I realized that all of what she said came from her own sadness and insecurity and jealousy. Despite knowing this I felt sad that anyone would attempt to treat another person this way.

Call me naive but I believe in treating people well. It is true I have had a few lost and broken friendships along the way like most of us. The woman in question implied my quota was beyond ‘normal’ and it is this stigmatizing and finger-pointing that erodes female’s faith in themselves (this can apply to all genders actually and does). I know she didn’t even mean what she said as days before she was showering me with over-the-top praise, so this was more a mercurial lashing-out as much about her as about anything else.

Despite this the harm was done and whilst I can rationalize it, feel sorry for her and move on perhaps happier to know someone capable of that is no longer in my life, it lingers like a hang-nail in my subconscious. Just as she hoped it would.

That level of deliberate infliction of hurt, is something I have noticed women do especially well, hence the term ‘a woman scorned’ is the most fierce. In the instance of this situation, the girl may have had emotional reasons for her over-reaction, and as I look at all my ‘lost’ friendships they have that in common.

A friend told me shortly after it happened, that I needed to trust my gut more. I couldn’t agree more strongly on this. I had a gut instinct this person was messed up emotionally and being someone who believes in giving second-chances and caring about those who are not always neatly well and normal, I ignored that and the possibility she’d eventually turn it on me. Unfortunately as with the other two women who did similar things, mental problems can turn on those who are caring. It is the price an empathic person pays for not putting up guards or protecting themselves.

That said, I would not wish to stop caring about those people because at times I need help and am not always in perfect shape and I would hate to think someone would side-step me on that basis. So how to care for someone without being burned? Listening to your gut is crucial. I felt in my gut she was playing games and I dismissed that. In hindsight I should have walked away. Cold? Maybe? Self-preserving? You betcha.

I have learned from this. I feel glad to have learned from this. I have turned it into a positive and I feel a relief for the toxic removal of someone who wishes to hurt others. But how as women can we stop being this way? I would say that we need to stop competing with each other. Stop treating every other woman as a possible rival, stop thinking someone who is prettier, richer, more intelligent, etc, is someone we should resent and hate.

In my last job two women joined who were really beautiful. Immediately they were ignored and hated by the other women in the job. I see people as people, I liked them because they were nice people. Shortly afterward I heard rumors circulated that ‘Candy probably fancies them’ which was a pathetic way the haters explained why I was not intimidated or hateful to the new girls. I didn’t fancy them, any more than you fancy every single person you come into contact with, life doesn’t work that way, and it saddened me that this was the extent of their comprehension.

I don’t hate another woman for ANY reason. I dislike a woman if she is cruel or malicious. Other than that, I admire, appreciate and respect women. I truly believe if we all tried harder not to resent other women as females, we’d have a MUCH better world and some really terrific friendships. That does not obviate the value of men by any means, but we’re stronger TOGETHER and hate? Hate is always going to poison the hater the most. We ought to stop treating men as being ‘better’ than we are, or a valuable commodity and treat everyone equally. That means, if a woman you meet wants to be friends and you are suspicious, ask yourself why, rather than wondering why she would wish to be your friend.

So what do I value most in a friendship?

Honesty.

Integrity.

Loyalty.

Soap-box, over and out 😉

Portraiture

f801918ca3883a4898de8530a0e88a98It is true if I could I would claim you through time

circle your coiled hair and patent smile

did the photographer pose

or you just know

how to swan your neck and hide your pain

in thrice mended sweater a size too small

our boiled wool and best kept stockings

sweating out youth

if now you lived I’d show you what came after

austerity and lit eyes of hazel

wishing into the future

is it better now? or then when

the greatest harm an unmarried pin

sticking your freedom to the quick

you laced yourself in and breathed out

coal dust and fisherman’s hands

chaffed and reddened by toil

ancestors enriching highland soil

would we have been friends?

my lack of Godhead your penchant

for John Bunion and his sermon

who can say? only the field mouse’

small and mauve in death

brought in by cat laid carefully by farm-house mat

beyond a sewing room where you cobbled looks from Paris

on muslin form, breathing life

I was clumsy and wide waisted in compare

climbing trees watching for the worm

as magpie attracted to beauty

is not capable of wearing his fine theft

he is a creature of the outdoors

looking in from cleft of oak

like I summon you through time

spend a moment here

lend me strength

show me how

you endured the fallow path and

hard winter of turning twenty

as light leaches from heathered hills

and tired men return for their supper

only the fair-headed girl lingers

until last golden arc presses against

violet hour and she too must

return her gaze to humbler pasture

Quiet sincerity

575d3e8450d2b93d9ae583716b569a05I learned

long after I should

friendship comes not

in fizz and pour

nor the brightness of

shower and radiance

nor promise and its papery craft of bows

but more often unexpected slow

hesitant over years

water leaving her tears on

marble rock

stalwart and less demonstrative

a cat who watches food put out

does not immediately approach

I fell for the fireworks

the hot kiss on lost ego

glittering words

feathered protests to believe

those party animals in their tinsel crowns

pushing me toward celebration

in those days I did not mind

the quiet soul who hung back

someone you could call upon

when deserters ran out of festivity

turned their backs on former animation

I was suckered by their demands to believe

their loudest call was truth, hear me!

now I know quiet love is the steadiest

those who may seem cold or aloof

often outlast town crier

hawking themselves for fancy

I’m sorry it took me so long to

understand silence and softness

are more often truth

much like the piper who

sung children through the mountain

bewitching their longing for loud

merriment

before they grew and knew

the sweetness of sincerity

whispered

For Jane – Pretty things

“Oh you pretty things

don’t you know you’re driving your mama’s and papa’s insane?” – David Bowie

thumbelina.jpgtake a leaf out of this book

fold it into a veined ship

let it sail the hazel brook

dried through fleet summer

now brackened with steam liquor

intoxicating swaying blackbird to

fly close to glassy reverie

their glossy ebony wing

hinting blue and green against

dappled light won with coffee grain

we didn’t rise with the lark nor

make nesting bed for a penny to bounce

high and glittering

we ate buttered toast with frozen fingertips

leaving crumbs of ourselves beneath

pillows indented by dream

for who knows how long

any river has?

then warm days shall absolve this tender

frost blinking in iridescent snow fall

drying out magic divination

cupped in saucers of captive water

the little girl thinks fairies must

look out at her as she peers down

through velvet moss and snail sheen

carving runes

what worlds of worlds of worlds

beneath our flat-footed certainty

stir against shy bramble

our fruit ever sweeter on tongue

as thimbled nectar

for children still believe

amid our pastures creatures swim

in silver netting like gowns of

spider silk and berries redder than

earnest lover

shush, if you stay your curious hand

turn not the faucet nor start the washer

in Thumbelina’s kingdom music stirs

as old as life

holding up the unseen world

 

For Jane. Put another log on the fire for me.

Cast in open mouth

Fickle her words

imprecise

imperfect

slices of lemon

squeezed on cuts

cast in open mouth

let the plaster envelop

emotion

I suppose it’s her need

to inflict harm

when her own heart devours

when lust points compass

and mercy

mercy does not show

for role count

instead choosing

to sit out turn

bashing heels against

old radiators

trying to keep warm

this is the danger of

sore hearts

seeking solace

in the unknown

corridor of others

tempered souls

watchful against

storm

Flat hands pushing

They predicted

she would write down

the scar

since healing

was slow

words conveying

that breakage

They predicted

she would condemn

the ones who made the thirteen turns

in hangman’s noose

and pushing lightly

watched her fall like dandelion seed

catching heavy air

she was predictable

and not the one they knew

but some amalgam of all they had hated

in their little boxes of life

laid without opening on red shelf

she who carried her shoes

when stepping through

knew there were times words

could not save

could not banish

the cruelty of flat hands

pushing

Winding a clock

Whom ever first penned

the idea coldness was strength

and weakness came when we

trusted and let others in

must have known the curve of the knife

those disposed to violence

carry in their mouth

just incase a moment

should present itself

and licking their lips

wide

they conquer and divide

our feeble entreaty

just leave us be

on the wet coil

perhaps our world measures

guts and glory

on how much blood

remains

when after battle they come

to count the fallen

and it is always your dearest

the one who came closest

the one who said I will never

remove you from warmth

who sharpens that knife

and turns it like

winding a clock

makes it tick

reluctantly

ahead

Death

Strange faced girl sits in her pew

itching wool tights with Bible corner

whilst Mormon’s console Jehovah’s

witnessing their profit in the funeral

business

all along she hadn’t believed

people could turn to wax effigy

the poor man in his pine coffin knew

formaldehyde truths

his children driving home

instead of toys throw words

of anger and resentment

she had always wanted siblings but now

in her black faux expensive dress

less couture than ransacked bargain store

she wasn’t so sure

how the language of the world made sense

if God laughed at those who pretended

to repent

or God was a lizard drinking from brown bottles

one block down from the mockery

of death