mar chùimhneachan / in memoriam

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for as long as memory,  

i have stared at the

exit. a glow-worm radiant, switched    

off and on

in mind. it comforts me.

calming my thoughts, scorching  

past the c r i s s  

c r o s s landscape of

the never[mind]. 

only i hold the key 

that opens that final

silent room, inside the box,

inside the house of me.

i lived there,

once, safe. inside that room, 

absent of thought, 

inner silence 

runs as the ice river.

washing over me, subduing, submerging

my tears. i am smothered under 

molten earth. in that land, pain

lies down, & sleeps forever,

and all the fractured

pieces lost along the way

reassemble. i radiate onward

outwith the sun. the mirrored river

of life flows on, softening

the embers of the flames

inside the burn.

the soul will finally – be. 

in memoriam, i can return.

©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.

èirigh na grèine / sunrise

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I walk towards infinity. how good to   

finally be one with all in me. to lie down,   

in cool rained grass. to seek no more. 

to lay my limbs among the roots 

of trees.  s t r e t c h i n g  o u t  the dusk 

filled sky. to bleed forth dreams, 

into the sap of man. let go, to breathe 

to die. death as journey, 

the withered path inside. returning. 

recognition, under towering oak.

connecting roots, that flow beyond coming spring, 

return us to the blood of life. the beating 

damp earths soothe.

we whisper memory into the wind, 

as overhead, crow flies free, 

awakening earths sunrise.

©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.

an-luchdaich / overload    

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how did I get to this place ?     

this undetermined stop. inside the garden       

of the walled indifference    

of me. do i stop in recognition of these silent   

shadowed spaces. do they perceive me, at my

weakest point. do they hear the

static overload. the voices that push 

& press, all the buttons all at once.

the pressure to address,

the irritation in my mind. that is pulled 

to the point of overload. are they the 

silent witness to the thoughts 

that live past rescued reason. 

the shapes that watch & follow.

that walk, stalking beyond the cracks.

pulling me over the unseamed edge.

inside the well worn ridges of my

descending mind[set] in its oblique 

groove overture. 

©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.

pribhleid / privilege

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Creationist insanity needs conversion [therapy]

scripture never should be disguised as homophobic [rhetoric]

minorities on their knees forced to take it. racism runs

off at the mouth. white power lies, ignorant [wrapped] in red

white & blue [misogyny] feels – it’s way, dripping, vile & crude,

slithering. bigotry vomits on a nation of minorities

divided by its [white ] power

burns through the progress of [a Dream I had ]

on a hill. great men bow their heads. [in] [shame cries

as [black lives matter ]hangs on every cross. as a rainbow dissolves

in the dark storm, the vision of the approaching [new world order]

©Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.

toirt air falbh / subtraction

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the only one who

ever gave me a refund

on how i was feeling

was you. the till

was always clamped. shut. no one had

what i was looking for.

no one recognised

i only had the exit. key in my pocket.

cold hands reaching.

i still see ,the sign.

flickering like a moth in and

out the light. dancing with

the devil. a glow-worm

burrowing in.

my exit – a becoming – glow. it’s everywhere i go.

the man with the blade follows me.

I follow the rich red velvet — the decompose.

he turns the light above the doorway on.when

i least expect it. leaves the door for me,

when im not okay. it’s okay to not be. i lie, in wait.

i glance into the distract. life trails away.

in the dark, droplets of pain flick off, metal glints.

pulling me.

pain lies,it knows no truths. its trickster whispers –

the becoming scream – in league

with the hellbrain. the dark subtractions

of me. suicides unforgiving past projector

lighting up. the wall ahead, distorting.

twisting my thoughts. wiping out all reason.

a static overload tuned to the judgement station.

the post it notes of past mistakes, razor wire stitched

inside my shredded, peeling soul.

if the devil is in the details,

who is it i see lurking

in the shadows of

disorder, waiting for me?

©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.

The Writing Garden ~ Issue Fourteen

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Happy to announce that my poem co-chothrom / balance ~ is included in the latest edition of the online magazine: The Writing Garden ! My thanks to Suzy Hazelwood, for asking for my work to be featured, alongside so many talented & wonderful writers. 🙂X

The Writing Garden

Cover Image ~ Light In Darkness
Nadia Gerassimenko ~ Tepid Autumn

A Dream Of Trees

.
There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,
A quiet house, some green and modest acres
A little way from every troubling town,
A little way from factories, schools, laments.
I would have time, I thought, and time to spare,
With only streams and birds for company,
To build out of my life a few wild stanzas.
And then it came to me, that so was death,
A little way away from everywhere.
.

There is a thing in me still dreams of trees.
But let it go. Homesick for moderation,
Half the world’s artists shrink or fall away.
If any find solution, let him tell it.
Meanwhile I bend my heart toward lamentation
Where, as the times implore our true involvement,
The blades of every crisis point the way.
.

I…

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tàirneach / thunder

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final

I washed you out with bitter words
i washed myself out with it. spat me
out down the drain where I’m sitting
still. watching waiting for the change
to come to feel again to leave undone
to stop the hammer in my head that
keeps reverberating through each night
each day disrupting all, won’t leave me be..
i did not want what you wanted
i did not want
i did not
i did
i
I saw
i saw the spark
i saw the spark kindle
i saw the spark kindle and catch light
I saw the light within the darkness
the darkness within your eyes
i wanted to dive in to see to feel to
lose myself, get lost in all from me as
far from me as i could get it’s never
far enough. i see and feel the rain too much
i see and feel the voices echoing, resonating
on into the distance and back again. the
arrows as they pierce. i am engulfed buried
under the darkest night of howling moon.

i see the colours of the darkness, the dripping
reds and hurtful words the clawing and the
scratches the cut marks as i lay in bed, it all
comes back to me tenfold within the voice
that will not leave or listen. i see and feel
all I’ve done undone and done again i feel unto
the end of time the crushing inside my mind,
the crushing weight of all the pain, the universe
undone again. as it cries out i hear the siren
in the whisper,the banshee in its loss, the blood
that thunders underground, the spark that shoots
and feeds the roots of all we are connected — dis
connected to,the ties that bind us all together,
the shadows as they walk and creep, the darkness
as it swoops and steeps to reach out to us, to
lend a hand, the fist that closes in. i hear the
silence beneath the waves that beat, that rise and
fall, ebb in and out and crash — as birds swoop
overhead and trust the air that suffocates.

i did not want to be as i am but here i sit and this
is me, a shell engulfed by flames and light within
the screaming darkness of my night.
a shell surrounded and engulfed by sound, that flows
and pumps the beat unto the ground,that feels it
all the ebb the flow the heightening quick of the
undertow, as i am pulled this way and that.
i spat me out down the drain where I’m sitting still..
watching waiting for the change to come,to feel
again to leave undone to stop the hammer in my
head. to leave me be to be as dead within the
hush, the silence that must live — somewhere
inside the chaos within — the melancholy of
the sound…

 

©Copyright Karen Bain 2017.All Rights Reserved.