Water Falls
Written by Joanne Tedds on Tuesday the 4th of October 2011
I saw four dead pigeons in one
waterfall
The children gazed then played
With nothing
Or little to say
Changing focus and attention and
direction
With the ease of run I have
When I ladder my tights
They fall and don't cry until
somebody sees them
Now I cry and tears fall until
there's somebody's there
I catch myself
Heavy as I am
Weighted by misguidance and my
ignorance
But I will not apologise
Not for not being clever enough or
careful enough
Because I'm not pretentious and I'm
not scared,
And its not that I don't care,
Because I try to try harder but it's
hard
There are blockages, bruises and
mental scars
And I find imparted knowledge
Is as empowering as it is limiting
And I am childish so I am fidgeting
Thinking back to when things were
different
And I will not say sorry for being
Thick and dense
Unclear and intense
And smother-ly
Because sometimes pretty
Can be pretty ugly
And maybe we all need it
To feel it
Maybe we want
To be smeared with it
With gloopy lumpy affectionateness
Just so we can say
Enough
Stop
Get off
And I, curious inquisitive and
restless
Guess long out into the earliness
How do we know ourselves without each
other?
She being the opposite to yours
Him revealing what I wouldn't
Me soliciting what he doesn't
And I will not ask for forgiveness
Because I like the mess that Megan
talks about
And we giggle about
And you shout about
Because maybe you don't like your
mess
Untangle your happiness
From the surplus stress
And you are left comftable
With being undressed
And I want to see your nakedness
I'm here
Layer-less
Smiles and tears smeared to the
screen
Spurned and spurred by the
Conflict in my dreams
Feelings are dimpled
And the goose raised pimples
Make me look one way
While you look the other
And though wanting and trying
Are defective and tiresome
I put my hand in your hand
I've being used to mine from long
time,
Wanted to get used to you too
But maybe you're not used to you
And yesterday when I was in Spain
The rain couldn't catch me
It changed and found me
Back in Hackney
Grey and lonely,
Sitting in company
And though I don't feel alone
completely
London can be so empty
Yet so thick with the stickiness of
people
Who don't want to
But can't help but
Touch
In the street,
at the shops,
on the
bus
Itching likes its nothing
Pretending not to feel their
sufferings
Not knowing how to talk
When the silence always says more
Than we realise and
These are the real lies;
The eyes you avoided
The lip you bit
The look you cut
nd we can all hear the truth
Whispering and whistling
such and
such
(Its such and such)
Whether we talk or touch
or whether we do not.
Our balances
Were once weaved in the war of dancers
And I find the answers, in everything
And though what's beautiful is
disputable
Some things are undeniable
Like the perfection
Of the golden section
Leaving me breathless
And somewhat more connected
And as I remember to breathe
The excess goes to the trees
And as they breathe
They in return feed me
And this exchange connects us
And I feel less disaffected
Than when this was all started
And as I tend to the fractures in my
patterns
I shatter this, but fix that
I break but then I mend
And another cycle starts
As another cycle ends