Ode To Hunger

Ethereal and haunting

The lonely light in the fridge

Crammed and captivating

Cupboards in the rafters

Intriguing and bursting

The waste is fit to flow

Secret and inviting

The hidden stash of gluttony

Round and beguiling

Starving child of Africa.

Little Ginge x

Multi-Faceted

I’ve said some things
that I can never take back
I’ve led people to believe
in a false version of me;

You’ve seen all my faces
more than any other player
You know all the stunts I pull
and developed your own counter moves;

We think we know each other well
but you know nothing truly
We only understand the sides we’ve shown

and I have many facets to go.

 

Little Ginge x

Undoing

His fingers unlace the corset like patterns on my goose pimpled flesh
Weaving his way in to cup the jewel nestling deep within my rib case
The way he moved so soft and slow, setting my cheeks aglow
He whispers ‘you are mine’ and I am undone

The book turns and folds, taking me down twisting alleyways
And grief stricken paths of re-discovery to contemplate life
Death, love and where missing socks really go in the wash
The book ends on a cliff-hanger and I am undone

Thoughts slip and fade away like smoke caught in a net
And things I used to remember have become a distant memory
The harder I try to grasp and cling to these sad truths

Makes it all the more likely that my mind is undone.

Little Ginge x

Fragile Strings

I saw the world in monotonous grey
With only a muted line of red to break the sway
It looped from around my finger to who knows where
I was yet to find out it was the girl from my prayers

Once or twice I looped the string around another’s neck
To test the colour, see if I liked its effect
And in these instances I pulled too hard
Knotted the line, broke my lovers into shards

One day I was walking, the string trailing limp
Crossed paths who the one who made me think
Greys melted away to shades of gold
A whirlwind romance, to have and to hold

I found out to my cost that life zooms past too fast
But we were happy, no anger at coming last
That day from a distance I felt the string go slack

And in the same instance my life plunged back into black.

Little Ginge x

Let Me Out

I want in‘ he whispers.

This crazy world of yours,
to be all mine to explore.
Let me peruse the mundane,
and bask in the extraordinary

I want in‘ he whispers.

I want out‘ I think.

Little Ginge x

Science Project #7

All we do is prove to some outside force that we exist
Here we are. Visit us.
We’ll greet you with guns and fear.

But what if they don’t exist?
Maybe we’re alone.
Those small things on Mars, were just that. Small.

So forgive me if I don’t clap for the tallest storey on your creation.
A creation made by a creation.

Because reductively we’re just mould on a science project.

Little Ginge x

50 Million Shades Of Grey

We think in shades of grey
A bad side to every good

The most hateful thoughts would print as purest black
Like when you wished your mother dead

The scale lightens to elephant grey
Where grief allows the occasional suicidal wish

A thunderstorm off white are the bad day thoughts
It’s just not your day cause you missed your bus and forgot your lunch

But consider the other end of the scale
Where happiness gets a fleeting glance

Cream is the fluttering of young love
Tinged with jealousy as he talks too long to the coffee girl

White is when you realise you love him
Or hold your baby for the first time

White are just thoughts you think when you’re happy

Black thoughts dressed for a wedding.

Little Ginge x

Lady : Definition

I don’t cross my legs
And I rarely wear lacies
I like to chug from the kegs
Don’t buy hats for the races

I’m not a lady
I’m just a person
With two medium sized breasts
Between my legs, a twat

If these two criteria’s
Change your perception
Get down on your knees
And beg for redemption

A woman is a woman
Simply for medical interference
A lady is a lady
To serve a societal presumption

Others never wear skirts
And won’t touch a dress
But they’ll put up your shelves
And build you a nice desk

Some females just don’t fit
In any stereotypical definition
But if you still wish to touch
You’ll need her permission.

 

Little Ginge x