Fat Ass

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Meditating

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Thinking I am Buddha’s besty

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss…

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss…
To think Brenda said that
Elaine said that Jenny said
that Sonia had been arrested
for doing naked yoga
with her saggy tits
on the London Eye
Focussss…

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss….
Oh, I so want a fag
But John said I smell
like a discarded smoker’s lung
from a lung transplant
I could neck a bottle of Prosecco
I know I mustn’t crave
I’m like Satan
with a lighter fuel addiction
and a match
Focussss…

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss…
Oh shit, did I switch
the hair straighteners off?
And did I clean the toilet
and get some more air freshener
cos Sophie’s coming round
tonight
with her Irritable Bowels
Focussss…

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss…
Oh good its Coronation Street tonight
Gail caught that Roy
putting weed in the
chocolate brownies
after she jumped off
the top of the viaduct
thinking she was
Harry Potter paying quidditch
Focusss…

And stop
And breathe
And open my eyes

Ahhhhh
That went well

©2020 Sarah Drury

Black

It was a black day
and it was a BLACK day
I, the newly widowed
clothed in blackbird feathers
Shining like a mirror
reflecting fallacies
not faces
Swathes of blackish sorrow
consumed my
eiderdown of grief
Whilst collective tears
pooling
at my crushed stiletto feet
like seas of emotional
effluent
How many truly cry
when others
snivel in consolation?

*

Coffins muffle the
sonority of
grieving mouths
Damping down the
exaggerated pulse of
blood red hearts
Barriers to paradise lost
remind the dead
not to breathe
For death is
breath without lungs
and mortality is life
without living

*

We didn’t have a church
for you would turn
in your fire-ash not-grave
Phoenix smiting from
the flames
the Godly fallacy
Singing godless psalms
of Elbow
and Eva Cassidy
I wished I’d listened
to your heart
for the reggae in your soul
I painted on my face
of have no feelings
Cherry lips set in
a rigor mortis pout
Spider eyes kept dry by
waterproof mascara
Emotion
Emotion
Emotion
Less

*

And my love is
ash
I am married to
a brown plastic urn
And the wedding rings
don’t fit anymore
Me with my
disconsolate finger
You with your hands
busy playing harps
in Heaven

©2020 Sarah Drury

Stacey

My name is Stacey
I am hard as the knuckles
on my father’s hand
When his gold sovereign ring
kisses my lying teeth
With a glint of what he calls
tough love

And his Doc Marten feet
dance on my nail-hard flesh
Painting green and purple
masterpieces with
splashes of red
A canvas of abuse but
he says he loves me
And love is precious

And his eyes cut into
my heart like a surgeon
nonchalantly considers
a newly deceased cadaver
I have to look away
or iron palms will smart
my punch bag cheek
But love is like that

I think my life is tough
But at the end of the day
it’s for my own good
My father says
I’m a fucking little bitch
But he will break me
and make me

But he’s birthed a monster
with his fists of fire
and his hands of hate
and his feet of fury
and his temper of turmeric

I am Stacey
I am hard as the knuckles
on my father’s hand
And I am as broken
as the glass greenhouse
where my father
shouldn’t throw stones

©2020 Sarah Drury

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

Hard Boys

The other night, a big gang of lads were hanging about outside my flats, causing absolute mayhem. Obviously off their heads on drugs and booze, they were shouting and just being crazy. I must admit I was scared, and it triggered a bad anxiety and OCD attack. I ended up going to bed and trying to drown out the noise! Here’s a poem I wrote…

Big boys
Hard boys
Loud boys
Lost boys
Riding the manic high
of your coke
of your dope
of your speed
of your blow
of your weed
I don’t care what you call it
but it makes monsters of your mind
Birthing obnoxious rowdy rebellion
Pissing off the neighbourhood
Like we don’t need sleep
and we haven’t got kids
and we don’t have anxiety disorders

And oh, I was living on my last nerve
Heart all exposed and wrapped in disquietude
Butterflies feasting on my gastrological angst
Head establishing a terrorist situation
Mind lost in OCD
And OCD is telling me
They’re going to get me
They’re going to find me
They’re going to rape me
This won’t end well

Big boys
Hard boys
Loud boys
Lost boys
Probably just having your laughs
And being rebellious teens
And chasing escapism from
Your lives of mundanity and tedium
Bit of coke
Bit of dope
Bit of speed
Bit of blow
Bit of weed
Sorted

Why my anxiety consigns me to Hell
I don’t understand
Threatened by a good time boy bunch
Your laughs slicing my psyche
like feel good knives
with blades sharpened in acid
Maybe I lost my inner child
Maybe she got lost in a maelstrom
of scared and fearful and afraid
The mind knows how
to keep me a prisoner
The mind knows
I lost my childhood

©2020 Sarah Drury

Confession

I partook in a 5 day poetry workshop focussing on the soul, and it was a real challenge as my poetry is not so introspective. This is one of the poems I wrote:

One day, my soul
I will feel you
I will feel solace in your infinite wisdom
Some say our souls
dwell within our bodies
But I know it is our bodies
which dwell within our souls

One day, my soul
Your magnanimous love
will be treasured at a time
When this Earthly vessel
wraps its anxious grief
around a troubled mind
Lost in a sea of tumultuous emotion
My soul cries out for
the empathy of humankind
And I don’t know if
I will make it
in this shattered time
of broken promises
But I know there is a plan
within your wisdom

One day, my soul
I will love this damaged skin
This damaged skin my soul
is forced to live within
I feel so ugly
yet I feel so selfish
knowing this is the
path of my soul
I feel like heartfelt intimacy
is a distant, far-fetched goal
But I know there is love
within your wisdom

One day, my soul
My mind will be
a homely dwelling
A place where
psychiatrists and pharmacies
aren’t relentlessly selling
their miracle pills
and psychological solutions
Trading a balanced mind
for physiological pollution
But I know
there is a peace
within your wisdom

One day, my soul
My anxieties
will be a forgotten dream
The times I pound at
the I’m-not-normal door
And want to shout and scream
And I don’t know
if I will ever feel human again
I feel like I’m trapped in a hysteria
that blights the soul of men
But I know
there is sanctuary
within your wisdom

One day, my soul
We will soar free and fly
Hearts in restful places
where the sunrise
meets the sky
The oceans will ebb and flow
with the fullness of my being
And Cherubim will fill the heavens
at the unity they’re seeing
And I know
there is perfection
within your wisdom

©2020 Sarah Drury