Petites Pensées

Last night, as I studied your face
(the brown eyes and curls I loved, now a semi stranger’s pixels)

I thought how much better the world would be
(i would be, you would be, even if it is in this two-dimensional world)

If you didn’t confuse empathetic with pathetic, reaching for grasping
(the world can be an unkind place but my heart will always be a haven, even for you)

~ kei
18 March 2016

Ruminating

You know…

It isn’t your feet of clay that depress me and have turned passion to pity

Not that at all, once beloved of my youth

Read this: my ironic smile

Not that at all

It is your icy heart

Your sedimentary soul

Your calcified mind

Mostly I mourn our friendship’s lost potential…

I mourn the rebuff wrapped in this abhorrently cheap suit of transparent macho immaturity you insist on wearing like an Armani suit

Your sadly archaic, Neanderthal and schoolboy-perception driven ego

That makes you think that you are above even the smallest of social courtesies

For fear that by those, I might find you enticing enough to pursue you

Sad little man

What did you do to the boy that I loved?

And no…

That question was not me flirting with you

~ kei
20 January 2016

Monday Melancholia

Ever the little match girl

Shivering outside the hall

Watching people come and go

New and old, all welcomed

With hearts, flowers

Euphemistic hugs and “huns”

Sisterhood claimed

But only for the chosen ones

There is no real sisterhood

Behind these walls of glass

Melancholy?

Yes. As I wave goodbye

To another stranger

I could throw a rock

To break the walls

Shatter the false illusions

Instead, I’ll square my shoulders

Souldering on with my integrity

Those who choose to listen to a snake’s whispers

Those of tribe hearts, hugs and smileys

Are too false and too shallow

For walking wounded like me

Remain in your palace of glass

Far too hard to make a true effort

And it will come to pass

That truth will be revealed

Duplicity and lies can’t be forever

Concealed

~ kei
13 July 2015

Fashion (Non)Sense

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Clothes (May) Make the (Wo)man.”

They do!

My clothes are my armour, my shield, my declaration and my war cry… err… when I’m not being a normal-ish, hausfrau-ish, Mum-ish person.

Define my personal style?

Punk, Goth, Boho, Indian, Rocker, though not necessarily in any order and often in combination with one another. Never at the same time though and never before the 24th of May. That would be gauche.

The downside of being a creative, artsy type who is not afraid to wear what they’ve always loved is that Society still clings to its rules, regulations, age and gender stereotypes and general stick-up-arse-ishness about individuality and expression.

What’s with that sidelong look and side of smirk?

No I will NOT stop wearing Doc Martens and Misfits tees simply because you were born and randomly discovered this stuff too… Sheesh… Some people’s kids. As if I’d tell my Mum she has to give up her Queen albums just because I heard them on a Top 40 show.

Don’t even get me started on piercings and tattoos.

I “play them game”, you bet I do. I’m a master at disguising my unique style under a Nursing uniform or a business suit and you’d be none the wiser. Yay! I’m subversive and I love it.  “Corporate Goth” is a boon to those of us who must resist The Borg. Let Freedom ring in all the closets across the land!

I pair my moccasins with suits and skull motifs with flowers. I’m more inclined to buy something with Johnny Ramone on it than Juicy Couture. No Tommy Hilfiger shall ever cross my doorstep.

What does my fashion sense make me?

Me!

🙂