Hunter

I think Hunter is one of those poems that has so many meanings and can be interpreted in many ways but as I travel back to when I wrote it, I remember I was thinking about dating. Modern dating as I like to call it. You know, swiping left and right nonstop even if you already have 8 people texting you and you start to copy and paste your shallow replies and the whole thing becomes a big hunting game where the only aim is to get more trophies? I know a lot of you who are like this. And sure, do as you wish. But I had a conversation with one of you where the reality of the situations was that you did not want to face your loneliness, your need for connection, your need for vulnerability, your need for someone to be there. That is why you had to keep tabs on so many people because the truth of someone not being available and you having to spend a night by yourself was frightening to the bone. It is scary. I know. However, I am sure the dating game is broken today, and the only way out is in, through the riptides. Let that sink in.

Be like water.

Written in London, UK 2023

It is a brutal technical proceeding

Taking control over your being 

Feverish midnight mass at last.

Mason jar open - find something fast

Empty from inside out and backward

Hollow stare. There is the next black swan!

Shoot! Arrow, bullet, audio muted and

Now slice that beating life thread

Flesh so warm but getting cold by a beat.

Excuse me. The beat stopped and

This beast keeps tracing fingertips on 

Those hips, face, mouth. Kiss it.

It’s better to relive than always have

An eternal Monday without spirit.

Sucking bones, November will turn them

In to dust and manchild finds another one to thrust 

To think that your geyser holds the elixir 

Which brings salvation to the nation 

Prove me first you can handle a

Simple conversation without a hesitation 

As those hearts have been disconnecting 

From the circuits of toxic pattern

They finally catch a glimpse of light and all

Of a sudden you call them heathens 

Frightening I know to lose your bow

The work that needs to be done don’t

Require a killer gun. Only you and

First look at what you’ve been running from

Once the wild hunt completes its cycle

And that lion grows out it’s golden mane

A real pursuit will begin to transpire 

Free of mischief, ache and pain 

- A