Tuesday, 31 July 2018

31st July 2018

here
blue skies
yesterday's raindrops
focusing the heat


© Rachel Green 2018

Unicode Consortium
releases 157 new emojis
(symbols for the icon-literate)
but denies Transfolk their own flag.
Lots of poop emojis
and a lobster
which made people happy.
Remember that lobsters are gynandromorphs
and have cells and body parts of both sexes?
We'll embrace the lobster as Our symbol
and while we're at it
remind you of Leviticus 11:12
where the eating of shellfish is detestable
and we'll wait, patiently,
for the Religious Right to start shooting up seafood restaurants
they way they do gay clubs
but we'll defend the diners anyway
because we're the inclusive ones.

and. honestly, just fuck off, TERFs*


*Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminists


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 30 July 2018

30th July 2018

Moose
French lavender
flattened by rainstorms
heat starved grasses


© Rachel Green 2018

what to wear
for a wedding in Wales?
Something waterproof, probably,
paired with wellies
and a windproof hat.
Asked to speak, I declined;
still afraid of social situations
unless it's reading poetry
or the performing arts
where I can let someone else take over.
Made to feel bad for declining
and had to offer an apology
despite my tears.
Thanks, auntie,
for ignoring me for all those years
sorry you're dead, now.


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 29 July 2018

29th July 2018

rain
through the open window
fresh grass


© Rachel Green 2018

new diet
calorie counting
plus fasting for sixteen hours
plus a shit ton of exercise
and a daily cider vinegar.
I don't see the benefits yet
but oh, the dreams I have.
Freakish.


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 28 July 2018

28th July 2018

first rain
against the petrichor
the scent of lavender


© Rachel Green 2018

playing with the dog
making art together
his ashes mixed with paint
now he's with us
always


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 27 July 2018

27th July 2018

Toast the Old Days £120
grumbling sky
occluding the lunar eclipse
flooded roads


© Rachel Green 2018

decaying under the heat
flesh becoming molten
as the skin turns to leather
the pattern of fungal bloom
spreading from dots to patches
until the whole is covered by a fuzz
of brilliantly coloured patches
releasing gases to the air
and shrivelling,
shrivelling into darkness.
fruit bowl apples


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 26 July 2018

26th July 2018

overcast, slightly cooler
remember when we had green grass?
dried dogshit


© Rachel Green 2018

hot nights
but they don't go to bed
their friend is online, skyping,
playing video games
and watching endless YouTube videos
on the big screen TV,
the window open behind closed curtains.
How many times
did we ask them to close the window
when they went to bed in the early light of morning?
Not enough, anyway.
Remember when we used to have a telly?
and they used to have a laptop?
At least the dogs stopped them
from taking my PC


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 25 July 2018

25th July 2018

dying garden
under the heatwave
Mars courts the moon


© Rachel Green 2018
writing again
the desire to finish Dead Girls
before I die myself.
An investment made
all the drafts so far printed
for the grand sum of twenty quid.
Let me spread them out in a church hall
and summon the spirit of Jasfoup
to sanctify the plotline


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 24 July 2018

24th July 2018

wilted crops
reveal an Irish Henge
seed heads


© Rachel Green 2018

a puddle of sweat
beneath the spinning bike
too hot
too energetic.
Besides, is it healthy
to have carpet in the gym?
and just how often are the floors cleaned?
These and other thoughts...
let's not think about
the general use yoga mats


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 23 July 2018

23rd July 2018

ragged clouds
speeding through an empty sky
a trio of swifts


© Rachel Green 2018

Cleaning Time

evening street
could be London, Nottingham, Mancs
and I'm walking along
no threat to nobody
middle life, middle age
overweight and unattractive.
He doesn't see me coming
or if he does, he pays no mind.
A skinny street boy
palming money from strangers
a slapped handshake transfers plastic
money for baggies.
A kid like this killed my daughter
accidental death, the coroner said,
through injecting heroin laced with baking soda
her own fault, you'd think,
but she didn't want to die
just an hour of oblivion.
A bicycle spoke;
a simple piece of wire,
thrust up under the ribs
three times, four.
Lacerated kidney, liver,
lung if I'm lucky
and no cameras to see
he'd chosen that for me.

My woollen glove, suddenly wet.


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 22 July 2018

22nd July 2018

overcast
that deep yellow look
Chesterfield Pride


© Rachel Green 2018

Lickey End

dogs
wandering under moonlight
doing their own dog things
unrestrained by people.
In the south
the red, baleful eye of mars
tinges the midnight water.
A distant groan
as a motorbike flashes along
hedge-darkened roads
and the blink, blink, blink
of a silent passenger plane.


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 21 July 2018

21st July 2018

overnight rain
making no difference to the heat
the cat's fanning tail


© Rachel Green 2018

The guinea-pig
has existential crises
"Why is my bowl empty"
and "If I tip my water bowl, where does it go?"
Also
Why does carrot appear when I squeak loudly?
Is the universe made of carrot?
and dandelion leaves
and banana.
Does an empty bowl stare back at me.
These and other questions
after the break.


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 20 July 2018

20th July 2018

Festival Orchestra 2018
beacon
bright in the night sky
Mars


© Rachel Green 2018

"Festival Orchestra"
acrylic on canvas
with a 360 degree rotation.
Hang it anywhere you like.
Just a gimmick, I suppose,
nobody wants them,
or at least, not enough to pay for them.
Still,
I enjoy painting them
and they'll make a spectacular bonfire
after I die


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 19 July 2018

19th July 2018

autumn in July
the cemetery path littered
dried up leaves


© Rachel Green 2018

the cat
seventeen years on
and thin as a starving dog
still active
running, jumping
trying to teach me
to catch birds and mice.
She's got fussy about food
likes only one brand
until make a bulk purchase.
Then she hates it.


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 18 July 2018

18th July 2018

"Jackyard Backoff" (detail)
occluded sunshine
clouds renege on promises
at least it's cooler


© Rachel Green 2018

council houses
back onto the cemetery
I'm almost jealous.
Still they're being built cheaply
breeze-block walls covered in shingle
each house
separated buy a gap too small
for a dog to turn around in.
"Four new houses" claim the headlines
as they're built next to the private ones
each with four times the footprint.
Still, the alternative was traveller parking
but the locals appealed:
it would impact the local business
of Rufford Close drug dealers.


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 17 July 2018

17th July 2018

mars
shining in the night sky
the BabyTrump blimp


© Rachel Green 2018

in the morning post
an invitation to a wedding.

she doesn't want to go

her sister is a conservative Christian
rattling on about Leviticus
while sporting her new tattoo
and eating lobster at the Hotel

There is no irony.

In her mind the Bible says
"Do What Thou Wilt"
though there is some confusion
about just where that is
Deuteronomy, maybe,
or "The Letters of St Paul the Self Important"

The wedding is at 2PM
and the hotel has bed bugs.
She leaves, quietly,
asking for her money back

and wishes she could get her sister, too.

© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 16 July 2018

16th July 2018

Septagenesis 2018
seven butterflies
feasting on the lavender
a solitary bee


© Rachel Green 2018

next door's football
shattering the window of my potting shed
sending shards of glass across the floor;
a jagged spike
left in the window frame
enough to sever a jugular.
I was away at the time --
a summer wedding, full of hot guests
getting pissed on champers before midday
while we drink bottles of water
from the shade-parked cool of the car
instead of the silly prices from the bar.
They fetched the football sharpish,
breaking the fence to climb over
but didn't clear the broken glass
despite my dogs running loose.
It could have been bad news
but the only blood spilled was mine
dragging out that wicked shard
and wrapping the bottom third in duct tape.


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 15 July 2018

15th July 2018

blue rose
dies back to wild rootstock
damson tree


© Rachel Green 2018

first words out her mouth
bitchy one-upmanship
I dislike her immediately
and she walks like her balls are sore.
Still, she tries to converse
but can't help demeaning me
while she preens.
No, I don't wear makeup, thanks,
I like to be me.
She stretches across the room
dominating the gathered introverts
a polka-dot King in Yellow
while another lady
bald, heavy, equally self-possessed
dominates the conversation
and talks about ballet
because she knows everything.


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 14 July 2018

14th July 2018

more heat
yesterday's rain a distant memory
white butterflies


© Rachel Green 2018

we don't, generally,
but the Orange King
provokes protest
and the mayor of London
allows the blimp to fly.
May I remind you
Boris Johnson is a wanker
and a fascist to boot
and by the way
we don't want Brexit
and we don't want chlorinated chicken
or Trump


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 13 July 2018

13th July 2018

blessed rain
just in time for my run
poppy seeds


© Rachel Green 2018

new diet
requires long fasting
sixteen hours a day
Most of my hunger
derives from habit:
bananas for breakfast,
cereal, snack at eleven...

my stomach rumbles
but this is do-able
and three weeks makes a habit, they say.
today is day three
but I want to be thin.


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 12 July 2018

12th July 2018

overcast
a little rain might be nice.
England loses


© Rachel Green 2018

Worried
about leaving the dogs
there's nothing I can do
and it's no more than a work day.
Extended visit
to a Sheffield clinic
raises my anxiety level.
My arms scratched to pieces.
Remember the pain of peeling off a scab?
but Oh! The delight


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 11 July 2018

11th July 2018

Jackyard Backoff
full sun
and a hosepipe ban
potted trees dying


© Rachel Green 2018

new diet
offered by daughter
"Intermittent fasting"
Seems easy in theory
but leaving breakfast until 1pm
is harder than it looks.
I've never see spotted bananas
look so alluring
and the week-old lettuce
an old lade with a fresh boob job
That'll be me, one day;
all sagging skin and pert tits.
Still frigid, though.


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 10 July 2018

10th July 2018

dark clouds
passing without rain
expired grass


© Rachel Green 2018

what is it about today
I can't get myself in gear
too tired, too apathatic.
Even the gym booking
doesn't inspire me
Can I just skip the day
and not get older?


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 9 July 2018

9th July 2018

poppy heads
rattling in a stiff breeze
heat withered stalks


© Rachel Green 2018

her regrets
etch lines into her features
a desire to please people
at the cost of herself;
insecurities piling up;
driftwood against a beach hut door
until she can no longer get out
How many people did she push away,
and how many left
because they thought she was someone else?
It doesn't really matter.
Whatever happened, happened
and she's happy with who she is
mostly
but if there could be one mantra to life
it would be youth is wasted on the young


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 8 July 2018

8th July 2018

majestic giants
blotting out the summer sky
sycamore avenue


© Rachel Green 2018

Youngster is 21
officially an adult
Happy birthday, old fruit
hope the day goes well.


© Rachel Green 2018

Saturday, 7 July 2018

7th July 2018

partial moon
in a hazy blue sky
lavender bees


© Rachel Green 2018

killer headache
all anxiety based
wedding today.
Leaving the dogs
in the care of a friend.


© Rachel Green 2018

Friday, 6 July 2018

6th July 2018

rainbows
scattered over the dog's fur
electrically fanned air


© Rachel Green 2018

the strains of Albinoni
echo through an empty house
as his life bleaches
Her favourite piece of music
found of the soundtrack of a seventies film
and revered for the next forty years.
She still remembers the scene
where the music plays
while a bunch of aristocrats
set ancient oaks aflame


© Rachel Green 2018

Thursday, 5 July 2018

5th July 2018

dessicated hazel
the old metal  dustbin pot
heated by midday sun


© Rachel Green 2018

seventies childhood
chucking bottles in the canal
throwing stones to sink them
double points for bouncing one
off the bloated corpse of a pig
paddling the five miles to Hopwood
where the smell of week old fat
clung to the caravan site;
drifting on the fake tides
of the Tardebigge locks
and spending sixpence on pop
at the pub on the towpath
before heading home
through the gathering dusk;
carrying the dinghies
along the broken,
washed-out towpath
in time for tea.


© Rachel Green 2018

Wednesday, 4 July 2018

4th July 2018

morning sun
creeps slowly o my window
American fireworks


© Rachel Green 2018

DK and Ash
off to America again
an early start to see them off
ten days alone
what will I do?
apart from the gym?
Same as I always do, probably.


© Rachel Green 2018

Tuesday, 3 July 2018

3rd July 2018

summer sky
the deepest hue of blue
lavender


© Rachel Green 2018

why did I dream of Tom
and his smelly armpits
in a shared Wolverhampton flat?
Or Paul, who lived there a while
with his cheesy grin
and soft, Kerry accent?
And Richard, who read upside-down
and played Depeche Mode
at all hours of the night?
We were all young.
Ex-students.
Struggling to make a living
and make sense of our new lives.
The poverty of an upstairs flat
and a landlord who declined
to mend the property.


© Rachel Green 2018

Monday, 2 July 2018

2nd July 2018

poppy heads
dry as the earth beneath them
rattle in the breeze


© Rachel Green 2018

honesty
can be sometimes cruel
a four year old asks his mother
"do you love me?"
Of course I do, she replies,
I love you to the moon and back.
Later in the month
there's a lunar eclipse
when it turns red as blood.
How deep is that love?


© Rachel Green 2018

Sunday, 1 July 2018

1st July 2018

wilting rose arch
under the morning sun
dog barks


© Rachel Green 2018

Labour Figures
including Jeremy Corbin
flail for popularity
Whatever happened to strong leaders
the country could rely on?
The Tories are worse-
blatant lies and backtracking
the slow rise of government funded fascism
brings a climate of hate
and intolerance.


© Rachel Green 2018