Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: independence

  • poem: depressed downward key – 08/03/22

    poem: depressed downward key – 08/03/22

    © Lauren M. Hancock
    my key is permanent, it’s on the left side of me,
    the side which I spoke of in my metaphoric language
    of how
    I don’t need a man
    and time is always on my side
    I am independent
    I will never need another’s fate, nor abilities.

    But it’s no longer on my side, my love,
    and the key, wrong place, wrong inked time,
    and I need this man, and I guess,
    perhaps he needs me, too,
    pity I seem like the fool.

    Not as a soulmate, not as a kindred spirit,
    but just a best friend.
    Just? Is that not good enough?
    Maybe it’s not, but
    it’s the best that I’ll receive?
    Is this truth? If so, to digest it, it’s rough.

    These deeply personal thoughts collect in my head,
    should not be visually recorded, I should not post nor project
    but I need to get them down, out,
    I feel like I’ve cut myself off for a man who even doesn’t
    recognise my true crown.
    Not the visual, but the spiritual.
    The swirling, the colours, all around.

    This logical, not even subliminal hurts,
    I am not in the throes, no, I am not,
    I need much more, damnit, but how much more
    can I demand before I’m cut off,
    no more love, whatever style,
    from his hand?
    Complaining? I am more than enough.

    I used to be so independent and pretty
    now I’ve grown dependent, an ugly being,
    hand-holding baby,
    where is the prized confidence?
    Where am I now?

    Am I assumed to be unworthy, betrayer,
    there goes my crown?
    These tainted thoughts, I must succeed, at tactically
    beating them down.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    08/03/22
    Original photo by myself, (c) 2022.

  • Poem: dreamy – 07/02/14

    Poem: dreamy – 07/02/14

    Work on myself

    I’ll show you how I work

    When I clean sweep wash the karma from me until its distilled and green

    I’ll talk it walks!

    Watch me as I work to cement myself as mint grey

    And the colours of the rainbow

    Visitation? Come what may.

    I’ll show you how I work,

    When my soul is spotless clean

    Everything in taciturn and emblematic as I’m seen

    Watch the bridges burning red as I terrorise the torrents

    vaporise the nonsense

    That’s ingrained within my addled mind

    Watch me as I work it work it

    Move it drop it fix it stick it

    Moving around as though I’m in it

    Watch me bloom from within my turret

    The pink and black and stars of the sky with bending upon knees to see me as I cry

    The wanton need to always be seen has crystallised

    I’m perfectly clean, can’t you see?

    And you, and you?

    How about me?

    I will sleep soundly as I dream.

    The first dream of this century

    Where I didn’t want or need for anything other than being

    Happy.

    Now is this ending so ultimately dreary?

    Anything but, I believe it’s rather dreamy.

    (C) copyright 2022 Lauren m. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: Particular Reason – 11/09/21

    Poem: Particular Reason – 11/09/21

    Are you caught in the past,
    or occupied in the future?
    One needs to exist in the present moment,
    become your personal teacher,
    for in this state of being you will learn
    something inherently deeper
    than the quiet understanding already grasped;
    one needs not their own preacher.

    Existing as an individual,
    not one of a pair, simple two,
    becoming stronger with every moment,
    wiping away past assertions of “truth”,
    for this notion, this validity you are searching for,
    tell yourself there’s more to life
    than being attached, feeling gleans,
    independence is what should be seen,
    mutual connection perhaps a future must,
    irreverent, irreverent light streams.

    But trust is the catalysis that makes this
    formula relevant,
    what exceptions should there be to behold
    should irrelevancies be logged,
    shown, told,
    let us not acknowledge the voice of a particular reason,
    there is momentum in the smoking gun,
    of amazingly righteous treason.

    Perhaps personal betrayal means nothing to them.
    Let us relish the inevitable dealing of karmic retribution.

    Copyright © 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image source

    Previous Post: Blessed Scene – 14/09/21

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  • Poem: Thrown Heart – 12/02/20

    Poem: Thrown Heart – 12/02/20

    I live with the constant threat of thunder within my heart,
a ticking timebomb,
I will be thrown, I will be thrown.
 
Waves of solidarity and tempestuous awareness
creep forth, 
yet, I do not mind;
as long as the tip is overwhelming
I will live for that view.
 
Finding myself awash with the swimming feeling
of pleasure which only exhibits itself alongside the knowledge
that I alone can see, can feel, can experience,
this arrangement.
 
By traipsing forward,
I am wreaking havoc on another being
but it’s necessary to gain experience and then
regain my independence.
 
The other’s experience may exist,
yet it is flawed,
claws cruelly set,
bared teeth in time.  
Perhaps it is is not their fault that poor luck
chases them round and round.
 
Bring the gusts and rain down!
Permit us the flattened image of
mice hastening to their expiry,
once happily scurrying.
 
Upon their squirming bodies place droplets of
scented aromas to anoint them,
reverent,
full of respect, we are for even the smallest fallen,
the scent becoming rich in your nostrils
take a deep sniff of them, I won’t mind at all

© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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