Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose

Tag: literature

  • poem: running from – 05/03/22

    poem: running from – 05/03/22


    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose.

    im running from the light
    sometimes it burns it sears my retinas
    im running from the light its too good to take,
    these prophets, seers

    i don’t need their hints at fate which aren’t
    even accurate as of late
    I can determine my own cloud
    witness this
    I’ma tempt and leap all bounds

    I want to explore the darkness
    trail in shadows but still exist in light
    a dichotomy of reasons, new tomorrows
    in which I aim to take both sides with flight
    with light
    with fight

    the shadows treasure me hereon in
    they know I know what it means to sin
    but the stagnancy of these fails to pour in
    I don’t need heredity circumstance
    I have no need for falsity
    I am here and now I am visible
    low or highbrow

    I don’t care to run any longer
    the past is not worth a shard
    a victim’s mentality
    arriving on a birthday ever so early
    gravitated armour
    shaded malignancy

    I don’t need these
    I choose the light,
    It captures me.
    what am I running towards?
    the new me. Why?
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Unsplash

  • poem: perform – 28/02/22

    poem: perform – 28/02/22


    by Lauren M. Hancock
     
    I wanna dance the night away
    away from the tirades and smiles and the drains
    from the bastards and the potions and the trees that won’t
    bend to them
    the portentous little rascals who think they have the best of them.

    I won’t dance in the ocean, no, no,
    I won’t dance in the lukewarm sea,
    I won’t float in the bubbles where the fish might surface
    without mermen
    I won’t dance in the ocean
    I won’t toil, succumb to the lot of them.

    What I will do is this,
    I’ll prance to Schumann and Liszt
    and Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov
    Prokofiev and Dvorak,
    and then Mozart and Handel will grasp my heart
    with the lot of them
    I will perform Bruch and Lalo
    and beg, no, beg, for future, golden tomorrows.

    My violin, its fingerboard, blacker than the devil’s sin
    demons alive within, won’t you reign them in?
    And listen to my talent, reinstated through
    tyrannous hard work,
    I’ll make it, I’ll make it,
    you’ll see, this body will perform.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay  

  • poem: which side to choose? – 27/02/22

    poem: which side to choose? – 27/02/22

    by Lauren M. Hancock

    choosing which side to take,
    it’s really not that hard,
    to rise and rise with great distinction
    or to sink and remain at large.

    there’s no shame in being positive and pretty
    with my words I will conflate them, will engorge them
    with slim and shaded shadows
    the truth has already been forged,
    lusciously, freely.

    the time I take with every piece
    I spit it out as though an undesired precious dream,
    a nightmare in fact, some have come to be
    but only in my dwindling ill-durations,
    irreverently.

    have respect for some and respect for all
    but what matters most when you’re in the presence of ghosts
    who make you laugh and cry and everything in between
    is this truth in itself
    is this really what it seems?

    more so humankind who seemed to
    prey upon me
    seemed to play with my weaker points
    reading my life
    enabled the training
    those clicks and turns all the while
    delicately, indelicately?
    there’s nothing, just an indelible style.

    I did not, do not appreciate being treated
    with operant conditioning
    I am not an animal, I am myself
    I am a woman above and underneath
    and between.

    speak not of those sickening months and years
    nor my fears, anxiety, poor Jurassic tears
    there is nothing sycophantic
    in my words right now.

    I will rise and rise
    and you’ll see –
    you’ll see how far I’ll go.

    I have the tricks I have the honesty
    I, I have the expertise
    I have the know-how,
    I have it all,
    I possess my keys,
    whether high or low-brow.
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay
    (27/02/22)

  • poem: daggers – 25/02/22

    poem: daggers – 25/02/22

    daggers in her eyes
    she is potent with her stare
    take a needle and thread and prick that evil eye
    with precise care
    the deepest blue you did ever see
    boring into her into me
    flight takin now
    irreverently
    disrespectful they’ve brought her, me,
    down to our knees

    bruises form
    it’s a part of our love
    delicate delicate pink gangly bird
    won’t you realise
    they don’t want you to go
    because it’s better off remaining
    in the syncing of our clarified minds
    the twins the twins
    what’s left of them
    decimated before they were even alive

    but this is the way it should be
    this is the way the
    countering of my feels
    I don’t have the right to procreate
    said she
    I don’t have the right to bring another
    into the world
    not with our lingering malignancy
    mental health disease

    I live in this haze of what’s right and
    what is wrong
    loaded bullet, baby,
    do not ever face that gun
    neither shine it on a spotlight
    you are not a martyr from kingdom come
    stop crying, what’s in your mouth,
    disgusting,
    let us come undone.
    (25/02/22).
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay

  • Poem: serendipity – 21/02/22

    Poem: serendipity – 21/02/22

    Image from Pixabay

    There was serendipity one night,

    Fate was there to be seen.

    Through an hourglass or an oculus

    Spirits there to dream.

    But these were not pleasant,

    They stole away my breath,

    Gasp, hope,

    The murder they intended,

    Fearful,

    Nasty little boys,

    Irreverent scope.

    Will never happen,

    They will not achieve this intention,

    However ill meant.

    The pathways they are eradicating,

    Newest tunnelling,

    Funnelling,

    Like the spider that she was,

    No longer is,

    She loves in singular, not deuce,

    Never three,

    And for the whirling in her mind,

    Taps of coffee cups,

    One two and three,

    Been talking and talking

    All morning for hours,

    Please, won’t you let it be??

    (C) 2022. Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

  • Poem: a winding tale 15/02/22

    Poem: a winding tale 15/02/22

    The wolfpack has appeared

    theyre kind and proud and true

    guiding me with circumstance andn power to see me through

    they howl and bay at the growing moon 

    theyre arisen so self assured

    but teach me, nein, I’ll teach them naught,

    we have

    skills to rise and trot.

    like ponies there are rearings 

    on a carousel there are reckonings

    interjections please, 

    dont irritate with ease, 

    with lightening speed I’ll fly through the breeze.

    their manes they are growing glowing 

    with eyes as fierce as fire

    who knows what perturbs them hour upon hour

    and unknowing is the fact of these –

    she will dance and dance within 

    like sprite’s hearts and wings will fly indeed

    and then to a microchosm a cell she will relate

    an embryo created within a darling that will come too late

    she’s paining in the abdomen or perhaps paining in the shield

    what’s more is not less a determiner for the future future trysts

    lay down within that field… 

    I shall not be open with every single thought

    no longer sharing every devilish or angelic words signed or taught

    and melodies I have created within my very own head

    these are spellings I create for myself 

    and they will rest just as I rest within bed

    I may go on at length 

    I may throw in metaphorical nouse 

    but I’m damned sure as proud that I could avoid the tidings of that day

    and here’s the point 

    let’s reach it – cut loose

    no longer hovering there in the breeze

    the mob have gone in distaste

    no more nooses 

    as of late. 


    (c) Copyright 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.

    Original artwork by myself.

  • Poem: the constant common denominator – 08/02/2022

    Poem: the constant common denominator – 08/02/2022

    It feels so natural to speak the truth

    Embedded with Constance to see me through

    Upon the tips of my tongue

    A hullabaloo

    And an irrevocable meaning, melding

    Of heartfelt growling too.

    They’re, we’re indestructible, I know,

    View the airiness within me as my two delicates rose

    I need not have not

    Want for material things because the truth is

    My spirit is soaring.

    No matter what you say or do

    You cannot take me from the stars

    From the skies

    The sighs and I quickly taste that bitter pill

    Of poison

    For some refuse me heavens door

    No matter how hard I rap or knock

    I cannot get in …

    Frantic cries for Doc!

    The paid spread the mayhem

    LOST

    I calm myself

    It’s only motes

    Or dust

    My being is travelling

    Astral through the sky

    Whisper I sleep prettily and dream of

    Wonderful butterflies

    Shush as they encompass me

    Their light winged air begging me to stare at

    Their wondrous dramatic colours of sweet rich hues

    Nothing like where upon the earth,

    We are hunted for training

    For sailing for achievements

    For ENTERTAINMENT and more

    I am no more a sheep for fleece as steak is to hunger

    I refuse to be your sacrifice any longer r

    Before those guilty of harbouring powers from me for so many years

    Stuff you and your sister and your job cause your beard, because hey,

    I kinda like your beard. 🙂

    Returning in all seriousness, don’t cease my ability to soar, I don’t NEED you now, all I needs myself is my mind, my wits and the ability to laugh at funny situations.

    Because laughter shared is happiness gained, my love. Did you not know that?

    I like you more or less. 🙂

    (C) copyright 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.

  • 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.

  • How to right the path of inhabitable processes?

    How to right the path of inhabitable processes

    Undo the damage during manic and psychotic catharsis

    Lay a shoulder on the gloom of my dear shoulder

    Which shoulders the weight of sharp words paranoia then inevitable inertia

    I can’t undo undo

    But I can address the well meant template

    Explain I am never usually, well, in this way

    I floss I floss in the river of gloom

    Now hiding in moments

    Adverbs of deep hushed blue

    Most mightn’t understand

    But I shouldn’t need to detail further processes

    Tektites and andromorohirs,

    good omens never ceased, no apparition.

    No apparitions indeed. Yet growing weary we remain steadfast

    This birthday suit we carry

    And in that moment my brain mind shifts

    Alchemy the lure permit the transformation to occur.

    (C) 2022 Lauren M Hancock. All rights reserved.

    .

  • poem: the matter be – 02/02/22

    poem: the matter be – 02/02/22


    astounding though the matter be,
    at least I can still think, breathe, sigh and see
    not many people can say this
    and not many can attend
    to this tiresome irksome being stuck inside
    my head

    she is me a part of me
    the opportunistic thoughts of me
    when I’m scrambling for power then I need to
    convalesce
    become redundant there
    that side of the world, I I lost my drive

    but in terms of general threaded consciousness

    I know I am able I know I am true
    I can pick the stitches as well as sew them
    even out the ripped turret
    surrounded by green eggs and Sam I Ams.

    Protection here from the finest I will survive this
    arduous path
    these words I struggle for sleep
    enough is enough
    life can be tiresome
    but for all the healing happiness in the world
    it’s worth it.
    (02/02/20)
    © 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
    Image from Pixabay