Poems By Emma Plunkett

Receive the energy, let it flow.
Balance the input and output levels.
Meteoric rise from the ashes of hell
to maintain a sensible manner.
Riot gear to control my thoughts,
psychosis of the never ever again scenario:
Arse-shitting, sleeping, vomiting,
figure eight to fold the whole.
Left together, right together,
charming electromagnetic fields of golden mist,
consuming ribbons for the funfair.
Cold, early, virtually fat-free,
remember me, I’m sort of alright.
Trading celebrities for orphans,
melted ice cream on my breasts.
Aeroplanes under the bed,
anchors for hands and she sank.

31.05.00

Lethal.
Silent permission granted;
take control.
Auto take
The decision’s made.
BANG!
FIRE!
The show is axed
and the dancing girls all disappear! Aaaah. (more…)

In the slightest thing,
imagining another moment long.
Fascinated by being;
exuberant lover.

Bubble-gum face
marching forwards
not looking, lights go off.
Keeping strong calm waves intact, (more…)

A sufficient error in the data palm recorder
allows us to go back to the beginning.
Unhappy memories re-mastered and re-catagorised
to bring another happy moment into the centre of the earth’s gravitational pull.
Spirits cooperate and line up nicely.
Less dangerous situations vacant than before
attract lovely young thing in red
to live out crazy but satisfying life.

29.03.03

In and out the cobwebs of a broken heart,
clearly mended several times over;
patched up and scattered pieces stuck back together
ready for another earth-moving experience. (more…)

Her mother’s daughter,
his father’s son.
Teaching our parents
what has already begun.

Video-taped together,
in a circle,
in a square.

Pass her legs to his smile;
the fierce flame,
channeled fire. (more…)

The sumptuous notion of how,
resistance is futile.
Simplicity twists,
further sounds are made.
Cosmetics forgiven,
shiny bright gleams,
super shiny bright things.
Always telling myself how
and why it does this.
Plastic sideboard tears,
the changes occupy a different space. (more…)

Pollen approaching
The gladioli, when told,
Went weak at the roots
And her leaves fell apart
She dissolved into her perfume
Her petals all open
As she glanced at his stamen
Swaying long in the breeze

17.8.00