Feeding The Beasts Quotes

“Woman lost (skin deep) like a damn fine thread in the fire
Woman of the world caught up in your black machinations
I was a woman who cried alone at night, who gave it all
away when she saw the good heart of the man inside
Woman caught standing up; her open parts are broken -

Someone's armour broke right through, it was you, you
For some reason I've been thinking about you, your light
Today, you poured out all the tension, the ego underground
Hibernating inside my heart. I was so close to it, to the flicker
Of love in a lonely street and I turned my head and walked

Away from the flame in your arms. As I put away the fun in
A house of fight I came across you and a mechanism in
My brain shifted chemically, walls caved in like the cadence
In your words and I was lost in the darkness. Even now in
Middle age I remember when desire was a popular drug

And everyone was selling it but I don't live to explore to be
Able to illuminate the proof of my existence, live to burn
Vicariously though the diamond mouth of sleeping stars.
From so much love, pictures of death arrived in black and
White photographs and you're perfect, you always were -

Illusions have no flaws; they're dangerous beings, smoke.
Could I take the moon back and still live with my great
Expectations of nostalgia, laughter, tears and suffering -
But they are all a part of me not the people of the stars,
Long dead videotape, the past has stained the symphony

Of my soul (like the wind through the trees) throughout
Me finding myself, my two left feet as a female poet
The warning was there of the noise of eternity, signs
That said, don't anger the sea, you have an ally in her.
When men grow cold listen to their stories and bask in

The glory of their genuine deaths, their winters, put
Them away so you can read them like the newspaper.
Once in a while you can go back to where you stood
In youth with your afternoon tea, the sun of God in our
Eyes - I am that kind of woman who lives in the past”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“I used to like wolves; they always arrived so
Punctually in sheep's clothing at the mortuary
To be prepared for burial by my father who
Showered his wrath on my mother with blows
From his fists at night; this warrior, this Lord”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Writing will never be perfect in a poet's eye that is why we need people's criticism good or bad, whether or not it gives a positive or negative frame to our work. We are first at hand to fight against the real and the normal in our writing as our outspoken, brimming voice bring truths to light so vividly and intensely for mass consumption that we so long for in our hearts. When the poet, not jubilant, neither spirited, allows his mind to quiet, allows the survival of and realises that all figures of speech matters; when God has witnessed the culmination of his progress; when the writer is almost in a hypnotic stance. Then the poet cannot stop himself when he is in the right place, then he can guess at the intensity, the prowess of his pen, his prolific writing and the intelligence behind his words becomes a self portrait kind of like what Vincent van Gogh used to do when he was depressed and lonely, fighting against the feelings of isolation and rejection by the establishment.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Tin-Tin in your rattle skin
Dumbed and worn down -
Flushed pink-salmon suffering.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Gulls fly overhead
While waves slap against rocks
From dusk till dawn.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“They parade for us
In zoos - in portraits
Of every generation.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“You have to live in a fog,
Tramping scorched earth;
Not to read words of truth.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Intimate letters -
They become rock art alphabet,
Shelved history.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Fish pass triumphantly
Into a blue oblivion -
Glassy at the gills.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Surfaces of my mind -
Faces in the water;
Voices in my head.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Serious prized beauty -
Head mindful of the sky;
In the photo you glow.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Woman lost (skin deep) like a damn fine thread in the fire
Woman of the world caught up in your black machinations
I was a woman who cried alone at night, who gave it all
away when she saw the good heart of the man inside
Woman caught standing up; her open parts are broken -”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Like water our ideals for writing what seems at first to be a calling to pen a masterpiece, it at first can be pure, fluid even (words can come easily) but we also have to learn to work with what our eyes glaze over as weak substitutes, words that we think have no substance to what we are learning towards. What is every poet's intention? Their intention is to forge, nullify, create, defend, fill the reader with the awe and inspiration that every poet themselves craves. They want to carve a name for themselves in the annals of history, leave a not so quiet legacy behind. Poets want immortality or rather they want their words to become immortal. Perhaps even Marlowe and Shakespeare had discussions about this.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“This is the same establishment that all those who want, or rather aspire to, to be literary figures of the century, artists, painters and sculptors want acceptance from and approval. They want to be looked up to. Young and upcoming poets must approach their craft with an almost angelic perspective. So many writers are missing a condensed fusion in their writing, they condescend to their audience, the truth is not spoken in their work, they gabble, their words seem to make a hot fuss on the page. What do they gain? They gain this, simply nothing. Poets must assemble and present their work accordingly to how they see fit and should be careful of advice from other writers and editors. Sometimes there can be too much going on in the words that are meant to be given with the best of intentions.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Sometimes the words come like a tsunami; tidal and windswept they blind you to your weaknesses and it is difficult to keep up with the process. The poet often questions where this 'voice' comes from. Who lifted the visor that covered this once locked Pandora's Box that gave rise to this flight of manic panic? When it feels as if there is too much going on and it is hard to put a stop to it; go with it; go with the incessant flow and ebb although it is not always posed gracefully.

There will be enough time afterwards to vet everything, get through your nonsensical thoughts, every void and every streak of dissonance left behind with a fine tooth comb. Poets must always strive to dismantle frantically omens and discover fitting miracles to create an opus of thoughts and feelings. It is easy for a poet to become imperious.

This will always show up in the writing. It is unavoidable. Truths must marry godheads on the page. No poet is inexhaustible. When fatigue comes as it must, it must be diagnosed. We must always strive towards the glorified.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts

“Poets must be grounded in the education of the arts, drama, history, mysticism, esotericism, and philosophy. To gain knowledge and become learned of the above is easy - read. Poets should apply this knowledge to their work, so a poet will advance to the next level, to their next phase of their emotional, psychological and spiritual development, growing in years in a short space of time, in hours or months if he or she is an avid reader. This knowledge will birth work that is not meretricious but of noble parentage.”
― Abigail George, Feeding The Beasts