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Nothing is the same as it was before. And every day is a new adventure of possibilities and uncertainty. Every moment is divine, sacred, mysterious and both incredibly beautiful and incredibly painful. We no longer know how long we have, but we’ve never known. Everything is impermanent, and everything is immortal.

These are the thoughts that go through my head on a daily basis now.

As I reconnected to my childhood love for activism and the “environment” this past year I stumbled across Deep Adaptation and spent the winter leaning into the grief, despair and the pain of inquiring into…

A poem about reclaiming her body

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Photo by Oleg Ivanov on Unsplash

A poem by my friend Spicy Lavender

All these words on the tip of my tongue
Sweet like nectar,
Ready to drip into the open mouth of the waiting world
The anticipation sending chills down
Our collective spine.

Whisper in my ear all the combinations of words you are too shy to scream,
And scream all the sweet nothings too bold to whisper;
I wait for you here, somewhere in the in-between,
In the stickiness of finally saying how we really feel.

Your breath thickens as my exhales Approach your ear — Is it because you can hear me closer…

A poem about shame

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Photo by Ryanniel Masucol from Pexels

Oh hi Shame!
It’s been too long.
Ah yes, I’ve been well!
(Thank you for asking)
Just hanging out with Love.

Ah cool, you're here to shake things up,
Make my body feel all damp,
Sweaty and confused,
Make me blush,
Play hide and seek
Make me run away
And crouch under the sheets.

Hello shame!
Thanks for reminding me how human I am,
I am indeed.
I’m soft and squishy inside
And care about how everyone else
Judges me.

Haha! You found me out! Yes, I’ll discard my happy face for a while — But only just for you…

A poem about a feminist poet who makes love with God

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Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

I no longer desire to


Through only my uterus

I desire creation

With the divine

He and I dance

All night long

And in the morning

I birth him

My poetry

A short story of my friends — living in the heart of London

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Photo by DESIGNECOLOGIST on Unsplash

In the quiet beating heart of London, we cuddle together. Singing songs of protest, eating lentils and holding hands. This wasn’t the world I imagined myself to be in. This was a world of fairy tales, tucked away down rabbit holes beyond the reach of the internet and Netflix boxsets.

Our days are spent in deep conversations and contemplations. Books are scattered all over, from psychedelics to tantra. Communism to shamanism. Buddhist texts to permaculture. Graphs and drawings line the walls of our existence, the one-time presentation of someone who once modelled chaos or a social movement theory. Art spills…

A poem about a blueberry and lemon scone

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Photo by Brina Blum on Unsplash

That sweet buttery smell
Fills my nostrils before
I even take a bite
The soft warm insides
Fill my mouth
A tiny crunch
Sponge melts into ecstasy
As my tongue quivers
When each fine tastebud discovers
It’s own delight
Icing sugar
I close my eyes
Holding onto this moment
Letting the tingles vibrate down
My body
I feel the luminous oneness
With this scone

A co-created poem about two souls

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Photo by Nick Jones on Unsplash

You sat in the room
You sat under me
You sat on top of me
I looked down to see your eyes
You gently moved yours into my path
A shimmering gaze
When souls meet souls
What kind of magic happens?
The kind that stirs the pot
The kind that shifts the tide
I feel the tide lapping against you
Against us
The cold water binds us as one
Burst open
Crashing against a sunburnt world
Soothing it with our love

Co-create your own poetry. Read: Co-Creating Our Way To Freedom

A poem on being seduced by a song

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To be read with this song: EDEN by Hania Rani (Photo by Osman Rana on Unsplash)

I close my eyes
and savour
each note
that runs its fingers tenderly
over my breasts
sweeps down my spine
and brings shivers
to my thighs.

My heart dances
to the rhythms
swooping my imagination
to a world awash with colour
that sparkle against
the endless grain.

Like a feather against my nipples
raising the hairs on my neck
the smoke of musical opioids
taint my soul
intoxicate me, drunk —

The taste of cum
from my ears to my mouth.

I sit
with my eyes closed
flirting, with the being
that is playing this romance.

Who puts their arms around me
and presses their face
against my back
and seduces me, successfully.

A poem about love in London

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Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

By Holly Cullen-Davis

Streaked trees, yellow and red,
Frozen air, sun-still,
The gentlest touch like the brush of a birds wing,
And then the words: “In love…

…with some body else”.

Words settle like cold morning dew,
Covering my body,
Sinking into my skin.
They’re in my feet, my hands,
my stomach, my throat.

The world is suddenly stained by love,
The sky, the trees, the sun, all soiled.

Oh, earth drink me back into your channels of sleep,
Open the lock and let the water flood over me.

Sleep is dark, a dark escape, I dream of empty midnight…

A poem about love amongst chaos

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Chaos erupts
Shattering our souls
Bending the will of Shiva
Paint splattered
Seasons shifted

The notes that dance
Across the keys
To a new kind of beauty

In the background
We hold tight
Like a liferaft
In the storm
Waiting for the sea
To quench her thirst

Eyes dance
There is a terror and
Softness to the change
An awestruck
Insanity mixed like
Cream into coffee
With relief

We no longer have
To wear these maks
Or hats, or costumes
To be grown
To be stable, still
Like the note
That needs to linger in the air

Minty Horseradish

Not my real name — Post Feminism. Self Experimenter. Poet. Forager. 浪漫 .

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