Ink

So for the longest time I wanted a tattoo. I knew I wanted a daisy chain around my ankle but I never 'got around' to doing it. I was full of excuses; I didn't know where to go, I had no one to go with etc. And I knew my parents would be unhappy, even though I'm a grown up!

Then one day I found somewhere so I thought "what the hell, I'll pop in". So I did and it was just perfect. I found a design that was exactly what I was looking for and the people were so nice. Plus, you hear these stories of seedy, dark, backstreet places - this was just like a hair or nail salon! Perfect.

So I had it done and it didn't hurt at all, just scratching. I swore that was all I wanted, but two years (to the day, weird!) I found myself back there. This time, stars on my wrist, an idea which just came to me and covers up the marks of my past (but that's another story).

Now I want more, but I'm trying to resist. And I must stop watching Miami Ink cos it's giving me ideas!!!

But I think tattoo's are amazing and an severely underrated art form. For a start the artist must be phenomenal, you can't just start again, and the range of skill is incredible. Your work is permanent, forever, it's not so easy to change later. But the thing I admire most is the meaning behind them. People rarely get tattoo's purely because they like them or like a design. They all have an individual and personal meaning; freedom, remembrance, memoriam, strength, honesty, survival. All creative and powerful.

And so I wrote this poem (please bare with me as I don't tend to write poetry and it needs work)...

Sterile as an operating theatre
Artists brushes, instruments of pain
Black leather chairs and wooden chairs
Beauty salon of contrast

Grotesque artwork made beautiful by talent
Flesh as a permanent canvas
Ink black, vibrant colours
Bringing together depth and perception

Buzzing, the forms take life
Silent pain scratching at memories
Tribal, Celtic, Oriental, Floral
Symbols silently speaking a thousand words

Individual, decorative insignias of strength
Freedom, a snapshot of time
A journal on skin
Walking away with an indelible mark of life