Punch and Judy -sober edition

 Intolerant society.

We live in a belly fighting off bacteria

Begging other intelligence  to disembowel us.

Before

a tsumanima of hate floods our irrigation system of morals.

No lives matter.

Nazi’s aren’t the only few  crazier than Mercuries  Mad Hatter.

Everyone has an opinion.

Every Judy thinks they are entitled to a Punch – no need to be drunk.

No justice,

infuriating  that we can’t learn violence is a domino effect.

Caues and effect

ripples  from thrown stones.

Balance in humanity

artifially insemitated tinnitus

is the reality.

We  look to archaic verse in the Testament  that

‘ an eye  for an eye’

is as natural as two beasts  being violated while they  are in active fornication.

Instinct and emotions show us we are alive.

We feel, we must feel — we have to feel to carry a vigil of hope

Some divine sign,

god, goddess installed a program of free will.

Divine sign?

Why not take back this privilege?

Why make a world perfect and full of sublime, lure us out with the promise of sunshine?

Caters to the needs of every breather, every ecosystem.

No need for uadulterated theft.

God is a Narcissist.

why would someone with such power sit back and watch us destroy one another?

Fuck the lies, the parables,

Jesus dying for our sins!

His resurrection has risen along with centuries a blasphemeous leaders chanting idolific hymn.

In the name of  ignoratious barkus dogma

Religion – organised to control the masses

Opium now smells of it’s true odour-terrorisim .

Bombs, nuclear weapons, fists connecting with human bodies, unlicenced rifles  blasting into chunks of animals flesh .

Rights?

 Who is right?

This game has found us lost in a maze and the goblins haven’t the eduction to translate to us

cuts to very department,

land.

Division.

Revison .

This prison

Suicide  seems an answer to a man’s motive to rise to heaven and receive a reprisal.

That is a given.

God is a narcissist .

Jesus-is a shoddy carpenter.

Mary Magdelane -the whore,is the only tangible part of this story I find plausible.

Create a world – destroyed by  nations.

Give me a sign!

suffering to this extent is for an entity  pantomime.

Enlightened gods, sit on Mount Olympus ,never miss an episode of  planet earth.

The screen darkens to reveal

another dismal form of the  masses ,  pupils— dilated, babbling  words of   freedom to

freedom to insult ,

freedom to obliterate ,

freedom

to disfigure,

freedom to impregnate,

Freedom to do anything.

A society bloated, heaving up piles of excess.

Anarchy doesn’t mean terrorisation

Revolution is for the mighty of heart.

Ones who wish to see change from inequality for the many in parts.

Race,

Gender,

Sex,

We all deserve to be on the earth offender register

Why do we have laws ?

when we take our grievences into our own hands.

How can there be justice?

-when the justice  fails us with a well practiced  pose of inverted corruption?

Trust in humanity.

Live by your true North, moral compass .

Born in navigation mode,

even if life serves you a sentence of physical deformity;

Don’t look to the sky for an answer.

Don’t look to a man with free words dribbling down his jumper.

Don’t tear down statues that can’t fight back.

There is no sense in joining  hands with this vicious pack

We all have it wrong.

Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

Think the death penalty teaches people to stop being immoral?

Tears cause waves, I’m hiding between the reeds and the coral.

Every face has that stoic  sense of entitlement

Knitted together,from  years of oppressive governments taking our God-given birth sight to see what a plight this  truly is.

We all need to hang.

Hang our heads in shame.

Enough .

Cut out my heart

See it bleed

Let it bleed –

examine the appearance of your own and understand there is no difference –

we come into the world

We all rely on another hand for our first feed.

I’ve always been taught to haver a plan B

I find myself alone ready to denounce my mammalian side and take my chances, swim against the tide of oil sickened oceans,   in one last effort to  truly be free

from;

Not for.

From.

Free from hate,

, free from words spoke with a  lingering scent of horse manure,

I denounce my own and seek a new home on the basis-I don’t recognize my own kind.

I don’t see a common interest,

goal –

all I see is another foe.

I choke on these words.

Why can’t we learn!?

I could go on, but we have unread  history books, in abundance.

Nothing is censored.

The age of enlightmenent has turned into the birth  of disallusionment.

 

 

 

 

What do you know?

What do you know about life?

roaming in the streets with a bag of foam E coloured, banana sweets, a flat cap to accompany your flat ale.

My mind can’t take the stairs to your psychopathic fuelled attic.

Try know about life.

I ask myself why.

Got plenty worries to wait on.

there’s nothing but your conditions dictating every one of our conversations.

I’m lost-

feel dead. rehearsing what to say is futile , when face to face , with your condescending glare.

Whispers-hard of hearing , harder to crytallize a picture of a time you were ever sweet

I keep on overthinking.

I’ve had enough.

I’ve had enough.

Yet, I still bloody cared

for I know not what.

For a sign of a heart that was ever moulded into a moment so fair.

Make my amendments with the one who is the true enemy.

I nearly fell for the bastardization of the one with a tumorous relation.

I ‘m done over thinking.

I thought I was wrong,

but then I look up and see it’s you on the side of the serpents infantile tongue.

What do you know bout anything but the base life?

African synthesisers — backdrop safari park- full of savage humans.

Ooh wee-what is this shit?

every time we meet he wants to get an oo wee

Haibo,voetsek! Hamba

I want you feel what I feel tonight.

feel scared of this daughter of mama Africa –

hamba.

my body will be dancing!

feet stilettos connecting with your underbelly

weak spots identified for a finale.

macabre

macabre

-I don’t like your style at all.

Seen more compassion from wild monkeys beaten to perform.

What do you know about life?

I’m the one who is always so sorry-I’m left

Sipping up more stupid flavours itty bitty

who are you ?

ask yourself in a clean mirror -are you satisfied with what you see?

you speak about pain and suffering yet understand nothing about another’s fight.

I’m so strong-where did I get it so wrong?

Im not sorry — you deserve a room date with perverts in sodamy.

what do you know about human emotion?

Here we go

-I’m done trying to figure out your distilled mind.

I’m lost

I’m scared-damn right, you hurt me to my very core.

I forget how to breathe-only cos you disgust me with you brash audacity.

What do you know bout life?

I’m cross, I’m marred, I’m completely impaired.

what do you know except shouting down opinions?

you so damn selfish and you could do something about it,

if you cared.

You look at me right now, you don’t ask how I am.

Its all about you and your bruised ego.

You selfish bastard-you know nothing ’bout life.

Pained infliction

authentic words of describing the real you.

what the hell is wrong with you?

you are utterly a definition of disgrace.

you don’t know bout nothing.

You only care about your own suffering

I never want to be so ignorant to other lives, eras and genres of people who have a clue.

jungle vibes don’t mean you have to lose your chivalry.

you!

I don’t wanna walk like you

or, talk like you.

what the hell did I see in helping you?

I feel the open wounds- ,I see you take pleasure in openly mocking my new acquired pigmentation.

You know bout nothing -care only bout your own suffering

Lying faces,

sometimes don’t even pretend to be your friend

Lying faces come in different suits.

Proof comes from not recognising their blatant ,arrogant style is their truth

Hear these tears-you can’t look !

bass

turn it up

Music files away the pain.

rain drops cleanse away the ebony and ivory keys layered , over the bruises, of yesterday’s insults aimed at me.

I’m kind of feeling bad right now.

Peace maker?

-you should come with a pacemaker warning label

A pacifist?—

not a clue -what’s the definition –

the kook who can only mutter

‘what -a muppet’

-you don’t know this is serious!

You’ve got your addled mind with amnesia.

you rape your mothers heart repeatedly.

patterns transferred with a motion of akinesia.

Around you,

every person could be convulsing in an epileptic seizure.

you still wouldn’t know it. —

to afraid to part with 15 year old love poems written to yourself in Rhodesia

you speak of peace yet you make dividend equations

,using your thoughtless cowardice utterances, by mc-ing disambigous multiplications as an excuse for regressive aggression.

Kalinda

When my Kalinda peers into his reflection he see’s jagged, ragged parts of a body

discombobulate

Staggered yet separate. -body parts sewn together haphazardly.

The truth is stranger than fiction.

How can it be!

his soul mate doesn’t mirror the effort in his deeds.

ffinger nails claw and pierce at skin -prolong hanging flesh separated from bone

VIP’s seated , assume an opinionated speculation into the art of this self destruct –

The blown up bags come from the baldy eagle, wearing a t-shirt that says ‘corrupt -will sell poison to feed my ego.’

Skullbones crossed.

Point in rage to pandora’s obsessive flirtation with suicide.

Maidenhead Hymen annuls her delusional animas.

Make her believe!

it helps her to inhale insecticides.

What is wrong with all that is her?

doesnt she get that her life can be more than a bargain plea?

why does every stonewalled chamber gather breathe from disjointed words,

instead of radiating from true love’s scribbled scribes in blank verse.

Write to recover. Recover to write.

Perform this pantmine on las ramblas , in the hope the days will turn bright.

Supportive cups hold up the excess mounds.

‘damn you look good, healthy, put some weight on’

Must she hear this now? or indeed ever!

It’s too avant garde even for Gaudy.

Face swollen from a sting with an arbitrary drone.

Monthly luna flickers up sheds of decrepit blood clots;

compund that to a portrait that makes her face plump–fits of

dis – ease

– please,

stop with the back handed compliments, hun.

Hands hesitate over arms once scrawny, cheek bones sliced inwards.,

She’s rather own her shame and reach every gaze at her in a state of lean chronic thigh gap syndrome

spongy Food floats

expands

-drowns all sign of hope.

enough self loathing to remedy it with a calibre of a gun.

Date with Russian roulette –

6 chance distractions from this body, this mind ,every part called forward into existence.

five rounds until she lands in the seat of a crash test dummy.

Grief , guilt ,

unpleasant to the taste.

fret bursts in beads of sweat – her few will revolt into petulant demonstrations of

why?

again?

how?

and when?

Get by on hope and luck and a fine mother hen

A good sized egg , pair of irises that delude her into feeling all her sins have been revoked.

Hi Lo Perspective

*If you want to find out more a bout the inspiration for this piece and raise awareness against all forms of violence and abuse-Trigger pictures of me looking bruised -HEAD OVER HERE

share #It’sok2talkaboutabuse

If not read below.

It’s not Saturday and I’m feeling non conformist. I guess its kind of my way.

Haven’t done much this weekend — except nursing bruises, swellings, scrapes and down right painful blisters on the mouth.

I’m fuming.

The lows of last week found me beaten to a pulp like a survivor from a war jump.

Didn’t get no gangrene or scurvy-I suppose that’s better than dying on a row boat at Dunkirk – on sheets of ice.

Spinning around not a La Kylie Minogue mode.

I’m over the worst of the beating-

I “secretly” hope these two bastards gets their come( t)uppence.

It would be easier to get high and escape from the down side-

Look out my window and the skyline is blocked by housing estates.

Crumbling – it’s always a better view at low tide.

Three a.m. wake up calls for months-every  time.

The creative freaks come out so, I suppose I’m in good company and I will be..

just fine. 😀

Physical strength is the only thing that let me down in this fight against the Alphas.

If guns were legal I think I would use the second amendment to plea —

Y.ankee

O.scar

B.ravo

S.ierra –

Give at least one of the limp cocks a belter.

Only one would be laughing — this bruised weed — always making sure her brood is out of the firing line;

Standing in the shelter.

Ballroom blitz and shammy with my king.

Oh how we will dance!

— cowards should carry around organ donor cards.

On second thoughts, who would want the innings of someone who can’t fight to their  own strength —

Run little boys to your Audi and drunk mommy-

The one you beat up on a regular basis.

You think this is a female annihilation version of the crusades?

I’m low not in mood but my body says — sit down and feel your boo boos

My head says life is for living.

I don’t want to walk out of my house,

like a beast or looking like a victim of domestic violence-

Here comes the freak in an endless hued complexion of distracting tutus

The highs are the times when I hear my child laugh, my husband he bathes me and kisses me tenderly,

loves my sense of spirit when I look bloody unsightly.

In truth I look hideously ghastly—

Green beans and asparagus — home made by La Bonne chef, ma Mere.

I struggle to eat more than ever, but I won’t let two stomped out cans put me off the future horizon I’ve cut out —

The scenic view from here is a — plethora of orgasmic sight sees.

Lows inevitably come with highs.

I’ve accepted a hand

taken that step off the top roof.

The next time I’m up their , I’m going by lift.

Agenda?

To dance and rub shoulders with people channeling the same level — hearing a sub woof.

Clearly better days ahead.

Wasted time on talking pin heads.

Its fine, its mine, Its life.

Yesterdays news is on current recycle mode.

This Mary Poppins has already started making UP fresh linen beds.

A break from the toxicity of incurable idiotism — helps me see far up the winding road.

Perspectives easily imagined —

There goes a heavenly striking stair case.

It may not lead to a conventional heaven .

I’ve already stated my unorthodox ways right at the beginning .

I missed the word that rhyme ending three sentences up,

So, I’ll close SOCs by stating:

I’m recharging my load.

I’ve missed LINDA G’S. SOCs -today’s prompt -High and lows

Good to be back – Take part its fun heres a link!

socsbadge2016-17

Evidently bloody

Evidently, I should have recognised your kind well.

The type who thinks it’s okay to throw punches at someone not strong enough to withstand your spell.

Evidently you think with a ‘she deserves a slap but not a nose break blood gushing fatality.

The warning signs – illuminated in the dark – yet one was driving further and further away from signs of reality.

Evidently, the abuse became physical – Ma get’s a leg broken and screamed out of her own home.

Respect lost to those willing to put up with tirade of abuse – shattered by the illusion that inside is a not a lost soul- but a vicious short sighted, inbred gnome.

Evidently, it went too far – blood gushing with Niagara force. Dr Jekyll came out to suppress his calcuating side.

The damage was done. The apologies came thick and fast.A make up of sexual intimacy -lying in spoons – easy to forget the true impression that you are an insidious Hyde.

Evidently, acts of treason were thought to be safe because of making love or banging next to a mother, drunk, lying on the floor in a made up carpet bed.

Kind words and questions poured from the mouth who easily quickened to taint the air with putrid attacks, to these addicted females’ wrong idea of what respect means in the revolving door of her head.

Evidently , New found respect for the one who took a punch and lost consciousness for 1 minute – brain damage pondered whether it would take over her body – luckily her will scourged it to flee.

Sexy is the one with broken teeth, cut open flesh, cartilage and a nose flattened from senseless violence; unjustified with a kiss expounded by debasing eroticism intoxicated sparks of Mal function -plain to see.

Evidently, words were promised that her husband would never know the truth of what happened on the blood stained sofa – a night ensconced by lust -finally she felt acceptance.

A day away from the chaos, in a house cluttered with but one nebulous mirror Her ways spent in error were seen in the stark light of horror. This was a mere council estate , drunk fuelled norm in decadence.

Evidently, he loses more numbers by the day. Days on his life, friends by his side. Violence she won’t cover up like a weeping wound hidden from the world – oozing in shame. It’s disgrace.

Is there justification for treating other people with the out most disrespect?

No retribution will come from knowing that she may remind him of his mother, but he has turned into that devil he half loves and half despises .

The one who gave birth to his diseased soul. A disfigurement- a sour faced ,soot -aura – shuddering at his own self made ,society shun the beast with a cleft palate.

I’m down for equality but I cannot tolerate the violence ,hatred bred contempt.

The notion that a woman’s place is to submit to acts of a ghetto’s patriarchal, backwards, reprehensible mentality.

Destination Contemplation

Sometimes I feel like why do I bother.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve used up all my bear care

The cities I lived in .

The people I’ve engaged with.

started to stick teo fingers up.

But only to the dickheads.

I dance to these beats cos I rise to the funk masters compilation.

I run for the hills , soul in arms, cos I’m scared of bereaving one beat closer to my final end.

Wasted kindness on friendships. One person knows what goes in my head.

Anxiety takes grip, and I turn on my only friend.

I don’t wanna feel like an unwanted graze.

Take me to a place I love.

Where people don’t talk in haze .

I don’t ever wanna feel like maple honey stuck to a face.

Take me to a place where I can finally come out from the virginal lace.

It’s hard to see the evil in people.

Harder to believe especially those covered treacle.

Atleast, I have a built in shit detector-

this city knows notof me.

My mask falls when the prison doors close.

I don’t ever wanna feel ignored by tramps with tongues for shoes.

Just get me out of this space where my compassion reduces me to tears,

Ignored,

Singing the wrong type of blues.

Under suicide bridge another man lands face down on the ground.

Blood glitters all in an outline and I’ve got scared .

I’ve got to be prepared.

I won’t throw this body away for another

no show.

*song inspired by Red hot Chilli Peppers ‘ under the bridge’

Pep talk retraced

Euphoria daze

Though lightness may fade.

Forget words wasted on ill gotten behaviours.

Stuck in a quagmire?

Want to send out the vigil of hope.

It’s in me.

Buried under a thousand haunting ghosts.

Make this a cheerful post.

What is disarmingly charming in this world?

Open my eyes,

Look around!

Be interested in gazing outwards.

Look back at the words you have’ written.

Be inspired that you wrote them!

Don’t let snide comments sneakily sweep through the back door,

Prevent you from expressing your self.

Sometimes, words in simple dimples are all we need

Who are you writing for?

You have your unique style.

Don’t neglect that self respect cautiously peers out, perched atop , the rotting,

wood lice

infected staircase

In the basement.

Confidence drips tears for the days when his best foot turned all heads.

Don’t worry .

Don’t care

Don’t overthink.

When has it ever been so difficult for me to type and write and hit publish without a second glance?

Only when caught up in dusty webbed rags of self-doubt.

Shadows change according to light.

Don’t be intimated by what is a mere reflection.

Remember shadows can’t exist without a living body,

soul,

And mind.

Take the power back.

Don’t hide from those who sigh — in disproportionate contortions of their own path .

Happy lights-faeries delight.

blissful smiles stippled on faces

There can be no ulterior motive.

Agenda?

Worry about your own if you are confused about life twists and mysterious genders.

Tender

Mender

Guilt sprouts up-GMO crops

Pesticides cause all matter to infold my mind

Crucify my time?

flowers give sentiment to humans lost in nocturnal spaces

Eye sight not evolved enough to adjust to a new fate.

Decisive in what I decide will make up my next jungle adventure.

Armed with words and a benign bravado.

I don’t back down to monsters of carpathian.

Audacity and gumption are my greatest weapons.

Shout me down,

I will test that phycology straight back at ya.

Threaten me or one of my own,

I will stand up and defend my home.

Bats of fear — circulating above.

Blood, don’t clot on me now!

This is my fight — yet I won’t battle it alone.

So much I want to put down.

Not in stream of consciousness

but harsh,

plain,

cold

facts.

No more ashamed of how far down I free-fall into the squid ink mouth of the abyss.

I gripped onto natures own boulderous 😉 safety net.

Silver linings

I have.

I seek to retrace.

*Something I wrote in stream of consciousness and then decided to work on it a bit more*

* boulderous-made up word — combination of rocky and bold-