- it’s not what you write: it’s that you write*
Choke the Hoki Coki too eager easing the pain as reality toys with perception
Over the hillsides
Belief conjures a utopic oasis fancy dressed in shades of lagoon. Far away too-enticing;
Tranquillity time-lapses this moment – still
revel in the presence of the company connecting with mail already pre-sent.
Admonish 3 headed Janus serializing the t.v.sitcom ‘ruminate’ on repeat.
Remembering Rerun episodes of the one when dark faecal matter
Duplicated mass memory tracing a figment outlined of faces
pre-empt this is your future!
Close up snapshot to the one when you’re all alone in Siberia -perhaps on a solitary ice glacier.
Instigate time to intervene a stationery halt.
Behold! crystallised a breathing life force of species who gives your cosmos matter.
Night terrors cease to corrupt daylight confusion
Dazzling perceptions illustrating the Golden ratio of life.
End endless thoughts of living as that lonely nut ready to wrap this stream of consciousness up.
Finish flushing this line down the toilet with taunting echoes of Mr Tut Tut.
* It is only fear that stops you writing authentically. If most people don’t get my writing I wipe my head in relief. I’d rather have one genuine response of ‘I get this’ than likes. I feel a bit like the old Daisy. I write for me. When I write for myself I am being authentic.
You do that thing the others do.
Throw a google-eyed look away
Well, am I stark raving mad?
Gnarly Serf on a wavelength similar
to loyal Harvey the dog of Sam.
One eye hung out precariously
Electrodes attached to its head.
Tortured by experiments
Wronged species deserve rites
Left-handed Nuns appear unGodly.
Impregnated 9 months later delivers a postpartum already dressed up in blue. Momentarily stunned by nausea pangs
Delivered momentarily still
Birth devoid of cries then a shout out hits my ears
He’s not breathing
Inarticulate mid sucking on gas and air queer eye of this realm I pray for skin contact
You worry about your own soul shell feed
I can’t mimic the A team
A letter murmuration in full Flight
Fight solo traversing oceans
Contemporary pirates chaffed from over self-masturbation.
See men wink &weep over Oates that taste so so…..
Self-destruction ejaculates an abundant pressure of love.
Images of enjoyment flicked out a nebulous cornea.
Failure caught wind of future events impossible to foretell a farewell
That would be hell.
Eloquence raped of its plumage
Abreast Birds hearts juking at 160 bpm
The final crash coursing bloody soundbites around the ministry of meow-em’s mouth veins
Shed tears for our once feathered friends.
Ravens versus magpies
A sign glitters all is not well
Clear sight lights up a mass derelict graveyard.
Those blinded peacocks.
How they spent their lives chasing cataracts from the omniscient Third eye.
What have I done?
Pushed away those doves, drowned out the screaming stars.
Irksome elements are the dwarfed remainders of a mind
bent against its will.
Teething the Tension
Widen the gaps in this pension cut
this morn, big mouth
Gums gunned down left in a flap,
When is my end?
The highest peak.
A gaze overlooks
A future uncertain.
Stuck in reverse
Cold cuts down play -sessions.
Seek out fabricated odifications
Hide happiness with a common dividend.
We believe the 365 tales told
Thoughts toss flip
Look what ‘s up
step after step on stealth mines muddled.
For today I love you…
Enough,torture by anguish.
Sundowners gravity compel an early Eve to blush at seeing Adams
apple tree deceived
a pair of knees tainted by grass painted in slithering silence.
Limber climber defy the mass cavity awaiting
Underground Unwanted guardian angels willingly discredit the Grim reaper
When the odds favour that one’s number is up.
Hope in one gulp.
Grim glass-eye stares longingly at well-beings thirst quenched.
Leaked buckets reveal the fluidity of
Forget about recriminations.
Don’t carry an organ donor card
To part from the complexities of life
momentarily contemplate the features of creatures born
They graciously mutate into mere mortals as time calls it a day?
Surrender to terminal Life
Know Death can’t kill
Those already Buried under by their own ills.
This is my latest ,warped experiment with using GarageBand and sound effects/ free samples and my words and voice. WAHEY!
Musing of the day:
If the birds are still flying. Your world is not over … yet. Keep on living and be yourself.
A twice bitten man shy tortured in an encounter with his tye.
Every seen a crystallized heart shatter?
Ricochet fresh flesh of four chambers?
Stained bloody by his past lover’s hand
Sodden & trodden by a call to “man up”
Pump up depleted testosterone to counteract the shame.
Even though a trampled heart was not his own doing.
Grievously body harm. It was a gift given
Not by a temptress nor a malicious entity by nature.
Ergo two hearts vowed to be one soul
Living as a unit. Love of life was their goal.
Loneliness to combat. Fated to be mortal.
Revealed their sealed vows together in front of a chosen crowd
Dramatic entrance. One heart faltered .
Death was invited to observe the day
Yesterday’s reminder of the shell of who once was.
Death reminded all that life is fleeting. Unpredictable.
Everyone but maybe one didn’t grasp the significance
Empty on reality. Thankful for ‘mothers little helpers’
Songs of blue accentuated the highs.
Hopeful for love to remain true.
Ever hope to love truly but wonder whether you do?
Obviously caught up in the fervour and knowing the right thing to do.
Obviously ignoring common sense. Abandoned security for a chance leap declared impulsive.
Ended up in heart surgery. One shattered by betrayal.
Left the other with paper scissors & words to shake a corpse into resurrection.
Note to self I’ll continue this when I feel less tired
Less restricted. I won’t be some other possession.
Day 19 prompt from napowrimo.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to write an abecedarian poem – a poem in which the word choice follows the words/order of the alphabet. You could write a very strict abecedarian poem, in which there are twenty-six words in alphabetical order, or you could write one in which each line begins with a word that follows the order of the alphabet. This is a prompt that lends itself well to a certain playfulness.
( 10 minute free flow stream of consciousness revised)
Those spoken words infect the brain
Until eventually it will rot and fester .
Dare deny utterences of thoughts will promptly drive thee insane.
Be it in mind maps or in clusters.
Gathering speed from maimed parts
Propelling bodily functions into a state of catatonia.
nerves of steel summon razor barbed wired fences to catch onto the last of its rags.
Wear with affray
This chaos can be stilled by lighting a hermits way.
shades of noir surrender to a momentous peace when dark displaced emotions
from the layers of Times embroidered frail
Breasts from nubile tales.
Breath exhale out a body exhausted by echoes vow to love another narcissist new dawn
Temporary amnesia fairs better in sent up prayers than living out eternally ulcerated by days broiled in a 500 degree fareinehet cesspit of pain.
Statistics leave most maimed.
This could be a love poem yet it lacks to carafe words highlighted in sentiments.
Emotional intelligence is its graph to prove its in deficit
If this secret of a mortal man escaped
These lips could loosen .
The wind would drown out that familiar chant
Will it have been all in vain?
A part from this an offering could install hope in the waste land masses.
To keep sight of the light house
proposing a love affair upon reaching shores
Traversing the tides of the oceans girth.
A silhouette reveals la luna in a phantasmagoric naked form.
* when I’m angry I like to think the pen is mightier than the sword, this is a revised stream of consciousness about the same person.*
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 to 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.
My body will be dancing!
Feet stilettos connecting with your underbelly weak spots identified for a finale.
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 leftSipping 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?
I’m not sorry — you deserve a room date with perverts in sodomy.
What do you know about human emotion?
Here we go-
I’m done trying to figure out your distilled mind.
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 inflicted 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.
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!
turn it up.
Music files away the pain.
Raindrops 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 mother’s 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,
as an excuse
for regressive aggression.
RIP KEITH from the Prodigy.
I planned another attempt on my knees
Spoke to a God
Daisy is no more.
A body emptied walking on egg shells.
Cause me to break out in blisters.
Words fail to recover my obsolete pose
stream of wrong chosen floaters in crimson blood rivers.
white foam is my diffident
Angry cross dressers
hung by confusion
bungee jump without rope into a quagmire.
Prayed to a cloud God in an attempt to die
Lost, scared, dreading my loss of locks
inside I’m already dead.
Queen bee keeps me in fear
droplets of pollen
my rival is life
Alone decorated in red confetti
Enraged at my syphilistic minded inability to write even borderline literate.
Fits and spirits
rummy body popping misfit.
Failure to perish
shelf life insignificant.
A failure at talking transparent.
A thief of integrity.
A coward rumpled into a once upon a time melody
No solace — out grown to suffer from eternal colic.
Stubborn push me over
‘cos it’s a waste of oxygen.
Recovery is overrated.
Trust when I say
I lied and I planned
My prison is this world.
Let me go!
I’m not strong enough to serve the bee revolution cos I’m different.
Scared to never feel my bones.
Scared to lose my only love
My minds my terminal to Cancer.
Purpose – 37 years wasted in ignorance.
I’m not writer
I’m a fighter.
An enemy of my Self.
Uncomfortable with peoples apparent confidence in my ability to not give up.
Strength is not telling
Can’t keep a secret — I’m a fraud — I lost my soul to the devil 3 decades ago.
A ritual given freely to a demon I couldn’t please.
Why did I tell of my plans?
Damn do gooders orchestrating my life.
Suicide is the answer.
I’m dead inside
I’m a joke-I’m aimless — shameless
Engaged – remember to pretend to be engaged.
Life is a sham — there is no plan.
Fear makes me who I am.
A writer died on that table.
I shrink my words-
I am not who I say I am.
Don’t tease me;
People — I don’t get you — assist me — talking in skipped beats
Daisy in the willows
I’m not a fan.
Help me disappear
not in another room with four walls
you hold me rooted
Why do I love you ?
You’re my child
I am A mother on mute.
Lost to a cause
Petrol bombed mind.
A lost cause to
These four walls.
Life is a shore ditch with no applause.
alive — so very sudden.
Cheated out of death
I don’t want to live
Stop saving me
Screaming to a society blinded
Samaritan I’m your even,
selfish? , yeah
welling up in self pity.
Take my Queen — kill me — a paperless tree.
these words are not free
I cannot be
Fuck the world
Listen to my plea.
Let me die
damn you all
I have Cancer in my mind.
You live behind fake smiles and superficial styles.
The only time i ever felt free was when I wrote without thinking
I’ve lost my creativity
I’m done thinking
My rights taken from me.
Death embrace me
Why can’t you fall in love with me?
Damn you all.
I am my biggest flaw.
Live for yourselves.
let me disappear into a shallow grave carved out of skin
Scarred by the welts of time.
A master of self distortion
Fuck the life-it serves no function.
All I had were my words.
Now I have nothing but a habit of crawling on hands and knees hiding from life’s sores.
I don’t want to be famous.
i want another chance to die — Fuck you
Hospital and doctors orders
I’m not an animal!
I’m a ghost of the cult of the morbid.
These are my words
Damn you, Bee!
Manipulate me into loving you
If only I didn’t care.
Maybe I don’t…
These words are simple.
Not good enough.
I’m the fucker with the guardian angel who won’t let me go.
Fuck you, you test me, then arrest me.
I’m perpetually unhappy.
Let me go.
Let me finally be free.
I was born into the wrong world,
The wrong time.
fuck you all – I don’t want to be
I’m too damningly kind.
Survival of the fittest — I’m a rumpled coward-a retard — a misfit.
Damn you,host — you saved me — when you should have save your breath for another.
I exist for others peace of mind.
*something self loathing in Rage -is (?) I wrote post -suicide attempt*
Write to recover. I don’t always feel so much self loathing. There is always a silver lining…….
Panic glares at them boots tossed near the scullery bin
Churns its stomach until it resembles a soiled salad
Brown shaded stemmed leaves.
A dice scarred thrice
The fourth Pleiades sister
Her face disfigured by a silhouette.
Speech dubbed over until she believes she is mute.
Declares her name as
The scarlet barnet.
Desperate to hold onto her last shred of dignity.
Shrouded into a solar
To luminosity dressed up
An impish grin inhabits incognisant skin.
Burnt bloody blisters
Advertising big lips
Still demanding to be heard.
What makes one positive push a negative
Then rebound ?
Perhaps its for effect….
The ribs don’t need a tickle
To denounce the bastardisation of the butterfly effect.
Resurrect naked infants born with the soul clap.
Pure child neglect.
Raised on a hellish platform.
High on emotion fuelled
Noxious Martians grappling to lead the IDM pack.
Heavens gates part way for Entities egos
Superior to the kaffirs*
Squelching about barefoot
Abandoning their groundwork stained blueprint.
Fingers retrace its outline with fear &
Garments unravel to the ground
Reveal a strangers foot clubbed into inhabiting an Acute Depressive
Hands sculpt into a perfect punch
Transforming into a knuckle bled fist.
Deafening decibels desperate to pump up the jam.
Distinguished from independent thought
Bedlams final safety net sets off.
Distinguished from the shame
Prophets betrayed my another divine kind.
How to love a self
By the seizures of our child?
It bear not the demeanour of a preacher
Sopranos forced to be overshadowed by a blues choir.
Doubt these creatures.
Those with eyes of a temptress.
Alpha romeos induced into crawling out of her womb
Thrust a pelvis
If merely to humour.
Break down the odds of
Blue blood runs yellow
Bloody piss takers.
Leave a heart
To the meaning of life.
Triggers free happy clappy believers
Silenced to be reborn
By the creators personal midwife.
(Kaffir-meaning ‘non believer’ in Islam and it was also the name given to African/mixed race people who lived under the apartheid regime in South Africa.)
Maybe I’m not who I say am.
Maybe I’m too prised shut.
Im certainly not the man
More likened to a clam.
Plenty of fish to test my lack of faith.
Caught in the net-
Delivering me to an Ill designed fate.
Tag me with an aphrodisiac.
Swimming in the theatre room
Hang up my ten phalanges
To ward off the inner crowd.
Grains of sand obscure my funny elbow.
Morose in all affairs
Wander afar from the nudists-
They emulate all my common fears.
They are my foes.
Grains of sand.
A Stormy clap of hands.
Alone in this operation,
The agenda is to make sure I get by on an innuendo.
Fear to be me-
To let the tears show up my negativity.
Look for the silver lining….
Be happy or die trying.
This is a message in a bottle
Fish are borderline crying.
In yer face
Creativist of my right palm.
Read in between the lines
I’m the maker of my own divine crime.
* My mind has gone blank. I’m struggling to write. A person close to me is in surgery. I’m waiting .Write to recover. Part of the ‘be happy or die trying’ series