Tag Archives: Change

7X7X7 = creative reciprocation

Art,’he said, ‘should offer the viewer the chance of merging with the creator.’

Colours explore emotional Integrity – encourage the oft skittish after thought.

His rainbow palette unlocks the blueprint of his makers true motives.

Reasons for his restless soul ; to convince us to pause; then walk away appraising transformation.

Change in notion pollinates – an opportunity to conceive to full bloom.

Open minds connect to open hearts .Creation over rides desire- Fosters survival.

Existence is impassive – Life becomes a conscious act of fruition.

This writing prompt came from the the seventh sentence on the 7 th page of the 7th book my bookshelf .

The task was to write a poem starting with the sentence from my book and make a seven line poem. Almost did it 😉

the sentence comes from the book ‘Screenplay -the foundations of screenwriting by Syd field


Old soul


Unfathomable to relate how a portrait of an unaffected cherub


a forgotten dimension to

the paradigm LONER.

PENSIVE – angelic eyes

unfreeze momentarily — expressions animate the oil painted canvass.

Voice barely audible -mouths out to me

who is this new persona?

bBlood of my labour sworn to tell the gospal TRUTH.

Astonished -wrinkles crease — at time ‘s wilfulness to penetrate her innocence—

She’s not looking back at her youth.


The cycle continues-

Elders blame the outsider for a lack of faith in conventional —Spirituality.

ELDER peers down through a intoxicating incensed haze.

Measures me up.

squares me up.

On humble grounds

I stand a full head above her broad shoulders.

Closer to her divine maker

pious prayers hail down

the blame game

the name game.

Torured soul seeker

Scarpers for the licks of hell’s flames.

trips over underwood

poltergeists log a strategic placed guilt ambush

rotting the core of this circle of life’s CONTINUITY.


time will decide whether we are cosmic twins born 3 decades APART.

this is her descent  to destiny .

roughly sketched into this world-

pallid , charcoal smudged into silence.

An artist confronted with his frailty to conceive life.

Mourns the leftover clots of a being.

Miscariage – remnants of nurture -a mere puddle of blood outlining his corrosive flaw.

A splattering of colours, tears stained by remorse.

a howl of def toned melancholy

The artist sips a cup of penny total tea.


A sighed relief-

she has -AWAKENED.

ALONE – – is she fated too?

-The rebels never conforms


Stricken by the awareness of my own


 INQUISITIVE betrayed by her translucence

frown rouges her cheeks in introspection.

familiar strange words

Alienation effect prompts a impulsive turn around

the past


damning this  loner to truly see.

An epiphany of divine INSIGHT

UNDER or OVER ACHIEVER perfection adorned with feathers of liberty –

don’t try please anyone!

A storm intervenes obscuring the BIGGER PICTURE-

Save that energy

for life

is a gift and

It’s your greatest fight.

RESPONSIBLE for so much — tempted by earths seasonal affective disorder

why does she have to be mortal?

Wings hook into shoulder blades

Reduced to a puppet attached by silver linings.

arial view-


circular murmuration


Eyes strain ,blood shot.

Wind exhales mustard peppered vapours

orchestrating sight to follow a new PERSPECTIVE.

WISDOM revealed by the crooked halo’d questions


shimmers her every inflection.

the yearn of experience — to keep heavens babe toothless , unaware of the survival evolution taking place


TENACIOUS – I overlook her every smile

from above

stitched up my heart


the scape goat

the seeker.

until a moment forces me to find a burial ground

Unwillingly close my eyes –

the universe screeches –velocity erases all time.

Formless parts full up spaces amongst the dirt.

await for these settlers to wipe all memory from this life.

Old souls never alone for eternity.

We have one another to rise above our hurt.

knowledge is power, wisdom is happiness and truth is freedom

In seasons lies lifes mystery

This  is the moment where I should embrace   the wintery-powder snow to come.


We all have naive delight to create  snow angels.

So too the  most damaged pimped out  hoes.

The death of every thing I know.









Even one thing for certain.


I  thought

I blew according to the way the wind doth blow.

until I  walked right into the eye of the




shouted them down-

No, I won’t go slow.

Voice  ricochets  seeking  a target

breathe exterminated-

The managers above cloud corporation hear my



commotion —



temper tantrum.


pressurised protests-

Attacks of panic.

I got what I was owed.

Hitch hiked a lift with a passing tornado.

Whirlwind dropped me off in a place with no directions to  the Republic of sense-at-ors of common.

I walked along the  the uneven, cobbled path —  another independent equality  free flowing  feminist ,

juggling with digits and exchanged words with third eye chakra chemists

Paper –


All alternate in form — it ends for the same means.

Or is that me unravelling myself from being stitched upped — picking away at the seams?

I didn’t  mean  to lose my way — country side hikes are  not my  governing zodiac  sign indicating

I’m in my element.

This body  contains still waters wrapped in layers of skin.

No  teasing trickle or   babbling brook

nor  a wishing well to reassure my hearts confidence within.

Summer time and the livings never easy

not when you’re a weed  on self destruct,

especially when the sun shines on  and makes blossoming

a gift without the morning sickness

That sense of queasy.

Rudimentary realisation .



Dark sunglasses can’t  make me ingnioto —

Looking back-

I should  of clapped my hands

,in breathless awe when the  sun set—

lowered gently against the abstract  backdrop

Tropical  orange  salmon ,pink sprayed skies.

Pay my respects —

Let it rest  when it his time to slip down and fall.

Reap what you sow.

I deal with every blow.

Turbulent Winds spirals me off   common ground

I find myself high up  and all alone

the come down — finds me face down in muddy bog marsh — eyes arrested by a

Facetious fog —

Not even a bird to sing me an ode of encouragement  to aid me back home.

Its true what they say we come into this world alone and we die alone.

Money, stuff — the acquisition of property

— it all gets left behind when we lift the veil to step into the next body of energy-

stagnation left in a cadaver —

this is our vessel —

Our only claim to earths  throne.

Seasoned Cycles of



regeneration ,

rebirth .


Change –

it’s contradictory to  our nature

Wearily   wallow over wilted ,   dead plants — tomorrow I’ll throw them away.

it’s all procrastination

Embrace the opaque

, the possibility of a welcome winter wave in

undisturbed silence-solace only to be find in untouched fallen snowflakes.

Trigger the cycle to fall — this is autumn .

Death and decay I feel  implacably broken.

This idea of pressing flowers ,dried

Into bookmarks is a nostalgic notion.

Shouldn’t I let it go and embrace the tremors, the blast of the callous   cousins cold and colder

A gift of this perilous  season?

anti climatized.

I live on  an island full of tall trees in treason for being out of season.

Let these words be enough.

Be my reason.

On my knees begging for hands to let go of me-especially those who touch are rough.

Grant  me sight to see-

permit  my body and soul to feel the spectrum

exhilerating and painful emotion.

Facing  forward to a future

 smelling the unsullied  scent of rebirth

A possible sight spotting of   Tigger

ready to  uncoil  and bounce into spring

 For the  awakening of the the blessed bees, Lilly white lambs  and a hereuse  holiday closer to the ocean.







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


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


-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




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.

Not the Messiah

Big day in the U.K.

My musings……

Let’s sort  out any confusion

I’m under no great illusion

that Corbyn is  NOT the messiah to lead this island

to balmy weather.

Fair in the ideas he postulates.

Words that that resonate with humanities mantra of together.

Don’t expect a perfect world unless we all put in some labour

One man can speak for the many but the many must graft for the life they seek in ardour.

the many make changes – X marks your choice

It’s not over.This is but the start – it’s time to think outside of the box – continue to use your new found voice.

This is phase one of an arduous journey

We will lose if we don’t endure the marathon and have JC’s back when it all gets thorny.

Don’t lose faith

Keep your head looking  to the above.

It’s not a one man job

It’s up to all of us to stand the test -stay the course

perhaps one day we will see a world blossom from our sacrifice to give it one love.


Today I vote labour.

If there was a chance GREEN would or could win this election, I would have voted for them