Cloud nein emcees

*Inspired by the quote*

‘be nice to those on your way to the top, don’t believe your own hype, you never know who you are going to meet on your way back down’

Today, I rant about those who sit on cloud tufted pedestals

self righteous

Judging others they deem have morals lacking by half and a few.

A pack of dogs who  bitch more than  females could ever stir up in a stew.

Pre made, customised idol awards-ready to export from china-engraved names for the lot  of the little who mew mew .

Talk like a woo fang man — skillz and talents

Big upped up by  their mates.

Could  you stand without your prop ups.

Really ? Even you?

 mixed bred, British bull terriers ending the night in multiple  lock jaw — fatalities .

Take you imported  ciders, your  low suspension  alpha Romeo    idea mentalities

Get back to banter.

Not discussing  events or ideas but   foreign people unlike  your garbled, stiff upper lips , sipping pints of Bloody Sunday.

There’s a lucky clover . A rainbow that ends with a holiday in Dover.

 Go back to milking your 5 minutes of arrogance

waking the neighbours in a condescending dialect.

Sounds like  every other  branded cattle breed that goes Moo.

Go on, size each other up and go who the fuck are you?

Uttering words about actions you could never lower yourself to do.

Dare take a peek behind you

I see an out line of  X-rayed, wannabe Bruce lees

Heads fucked up with inside battles

Wasted winnings gambled on a  fight with their own inner D,J.  shadows-

Naive thoughts  plant a flag thinking they’ve conquered the art of rhetoric kung fu

Here’s   a curve ball

 Bounce to lyrics of Mc masters — obey to tasting your words with Salt n Peppa.

Female goddess emcees  rule .

Shag your generic  Sia  sheep who keep their mouths shut.

Listen to your eloquent bullshit — the stench left over makes dissidents mouths open

Writhing  incredulous,

these open minded soldiers

Look on

Barely keeping down their own  spew.

These boys never compromise their morals-

Make a mistake

 wake up next to  a Lancashire blow up Doll  from last nights sexist shenanigans-

Supping the remnants of their 2 for 1 cocktails of diluted pitchers of woo woo .

Imagined a girl shouting Woo hoo.

Keep up this rhyming — dilly day and strive to look out for Hissen

Congregate  in a penniless free style masonry , boy scout coven.

Listen to the cult and obey to the commandant  of looking out for you Sen.

Knives ready to back stab  stray wildlings of  independent thought

And the balls to disagree with your collective A-(lpha) mens.

I’m standing here-

A free bird-wild and crazy.

 laughing.

these dawgs gave up their wings to live in a prison

Dispair.

Injustice

Submissive Howling at  the cycles of the moon-

YMCA  village people — cutting verses   to ward off open mouthed females — pouring out lyrics in a new shade of crimson.

They get to fly-

soar

tumble

 Kiss the sky-travel to new notions on a whim.

 Watch  the pack follow who they think is their leader for getting one, witty joke in.

Do the hokey  pokey

Turn around

Point a nicotine stained, skeletal finger ,

At the lass who refuses to  stay lowkey.

Light up a roll up ,  Climax on giving your brethren’s  token blow job.

Exhale the bullshit — macho man hype , leave the women to battle  the heat in the kitchen — we know how to turn down a knob.

Don’t forget yo mama’s rule

blow to cool

let the butter melt before you take a bite of that  corn on your  cob.

Yellow pissheads aint never  done no wrong.

Eat snow —

times up  — stamina let you down with your pelvic thrusts .

Premature ejaculation  interrupted your flow.

Are you  still hard ?

Can you carry on  ?

 ladling  out  soft serves of  ice cream .

Even the ladies trailing round the dog pound

Fake their orgasms when they scream.

It’s out of pity — you mad Heads –

Christmas is coming 

wrap up  warm in your  knitted  wu hoo  woolly jumper

Don’t forget  your gloves   after your  hump her .

Cordoned off crime  scene

she’s dead behind eyes.

Just cos you  got  blue ball syndrome

Don’t make it  right

to dig up a corpse-to pleasure your Sen with taunts.

Making  out.

Yeah, making out

that

you’re   perfect gentleman is easy

when you’re signed up to   the inner dating necrophilia brand  groupie fan website

The big issue is:

you’re a sell out.

Cry on with lies , look to the misfits

the Others  to despise-

Lose the disguise.

We see through the fist bumps,

Dry stained tear streaks .—

Read between the lines — cut your teeth on kiwi limes

Hey diddle diddles!

A round of applause for the  next  free faller who can muster out a few riddles.

Watch  out for when the clouds disperse

 and you land up

 back at the  bottom-

ass hitting cobblestones –

Here’s a pound for a pack of  Kleenex  tissues to wipe away those little dribbles .

We’ve all got  urban dictionary ,Grinch behaviour  issues.

*for all the ladies who get a bad rap and have listen to their local  men attempt to  big up    their own Woo (pie) Clan

Just a bit of fun 😀

And a bit of the true Wu tang

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Rebirth

Every body’s got to hear the shit on FM willows call!  😉

Stumped hand makes it arduous to know to what to write  about.

I made a statement!

Not the  one above — but to the men in blue.

finally the thugs who beat me

 multiple colours in hue

At least one will, hopefully,  get his due.

Option one-refused-

Throw acid his face!

I cant  live,  peacefully, knowing I consented to such an act-

diminish my integrity to a perilous few.

Revenge is emotional – it seeks to possess a person to extract bits of poison vials to sell to the human race.

Justice is what I seek.

I don’t know if he will get a record .

If he does does,

Justice would be one that doesn’t  allow him to hit random buttons and turn knobs up and down.

Sending out a musical strumpet to hypnostise his  disarrayed ideas, of how to treat the feminine race.

Feeling yellow-overly bloomed — in need of fresh water.

My petals are dying.

I need to wilt a bit more , give in to the yawn ,allow nightshade dream’s jaws to lull me into a warm breath.

Give myself some love,

then grow mighty for the the new beginning .

The next chapter .

Hell no,

the new book!

Moving to pastures new – time to wake to a fresh view of natures graphic portfolio.

Stay away from  the Richter scale  quakes in the roads.

The winds mighty disgruntled

at the idea that climate change is denied — to  the Americas they indignantly blow.

Poseidon strikes his trident, sends more after- shocks rippling- undistilled.

  Down the hatch —

hold your breath

Deny the world is in decay?

Deny the  world is not afraid?

Yield.

conform.

Get in line.

No more  violence , no more drama.

Stop taking the law into your own hands.

Stop the meritless beatings.

Respect what the elders have taught for centuries.

Find a lesson learnt when you see a tree weeping.

Justice for all.

Senseless violence against humans , non humans

All life breathers.

Respect that we all have our problems,

But there is no excuse to violate other Life , because we are crippled ,floating in pints of bitter ale,

at a loss at how  to even this score.

Drink yourself to death.

Snort yourself into a blizzard.

Guzzle petrol until you look as slick as the ocean /

Muzzle your words and think about your devious ideas-that awry ,flittering notion.

I rage for justice.

Justice for all.

Don’t blame another  for signing up to this card.

Roar  for Justice .

Bleat for Justice.

Scuttle for Justice.

Hey you, little, long neck! 

Don’t stick your head into the sand.

Waiting for  unsuspecting victims, before you sense you can bite off  another hand.

Dastardly cowards

Mutinous Muttley.

What about me ? i need my fill. 

Grab a hand , jack yourself  off.

 G—et a rabbit –

Let the artificial  vibrations  shake off your pious habit.

Made  a statement in more ways than one.

I start my new life soon.    I won’t look  into the eyes of the sun.

Folly? yes.

Fool?

not for long.

Justice is why i’m still standing .

My place in this world is not to hang with vomitious,

 gut heaving,

 mort fragranced ,

strung up bodies.

 Half eaten by wolves,fettered with flys.

  Eyes and flesh  pecked out by ravens  and deceiving magpies.

 My purpose is to move on.

*Revised stream of consciousness *

 

pycho phantic heathen

Write to recover is what I always say.

I’ve discovered,

Is  few of my words  leave me whirling with  – I’m proud to park,  pay and display.

Deals are made,

devils I summon.

People are abused, Charity leaps to a new order of Coven.

I write this way, with careless affray

to not lose a sense that words are tangible,

if  I work my fingers to imprint my genetic copyright

Confirming my DNA.

Some might say,

I try too hard

To write for better days .

Left to my own devices. I would live in clouds wrapped up in  grey hues-

a cemetery for all the left over  fillings

Thrown away, because of corrosive mouth decay.

In yer face!

Borderline – on the rocks.

I write to prove I’m far removed from serving  more time, in a straight jacket in New  Jack City.

Gangsters running around with silver bullet signed glocks.

I’v’e spent my better days basking in  previous glory .

Like butter it melts away the fear  of sleeping dormant .

One wrong box and I’d have been mistaken for a Tory.

Liberal with my words, eager to serve and love all my friends with creative pulses .

Tic tacs, I guzzle-colours textured in obscure.

I fight these escapism ,  inauthentic, paradise bomber  impulses;

To get high with — to lose track of time.

To think

I need a  potion of artificial wired, chemistry alternatives.

Usually these act as a placebo.

Serve to knock off my crown of  free willed determinism.

Courage lives in a mane,

a city  near Massachusetts

Puritans might discover I’m Freud in a ghostly slip.

I’ll be hung ,

Hands lie limp by my side.

Bled feathers  will tickle  the crowd-

Show I  bluffed my way into the inner circle of creatives who have a grasp of the

same

sane

 mundane

chain.

Heads up!

Forever chasing  the dragon of stream  of consciousness .

My thoughts fail me,

I’m beginning to think,

I’ve become presumptuous.

The kindness in others  words — to allay my anxieties,

Overwhelms me .

I tie my own tubes.

Disgraced.

I refuse to give birth to a dancer  with stubs for toes, phalanges pimped out to strike a  quivering echo-like ,   Margot  Fontaine pose.

Inner fear corroborate with the sinner without a legitimate C.V.

Write nonsense-

The Lakers swan to the crowd

I’m a nutter.

I’d   crack a prince just to see a picture  of  a colourful scene.

Abstract,

Mindful – in  the lines.

It’s not important.

Just a visual spray of shamanic chakras to impregnate the rainbow-I foresee.

Leprechaun leave my latin beats to breathe.

Mouth the words of soft brie , camembert and  wild boar.

Grant me a baguette —    riddle away, and I’ll gather my thoughts to satisfy thee.

Goddess Luna grants a cycle to merge with my  rites in fertility.

Thoughts exiled to Siberia-paid to be alone.

My government  saves me.

My soul

I will put down-

Though I know I won’t gamble it all away.

I win back my losses

Trust me, I know there is always another day.

Write, write , write.

Each word is a  middle finger at the writers academia  establishment .

I don’t want to be even  almost famous.

I don’t need a book with my name on it.

I blog merely to pour my inner most thoughts out — free up my world.

It’s about as poetic as I can get.

How about I insert the word fragrant?

I’m not academic.

My passion is not systemic .

Always in a position to sky dive.

Risks thought about

After I land in the hornets hive.

Stings heal .

It reminds me I feel.

I live by my words ‘cos I’m irksome and caustic within.

I was born walking into  webs of contradiction

and, now,

All I beg is for  is a hint  of credit

For expressing myself in this audacious fashion.

I’m not here to chat ’bout literary success.-

I’m already thinking about my post party dressed as myself-

the bodacious writer ,

Who is in fact a sycophantic heathen.

*INSPIRED BY A COMPLETE MELT DOWN IN MY ABILITY TO WRITE AND FINISH MY MASTERS*

 

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.

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

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 two 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’

Cassidy – a mind butchered

Go with the flow.

Instigate the wrong blow.

Cassidy never knows that what she reaps is what she will sew

Calamity caught stitching — a bleeding heart— on the floor in the kitchen

Screams and howls.

 Blowing off steam.

If only this was some form of dream.

Think not .

Think nothing — don’t go over each scale unless you are  retuning for the next —strumming.

Take a hammer to dead cartilage

 What’s the point in discriminating?

We all dine in silence  secretly trading  under the table of  Carthage.

Dead mothers — don’t miss them when they disappear.

Lucky girl-she is the true foe.

Deny a  credible witness but accept one day of fake snow at Christmas.

If there is a will there is way-understand the burden is useless-all that we inhale.

Heads talk of the grand hubris of being impaled.

Brain dead wrote this amongst a pesticide raid.

Shades of locust.  Supposed to be more focused.

Blanks fill this page.  The dud is conscripted to engage.

Failed .

Nailed.

Breath wanton to exhale.

 

*Just something I knocked up when I was in a bad head space a couple of months ago