Tag Archives: Creative writing

Sabali wabi sabi

Does it need to be said ?

Because the Media makes you think your make up is inappropriate

If you are horrified to ask Google for mental health support.

You know I’m hear to tell it — (once )’for a cause not for an applause’

To avoid the pariah of your mind.

Who you are is important for your wellbeing

Beautiful you are because of your malaise.

Its about what you think

A unique template for peace of mind.

Alone-thoughts are you,

And yours together.

Others’ opinions must dance alone with their shadows.

Fathoming the world is relative to your state

Your kind.

Diagrams and graphic diagnostics aren’t “normal”

Natural ?!


Merely for inferences and academic utterances.

Your Beauty is personified by playful events racing around your head.

Love it like you love…

…another human


Those who have numbers and words yet can’t calculate when there’s enough unsaid.

Needs are experiences.

Feelings are needs…

Interpret the world through the vessel of your spirited Self .

When skies hang drably

Do you dazzle because you can see a scattered horizon of hope — as a possibility ?

When the Others tether connections

Tumble into an abyss —

Can you see their limits ?

Step back.

Allow them to be.

Is your world subject to scrutiny because of how you interpret human nature?

Do you deviate from society’s accusations of what is the trending status quo?

What if the box you live in is… outside?

What if you build a bridge?

Bearing a cross

Over to acceptable taboos ?

Breath prescribed by an arched smile.

Diagnose yourself Beautiful- because of your laments .

Before time becomes an absolute Obsession

Forecasting the outcome to the finale to the play of ‘This is your Life’.

Take moments to repose.

Free yourself from the expectation

To be your career,

To win over the Marvel comic genderless hero.

Deprecate your expectations to finance your inner Happiness resources.

This entity is inside your realm of Consciousness — restless

Trodden and stamped into a standing pose.

Moments of reflection pace

Forwards then backwards


Are you what you want to be?

Can you begin a journey if you don’t understand where you are at?

Certainly living up to some other lifer’s calculation should…

Pause your being into a statuesque introspection.

To dismiss your guttural instincts will unravel you at the seams— out-thread you out of your very own mind.

Success comes from mapping out your own directions.

Hopeful-to wake up to another day of understanding ‘This is your Life’.

Your ability to comprehend, foreshadows your failed attempts to claw out of the darkest pit.

Sounds of the ocean lap to your melody.

Nothing that you feel about Today

Can conceive the trembling murmurs cut off from the guillotine of your Sanity.

In all of your figurements…are you determined to act out your suicide because you fear your inability to state your arousel ?

Who you are

Is that wrong?

Thoughts pre empt if everything is filled in with Leftism

Resist apologising

Dismiss you have the good view!

Change your world


Refuse every thing

That threatens your Passions —

That provokes beta beatings whistling out of tune.

Precious notions find a sense of disambiguation before the matter resolves itself.

Do you tell others to respond to what you fail to question?

Where is the perversity in watching the death of your inner Flinch — to conclude this delusion ?

What if you won’t be the canvas that contains an abstract spectrum fading you out of very own Self ?

Look on at those who shrink into their frames bled of every shade of hues

Is this what you want?

(Image sourced from SHADOWPLAY DESIGN )



Naive sex worker

*A character I’m working on for some project in the future*


Take me to a place where being penniless is the land of the free.

Pennies should only be  sought after a valued thought.

Lift my skirt higher?

Do you really think I can get that low?

I’m too shy to go all Billy bass

to consider blowing some dude in  his family  car-

in the hope of getting a lyrical limbo.

Or…am I ?

credit cards maxed

I hope you get it now.


that’s what I think I would say to the first punter.



Do time for…

Take your filthy hands off

Do you get it now?

This  life is awry.


They get  to fuck with




Confession -Don’t tell a soul.

If I ever became a whore

I’d make a kiss the most expense price on my list.

You know, tongues.

French kissing?



Romance is dead.


Obviously we all we want to…

be wanted.

Kissing is the height of  mind altering spooning.

Lack of kisses & cuddles  can make a  nirvana or dypstopia of…

unfixed abodes

Hearts in denial of their poverty.

 Two weeks to wait for  my interview.

Oooooh wee!

As long as my holy sunshine is safe.

whatever happens….


I will see some other side.

Smile, my blue eyed Mommy.

No throwing sand on a cardboard box

…just yet.

Still have  a few tears to battle out.

I do have a decent amount of  self respect.

Where do all the good people go?

Do they become bad?

Be strong little one!

We grow from jungle roots and a paradise  nigh off the setting sun

we clap in silence for nature —  our divine protector —



My prayers are with her holy  Gaia.

Squwark Streams on a sound byte

Shake it

… shake it baby

It’s prompting




Keys to unsilence the drama



 a  happen ing in my  Soviet Russian impersona

caricature is classic!

Say what is on yo mind…

why dontchwa.

too many interests’

Too little time.


I can’t rap

But I do

got flow

70% water — can’t Make this shit up…

Scientists don’t discriminate-

unless this  stream  is already  filled up

by yesterdays


outCHOON Ed by the  original televised  chooners


the premier

First and foremost a clickity clackety mandated muse.

Take  note — one way to scale down the itchy  scratchy post

lude  blues.



it gets a bit cameras in your  face-

Porno time ?

These nuts ogle for a trace.

– Streaming


Mind seemingly souring to this distaste.

Vinylise –

cos  she has no form

 other than to

intro- apple -genuisly feed

 a draft

 One day worthy for the First Lady to perform ?

It’s not all in my head

Shucks… Big up,Daisy  noted

‘mo brain mo crane’

Fly to the East

Sigh to the West

side with the South

 Hustle with  the  true north.

Whatever get’s  her typing

It’s all a bit willowy

Throw in a hillbilly (?)

if it gets these words making some…



doo wee

doo wop

Guess what?

ain’t apologising for being  an invader of my own space.

R. iveting



ha ha when you cha cha.

It’s dead.

‘it’s gone,Gym’

Giblets strutting down this street

Shaking their tail feathers to  those with the Harmonised feet.




vitro –


chiming  Dutch bells



Her the time is for her inner She-era.

The mice may be chasing  that scatty cat.

She speaks fluent meow-skies — knows a few tings concerning species ruled by the  One Count-Ah! Ah!

Give this a ball a  bat.

If you’ve caught up …

Tell her where  she lost the plot.

hint Where is she at?

doing the wiggle worm  , 8 years  young?

thinking ,

‘ maybe I’m a kid ‘—  kidders  rights to think

‘maybe I am shit hot.’

Child hood is bliss.



Impervious to the  nonsense .

Tolerate her apparent nonchalance.

she winds down




Screetches for more.

grasps the idea of throw your hands in the air 

Hit, publish — these  words

have  no shame, in saying

I don’t care.

Be content to have your own flair.


Sometimes you gotta groove the ghetto to let up some get up and get some get go.


I had fun writing this.

Parted Flesh.

*Currently, I’m working on my Masters-Year two.  I’m working on a piece about a jury split over the  ‘ grey areas’ of a  media frenzied, high  profile case, A young ,married man is accused of Raping his partner.  Is he  absolutely guilty of  Raping his wife? One night of passion. Two stories.  What happened that night?  The evidence lies in the hands of 12 jury members.*

  ‘Now are they not twayne then, but one flesh. Let not man therefore put a sunder, yt which God hath coupled together.’   MATTHEW  19:6

‘Do you promise to tell the truth, so help you God?



In Gender.

Half a dozen fester  in a room


A sweltering


In a  hyped media  play pen;

Forecast for doom.

 Devising the fate of a boy

In touch with his truth.

A mistake , is he to fall?

Be punished for the ongoing debate?

Does it make it right?

 Boy continues a relationship with the sexually assaulted.

A girl

Publicly  claims  fearful  of boy’s sinister

Fright on sight?

It’s never okay.

No means no.

Two people.

The truth.

Damn, that’s a blow

No drug could penetrate,

Mass guilt floods

Semantic fluid clogs the mind

Of a boy done  wrong.

Easy to get cynical..


You were to decide his fate.

Where do you compromise your

values, beliefs,

Determine the facts?

Voices swiftly  tear apart views

Silenced into  cloud funded crowds offset to  dissipate.

What is a worthy punishment?

Manipulate Boy  to gain the upper hand to…

….Deal with a death of  paternal bond?

Cash in on emotional  connections equivalent to living in the cult of  the son of  I am.

‘Forgive me not or let me be free!’

,he pleads

Can we move forward?

Can we  sever ties ?

Chalk it up to experience.


Vow to

Live without hubris.

His existence determined  by

A dozen eggs:

 The Jury.

Hidden behind Neon flashlights pointing to God’s hand

Directing the choir to  Man’s asunder demise?



Asunder is an adverb that means “into separate pieces.” So if you’ve torn your ex’s love letter asunder, you’ve forcefully ripped it into separate pieces — and rightly so.

Asunder comes from the Old English phrase on sundran, which means “into separate places.” It is a somewhat archaic and uncommon word and most of us know it only from marriage ceremonies: “What God has joined together let no man put asunder.” In most cases you can use its more common synonym “apart” and convey the same meaning, unless you want to express a particularly violent or forceful ripping.


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 –


my body will be dancing!

feet stilettos connecting with your underbelly

weak spots identified for a finale.



-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.


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.

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.