Write to recover
Don’t underestimate the power of a few choice words from another.
Still the mind-frozen ice bar decline
Mountain conquest-The victory is in the scenic songfest
Emotions sprayed in clouds of mist.
A place so far from the abuse of the daily grit.
Fight to recover — remember hope strives in another day
Feed and nurture this seed-give it an opportunity-don’t let another life sit and decay.
Losing time — people fragmented in a hazy rhyme.
Distance double flips somersaults. Impressive only till the sun dims less radiantly clocking off to snooze-lay down with others in benign.
Can only write when thoughts form a Congo – order, progress-the dance in this words come from a heart who usually expresses in mime.
Inflicted amoeba-exhaling indignant carbon monoxide. I despise seeking out for the one’s cued up at at destination ‘one stop’,Integrity lost standing mid line.
Metamorphose into a grey lizard , eagal or indeed be reborn as the mighty phoenix.
Third degree burns — death — ashes to ashes worth the pain to be reborn into the matrix.
The urge to sin imparts thoughts to defecate-all held sacred in the church of integrity.
Not enough to know the meaning-practice is what gives this value its credibility.
Walk the straight line — fight the inner hate crime.
Searching for a divine sign-reason dictates energy must endeavour with one’s moral retuning — to refine.
Speak up for the light that waivers-clinging on to its last breath
Inspired by an element with the capacity to cause devastation or provide a clear path leading to expulsion ending in
One wish to formulate all the intelligence into an honest medium of communication
History teaches-not all understand the world on multiple levels of perception of another situation.
Courage to flush the contents highlighting the spiral of organic destruction.
One day at a time — one moment to lie. Craving for the mythical Elysium.
Compulsive tics create a house of pain-exhaling tension-contain the nuclear feteus-natures own opium.
Losing track of the words that stumble — imbibed drunks-hungover searching for a quench of delirium.
Evade – This is the time when courage fails to conquer life’s illusive temptations — the bell tolls-the seekers contort to fits of tingling.
Invisible to the faithful patrons in full stasis cycle. A burden
a cross —
communication interrupted by Manic pleas to bear Atlas boulder with herculean madness lingering.
Cross eyed staring at the lit up pyres,
smell of human flesh disintegrate into a ritual released for those travelling the unknown path of death.
Reason can’t imprint enough ink — memories inclined to dementia bouts of forget.
Last nights shallow breathing ,shadows taunt — loom over until the inner eye seeks regret.
Promises made in a plea of chaotic desperation
Only to be forgotten the day after the congestion lifts — arise the sleeping urge to compete with this peculiar fascination
*photo credit Francesca Woodman*
the pen is indeed mightier than the sword- The weak will draw blood first.
Shame on who ?
for having an opinion,
Of the outrageous Manchester bombings.
Killing off innocent lives of younger generations.
Who truly wants to show who has global dominion?
Silent politician — the most deadliest opposition.
Spin a Democide on the innocents who make up the majority of our citizenship.
Corbyn speaks for young hearts with his Robin Hood mannerisms.
Noble enough to plant a feather in his cap.
The conservatives make a come back with hyper sensationalist plan-
What a way to react.
Theres a difference between responding to the people
and scaremongering those into a statement of hatred against immigrants
Western Tempers raised to look to the East for another insane bomber converted by the Quran.
A classic destabiliser move to keep the people less equal.
Social media doing her rounds — vicious terrorists — chuck the unorthodox bastards out.
Who funds the organised crime unit?
Who knocks another nail into societies faction,
sense of community to sustain a world clouded in doubt?
The injustice of this hypocrisy makes me want to fall to my knees.
Please, open your eyes-look ,
The bigger picture is not to look to a country living in a refugee crisis— riding it rough trying to traverse to safe shores on the tremulous seas.
No person in their right mind want’s to leave their own home.
What would you do to protect your family when you are staring at all your belongings obliterated into another political stitch?
Woven into the conditioned mind-fabricated lies — bursts of walmarts own clothes wash-Iron fist scented smokescreen.
A white wash to cover up the Theresa May in a niquab to bypass border control — look to true snitch.
Jumping from a sinking ship.
Is it not to enough to destabilise the economy?
Divide the minds of the people to instil a state of dichotomy.
Don’t buy into this cycle
Don’t let the Imperialists continue this barbaric rule.
Capitalise on the vulnerable they choose to keep less insightful.
Fundamentalist terror is home grown.
18-25 year olds orgasmic omnipotence can save the united kingdom.
not just this is England , with welsh sheep murmurs whispered across clouds seemingly made out of foam
Venerable private pensioners ,I respect your views
Wake up from this nightmare.
Giving up your unneeded winter fuel tax allowance isn’t helping to secure a strong future our children.
Let sinners repent . Let justice and humanity reign.
Have mercy on those who live in the world we are yet to share.
The stench of politics arrests my heart.
Don’t desensitise now
When death is imminent for your fresh start.
Elysium can exist in this world not just the next.
Look up by all means – It’s all generic text.
Look around and see the plight the innocents in this have to wage.
Stop this merciless hunt to cull young voices — remember the wisdom a child imparts with a mere smile.
They are truly the ones who are sage.
This is not a foreign terrotist ISIS attack
If it is-
It has been funded by the most conservative ,vicious Tory pack.
Sitting on the roof top trying to tell myself I’ve not misbehaved.
Blush rose hues creep up my cheeks and I know my hearts desire is unexplained.
I look at the stars — one always stands out brighter than the rest.
I say to myself — there goes my next conquest.
With liberal wings and green peace in my heart ,
I know for the sake of inhabiting my skin-unconfortable feelings will always play a part.
Forgive me for being free spirited and seeking out a bon ami.
If I had testicles would my new gender let me walk free ?
to be me?
It’s a plea.
I love what I desire .
I desire what I love .
I hate it when my sanity decides to imitate a neat whisky on the rocks.
Truth be told – I know I’m getting old .
Disambiguous feelings about the path I tread.
May my daughter’s laugh always bring me round to the sound of present day clocks.
Murmurs of hesitation .
Live my life, have a voice, and sail away
Where else do you think I would choose for a holiday destination?
The one I never have to come back from.
It’s me inside me.
Dare to take a part of me — feel my anticipation.
The specials-the after math.
Told off for my impulsive reaction.
The fact I’m conscious I am typing these words-
I feel inauthentic in how they roll out my mind with a hesitant tense formation
Words rise up ,around me – Jab me and a jeer me to dare say whats on my mind.
I’m not a child and I’m not venerable just yet .
So I swim against the tide of the alphabet soup.
Clarity I seek.
One tidal wave from forcing myself to write these words down;
If only to reinforce I have my own sound.
Sound as a pound
Scared of clowns .
That’s better-Socs — that’s my deal.
How I get from a-z- without reaching out for the plan involving illegally, prescribed Ativan.
Banned from my perception of the elite.
Breached my licence to complete…
Should I hit delete?
This is my beat.
I won’t let me beat me down.
Self is the worst enemy-you know how it ages your reflection
scowling in a frown.
She’s back in business now . Wah da da da da — the song clearly has relevance in my sense of decline.
Fall 8 times — get up again.
Who am I to want merely blend in?
I was born to be a Bengal feline.
Character building — life coach ,I sense my patience won’t let me vote for your reality T.V. yoke.
It makes me sick.
Watch one episode and I will mutate into just one more cockroach.
I’m on the down line with a mean upper hook.
Priorities in order.
House work infected by the pox — aren’t you glad you vaccinated your park life children?
Let my demon free to infiltrate the anti’s, confront them with the disease bitten book.
Have a say — what’s the worst that can happen?
Speak your mind — illegal aliens might just descend from that planet called Saturn.
Write to recover. Write to escape.
Shake up your mind , dare to continue —an inner ongoing live debate.
Not for hate — you make your own fate.
Feeling Anxiety. Too worried about what John Sax’s might reveal to his munchie queen.
Know thyself and be true to yourself.
I’m not going to change my character to fit in with society’s latest heart melt.
Superstitious mind – I earned it in walking my path — did you see my black belt?
Stand up for who you are and what you believe in.
Some may consider me strange but have you had a look at your inner heathen?
The entity is back — no wheel-dealing with a bad batch of sugar coated crack.
6 million ways to die — choose one
That came from a song – Who am I to sit around and hide?
* DEADLINE for EMA Sunday night. *
The song -contains some cussing and may offend feminists ….. 😉 Maybe not this song 😀 Idk.
The pain inside me remains the real deal
It’s a tragedy how I only cruise on wordpress when I have tears dripping onto the steering wheel.
The journey that promotes me to tap away is always inspired by an ill gotten day.
Deal with the past. It’s too easy to blame.
I swear, I look forward.
Stand up for where I go wrong and who I maim.
Revolving doors of asylum, inpatient wannabe beauticians.
Incredulous that my own mother
beaten by her lovers and suffered her own ills.
Thinks its better to throw me behind the institution with E.C.T. waves and the barbed wire.
Jesus had a crown of thorns – aesthetically cruel in their Romanic decisions.
It’s a loop on a loop.
more drama –
every week its the same song coming out in different shade of blue.
This won’t disappear by erasing my face from your mind.
My child is my glory.
You wonder why i can’t take this lying down?
instead I give you the flamboyant, cussation sign
Call the crisis team.
We live in a Theresa May ,Tory sperm infested government.
I’m not suicidal.
I’m not drinking
I’m not overdosing
Not taking drugs.
Merely holding myself at a metaphorical gunpoint.
I want to protect my family from the inner Iago in me.
Deceives and twists all the good my heart seeks to see.
A mighty herculean -blinded by rage.
Numbers are his torment – he looks to them like riches dripped in gold.
an obssesive compulsive disorder compells him to have less –
It must be all light and sage.
Alone , i wake up to the sound of silence.
No daughter to say good bye to ,
no husband plodding about drinking coffee and watching QI on rinse.
In Africa I would be welcomed for my rise in weight.
I’m not in Africa.
I’m in a mind fed on media, with distorted ideas about what to look like.
Social media , I hate.
Insight is a curse -Ignorance is bliss.
Two weeks away from my deadline.
Post graduate, Daisy willows , in the Humanities
I should be riding out to the ocean to collect my sun’s kiss.
I feel like I’m there for everyone- I listen to their woes.
I jump up and celebrate every time they make a success of their lives.
They shine so bright – I call them my ‘little twinkle toes’.
I know I shouldn’t expect,
then I wouldn’t ‘t get disappointed.
I keep up appearances until the night terrors pull me out of my bed, torture me under veiled sight.
filled with infected cuts and perceptions line up disjointed.
I’m not the only one who doesn’t have a family!
So, why do you get the hump when i have no other alternative but to call up the family intervention team?
I want my daughter to grow up without these bouts of fits & confusion.
the cycle of poorly managed mental health to skip a generation .
Enough with another ‘daughter following in her mother’s steps’ delusion.
There is more to the back lash of her tounge and callous remarks than plain old wickedness.
We are a narrative of complex emotions bound up, in a body of flesh and bones.
look beyond your eye line fall.
Seek and you will find a person who is not transparent -less.
Sick of seeking approval from social media one dimensional folk.
Cull the people who can’t see it for what it is.
it’s beyond a joke.
Cutting down on so called friends.
re catagorise my means to justify making ethical ends.
People see right through you
Unless your name is printed in black and white.
The best stars shine and go about unseen,
making wishes of hope seem bright.
Her rage tips over the sides – the current for those who get credit for being generico stereotype.
It’s all hype.
they barely even look alive.
I want justice.
I want the people who make a difference
to get credit where its due.
I’ve had enough of this fake bakery .
Diabetic shots brings out the bad assery in me.
I’m done with pretentious folk .
Emotional vampires who expect.
Because they think they precribe the ideal look.
Its sad, a shame.
Don’t get caught up in the superficial.
Remember, reality goes way past the fantasy of this screen.
Cos we naturally wired to be a human being.
We need to communicate
Technology has purpose – it’s not for living life in a kumbaya state.
So many lies,
people all have ties
That keep them reaching out for 39p tissues.
I’m here for authenticity.
Denounce those who I see,
in all their duplicity.
I can’t be good and kind to all that seek attention.
How tragic is this situation?
Goodbye to many of you.
who will never wake from your boggled eyed fallacy.
I don’t do this out of spite or even maliciously .
I see clearly what and who holds me back.
My sole purpose is to stay on track.
So good bye to some of those
I’ve met on my path
Good luck with your life and everything that comes with decisions aftermath.
I aint got no more energy for you.
My people, my life needs my attention. Arrears paid up –
Mini life update 14 days until I hand in my End Of Module assessment for year one of my Masters. 😛
I will have a post graduate certificate in the Humanities 😛🤓🤓
I have news….
A director (not name dropping) wants me to send him my script about the homeless couple.
I don’t think Im going to……..
Or maybe I should …..
I don’t know.
I’ve never thought I was a good enough writer to see my work brought to life.
It”s scary to think that success is possible.
Rejection is normal, but the more I distance myself from the people in my life who made/make me feel shit about myself, and my abilities, and my sense of belonging; the more I meet people who see the good in me .
I don’t want to feel like shit around people.
So, I would rather be surrounded by a small number of those who are true and think I’m cool ish 😎😉.
Let the rest of world get their claws out in their need for attention, and to be heard.
Life is a blessing already
One thing is for sure. I will never work for fame. I will always work for justice and what is right.
I’m struggling, but never will I give up or give in.
This heart beats.
These eyes have fire behind them
She conceives words as they follow. Military soldiers conform to order.
Dissident few stutter in a withheld, race identity, chalk circle.
Her brain won’t allow her to move on.
Lamenting for a trusted source.
Collapses onto hot tarmac. Too tired to alter.
Melt her heart.
Resuscitate the breathe that gives her corpse a reason to impart
For a creative outlet,
Her own personal work of art.
Hands raking through her hair. Grip at the sides, pulls out a chunk,
She’s dating an alopecia hunk.
This funk makes junk.
Eyeball sockets sunk.
It would be better if she didn’t care if the words weren’t her own.
It wouldn’t matter if the characters didn’t continue to harass her.
Calling for their story to be heard.
Multiple attempts. She can’t cut out cardboard citizens.
Maybe in an empty space, yes.
Verbatim theatre could work.
She submits to an elusive entity.
Virtual paper work-enough to bag a colostomy.
Not been on here much.
The guilt makes her turn her head away.
She gets it,
She needs to reciprocate.
Sincerest apologies for not being present.
She’s surfing the web.
Googling data analysis and Lady bosses fine tuning their hold on her own grip.
She prefers to lie down on green pastures than make love, on a bed,of green bills any day!
Unfortunately, life says she has to pay in paper too to make some headway.
It’s all right. It will pass.
Shivering from the inside. Lack of carbon dioxide.
Waiting for the critical to report how much recovery time she needs before Muse Goddess ups and leaves.
It’s a look of a person. Shrivelled into crass.
Thought-rhyming is a pain in her ass.
She’s laying it down in quick dry cement.
she knows we all want to be that portrait
She’s a portrait too.
Has her needs
Open your eyes-reach out to touch her.
These layers of skin hide organs, bones ,
And a heart so tense-all it can do is wheeze.
“This is me. I can’t deny it.”
We all have a life.
Hers has become a familiar rendezvous with Alien Jackson sporting a mullet.
What does it matter if characters are Black, White or Hispanic?
Social realism settling on common ground upon its release.
Not for an escapist’s palate.
What is the state of theatrical politics, on the horizon, beyond that place we call-
Not even two Bonds can be saved.
Pearl earrings engraved.
Her gums are in recession.
Blame the bank and the Tories.
Her feminist views will place blame on those next in succession.
One larger – hangs limply from her chest.
Commit a mastectomy on her femininity
Humans fight terminal illness, homelessness…
How dare she think her position is dire.
Disbelief that that her renegade words follow in a Capitalist order.
She falls onto her knees,
Thanks Ashanti for her daughters.
Time to shove a half pill down some pussies throat.
Its nasty ,
Doubts whether deep throat works
She’s trying to stay afloat.
Her illness-the chronic versus the opposite divide
It’s her personal narrative that finds her margined between this blank space on each side.
Calm and serene.
A mother is reborn.
Lost for 3 days — late – couldn’t rise,
Her mind was indeed full of scorn.
Today, she waits,
Wrings out her anxieties.
Maybe new teeth will win her virtual friends.
Give her more appraising likes
Maybe, they will finally see that she is real,
rearranging her mask-unsure of what reflects back at her multiple ‘Me’s’
Her reflection is divided into pieces.
Cant fathom out that there is a whole entire being to examine
Jig saw puzzle unresolved ,
yet again crippled to her knees.
Fervent sweeping up of shattered glass.
For a figment of a second she saw an outline
Stories march in protest – for plot out lines, dramatic structure, scenes, reveal characters in lace
Just enough exposed to show.
Three more weeks, one year down-more time for unadulterated fun.
If you don’t hear from her,
Know she weeps every night into a whisky soaked bun.
It’s a metaphor.
Let go and melt the sun.
Cool down its temper. Versailles gardens make her think of France cut into a jambon quarter.
Carry on till the end.
All the books say she ought to.
Humming a song
Doing her thing.
A mere whiff of failure invokes convulsions from within.
‘Write for myself ‘
Truth , integrity and courage is the only way she will let herself be heard.
If you can’t accept her-carry on peeking over at her life, not mentioning if cuckoo finally flew.
One day, you won’t be able to tighten Ids screw.
*Inspired by a kish kash, Mish mash of nerve endings and beginnings .
I’m having a nervous breakdown
No tear gas needed to see my features frown.
Give up, let go.
It doesn’t matter.
Give in , give away the words
I write from my inner chatter.
Pride may come before a fall.
This writer is mad and frenetic enough to bawl.
Sleeping alone with a furry bengal.
Live and breathing, nightmares shedding one too many a ghoul.
I live in fear of letting myself fail.
It’s more innate stubbornness that leaves my face pale.
I’m sick of over achieving. I’m jaundiced from worry.
Projectile thoughts invade my space. illegal immigrants hide in my quarry.
Work so hard and see no results.
When I see the rainbows end -I may watch the blood seep from my wrists.
The mind won’t let me have a moment off.
Fatal escapism needed
a dose fit for a carcinoid cough.
Every moment – liquid drains my lungs.
when talcum powder is blown into organs.
Mop up creativities flow.
I can’t breathe in this dungeon.
Get out of my way ,don ‘t look at me – snarl and bite a portion out of your flesh.
Vegan turn rotten, core bound up with an unnerved bile uprise.
Human machine venting for my inability to refresh.
Hold up my dignity
keep me in stents;
make sure I don’t end up in a coffin embellished with the last person buried alive.
A scene far too surreal and intense.
I’m a lunatic.
You scare me but dammed if I will roll over and play dead.
Like sand through the hour glass
blink once and the deadline is almost head over arse.
I’m scared of failure
I want to be the man to pull out exacaliber.
Merit and knighted.
how shallow glory is,
I’m far too short sighted.
Immobilized in a zombie fashion
Micheal Jackson thriller
Nearly forgot to yell ‘action’.
Take me to a planet fermenting in sushi.
I need a trip to find my very own mighty booshy.
Writing is my hoochie. 😁