*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
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
these open minded soldiers
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.
these dawgs gave up their wings to live in a prison
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-
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
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.
Yeah, making out
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
The calm before the storm.
I break my fast musing over my odds of being crazier than the norm.
Booming shutters smash – open and close.
— Brain sensory over load — the cranium structure is deceiving in its form.
The third eye lazily flickers in a state of REM.
Here I am attempting to channel my inner chakra.
I’ve resorted to stick-on Goggly eyes to play the part of spiritualist guru ,sipping on high tea, to awaken my inner rapture.
Dear Goddess Kali can you save me?
from the howling winds,
The mooing cows spinning around me, moaning gutturally for their new fateful flight as fledgelings ?
My house shatters into a myriad of snow flaked, razor sharp,jaggered pieces.
unable to repair the damage .
Take a searing hot iron to my face to smooth out the grimace in my features .
Sacerdotal screams in the night — a man stolen from his lullaby.
Distant but not too far off – I keep my inner warrior on stand by.
In truth, it’s the time of the creatives .
Out come the freaks
brazen in their efforts to destroy,
my favourite playlist titled: sweet dreams.
I wonder who I will be in 12 months from this very hour ?
Where will all the thousands of words I’ve ploughed through with oars
Will I have sailed?
will I capsize?
Will I have ability to walk or be a cripple, dragging myself by the elbows under a storm pelted bleached ,grainy beach?
– Will I carry any legitimate power?
The Temptations won’t knock
They will saunter in .
Oh, it’s to be expected.
I refuse to fall to my knees,
swear my allegiance to make another man’s family richer
Than see mine indicted.
I’d sooner sit on a floor , covered in colours of paint and corners lit with the smiles of my loves.
I’d sooner watch paint dry or read a screenplay loosely based on what I know about when life comes to rouse me with rough pushes or shoves.
Elements balance my kinetic ,
complex feelings of despair.
Change comes with promise.
Fear comes with very little solace.
Motion to a new position –
don’t cower from success
It might even suit my current attire and my inner prowess .
My time to deliver.
Get my due.
For me and my few.
My kind words are still here and my support?
I have some to spare.
I won’t waste it on those who don’t reciprocate
The err is but their own.
Chosen to remain frozen-staring down a hall of , pale, mirrored self reflections.
unable to see
they are not the only ones
Who need encouragement and care.
I swill down the remnants of this blessed meal with the rest of my cuppa charr .
I clamour to suppress my applause.
I catch out the dawn rising with a yawn unashamed ,gloriously
I’m no longer afraid to be the lunatic. I’ve seen the powers of nature.
Forces of rage.
still waters run deep
This insanity is something I hold dear to me-
The great mother gave it to me-
I will set with the sun
It’s my duty to consummate all that is sacred.
Revised stream of consciousness — border line poetry.
*feeling nervous and excited for year two of my Masters , moving home and shizzle like that 😉 ha ha*
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.
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 .
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?
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.
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.
not for long.
Justice is why i’m still standing .
My place in this world is not to hang with vomitious,
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 *
Charlie met Esther on abortionist roe.
Hedges neatly trimmed – enough to disheval a bearded vagabond to weep after his latest woe.
No coat hangers to gut the newborn sac.
Charlie stood for hours until her number came up.
rouge screen screams with a tremulous beep.
to strike the star lead role in a Bolly wood film deal.
unsullied arrived in a cumulous cloud,
stricken by a thunderous compulsion to wail.
Esther didn’t hear the bond lust, lilted scream.
memory hazed -by two fat ladies at gate number 8.
Efforts disarmed – inability to count down to the primal odd.
nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth.
Envy immoblised to an unrecalled dream.
swinging on tyres.
Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumber loses night mare credibility to a sterile clinic;
Action paralysing every unconscious scene.
Strathem , London-night defends to keep watch.
Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defiblerater harmonizing jolts to the beat of
‘ Staying alive ‘
Old granny hoovered up flowers chocked in ivy a patterned carpet ,
Mist of lavender lingers. This bitch knows how to spray.
Dont mess with the O.G.
Peppered,seasoned hair, non linear lines carve out a facial narrative.
Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.
desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel cluedo.
It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know..
Scissors ready to stab a beating heart,
Positioned in foetal
Sucked out the uterus.
Pro voice .
Tall walled wars.
Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.
Nobody is scrutinized so fiercely as the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideals can afford her.
The NHS paid for a private eye.
Two signatures deemed sufficiant to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.
Shame less in her flowered disguise.
Ginger nuts ,un savoury tufts.
No, this wasn’t her nine month due – no ice cubes for killing in the name of freedom to govern her own vessel.
No need for pro life stepford wives lies.
Where would our saints stand without a dissident at hand?
Society sit down, protest proudly.
Part the veil of clouds
Peer piously downwards,
ready to strike thunder bolts of judgement.
Rain down booming terror tactics .
Esther cares not for their gospel band
Society sips, exhalingg wafts of fair trade, Ivory coast coffee beans.
Privilege smells of a modern holocaust of starving babies in bony mothers arms.
Who said any of these women consented to consummate?
Penatrative obedience to the phallic statues erected in morning glory psalms.
What if God was one of us?
a scripture in the making.-
Touch and kiss the sky .
Would he become the true reflection we see ,when we catch ourselves about to exhale the final breathe ,before we die?
Fantasies always signed off with a silver lining and promises of a rainbow.
Reality is cold,
winter serves a plateau of ice .
Frigid flowers frozen in angst,
Rebel against their reproductive nature.
One full gasp.
If only a mere raspy rant leaves on its depart.
It’s either them or an urban jungle of homo sapians collecting another free day ride .
Ready to infect ignorance on every global ocean that has shores that go out at low tide.
Write to recover is what I always say.
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.
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
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.
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.
The Lakers swan to the crowd
I’m a nutter.
I’d crack a prince just to see a picture of a colourful scene.
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.
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
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*
We live in a belly fighting off bacteria
Begging other intelligence to disembowel us.
a tsumanima of hate floods our irrigation system of morals.
No lives matter.
Nazi’s aren’t the only few crazier than Mercuries Mad Hatter.
Everyone has an opinion.
Every Judy thinks they are entitled to a Punch – no need to be drunk.
infuriating that we can’t learn violence is a domino effect.
Cause and effect
ripples from thrown stones.
Balance in humanity
artifially insemitated tinnitus
is the reality.
We look to archaic verse in the Testament that
‘ an eye for an eye’
is as natural as two beasts being violated while they are in active fornication.
Instinct and emotions show us we are alive.
We feel, we must feel — we have to feel to carry a vigil of hope
Some divine sign,
god, goddess installed a program of free will.
Why not take back this privilege?
Why make a world perfect and full of sublime, lure us out with the promise of sunshine?
Caters to the needs of every breather, every ecosystem.
No need for uadulterated theft.
God is a Narcissist.
why would someone with such power sit back and watch us destroy one another?
Fuck the lies, the parables,
Jesus dying for our sins!
His resurrection has risen along with centuries a blasphemeous leaders chanting idolific hymn.
In the name of ignoratious barkus dogma
Religion – organised to control the masses
Opium now smells of it’s true odour-terrorisim .
Bombs, nuclear weapons, fists connecting with human bodies, unlicenced rifles blasting into chunks of animals flesh .
Who is right?
This game has found us lost in a maze and the goblins haven’t the eduction to translate to us
cuts to every department,
This is prison.
Suicide seems an answer to a man’s motive to rise to heaven and receive a reprisal.
That is a given.
God is a narcissist .
Jesus-is a shoddy carpenter.
Mary Magdelane -the whore,is the only tangible part of this story I find plausible.
Create a world – destroyed by nations.
Give me a sign!
suffering to this extent is for an entity pantomime.
Enlightened gods, sit on Mount Olympus ,never miss an episode of planet earth.
The screen darkens to reveal
another dismal form of the masses , pupils— dilated, babbling words of freedom to.
freedom to insult ,
freedom to obliterate ,
freedom to impregnate,
Freedom to do anything.
A society bloated, heaving up piles of excess.
Anarchy doesn’t mean terrorisation
Revolution is for the mighty of heart.
Ones who wish to see change from inequality for the many in parts.
We all deserve to be on the earth offender register
Why do we have laws ?
when we take our grievances into our own hands.
How can there be justice?
-when justice fails us with a well practiced pose of inverted corruption?
Trust in humanity.
Live by your true North, moral compass .
Born in navigation mode,
even if life serves you a sentence of physical deformity;
Don’t look to the sky for an answer.
Don’t look to a man with free words dribbling down his jumper.
Don’t tear down statues that can’t fight back.
There is no sense in joining hands with this vicious pack.
We all have it wrong.
Every. Single. One. Of. Us.
Think the death penalty teaches people to stop being immoral?
Tears cause waves, I’m hiding between the reeds and the coral.
Every face has that stoic sense of entitlement
Knitted together,from years of oppressive governments taking our God-given birth sight to see what a plight this truly is.
We all need to hang.
Hang our heads in shame.
Cut out my heart
See it bleed
Let it bleed –
examine the appearance of your own and understand there is no difference –
we come into the world
We all rely on another hand for our first feed.
I’ve always been taught to have a plan B
I find myself alone; ready to denounce my mammalian side and take my chances, swim against the tide of oil sickened oceans, in one last effort to truly be free
Free from hate,
, free from words spoken with a lingering scent of horse manure,
I denounce my own and seek a new home on the basis-I don’t recognize my own kind.
I don’t see a common interest,
all I see is another foe.
I choke on these words.
Why can’t we learn!?
I could go on, but we have unread history books, in abundance.
Nothing is censored.
The age of enlightmenent has turned into the birth of disallusionment.
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.’
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
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
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.