Tag Archives: in yer face poetry

Sadie- F*** Pillow talk

Be the prick

 Be the swollen lips

Be the trickle of blood sauntering down her pale leg.

Treat her fragility -with vagile virility – trust in her own common sense.

Let her open up to you

Let her tease you into bed, out layered by peels of laughter.

Perhaps you find yourself lying up looking at her naked body, legs astride your torso in your bed head.

 

Don’t try to stop her from controlling the ride.

Sadie’s on top

you best stay on her appealing side.

 

Reason shuts down – arousal highjacks all senses.

an Amygdala orgasm- hands reveal the disguise no pretences.

Light strokes vary speed and pace.

Exposed to surrender at near glimpses of skin covered in see-through lace.

Playful

Cleansed and tainted from the dance of sentients

Sweaty, ruddy bare cheeks,   clothes abandoned, sheets ruffled into a dazzling fusion.

Eye to eye contact  threatening on impact

Discard pained thoughts numbed by this oxytocin released from incarceration.

Sadie’s initial taunts inspired events such as this audacious body gratification.

Whiskers of petit amours raise to embrace all sensation.

Blood whips around a  framework

 Frenetic climax into a bewildered orgimi of elation.

Beating hearts enthral Sadie to linger.

All mighty mother nature – gave us each blessed finger.

 

Sadie gives what she feels can un-ribbon her mask of distrust.

Less than few broke her hymen soul – merging adoration and lust.

 

Needs fulfilled. Fuck pillow talk.

don’t ask her how it was.

See her eyes, see her smile, see?

Her face won’t betray her mind.

indifferent to praises of technique.

 

 Trust that Sadie’s tasted delicacies never  to discover again

Tongue provokes once soft nipples – get it right.

 you will know by instinct if this entices her.

 

Spontaneous love.

All-time suspended from her world,

You may lose yourself too

 entangled in limbs.

Sadie need not hear your confession – though she smiles at the gesture.

She knows your lip service is filled with the original grace of binding hymns.

Comely are those creatures features when treated with respect.

Learn to appreciate a woman.

Learn to appreciate art.

Learn what is and isn’t a subject.

 

Study her until she catches you out

Especially when you least expect it.

A conjurer of a finely dressed tables

in a laboratory with you as her primary objective.

 

 Endowed with abundant pleasure

A pinch of naive seduction

That look, you wonder –what could she be thinking?

 

Maybe you’re to busy having a good time to think.

 

Maybe she stops mid-thrust  curiosity aroused

Out loud you hear  -What are thinking about? 

 

Maybe you fill  her with expectations

A moment of  temporary heady delight

A moments reprieve from her  slumber

 

 Facedown  femme fatale floats

Parted lips

Over Imbibed in the river of Styx.

 

*Inspired by Gustav Klimt’s  ‘ The kiss’*

Hashtag all “crazy” Words matter

I’ve been thinking about the words we ( I) use, (perhaps flippantly) at times. Without really thinking about the meaning of what we say to describe a person.

An example?

Crazy.

My 8 year old daughter uses this word to describe anything / any person who seemingly comes across as alien or eccentric to what she doesn’t understands about people’s behaviour & words.

Continue reading Hashtag all “crazy” Words matter

Cinquain -Batarde!

Fathers

Sons of other mothers

Paternal, protective of those who raised them

Desperate screams, abandoned by their original sires

Bastards!

This is how do it±

1: one syllable (title),line

2: two words describing the title

3: three words relating the action,

line 4: four words expressing the feelings,

line 5: one word recalling the title.ber of syllables i.e. line

I’m supposed to be working but I’m doing anything but….. I thought let’s humiliate myself more ( how low can you go? I couldn’t care less tbh… It helps my mind to do all these silly creative experiments.

So here is hazy daisy “singing” in what appears to be French.

(Trying to get back to speaking French again) I’mnot trying to make money out of it so it is all good! 😉

 I’m lucky to have a husband who loves our daughter like she was his own. She is in everyone’s eyes becuase  the other amoeba literally refused to see her!

Fuck him cos he was a creep & a nutter & disturbed & he pressed EVERY.BUTTON.IN.MY.SOUL.

 I’m pretty doolally, okay. He was insidious and cos I fought back when he was violent or put me down  I got blacker, more yellow, more trips to the hospital. I grew to hate him. And there are not many people I can say I hate. One person -Him.

I focused most of my B.A.  in creative writing getting over his perverse ways and utter lack of respect for me. I graduated with a post-graduate degree in the humanities (high merit) THANKS for the material.

As for Gaz, he used to come with me to contact centres and wait for me while I saw my daughter  for10 hours a week ( for 16 months), I’m often caught off guard at how hands on a Dad he is. Difficult behaviour or not. He truly loves our child. I didn’t think it was possible. He does.

It’s been a tough one today cos my Gaz’s Dad died a few months ago. I tried to ay happy fathers day to my own Dad. My gut feeling is he can’t he be arsed. I’ve been a problem since I was 2years old. my Dad and my stepmom decided when they got married  (over 30 years ago) that they would forget about any previous children. So my stepsister lived with her gran and I lived with my Nan ( and mom and I lived in many different places, countries. And I was extremely unsure of who I could rely on as we all have our issues in life, especially as adults.

I am a Bodley cos my Nan is mind-blowingly switched on 81 years old. She goes to pilates, has a hectic social life and she loves the bones of me & my daughter. She is into the arts and she has never turned her back on me ( for long) 😀

I’m also half of my mom. And I’m happy and I’m proud of my mom. I strive to be more like my mom because she had abuse hurled at her from every direction – my Dad’s side, her side, husbands. My mom has the heart and courage of a lion.

Oh well….. My Mom, nan and my gran and my grandad raised me. I TRULY HOPE HE IS HAVING A GREAT DAY, he is my Dad.

If he taught me two things in life it was:

drugs are okay ( haha) just kidding.

No, he taught me how to party, not bother about what other people thought. He taught me how to fish. And he tried to debate more time for me when I was on holiday in 2004. He taught me that men couldn’t be trusted and he was the second male (after my stepdad) who rejected me because he was happy. He also cried when he found out about soem crazy shit that happened when I was a toddler. So- respect for that fatherly protective feeling. However, fleeting.

Unfortunately, I have a stepmother who hates me( and my mother) and is nasty when she drinks ( but fuck her). She may not now. She is vindictive & I have no time for her polluted mind. I wrote an 80 000 w0rd draft basing one of my characters on her. Thanks!

She is also funny, and a tomboy. And we have had good moments laughing together. I have a sister who I don’t really know how to be connected to her.  She’s jealous of anyone who takes up my Dad’s attention. As long as she is healthy and happy then I wish her the best. My English family are assholes. Except for one great aunt. The rest are mean & so provincial. I don’t know why? Oh, cos I’m different…

FUCK IT!  Anyway… I’ve grown to appreciate bits of  Yorkshire & the culture here, cos my Nan is and great Nan (was a legend ) and I’ve met some amazing friends here who put up with me.

That’s just way it is.

There are brilliant Dad’s out there! And I’ve seen them and you all rock. My Dad can be cool, funny & frustratingly quiet .it’s drawing blood from a stone chatting to him. Maybe he is shy but ff’s  He did win the race to procreate.

Write to recover, be happy or die trying!

It’s all good.

 

Esther Roe

Charlie met Esther on abortionist row.

Hedges neatly trimmed – enough to dishevel 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.

Raging
rouge screams with a tremulous beep.

Surreal
Conceal
Unable
to strike the star lead role in a Bollywood film deal.

Unsullied arrived in a cumulus 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 – the inability to count down to the primal odd.

Nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth. Envy immobilised to an unrecalled dream.

 

Innocents smile swinging on tyres.

Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumberless nightmare  loses credibility to a sterile clinic

Action paralysing every unconscious scene.

Stratham, London. the  Knight defends to keep watch.

Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defibrillator harmonizing jolts to the melody of

‘ Staying alive ‘

Old granny hoovers up flowers choking on an ivy patterned carpet.

Mist of lavender lingers.

This bitch knows how to spray.

Don’t mess with this O.G.

Peppered, seasoned hair, non-linear lines carve out a facial narrative.

Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.

Inebriated illiterate desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel Cluedo.

It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know…..

 

Scissors aimed

ready

to

stab

a beating heart

 

Positioned in foetal

Sucked out the uterus.

 

Pro-choice.

Pro voice.

Pro-life.

Pro midwife.

Tall walls

Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.

Fiercely scrutinized is the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideas can afford her.

Quality control.
The NHS paid for a private eye.

Two signatures deemed sufficient to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.

Shameless in her deflowered disguise.

Ginger nuts, unsavoury 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.

Sins anoint.
Sins accumulate.

Where would our saints stand without a dissident at hand?

Society sits down, protest proudly.
Part the veil of clouds
Peer piously downwards,

ready to strike thunderbolts of judgement.

 

Rain down booming terror tactics.
Esther cares not for their gospel band.
Society sips, exhaling 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?
Penetrative obedience to the phallic statues erected in morning glory psalms.

Civilized society!

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 are frozen in angst
Shatter like glass.
Rebel against their reproductive nature.
Air.
breathe.
One full gasp.

If only a mere raspy rant leaves on its depart.
It’s either them or an urban jungle of homo sapiens collecting another free day ride.

Ready to infect ignorance on every global ocean that has shows we all go out at low tide.

Rebirth!

JUST

ICE.

Everybody’s got to hear the shit on FM willows call!

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

The one about the b*st*rd Muppet

* when I’m angry I like to think the pen is mightier than the sword, this is a revised stream of consciousness about the same person.*

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 to 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 leftSipping 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?
I’m not sorry — you deserve a room date with perverts in sodomy.

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 inflicted 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.

Raindrops 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 mother’s 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.

It’s a suicide

RIP KEITH from the Prodigy.

I planned another attempt on my knees

Spoke to a God

Pathetic

Uninspired

Extraterristial

Daisy is no more.

A body emptied walking on egg shells.

Shocked mind

No purpose

too unkind.

Secret whispers

Willful whiskers

Silent sisters

Cause me to break out in blisters.

Words fail to recover my obsolete pose

Hesitant

Defunct

Maleficent

stream of wrong chosen floaters in crimson blood rivers.

white foam is my diffident

Illiterate

A hypocrite.

Angry cross dressers

hung by confusion

bungee jump without rope into a quagmire.

Prayed to a cloud God in an attempt to die

magnificent.

Lost, scared, dreading my loss of locks

inside I’m already dead.

Queen bee keeps me in fear

droplets of pollen

my rival is life

sincerely solemn.

A fraud

illiterate.

Alone decorated in red confetti

Enraged at my syphilistic minded inability to write even borderline literate.

Fits and spirits

rummy body popping misfit.

Failure to perish

shelf life insignificant.

Non academic.

A failure at talking transparent.

A liar

A thief of integrity.

A coward rumpled into a once upon a time melody

No solace — out grown to suffer from eternal colic.

Insignificant.

Stubborn push me over

‘cos it’s a waste of oxygen.

Recovery is overrated.

Trust when I say

I’m insignificant.

Footloose –

I lied and I planned

My prison is this world.

Let me go!

I’m not strong enough to serve the bee revolution cos I’m different.

Lonely.

Scared to never feel my bones.

Lonely.

Scared to lose my only love

My minds my terminal to Cancer.

Purpose – 37 years wasted in ignorance.

I’m not writer

I’m a fighter.

An enemy of my Self.

Uncomfortable with peoples apparent confidence in my ability to not give up.

Strength is not telling

Can’t keep a secret — I’m a fraud — I lost my soul to the devil 3 decades ago.

A ritual given freely to a demon I couldn’t please.

I’m insignificant

Why did I tell of my plans?

Damn do gooders orchestrating my life.

Suicide is the answer.

I’m dead inside

I’m a joke-I’m aimless — shameless

Engaged – remember to pretend to be engaged.

Life is a sham — there is no plan.

Fear makes me who I am.

A writer died on that table.

I shrink my words-

I am not who I say I am.

Leave me

Don’t tease me;

Hated

underrated.

People — I don’t get you — assist me — talking in skipped beats

a sham.

Daisy in the willows

I’m not a fan.

Help me disappear

not in another room with four walls

Damm you,Bee

you hold me rooted

Why do I love you ?

You’re my child

I am A mother on mute.

Lost to a cause

Petrol bombed mind.

A lost cause to

These four walls.

Life is a shore ditch with no applause.

Inherently stubborn

alive — so very sudden.

Cheated out of death

I don’t want to live

Stop saving me

Screaming to a society blinded

deaf.

Samaritan I’m your even,

my

selfish? , yeah

welling up in self pity.

Take my Queen — kill me — a paperless tree.

these words are not free

I cannot be

Fuck the world

Listen to my plea.

Let me die

damn you all

I have Cancer in my mind.

You live behind fake smiles and superficial styles.

The only time i ever felt free was when I wrote without thinking

I’ve lost my creativity

I’m done thinking

My rights taken from me.

Death embrace me

Comfort me.

Why can’t you fall in love with me?

Damn you all.

I am my biggest flaw.

Live for yourselves.

let me disappear into a shallow grave carved out of skin

Scarred by the welts of time.

A master of self distortion

Fuck the life-it serves no function.

All I had were my words.

Now I have nothing but a habit of crawling on hands and knees hiding from life’s sores.

I don’t want to be famous.

i want another chance to die — Fuck you

I’m possessed

I’m shameless.

Hospital and doctors orders

I’m not an animal!

I’m a ghost of the cult of the morbid.

These are my words

Damn you, Bee!

Manipulate me into loving you

If only I didn’t care.

Maybe I don’t…

These words are simple.

Not good enough.

I’m the fucker with the guardian angel who won’t let me go.

Fuck you, you test me, then arrest me.

I’m perpetually unhappy.

Let me go.

Let me finally be free.

I was born into the wrong world,

The wrong time.

fuck you all – I don’t want to be

Yet still

I’m too damningly kind.

Survival of the fittest — I’m a rumpled coward-a retard — a misfit.

Damn you,host — you saved me — when you should have save your breath for another.

I exist for others peace of mind.

*something self loathing in Rage -is (?) I wrote post -suicide attempt*

Write to recover. I don’t always feel so much self loathing. There is always a silver lining…….

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’

About Write to Recover

My blog (that I share) has always been about ‘keeping it real’ and being authentic to myself. I never started out my blog  think ing – YO This is the shizzle- (as my mate Lou says). And then expand my blog to include other passions and interests on Art, mental health, politics, ideas, poetry. I’ve started writing what I’ve ahem.. coined borderline poetry or IN-YER face poetry, done a couple of open mic nights and delved into recorded spoken word projects and film projects.

I wrote/write about the shit going on in my head. I t was and still is a way to get all the crap sifting around my head out and into the written form. It’s a creative outlet.

I call this method of writing ‘Write to recover’ -I often us stream of consciousness techniques. I try not to overthink what I type.

I believe in the quote.

The truth is stranger than fiction

Mark Twain

I don’t know about any of you…

But I’ve lived a long and colourful life (I’m not  bitter, I wear my heart on my sleeve )

I’m just trying to do what I need do to get by.

Music is a full-time love of mine. I want to get into music journalism. I want to write about album reviews and singles.

I have the opportunity to know something many dope and creativists (creative people). who have so much to share. I get the opportunity to do interviews.

I am passionate about interviewing all artists – painters, D’J.’s, film/documentary enthusiasts/ photographers – anyone passionate about being creative.

It is as a bonus if they are aware of mental health issues. Cos we all should be by now. We need to start coming together as a community.

I believe being creative helps improve our mental sense of wellbeing.

No one is perfect. Don’t knock yourself for getting through and surviving

Here is my thought for the day

If someone is going to treat you like crap. Replace their Ass. Especially if they fall into the non -fam category. Don’t give up on your fam, folks.

Daisy/ GOATS2BDazee/Natasha Bodley

Love Cartel didn’t end well

sails set -flappers on deck- bags packed ready to dance with le mistral –

Prepare for signs of cursive scurvy , unorthodox rats.

a canary and a dove destined for a new type of island style

Known by the name king Louis of swing.

Roots.

Start over.

Allegiance to the flag

Pledge to acquiesce to the captain of this ship

He – the cardinal son.

She- Scarlett wife , tresses of a bedheader installs a navigation Wicca app aura .

Puritans on the other side of the reminisce  -wont flock in God’s pinitation no more.

Men blemished from wearing rosacea glasses,

They don’t mind if their ladies flesh is pricked by a stranger.

Possessive is not a prerequisite to all nature.

If she hustled away every coin for her current despicable appearance,

Would his fists mangle into the renegade degenerate?

He ,sitting on a cracked pavement, sipping beer 9% proof distilled hops poison

The brain canters away with a wild neigh, a hurdle jump to late to plummet off the mezzanine ?

Money talks .

Yes, your majesty,

The Queens face-discordant in all apparitions injects a dose of annus miribilis.

Scarlett wife Disorderly conduct causes a head to head, bollocks to a curtesy,

Sight convinces the reality of her hand gripping onto a can of mace.

No!

Artistic expression insists on splashfuls of colour of cans .

Expressive language told in graffiti.

Stand back — look at the words staring at you on the attack

What is respect ?

No dictionary to hand. Examples pour out without definition.

Pleasantries, thank you , cups of tea, good nights, mechanical nav app claiming

Quickest reroute to I love you,

Is it posse of homies fist bumping in homage to the lionized mane with blue blood paw

Together-slumber in king size

Flesh remains languorous to the swirl prints of human touch-

Mistaken identity chickens both fear to lose more feathers

Life division — soul mates obliterated by differences in decorum ethics.

Always the sophisticate — the crowd whispers nectar grains of gossip behind whimsical fans.

She is the fallen angel , notorious for the malaise in her head,

 she brings out the rapture of Yorkshire cows that hide udders with a noo noo ,

lactose free

Milked by onions far future veiled tears and a survival credits demeanor .

The pair adore the honeyed bee with cotton blue eyes –

the enigma who keeps their fates sealed in bondage

Arrange one another like a book end seeking outwards ,

a common agenda arise

Pleiades siren sisters heard mewing departing with the breath of dawn

tangerine hues , salmon pinks,

Creative muse leads the joint pair to rip at each other until both are mere bits of itty bitty jagged ,torn up pieces.

No clean break.

Wind takes a pile of their stake

Love ?

People fall out of love everyday.

Better opportunities appear in the sky line at sun

Save but for this,

Passion misaligned enough to impart a spiritual kiss.

Scarlet answers to his tonic inflections — atonement persists every other day.

White noise.

Static.

Erratic.

Chaotic.

Despotic

Erotic

heinous tumor clots the mind by a sprinkle of a spell hypnotic

The poltergeist won’t make a proposal with a smudging kiss -so dreadfully emphatic!

Compromise to exercise the practice of sabili.

Feverish tug of war discourse breaks out in lieu of discordant decibels strung out on opiate sentences.-

Night terrors channel the unblemished one onto hang mans cliff, one foot away she is from tumbling to the state of alone.

How can we humans get it so wrong for so long?

Hearts motivation is seeking for a state of a rose petal bed sensation

Yearn that the fleeting soul mate would over estimate his worth.

Indeed change his own faith perhaps even his fate.

No frown lines

Don’t mean no problems.

equality determined by duvet covered up underscores

Old Ben ticks a version of rock.

seize a raconteur to reveal a mandatory position of bondage-alternating positions to top-

Knowledge of new positions verbalized in consumption — a crescendo of orgamsic crowning

Don’t you think it’s fascinating we can live in cramped states and boxed ticks?

Fairies move out appalled by love birds sudden screaming in Tourettes tics

Strangers bound by vows and contracts have perfunctory sentiments ,

Know her soul — possess her ,emancipate her from well coined ferry man ferrying crowds over the river of sty.

she needs the force of a Minotaur-

Amygdala explosion — irrational welts to a few tossers , no burial for those who disrespect a generous gender-life givers-vessels for the lucky few

Respect is a two way street.

A part can disappear to a sudden gasp of disappointment clad in veil-hidden-

Though some part still exposes her skin announcing she’s prepared to paint a mural — decipher their own teasing ,high hopes for their Art.

He needs a stability, no hand palms lined with haphazard crosses-

Nor to the cosmos antagonizing the make up of her spirited sum

We – love is what ? a dessert homemade , multiple attempts to attain the taste of perfection

To understand the the meaning behind the effect of not giving a shit about garlic breathe.

We fall in love-

we fall out

We love-

we don’t love

Love shouldn’t have a contract of pre determined conditions.

Feisty souls-what will happen when they reach past there 30th mile stone?

All blasphemous bathe in water infected with parasites of bloody rouge delighted to succeed leeching on a new host — a corruption life draining feed

is this enough to see them through the next phase-a turnstile or direction that doesn’t rewire an IQ test

emotional intelligence — hear her lilted accent

Manipulations, guilt — disappointment-

She commands brutal truth in — communication

Not the bullshit that she is the get down momma.

Big up her soul — she won’t trust words wrapped in silk feathers made by the wife of the bent over farmer.

Troubled is this state of terrain .

life epiphany moments can unify a bond lost to an inventory of savage materialitisic scum

The body is infected

Damn woman, screwed up everything from the moment she puffed out a perfect Oh breathe , the day at her party of existence.

Which way to go?

Look at the neighbors garden — all flowers and herbs cultivated with hands green hue glow.

Tender, patience — imagine a perfect relationship.

It’s easy to forget the good times when Cerebus wakes up-

dodging three eyeballs — accumulate by the sense e of fear-causing blood to boil in heinous state of haemorrhage.

Reminisce the spaces with laughter , moments of frisson, an out line of a future that didn’t appear another gilded prison.

Vow to be a sensual, thought after action man

Vow to be a lady who will cite and recite her promise .

re read the words spoken amount attuned bird chirping,

Above an audience not hidden by a curtain-breaking down every wall.

They recite their vows

Explore the true meaning,

Speak them out loud

Reconnect – her proposal to fight for their future far from the hostile terrain cartel.

Maybe she wrote

Heard the one about instagram being cocaine delivery service ?

Meme- it.

Nah! I just go for the pictures, personally but the deep dark web -hides

mews of creatures -deep- internally.

My world luxed out with a sunny day.

A line scented with silver

made for an olfactory disguise – remnants of rotting fish odor .

Murdered a child – fetus borne out of a reflux screaming match.

Woke up alive -bloated tummy and a 5 month walking nightmare-

It’s a boy – he secreted into every orifice

Raped me

respectably

Allowed insanity to become my better face.

Overdosed on affirmations

never have regrets

Turned around and married a man likened to the son of god

Fallen angel -I am

The humor isn’t lost.

Lets do a rewind – I’m allowing requests.

Here I am typing…

writing – spouting off words

Maybe one day it will all make sense.

few bitty

My latest recorded spoken word.  It’s rather amateur. It’s also rather fun! RAH!

Have a fab weekend. Do what you got to do to keep that heart alive – peace out!

https://soundcloud.com/goats2bdazee/these-words-1