Even Lunatics must break fast

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.

Muttering ,stuttering

— 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  ?

Glass

My house shatters into  a myriad of snow flaked, razor sharp,jaggered  pieces.

broken ,

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

Sleepless ideas

patrol ,

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.

Fire ,

water ,

earth ,

and air

Elements balance my kinetic ,

dynamic ,

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.

Affection,

laughter,

love,

and living

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

naked.

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*

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Art of Protest

I’m no academic poet.

Talk  to me about about syllables, haikus – to be honest,  I can only hear the blood rushing to my head.

I started doing stream of consciousnesss posts in 2016. I’ve received positive feedback on here, and now I want to step up my game.

Just for fun, the social aspect and it’s a different way to express myself.

So, I did what I do best.

Wing it!

I went to the  poetry workshop, everyone seemed to know what they were doing except me!

 I went with my heart, my  emotions and willingness to try out new approaches, in tackling poetry for live performance.

It was a cool workshop – delivered  by a well established,British  poet – Matt Abott –

check out his bio HERE 

A  collaboration with  DREAM TIME COLLECTIVE. 

ART OF PROTEST

We went through a series of activities with the idea to have some form of a draft by the end of the  2 hour  workshop

The theme was political poetry.

Each participant chose a theme that they felt passionately about. I chose ‘Animal rights/cruelty. ‘

I got so much out of a two hour workshop that I’m going to share what I did.

Once we had chosen our theme/subject

we had to ask ourselves three questions

  • Who does it  affect?

  • How does it affect me?

  • Why is it important to me or to the world?

A Couple of notes I made:

  • It affects animals, people, ocean, planet

  • I’m a lover of animals, I don’t believe that we need to eat meat, or wear clothes or makeup made up of animal derivatives. Because of my knowledge of what animals go through to become a consumer product. I feel it  is unethical.

  • I have my own view of animals. I admire  how they are able to evolve and adapt, in a way, that doesn’t  have a negative impact on the planet .This shows me that humans could learn something from nature, instead of destroying our home.

2. What Matt stressed is:   that if we want our poetry to make an impact writing it to perform , we need a motive, a call of action, an agenda.

  • Who am I  delivering this message to?

  • What do I want to achieve?

Examples: Do I want to shock people, encourage people to look at solutions to the problem etc..

3)

Imagine a room( keeping in mind what your subject is) and put 5 points/Images using ‘show and tell’ language to come with up with  strong words.

Example:

  • tearing of flesh

  • frothing at the mouth

  • cramped

  • squealing

  • gunshots

  • insidious laughter

4)  Objective.

Place the victim/s in that room.

What are they doing ?

How do they feel?

Example:

I had two victims. I imagined a gorilla coming round from another bout of being sedated by electrocution. He was wearing garish make up – heavily made up blue eyes and bold, blood colour red lipstick.

My other victim was human – a female who happened to be dressed up in chicken outfit or as a bird. She had a morbid fascination finding herself in this  surreal room with this clearly broken ,macabre gorilla.

Next we had place ourselves in that room -observing what was going on

Example:

Horror, what do I do? , retaliate or fight or freeze. I was frozen on the spot. Upon reflection, this  is how most of society reacts to topics that make them uncomfortable. They become apathetic.

Next, we had to place the victim outside of that situation/ROOM . Different surroundings. Aware of what they have witnessed/ or know and how they react in a different setting.

Example:

I chose the female ,costume wearing bird human and put her in a cosmetic store. The emotions that came to me were  conflicting – this victim of societies idea of attaining beauty is thinking ‘ ‘I have a choice’

The next stage was to  put these  ideas into the poetic form.

Make a poem.

 Always keeping in mind what we want the audience or how we want the audience to react.

We were directed to to start to put together a poem of no more than 50 words, or certain amount syllables. The aim was to keep it short.

Keep it punchy.

On topic.

I wrote about  100 words – possibly more.

It’s okay.

Then we had to cut those words in half – 😦

I ended up with 46 words.

This is the  end product .

Carnival time!

Gaze  in the mirror.

Blue sparkled hues 

Red paint 

Blood fondue.

Do I look pretty enough for you?

Tearing of flesh.

Bleached in acid 

Gorilla Art

Reflection never part

Do I look pretty enough for you?

The true freak in this show is 

, indeed YOU.

Daisy Willows/ Natasha Bodley

 

 

 

 

Times up. Workshop over. Get back to real life  😀

Now, I have another to approach to  poetry when  I write.

Worth it.

Go me!

Have a great weekend!

 

the Cull

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Composure show your best face

Daisy don’t make it hazy – leave out the ‘just in case’ can of mace.

Three announced pregnancies delivered in one week

One Stork wraps a cord around emotions -trachea.

 Manipulation in search for a vein

hooked up intravenously

suffering from a bout of the sickness days gone by,

bleak.

Day spent prodding a familiar corpse

Lavender eye shadow caked on.

An ex-hookers heinous crime of remorse.

Blend in shades of elegance, class cuts above diamonds

-less valuable than the African  Congo.

Kleenex tissues – repentance from deeds of liberation.

 There is closure in this hymn

that is how sacrilegious people turn as quick as the wind doth blow.

New chapter.

ink spilt

No more drama.

Welcome to the real world -energy in motion kinetic.

Some call it Karma.

Squeaky clean – naked child of the nugget -Midas the king.

Bronchial Bengal licking furballs off her skin.

Arthritic tail.

spots and stripes.

Don’t leave me, Madam.

wailers of bandits ready for the first of half a dozen fights.

Interrupt the flow 2 kg of feather dynamite

incredible.

How does this writer get away with posting anything credible?

Animals on the uprise.

No more, humans.

Determined by free will.

Save our earth from true predators.

A life is a life,

a loss is a loss.

no one gives a toss

don’t matter who involved in the kill.

Overspill of copper coil excreting from a vulvic cave

Great expectations.

Pompei disaster – a necessary tragedy to inspire the seventh wave.

counting on all hands and fingers

I fear I’m not the only one.

canned laughter emerges in the background.

Playground vacant.

Trashed children abscond to the house occupied by Delirium’s son.

Emotion packs a punch in three

washing machine forgets it’s own no spillage codified key.

Rage -crimson flag.

Blood spill.

‘All hail the Spanish bull!’

Gunshots fired -the loss of the human cull.

Grief lapses in streams of nonsequential dreams.

it’s obvious what unravels when we are pulled at the seams.

Mind score.

Damp music sheets obscure the cup of the holy grail.

Green lights flash.

Don’t hesitate -before long you won’t be able to walk

it’s a condition in frail.

life and Death lie,  spooning- side by side,

build the bridge

equality in each parlour

you seek to ride.

Scared crows

murder the last heart blackened by holding on.

The injustice of the furies coup

bow your heads in shame,

You are not the only ones who suffer.

Time to sing a different song.

 

 

Frank Gush

 

I wanna be loved

I wanna be loved

Aw, Here’s a virtual fish wife hug.

Oi, sweetheart – didn’t you hear me? I  said I wanna be loved.

Catcall.Ice-bucket – overspills neo – classicism sentiment.

Laced up bosom heart flecked with pieces of steel.

I wanna be loved. 

I wanna be loved.

Oi, did you hear me, babe?     I have a heart filled with soapy suds.

Empath – duty-bound to sympathize with alpha bloodhound seeking to incarcerate her with a gun filled with duds.

I wanna be loved. 

I wanna be loved.

I’m a sweetheart – you’re a sweetheart – let’s roll one, then turn up the funk.

Assholes everywhere!

Toy story – meme becomes a true story told in oral.

prelude to come.

Free verse

You wanna be loved?

You wanna be loved?

You say all this yet your eyes create walls caging doves from their song.

If you wanna be loved – stop asking random others who stray close to the sun.

Couch potato manners – will find love in a familiar hand -left or right. Don’t forget to inhale that idle bong.

Sex or weed?

Weed and sex.

She wasn’t complaining. She screamed so loud for me to stop. 

time out, tiger!

Interpret this as you may.

Did he ask if he accidently overfilled her ear orifice with over bloated seaside swimmers?

or accidently bottled her into a state of frozen lager?

You wanna be loved.

Then taketh not all for thyself, young decrepit blood.

Giveth – free flow,   no sweeping statement dogs escaped Noah’s ark or God’s flood.

Move beyond your fantasy.

phantasmagoria is not free in  She-ra’s  sword sex symbolic cooperation.

Try to retain warmth in a sizable fee.

Hot  Hooter eyed water bottle – cost effective.

Not enough to help him resurrect an Absolute spirited goddess.

Rewind and recycle,

dog-eared Tai menu gender – Bangkok pussy.

Remote scratch and sniff, no taste only his eyes can see.

I wanna be loved.

Can she be Frank?

Her passion doesn’t lie in fulfilling his lonely nights.

Energy dwindles,

Netflix catch- up and book endeavors find her closer to her G spot than Boy George midgets dressed up in red tights.

Mrs did you hear me I wanna be loved?   You’ve got the love I need.

clearly seen fro her 1 D profile, one thumb- all upstream.

Mr of questionable status,  do you listen?  Hear what is going to go down.

Spit, gargle, brush – repeat.

 Learn some manners, leave this bee, nectar bonus points ran out when you demanded she slathers you in full moon clots of cream.

*Inspired by humans and observations* 😀

This little light of mine

I’m a Jedi at laying my heart and mind and soul for all to see in the written or oral form.

This post, I’ve been putting off.

Why?

Self-doubt gremlins.

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Wondering what I’m doing with my life?

My life looks amazing in black and white and pink.

It is amazing!

 Until, I focus on perfecting something to the point where I know that I will never see perfection. It is something I am yet to put a limit on.

I push the goal post of perfection every time I think I’m nearly there.

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I stepped back from blogging, volunteering and doing work in my community to essentially focus on this Masters.

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Not a bad thing.

Since I started out on this particular path, I’ve become over consumed with it. Nothing else exists in my mind but this.

An unhealthy obsession?

Here’s me laying myself bare. No cameras – ha ha! you will be put off for life.

I didn’t think I would be accepted or get help to get on this Masters degree. I  went for my goal like a rabid dog.

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I got what I wanted.  A death wish.

I’m stubborn enough to know how to get what I want. Or,at least what I think I want.

Reassessing the situation in the place I am in now, I’ve realized my reasons for doing this degree is not to write novels or random stage plays or just any genre of fiction.

My main goal has always been to use it as a ‘feather in my cap’,and an added bonus to use it in my C.V. so, that I can continue to work in my community with the people and issues that I am passionate about.

Vulnerable members of our community.

I want to do this in a creative way.

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 Not a let’s go to the doctor and get a script and go to CBT and get in the system.

I started this blog around the time I was doing a 12-week programme called WRAP. (September 2015)

  I wouldn’t shut up about.

 I still don’t.

Then, this summer I was given the opportunity to do an intensive 5-day training course to be a Wrap facilitator.

I worked my ass off. It was rough but I did it. I thought I was losing my mind.

 

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I AM A BELIEVER.

 

 

I write about themes such as homelessness mental health issues, inequality, politics.

I did get a decent mark on my TMA 1 – but most of the comments ( in my humble opinion) are patronizing, insulting, subjective and contradictory  – to not only my own experience, knowledge, and research of stagecraft and the subject I choose to write about.

It was insulting to the people I work with and where I want to establish myself in the future.

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So, on principle, I am still going for a remark.

In order to get a Switzerland reassessment, I have to appeal for a remark to get another assessment.

I’ve stuck up for myself when I felt like hiding away from the life.

I’ve  had my viewpoint heard.

I’m still doing my MA.

I’m already on to the next TMA and I have hit all my deadlines so far. I’m still in the same writer’s forum group I started out in.

I don’t mind feeling uncomfortable. I’ve lived with myself for 35 years.

Others might have a problem. I don’t! Not my issue.

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I am open to learning from my tutor who I am entitled to disagree with and within my rights to question. I might not get an answer 😀

I don’t know this person well enough to make a remark on their character or who they are.

I can only go by the feedback, my work and my ‘come back’ to answers and things I don’t agree with or that I’ve already referenced to back up the decisions I made.

 

Back to re-evaluating where I want to be and where I want to focus my energies.

I’m not going to stop writing or talking about my passions (in a way) that show a true representation of the subject and the people who inspire me to write.

Fuck writing to tick boxes and conform to one person’s idea.

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I’m  enjoying learning.

There’s  a wealth of resources and information that I am picking up with the academic side of writing, reading others work,  reading other writers feedback -this includes the one/people who mark my work.

I’m open minded.

I  believe I can learn something from anyone, anything- doesn’t have to be human.

 My daughter teaches me several things on daily basis. She is 5 years old.

I’ve decided to go with my heart and my passion and get involved in a project that allows me to get creative with others and use   WRAP’s   key core concepts and ethics.

I get to be unconventional. A responsible rebel! EPIC!

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I get to be a part of something that could help others before their issues become diagnosed illnesses in the current model of treatment we rely on to live our lives in as well as a physical and mental state as possible.

My MA is a bonus, in my opinion.

WOW! I get to be creative in my work life, social life and I get to have fun blogging and learning from so many different people.

Someone is getting paid to read my work and mark it!

 True, I am paying them ( MA’s are not cheap)

 I asked to do this degree – knowing full well I put myself up for the role of guinea pig.

Of course, there is going to be teething problems. It’s a learning curve for everyone involved. Students, tutors, the people who fund it.

I’m in it.

I’m committed to doing this first year, on the condition, that I will make it less of a priority to where I have placed it since  I started it in October 2016.

 

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THIS IS MY COMMITMENT FACE. IT TOOK A LOT TO GET TO THIS STATE. DON’T LAUGH. 

 

 

My people – my circle – my family are my priority. Yo dawg, gone all ghetto!  😀

My interests, my passion, what I do on a day to day basis to fulfill myself and bring in some cash is my priority.

Blogging is a priority – I might go under the radar for a bit and miss out on reading some of your posts.

 I’m not going anywhere.

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I don’t do  New years resolutions.

 I prefer to spread my goals out over a longer period than one month.

It does work for me. Less pressure.

Since I’ve realised my priorities , I’m enjoying life again.

Writing, studying, reading.

 I’m so excited and honored to be a part of something I feel so much passion for in my community.

We are all stars.

 I felt as if  I was dying – burning out!

 I found out I’m not.

I just needed to scout around to find a place in the sky that allows me to shine a little more brightly.

EVERYONE SING 😉

‘Twinkle twinkle little star…’

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Of course, it’s awesome to receive praise.

I use it as a self-motivation tool to achieve my goals.

We are all different. We all want different things.

I am no different.

Seems obvious. ha ha!

 I’m  doing what I feel is right for me and my health and the people I surround myself with.  They have to live with me.

That’s it.

Nothing complicated – just plain writing with no fancy flowers around it.

I’m the best decoration I have -I make no apologies for figuring my shit out.

 

Discourse Intercourse

Black sheared sheep – interrupts my sleep flow.

Jumping forwards then backward.

Hit repeat.

He’s part of the clandestine cult thought- process flow.

All beginnings eventually have to come to an ending.

Concerning future alliances- the fork in the path mutates an extra prong.

mind bending.

Altercation.

Allow for the change in shape of an another alternative route.

Cheat decides to look up in dictionary.com what it means to say moot.

Meaning already forgot.

Decision debased on ill-behaved behavior electrifying a footwork track -based on a biracial intercourse toot.

Turn moot into witch doctor Muti, a cure for this malaise oddity may break contact with the shepherd’s compulsive ewe.

Silenced into the next move in the game of life.

Charades,

Chess,

Cluedo .

What is the most Infallible- can do?

Make a fresh start- sell out one pearlised vocation. Many breed the high ground in a scorching sorting hat.

Priorities muddled in an attempt to make a life more longstanding than a welcome mat.

Mathematicians turn up in a state of multiple divided equations.

New lease of life -E=mc^ 2  – it’s all relative – beautification renders an approving look – misread face leads to unresolved complications.

Ratify.

 Sanctify.

Let sleeping dogs lie.

3 am -Hare wakes up to see tortoise break past the time barrier, marathon race. March mad, too young to let his ego sit back -ears push forward in sly.

Morals without a compass, external hard drive.

Clock rings.

time dials erratic – so distant.

Testify to honor all vocations – duty bound to follow the one leading to the most effective change – energy is insistent.

What matters is not to what degree – all frying pans are a sizzle. Take a calculated risk on Heart.

wrenched backward -trust it will not deceive.

Patriotic to the cause of writing until last  breath  ceases – suspended in mid-air -acrobatic chaos,

spectator led into disbelief.

Matter not those who don’t walk the same path.

Respect this life entrant is making a decision on behalf of the majority, swathed- ready to abort the plan.

Whim-sake not the confidence of this indecisive.

 Aim to do better -empath.

Besmirch the elders – radicalize the institutional bonds that bind.

The weight of titanium – Poseidon never lets a nymph stray too far from the seismic mind.

An explosive ending to start off the new year.

Just over 365 days to go.

Dealer?

change this automatic for a  manual stick gear.

 

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LINDA G WORD PROMPT: MOOT -CLICK HERE TO GET INVOLVED

 

 

Hidden and Bound

words tantalize her  very mind.

every adjective ,every noun resounds in the primal part of her -hidden and bound.

Let loose to its device it would seduce a nation of puritans .

Her sin is her lifestyle.

She  heard this from the one  who set her mind free with tempting condiments.

Honey dripping, swarming bees pollinating with a delicate fleur.

opening one up to her fullest bloom – Every species took one look at her and at the same time uttered the name: Allure.

Saucy enough to steam  rouge to her usually pale cheeks.

Thoughts of rollicking in clouds, scented of  meadow dew satin sheets.

Thorns might sting when they draw blood from the skin,

only you will know if it is worth pursuing the unrequited ache from the arousing pain consuming you from within.

Tempting, stealthlike- scented  whispers , send flowered vines, to contain too much movement, from  your limbs .

skin on skin contact  is pure.

where is the shame of needing  to remember what it is to live -fill the arid ,parched crevices, in need of moist hymns?

Trust, this fleur won’t hurt you, not even when  you tempt her with mental visions that send her sweet nectar  into a  frenzied hive  -alerting drones, intoxicated .

Merely, one queen combing  her hair – let down your guard -let go of the bumbling confusion.

She can  protect you,stop you  from ignoring the drumming of  what your heart truly  yearns,

 Connected by an  incongruent rhythm , a dance you  both control by merely partaking in making up the infusion.

Lilac and lavender -fields of frivolous laughter and secret ,coy smiles.

Lay down in fields born out of mother nature –   her approval aligns your contoured bodies  by joining in with earth tremors – exasperating your gratified sighs.

Free spirited, close to the ocean. She wants to be entangled – one body -a symbiotic union  of something quite close to adoration.

Waves of emotions to deep sea dive in. La Tresor de la Mer – reeds, fish, seabeds ,caves to navigate together – dive in the deep end to begin with this exploration .

How to know if two souls are meant to keep the other lit?

 A meeting of minds – a meeting of many kinds before one can promise the other that somehow  they can see how it will come together and fit.

Hold your breath and enjoy the ride. Don’t struggle against the motion, the tide , leave la Mer to her dramatic side.

When you stop fighting and accept that water was 9 months of your   first gilded breath.

Will we know if,

 we are meant to glide and soar and tumble in the same sky -with nothing to hide -publicly side by side.

*photo credit Christine, Jules (Julianna) Tomei