#BeInconvenient

Be a bad ass

roll around under grey skies — make out the back of a conservative party littering the sky with trials of rhetoric crass.

This is Glastonbury.

Where would you choose  to land for a stay in paradise ?

Choose to land in a vessel with a bunch of optimists — no happy clappers — crossing themselves — for having faith in an ecclesial being.

Scientific velocity.

Cause and effect

serendipity.

Late riser — godspeed little  Jahew.

The hare won the final battle — drop a batch of cat nip into that speed walker in denial of its  ferocity.

Dandelion mascots roar out visions of men staking out fresh empires.

Oxygen flavours-

Peach ,Melba , NICE custard, vanilla —the world we live  in  is an incovenient truth .

Mirror your actions.

Be inconvenient.

Rebel military children — turn left when the governments urge you to turn to the right.

Enfant terribles flash a revolutionary  selfie.

Write a summary of your own investigations.

Be the girl that silenced the world for 5 minutes.

United irregulation

 Nebulous globules whitewash  by contactless  autocratic judgment.

Nixon – made jokes about an assassination.

Impeach my derriere in circular tinned  seats — rest will fully for the sign cursive —

 at what point did we misunderstand that a squelch is a tall order  we’ve  asked our  hyper  sensory earthling dwellers to  endure.

Lament for nerves of each  slow death of crustacean .

Wilful blindness — what  degree of spirit level have you  leaned into for  crucification ?

Modern times call for a no nail nails celebration

Yellow roses indicate  a gesture of friendship without the illusion that life can’t be avoided by sudden pricks.

Little but often — tolerance build up  mops up all tears of  solo inaction.

It’s not just me syndrome –  Abandon the anti virus inoculation .

Germ free assholes plugging open mic for their 5 minutes.

colour of bleach –  distress call driven to cling to the skirtboards.

 Times picked up a pace

where even physics  misunderstands sound waves

not even  titled planet’s  children’s pleas of ‘when will we get  there?’   get’s an echo

unless played in reverse.

Influx  of Catholics  priests leaving trails of 30 year old pubic  hairs

Twisted grey –  Sexualised souls.

Perhaps a few of those clams had a chance to spit out a pearl.

The walrus put a stop to that .

Mother nurses her brooding loss over a swim in a tank of gin on the rocks.

7 days it took to rise to this state of rant ism effectual verbalism.

Ginger tea dispelled the myth that my expectations were indeed too great for a scorching third degree inquisition.

Latin languages pour  waxen lyrics  into my ear—honey orgasms.

dada ism and punk causes vertigo to incite a tremour of  silence-

Delirium tilts my glasses askance –

I’m living in world of dirty ole bastards spitting out words that rhyme with a shimmy shammy.

Take me to the broadway headline

 “she’s back in business now. “

Malefactions disorders under control not by  the kaiser state nor the twelve step oracle of fate.

Sobriety comes from a just say no policy.

Hermits don’t need a chorus of you can do it supporters.

matter over what’s on the mind

Mind over what matters.

we are family.

  chanting — watch your latest DNA   protege win the race to the finish post   with that line  in mind

Mystic  seance offering continental table wine and loafs of bread of support —

the language of OOK.  I cannot support.

Soft ware programmes for orang-utans. –

Let words never lose  their meaning

Sometimes we think we want to be understood

but remember how much more fun it is to have a few — put in their unoppressive input.

Sincerely lost all three egos to a winter in Calcutta’s harshest snow.

Climate change —

mood change — the moon has landed-

No body saw the side of Trump the media is willing to show

Messing about with a’ little boy’ – innocently having fun..

No king of the castles and dirty rascals

 Competition lay in who laughed the loudest.

A couple of dying stars gave birth to a twin set — millions of light years away

Name requests required  to ascertain their  current deformity.

Perfect dwarves-

Theseus and Selene

Godparents put up a banquet  on a strip arrested by brazen lights .

Bring your best boulder and limbo moves — Caesers palace  requests a baptism of fire breathing  adornments.

There she goes- walking in sharp angles

Mistaken identity-

Anorexic nervosa Dion mustard sings-

all by myself

stop throwing up regurgitated chunks of emotion.

Men don’t understand the biochemistry  off set brewing under  three layers of endocrine.

Lunatics stain sheets with blood –

Curly sue inphallicaly  dismissed for a promotion to  children  balloon entertainer on grounds of not measuring up  to  histories greatest.

Still humming to the   blues -all I want is my equality. 

Mother Earth – in shah Allah

– poke,me ,turn me , burn me, piss on me, spread faeces-

defacate plastic attacks and call it Art.

The magic money tree   belongs in  the book of Exodus

A club house anthem – dropped by  a basket -case , sudden  short-lived career change  by MC  Moses .

Liar liar —    some morals  get the thumbs up for their choice in cider.

Live, love – consider the Joshua tree

Crush on   Dick in  vintage van’s and full  Dycke.

 supercalafragalistic expealdocious  attunes to the one man band  who sees the sultry  feline in that cat caught on the other side of the  brawl – with her weave on  AWOL

One painted fingernail cannot make  up for not   being able to  fist  with the patriarchy

How low can  this weed go?

Look around – inspiration doesn’t fall far from Gayes  grapevine .

Clarifaction?

Are we to trust all we hear via a grapevine or take it as a given that nobody up to any good will walk away unstained –

gossiping ,

Intoxicated .

Indeed feet offend  an entire  continent  predominantly ahead of the pack .

  • Stream of consciousness with a few word verifacartion  included

Wanna know about life?

Honest and upfront is what I do best. I’ve avoided blogging too much or connecting over the last few months because I’ve been hiding a lot of guilt and shame –

so I’ve been doing some thinking.

No stream of consciousness or poetry in this post…

Are you still with me?   ha ha

I write for myself first  and I always will.   When I write for an audience I lose my way easily.

Apologies if this is old news to the more evolved spirits reading this. 😁

Daisy has an epiphany.

I’ve been contemplating on the saying ‘dig deep’

 if you decide to use this quote to get you through an experience

Do you  know  why you need to dig deep?

My humble findings are what follows

Because whether  we become aware and conscious, in this life (or not) about my  proposed notion of  the meaning of the ‘dig deep’  quote

(that’s a bit wordy. ha ha)

here it is:

from our very conception into this life

-Our first breathe – we start to dig our  own grave.

We begin to design the lay out of where our  final resting place  or end will be.

It would epic and less stressful if from the moment we are born we knew  what we are  meant to be doing.

Many  people never figure it out or, if they do  its too late to ask them if they have for obvious reasons. 😞

Many  people decide to choose a saviour be it in the form of an icon – a god, a person , goals – money, love, careers, addictions , etc…

We strive to find something to focus  all of our seconds, minutes ,hours and years blatantly meandering about on this planet.

Be careful who you allow to support you – some people are so busy trying to save everyone else,  ( we all do  it at some point) we forget our first honour and duty is to save ourselves and know our own purpose.

It’s known in psycho babble terms as the dramatic triangle.
Most of use tend to flit between these roles depending on the situation we are in ,people we are around   etc.

To digress,

Many of us go on to  have children who rely on us – depend on us to teach them how to navigate their own path – how to create their own resting place – and to be conscious that each action,

each decision they make has a hand in determining how they will die.

Teaching others to rely on themselves is blessing not a curse.

Only when we are  faced with our own reflection and with no other help but our own resources that we have  collected along our journey in life ; will we know how we will get to the other side or to our end in this characteristic form.

Some off us  end up addicted, or come to  our end at the hands of illnesses like cancer or dementia , car accidents etc.

Many of us are not aware that from the moment we are given independent life we are consistently (for better or worse)  building our own coffins .

is it fair that we are not told this from our first breathe ?

I didn’t make up the rules in life or society.

We – I – can only govern myself and my actions.

Be wary who you try to help or who you accept help from.

Don’t get mad when people let you down

they are doing what they need to do – following their own purpose.

Some  people never find out what their purpose is.

Dig deep.

How comfortable and aware of your surrounding do you want to be  when you take your last breathe in this life.

We create our own Elysium  or heaven or utopia even –

sometimes it’s not what we want –

 but we won’t  know until we are swimming against the tide or even hanging ten and riding the wave.

 I do know that I want to be as conscious and aware of my choices ,limits  when the wave crashes .

My personal  chosen Gods have always been  tangible- in the form of fully crystallised human beings -flawed  just like me.

I think I chose human idols to put all my faith in to

 so  that I can have a go at someone  when “they” 😉 let me down. I want to face my own success and disappointments A-sap . Patience /Sabili is not a strength of mine.

 I need to look at a reflection of myself to determine I exist.

it’s not easy to figure out life- there is probably  more evidence for the saying that instead of trying to figure out life- it needs to be lived – consciously and with purpose.

We can live with purpose and not know if that purpose is right and we can live consciously and not know what out purpose is.

hopefully,  with the aid of  our experiences we can decide which of the  tools  or resources we need to use if/when  we have a “I’ve possibly hit the bottom of my pit”.

How do I bypass this mythical minotaur  I’ve read about?

We wonder  how or,

if we  can

or ,

are able to  crawl out  and up out of it to  place where we can find  some  sense of comfort.
We wonder if we have the endurance, courage and motivation to get out of coal mine

Whether it’s worth finding a running brook of water to wash the soot from  the I side out.

The alternative option is that our final resting place will be exactly where we decide to rest – in this case the bottom of a pit  . State the obvious 😂

Only we  can make our ending  a place where  we feel we have done everything in our power tosit amongst the angels or the gods of Olympus or whatever it is we believe in that will take us through from the beginning to the end, where we can  feel at peace with ourselves.

Some of us – most of us never get to that point.  Downerz 😁😁

I don’t know about reincarnation but I am aware.

Society  tells us it’s a selfish idea

‘ look after yourself’.

Human beings are wired to reach out  but how we do that and to know our boundaries and the boundaries of others is tricky and a part of the dance of life- the cha cha

one step forward backwards thing. I’m full of cliches in this post.

It’s scary to know we are ultimately alone – only we can change our selves – our emotions – our ideas – our path.

It’s hard not to resent others or life for making us so capable and resilient.

Damn  you life! How dare you 😂

it’s easier to choose to not see the bigger plan – the idea that yes we govern ourselves and we must govern our selves and own our actions and our lives.

and at the same time understand that every move /choice/thought we make – has that butterfly effect –

we cause the ripples .

science has come up with a terminology -a language to help us understand our position in this world, our make up , what and how much we are capable of – how much responsibility we all have

How significant just one body made up if molecules is :to the rest of planet balancing out or toppling over –

We have nature to compare ourselves to – an example of what happens when we fuck up our ecosystems – when we put element a somewhere  and take out element b from somewhere else.
It’s trial and error.

We repeat – the cycle continues.

The fear of being alone is a lot scarier than actually being alone

When I am alone left to decide -I choose to swim and come up for air.

I remember that I have walked the earth with legs , I’ve flown and seen the world from a bird’s eye perspective.

I’ve also stayed a rather unglamourous amphibian  thinking I’m in a vast sea surrounded by  a fellow  hybrid form of alluring sirens

I choose to live  another day. I don’t know if my choices are right or wrong – time is what it is.

People in my life , of my life

I love you but I don’t need any of you  In the way I have allowed myself to believe I do.

That’s it.

Do i  decide to fight the battle every day or  fall  back into walking state of  slumber

Free cello flotsam

*WARNING GET THE VIOLEN AND CELLO’S OUT-it’s all very woe is me.*.

Here something to lift the mood?  There is optimism lurking from the shadows… ha ha!

I followed a trail

To a rock with scurvy emotions inside of me.

Don’t know what to expect.

All the rage, ignorance, silence

bleaches the promise of a future sapling tree.

Astrology says we have a Destiny, and there’s a part

inside

Who revels in the nostalgic quest within me.

Why do I shirk off those who encourage my rays to reflect outwards?

Why do I seek out on my impulses, toxins to detract from my light?

Keep me from growing into a burst of melody  I can shout out to the cowards.

Confidence issues get the best of me

it’s just all about

ME

ME

ME!

But….

It isn’t-it’s also about my husband , my Bella bee.

When I enunciated my vows last June-what a chirrupy day.

I didn’t have a clue what commitment to another meant

That I would be required to stop mid flight and stay.

Stagnant breathe, I cry out for security

Inside it’s all I’ve needed to explode into full maturity.

I write aplenty about letting go

The rage, the ability to let it stop over analysing my creative flow.

Seeking out what exactly?

Roses thrown at my feet every hour?

Incase I forget in my self and believe I am merely dour.

I crave a prism of  connection and escapism.

All I want is to answer my own question.

What is my purpose?

Ignored.

The birds murmur in their usual stanza of cursive.

Have I ever learnt the language of civility?

Emotions  have tripped me over

Countless times.

Surprised to appraise the sky admiringly

I’m chasing after the elusive high

Frequent in multiple forms.

molecules,

atoms

Sometimes a shape  in a human form of a fungi 😉

sigh, me and my warped sense of humour

Desperately  trying to prover I need a holiday under my current demeanour.

the rage inside is never  quelled .

I write and I write yet the tears continue to overspill.

Reticent to see what is standing in front of me

I pause,

I look up

and despite the majestic scenery,

I feel the weight of my guilt-dissecting me into bits to use as flotsam at sea.

One small town to the next

Happiness is a state of mind

Not some hidden idealist.

A paradox of uncertainty

Love me.

Need me.

Crave me.

Believe in me-

The true person outside of my physicality.

I’m not stating I’m beautiful or full of grace.

I do believe I am unique .

This is more than a hope or a whim.

I don’t see absolute distaste when I glance at my face.

The simple moments, the words , the memories that won’t hold on.

I have a purpose-some path to walk without feeling triste

Emotional depths descend into an abyss — it ranks.

I adore the ocean ,I hate that I need technology to breathe in, and gasp.

I’m not a shipwreck lying on the floor who gave up and sank.

I’ve learnt how to swim and fight,

For what its worth.

What do I want with this life-streaked ,woven into nature’s tapestry?

Here ,little bird ,come closer unlock the coded language that will show this mystery is more than a pyscho spieling diatribe of empty soliloquised solecisms

Dead eyed,

Heart stammers .

 Side by side a pack of soulless zombies.

Rag of bold

Stop having a go  at me, Miss ‘

Then use your intuitive and stop asking me if it’s okay to stop and have a piss.

I’m not your momma. I’m not your carer.

Any more of this inaction and I ready to to scare yer.

I’ve had enough of your lack of ambition.

Lack of adventure — you pierce my nerves with razor precision.

Take a risk, go gungho!

Dress to impress-

I’m telling you-to get on with the show.

I’m done having to prompt  you to use your mind

Its like ,dude-honestly – I’m about to implode from frustration — storied deep inside.

I can’t think for the both of us.

Seriously,mate – I’m strong minded-had to work out my way to suss-out

life

navigate

Talk to people.

A random  stranger!

Just don’t take candy off them unless you want to end up thinking you’re a KAKKA ranger.

I’m compromising with all the patience I can muster.

Yes, I’m hard headed, strong, independent-.

Blow the dust from your inner mind —  here, take my new sublime duster.

You have all the tools. I can’t speak for you.

Have a go.

Live,

experience.

Life is for living the most Avant-Garde show.

There is nothing wrong with being different,

But, seriously…

My hearts switching to scales that don’t under stand how to stay consistent.

Have some gumption.

Seize the day!

 What is the point in  demonstrating against  the unsaintly, Theresa May?

I crave excitement, adventure, moments and endeavours.

My blood goes cold when I see you stumble-a face frayed it tethers .

I can just about carry my own daughter.

Get on with life — or sign yourself up for the slaughter.

I may seem cruel and misdirected .

Take on responsibility for your perceived  sense of a pathway defected.

I love you, I do .

Yet, you infuriate me —  these four walls are suffocating me. You should understand one word from all this “blue”.

A colour to drive terror into the minds of  men

I’m living as a woman — a choked mind from  within.

I have my own issues. I stumble on this path.

Leave your issues behind you or tell every fucker about them.

What they think is not relevant to you moving forward.

Have confidence in your own self .

I’m screaming cos  you won’t make a move.

I know playing chess can take some rudimentary  decision.

Can’t you just side hop the rules and get into the groove?

I’m not asking you to be Kylie.

Flirt with her if it makes you feel Styley Wiley.

I’m doing the best I can.

Summon up that courage-I know is inside you-

Take charge and be that man!

 

*Inspired by #peoplejustdonothing 

Do or die

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.

My contraband.

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.

Confession .

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.

end of Nervosa beginning

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.

until then,

Life halts.

Collapses onto hot tarmac. Too tired to alter.

Melt her heart.

Resuscitate the breathe that gives her corpse a reason to impart

A post

worthy

For a creative outlet,

Her own personal work of art.

Hands raking  through her hair. Grip  at the sides, pulls out a chunk,

Its cool,

She’s dating an alopecia hunk.

This funk makes junk.

Eyeball sockets sunk.

Maybe,

It would be better if she didn’t care if the words weren’t her own.

Maybe ,

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.

train

Thought-rhyming is a pain in her  ass.

She’s laying it down in quick dry cement.

She’s  empathetic,

she knows we all want to be that portrait

Well, hung.

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-

a future?

Statement.

Not even two Bonds can be saved.

Edwardian era

high necklines

Pearl earrings engraved.

Cavities,

Her gums are in recession.

Blame the bank and the Tories.

Her feminist views will place blame on those next in succession.

Watermelon-shaped breasts

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.

Utter profanity.

Disbelief that that her renegade words  follow in a Capitalist order.

Letters appear

She falls onto her  knees,

Thanks Ashanti for her daughters.

Time to shove a half pill down some pussies throat.

Its nasty ,

Its dirty,

Doubts whether deep throat works

She’s trying to  stay afloat.

Her illness-the chronic versus the opposite divide

Stereotyped bullshit

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,

vulnerable ,

rearranging her mask-unsure of what reflects back at her multiple ‘Me’s’ 

Discombobulated

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.

No prayer.

Fervent  sweeping up of  shattered glass.

For a figment of a second she saw an outline

Perfectly crystallised.

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.

Weary, purged…

‘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 .

Athena

Sights of sanity

conquest over humans infamy.

moving faster than the speed of light.

computers can’t process the spoken  word

lose track of sight.

Soaring,

tumbling

race  to expose hidden epiphany.

vocabulary fails Athena from reaching success in the liturgy.

damn harmonisation – pomadera technique.

Time management  -father grant one hour for those deaf,dumb and blinded

By the oppression tumble from the mouth of the libertarians speech.

hypophysectomise critical on the downfall .

Search engine optimises  – tracks a perfect pitch call.

Saviour hear these mantras sent up  in earnest.

Soul laced,

racy,

its breathless.

it’s for the greatest good  Nottinghamshire’spoorest.

Bath bubbles wait for a body that has matter .

69 spoonfuls of bio oil smooth out the stretch marks-

dissolves the fat cats.

Watch them  scatter.

Enemy pilots covert zombie nuns in a pig stye

Overthinking- condensates these cloud tufted ideas.

The flow loses integrity – it stands for the lie.

Shaking bones to release the overspill.

Athena  won’t be a subject to her  own life gains and losses.

Stay true to her style.

No  sounds  of a  Swedish  rehashed assembly

lined out to bear all our crosses.

Stunted by the overthink- look away from her spinal  index

a mind blinks in epiletic seizures.

Unsanitary insults tossed around,

a tussled rustle

Nomad hiding in the bushes

He doesn’t whether  he’s angry or horny

Either way should fuck some common  sense into her.

procrastination halts.

Spaces so tight it has to play its ordained key.

Sounds of queer folk living off  Givenchy.

Rumours, ill gotten behaviour

pussy cat kneeding into yesterdays lingerie.

Not so much economical as busy with the normal day to day.

No digits on the clock,

time shows up in a 5 year old making intelligible sentences.

Forced to awaken from her slumber.

Time lapsed under the sound of a deity clapping out thunder.

what’s up with the pretences?

Athena peers into the eyes of a child not so new born.

whispers ‘listen with both ears’

Goddess takes her own advice and is graced with the miricle of life;

she succumbs to tears.

Finally managed to get up on the retrograde.

Trumped on an ally.

Her apoligies can still be heard in the fade.

Outed for having an opinion.

A belief!

Offended the entire faith of chritianity.

exhiled by her father figure.

She stands her ground where other men bow their heads.

Money makes a human weak in the teeth.

One fine day the bull will take off his horns when in pause mode.

The eagle will descend and emotions will spill out of  its  beak

hybridisation is the result of such an offload.

Glitter , maroon -carpets may seize the day and fly.

Although the author of these words questions the reason why.

Calling out to a nation of intellectual breeders.

They never want to hire former institutionalised  life seekers.

Whose truly deserving of at least the 90 th chance?

Some people don’t even live to experience their own wedding day dance.

Stuttering over each word. Tempted to  cuss.

Athena refuses to get stuck in reverse.

Ready to fertilise blood with the dark night of the soul.

Athena never passes up a challenge

uh oh

time to stop her before she’s crying over spilt milk

Betrayal   overheard by a righteous all seeing mole living in a borrowed hole.