Cloud nein emcees

*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

self righteous

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

Writhing  incredulous,

these open minded soldiers

Look on

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.

 laughing.

these dawgs gave up their wings to live in a prison

Dispair.

Injustice

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-

soar

tumble

 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

Turn around

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.

Making  out.

Yeah, making out

that

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Life nonsense Intolerance

*Complete nonsense trigger warning*  ( inspired by my out of tune singing of Smash mouths-‘all Star’)

 

Hey now you’re  afuckstar!

 I’m so bloody frustrated,

Orgasms in the office stopped mid flow,

 because my printer  got jammed,

And made life slow.

Everybody

Wants a piece of fame.

Fuck it.

 It’s dismal.

Its shallow.

These still waters run deep.

I’m swimming off to  get away from  ‘the look at me’ protestors  with their self-drawn,scrawled  picket’.

I’m frustrated.

Paper over load.

Jam makes me sticky .

I need more than cursing semen.

I’ve got energy  I need to burn up.

Let me feast like a queen-on  sushi and haute cuisine.

It’s not like I have nothing to do.

I have a to do list ,

Daisy in the Willows  believe  it or not.

I’m not getting my usual kicks from turning blue.

I’m talking nonsense cos I’m frustrated.

People are fickle.

So, here I  am

typing — wisely refusing to do any ass wiping-

  I’m worth more than a nickel.

Money is a means to an end

Credit – I’m borrowing on limited time only .

Interest served for  these corporations

Who turn my life into a hang mans noose.

 Game over.

cul de sac

loopy dead end.

Natural-

no makeup-

Everybody wants  a fake bake .

I failed the pencil test rule

I need to buy new lingerie for own my blushing breasts sake.

sexual and passionate-

extremist –

not a fan of

Being  Laid In.

Nonsense .

Not procrastinating.

look at me

I’m transparent-

Casper  the ghost has nothing  on this glowing  skin .

Free verse

I don’t fit in.—

 there’s no scene

Unless I acknowledge  it .

Let me be ignorant.

Insight is turning me into some evil mutant

Elementary.

I’m a music whore — to my very core.

Hell has nothing on me-

Sending tickets to remind them I am the serpent from mythic folklore.

Nudity.

Cover up

 Bare skin

 Shut your taboos up .

I have nothing to hide….

-except a few stretch marks and an imagined belly that resembles  raw pork in a butchers  shop

Shave my head

Take my dignity

Fuck that.

I’m feeling rather ranty.

So much to do.

Typing shit – I’m probably due my meds cos now I’m  on Electric Avenue.

Write to recover from mental imbalances.

I’m feeling better-

my memory’s erased from  CBT shock  therapy.

Thanks doc , I brought extra large diapers,

and now I’m better walking round like baby Huey-

quwackers,

with a

 toddler mentality of a pig.

SOS

Before I get diced into  a stew with other mashed up veggies.

 

*Apologies for this post* 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

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*

Rebirth

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.

Option one-refused-

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 .

Hell no,

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?

Yield.

conform.

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.

Dastardly cowards

Mutinous Muttley.

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.

Folly? yes.

Fool?

not for long.

Justice is why i’m still standing .

My place in this world is not to hang with vomitious,

 gut heaving,

 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 *

 

pycho phantic heathen

Write to recover is what I always say.

I’ve discovered,

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.

To think

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

same

sane

 mundane

chain.

Heads up!

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.

Disgraced.

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.

Write nonsense-

The Lakers swan to the crowd

I’m a nutter.

I’d   crack a prince just to see a picture  of  a colourful scene.

Abstract,

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.

My soul

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

and, now,

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*

 

Kalinda

When my Kalinda peers into his reflection he see’s jagged, ragged parts of a body

discombobulate

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.’

Skullbones crossed.

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

– please,

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

expands

-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

why?

again?

how?

and when?

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.

Hi Lo Perspective

*If you want to find out more a bout the inspiration for this piece and raise awareness against all forms of violence and abuse-Trigger pictures of me looking bruised -HEAD OVER HERE

share #It’sok2talkaboutabuse

If not read below.

It’s not Saturday and I’m feeling non conformist. I guess its kind of my way.

Haven’t done much this weekend — except nursing bruises, swellings, scrapes and down right painful blisters on the mouth.

I’m fuming.

The lows of last week found me beaten to a pulp like a survivor from a war jump.

Didn’t get no gangrene or scurvy-I suppose that’s better than dying on a row boat at Dunkirk – on sheets of ice.

Spinning around not a La Kylie Minogue mode.

I’m over the worst of the beating-

I “secretly” hope these two bastards gets their come( t)uppence.

It would be easier to get high and escape from the down side-

Look out my window and the skyline is blocked by housing estates.

Crumbling – it’s always a better view at low tide.

Three a.m. wake up calls for months-every  time.

The creative freaks come out so, I suppose I’m in good company and I will be..

just fine. 😀

Physical strength is the only thing that let me down in this fight against the Alphas.

If guns were legal I think I would use the second amendment to plea —

Y.ankee

O.scar

B.ravo

S.ierra –

Give at least one of the limp cocks a belter.

Only one would be laughing — this bruised weed — always making sure her brood is out of the firing line;

Standing in the shelter.

Ballroom blitz and shammy with my king.

Oh how we will dance!

— cowards should carry around organ donor cards.

On second thoughts, who would want the innings of someone who can’t fight to their  own strength —

Run little boys to your Audi and drunk mommy-

The one you beat up on a regular basis.

You think this is a female annihilation version of the crusades?

I’m low not in mood but my body says — sit down and feel your boo boos

My head says life is for living.

I don’t want to walk out of my house,

like a beast or looking like a victim of domestic violence-

Here comes the freak in an endless hued complexion of distracting tutus

The highs are the times when I hear my child laugh, my husband he bathes me and kisses me tenderly,

loves my sense of spirit when I look bloody unsightly.

In truth I look hideously ghastly—

Green beans and asparagus — home made by La Bonne chef, ma Mere.

I struggle to eat more than ever, but I won’t let two stomped out cans put me off the future horizon I’ve cut out —

The scenic view from here is a — plethora of orgasmic sight sees.

Lows inevitably come with highs.

I’ve accepted a hand

taken that step off the top roof.

The next time I’m up their , I’m going by lift.

Agenda?

To dance and rub shoulders with people channeling the same level — hearing a sub woof.

Clearly better days ahead.

Wasted time on talking pin heads.

Its fine, its mine, Its life.

Yesterdays news is on current recycle mode.

This Mary Poppins has already started making UP fresh linen beds.

A break from the toxicity of incurable idiotism — helps me see far up the winding road.

Perspectives easily imagined —

There goes a heavenly striking stair case.

It may not lead to a conventional heaven .

I’ve already stated my unorthodox ways right at the beginning .

I missed the word that rhyme ending three sentences up,

So, I’ll close SOCs by stating:

I’m recharging my load.

I’ve missed LINDA G’S. SOCs -today’s prompt -High and lows

Good to be back – Take part its fun heres a link!

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