Tag Archives: WRITING INSPIRATIONS

Words are my moonshine

When you  feel you’re hanging on the vine,

Remember- a seed push forth a mighty sign.

You must  take the sunbeams and treasure what’s thine

Wild Kansas City is but one destination on the sign.

Take hope, light and lose the animosity,

for inside  you, there is no monstrosity

Get caught speeding in high velocity.

It’s not a train smash —  nor a catastrophe.

When you’re stuck in the middle of time.

Jump off the fence ‘cos that’s doing yourself a crime.

Don’t you let commoners  think your words cannot define,

Your value, worth and dreams are not benign.

Take it from the apple tree

He allows fruit to aid in his victory.

Oh don’t, hide like a willow tree

Cry, but remember you have a destiny.

Everything will start to — lookup —  allow the clouds to throw some shapes.

Open  them wide , mind expand — understand the lessons from life’s true greats.

You’re already one them-slightly chipped — still most valuable of porcelain plates.

Never doubt  what you can do —   take a leaf from natures golden ratio

You radiate when you guide the fates.

Lets’ lasso this  up and keep your spirit wild

Grow tall — never lose your inner child.

A silly poem  to spread to the crowd

Accept her quirks  — light-hearted, silly sap —  never lose a day when she has smiled.

*I Iwas inspired by the song ‘This little light of mine’. live, love, don’t hold as grudge. Remain true to who you are and you won’t stand alone for long.

 

 

i

 

 

 

 

Hermit hymn

*To be revised*

 

I write about the hermit man

He often takes me by the hand.

Lost to gravity a  fan falls

The same one I use to navigate the wind.

 

Pushed me forwards never touching my body.

Motivated a will to resurrect forgotten seeds of hope

Planted for days when there are more downs than ups.

 

This son of a mother pulled out the brazen sun – shed the waning Luna

Roused the Apollo within

  stumbled about -gaze upwards  until

 in sight caught winged creatures

Caught a glimpse of the emotion of flying free.

 

The knowledge found  in a bare, withered  tree

Stem cell life.

 Presumed  the creature lived in my shadow

Turns out  it  had a growth spurt in

An external effort to shirk off the title of the saviour’s chosen one.

He who wears the hallow

Crucified by the unsynchronised dubbed over mouths

Pitched sounds out a  smoke effect bellow.

Can I get a score?

 

Few get to see his fallen wings

Unless preparation  sees an alternative

look to familiar skin.

 

That ole devil called love

Billie holiday thanks for the speckled dove.

 

Highs & lows

hi’s and by’es

 

High light

 at what remains

A pint of Bitter froth decomposed lost in the train of thoughts.

How the sun shine when it comes out.

blossom in spite of mood.

 

Life

you

I

we

Aren’t  vapid merely  short-sighted when  grey-bearded clouds appear

stubbled by  the  5 o clock shadow

 

Stunted by  growth paradigm

tuned into that dark cosmos we know is responsible for feeling so dim.

A connection to a  reflection of original purity to contrast moments we believe we don’t deserve to move forward.

Clandestine cloaks conceal our original sin.

 

This ongoing duet I sing with a feminine hymn

scintillates my belly until I feel the fire lit again from within.

 

Just a few words

 

Daisy chains a stream of consciousness

* It is only fear that stops you writing authentically. If most people don’t get my writing I wipe my head in relief. I’d rather have one genuine response of ‘I get this’ than likes. I feel a bit like the old Daisy. I write for me. When I write for myself I am being authentic.

You do that thing the others do.

Throw a google-eyed look away

Well, am I stark raving mad?

Gnarly Serf on a wavelength similar

to loyal Harvey the dog of Sam.

One eye hung out precariously

Electrodes attached to its head.

Tortured by experiments

Wronged species deserve rites

two

Left-handed Nuns appear unGodly.

Impregnated 9 months later delivers a postpartum already dressed up in blue. Momentarily stunned by nausea pangs

Delivered momentarily still

Birth devoid of cries then a shout out hits my ears

He’s not breathing

Inarticulate mid sucking on gas and air queer eye of this realm I pray for skin contact

You worry about your own soul shell feed

I can’t mimic the A team

A letter murmuration in full Flight

Fight solo traversing oceans

awash with

Contemporary pirates chaffed from over self-masturbation.

See men wink &weep over Oates that taste so so…..

Self-destruction ejaculates an abundant pressure of love.

Images of enjoyment flicked out a nebulous cornea.

Scattered

Failure caught wind of future events impossible to foretell a farewell

That would be hell.

Eloquence raped of its plumage

Abreast Birds hearts juking at 160 bpm

The final crash coursing bloody soundbites around the ministry of meow-em’s mouth veins

Shed tears for our once feathered friends.

Ravens versus magpies

A sign glitters all is not well

Clear sight lights up a mass derelict graveyard.

Those blinded peacocks.

How they spent their lives chasing cataracts from the omniscient Third eye.

No remorse

What have I done?

Pushed away those doves, drowned out the screaming stars.

Irksome elements are the dwarfed remainders of a mind

bent against its will.

Teething the Tension

Widen the gaps in this pension cut

Tender.

Rise

this morn, big mouth

Gums gunned down left in a flap,

When is my end?

The highest peak.

A gaze overlooks

A future uncertain.

Stuck in reverse

Cold cuts down play -sessions.

Seek out fabricated odifications

Hide happiness with a common dividend.

We believe the 365 tales told

Thoughts toss flip

Look what ‘s up

Ahead,

step after step on stealth mines muddled.

For today I love you…

Enough,torture by anguish.

Sundowners gravity compel an early Eve to blush at seeing Adams

apple tree deceived

down

fall

a pair of knees tainted by grass painted in slithering silence.

Limber climber defy the mass cavity awaiting

Underground Unwanted guardian angels willingly discredit the Grim reaper

even

When the odds favour that one’s number is up.

Down?

Hope in one gulp.

Grim glass-eye stares longingly at well-beings thirst quenched.

Leaked buckets reveal the fluidity of

love.

Forget about recriminations.

Don’t carry an organ donor card

To part from the complexities of life

momentarily contemplate the features of creatures born

Free.

Will,

They graciously mutate into mere mortals as time calls it a day?

Surrender to terminal Life

Know Death can’t kill

Those already Buried under by their own ills.

She didn’t know

She didn’t know how to give up.

Her greatest ally and her all consuming demise. 

Daisy Willows/Natasha Bodley/GOATS2BDazee/Daisyinthewillows

Musing for today.

Hope you are all doing what you need to get by. Life is what it is.

This song always makes me thing of life in a different way. It’s a bittersweet song that always bring a wry smile to my visage.

I don’t want to be in your soul tribe

Here she comes

Me -the late bloomer

I have a revelation words matter circa 2015.

ALL WORDS MATTER.

Let me try and type something with substance

Words have power.

We

collectively should choose our words carefully.

Don’t stop talking.

hashtag it’s still okay to talk.

start a difficult conversation.

Mental health is here for as long as we humans are.

For real…

Stop with the sincerely Stan – suicidal fan stereotyping –

Passive aggressive greeting -Hello hunties

Yes I have a cunt and I won’t let any man hunt me -unless he is prepared to be chased too.

How can we all be so woke when

we stilll choose to believe in fake news?

People love to give blow jobs on other peoples words.

Most people swallow and don’t spit.

Retweet it to keep it 100.

can we put a value on integrity?

Words matter -when we stand up for our belief to break away from the mould.

Open mic night’s expressions should be honoured by doing our words -over and over.

Especially when people aren’t watching.

Show and tell how to walk the talk.

Match a wage bet — that another brother’s claims of little Miss trouble are too high key.

It’s okay to talk.

Tupac once said

real eyes

realize

real lies

People should see before they make a judgement.

express yourself – in the social accepted way –

Aspire to appear lowkey?

All these quotes about

Keep your personal business to yourself. –

then do a 180 and take the ” power back”.

A calculated performance

reveal you know how to manipulate words – with barely legal finesse.

Hashtag wars still matter.

Use language for positive change.

Talk.

Start a difficult conversation.

Think about your fellow patient in the opposite bed.

Why does she haveresting bitch face syndrome ?

Why does she stare at back after you state

‘That feeling when you feel like Briney spears circa 2007?

oh you have problems – you slit your wrists – oh how savage – roll of the eyes.

Let’s get creative with our words.

affected by a mental illness.

infected…..

Lives with a mental illness ?

or suffers from a mental illness?

How savage (roll of eyes)

These labels – – schizophrenics. Bipolar , psychotic

2018 is the year where Everyone wants to be insane 😉

the reason to be a certain way is the new aesthetic

or an excuse

to be lowkey about our true shame and high key about superficial hurt not to lure in the Stans.

Whose that?

It’s not relevent as long as I get approval from my fam or

my Sis from another Miss.

We are more than a tick boxed list of criteria.

We are complex humans , with diverse traits and interests.

Who is that? Over there- making a statement.

Crazy

psycho

nuts

lunatic

Not relevant – That there is just some extra.

insignificant

to you;

Not part of the true fam –

Is this how we wish people to feel?

Insignificant!

For all the RT’ers out there who love to share,

Share your own personal story.

The world will become a place where you are lit by your integrity.

Not everyone can relate to the G.O.A.T.’s

with swagger.

We probably are pretty for real when we embrace our bromances and our militant feminists.

True power is being woke enough to see the ethic in bringing out the G.O.A.T. in EVERYONE of us.

We can all be be lowkey.

we are all fam.

I’m not going to say its cool to call my new ‘ship interest- Dad.

Words matter

and the lack of them.

What we don’t say .. is a statement of power.

Spoken word – maybe we all have inner dictator waiting to stand up and be heard.

I don’t know how we can claim to be so woke when everything we do is to death.

What am I going on about?

Apologies for this is the mix in slang –

I’m not pedantic … I am keeping my integrity – my code of of ethics.

If we are going to talk and be true about our feelings – Remember that the words we use to connect on a level can out you as a hypocrite –

Words matter because they help us communicate and relate with a diverse bunch of people who may end up feeling like family more than your own Dad or sis.

Communication can cause dis -ease – challenge our own self awareness;

Not because you the go to p[person to get the latest scoop on someone else in life detention.

Its cool to be high key about not fitting the mould –

Embrace the idea that to be holistic is not going to conform to your method of living –

for real.

WE don’t have to be conventionally spiritual to have faith.

Well-being of the mind and body is the G.O.A.T.

– the power –

the perfect ratio.

Sometimes we fall – human after all ..

I guess

When we outcast others for assuming their make up

judging every part of them based on an undemocratic vote of what a person’s true disposition is.

How fair and unbiased are our Hugh key views when we don’t have the whole picture?

That moonscape – that attitude is a predisposition to sus and ghost others because of their diversity.

We spit words , stand up for diversity and equality –

Express ourselves through didactic verse.

Congratulate our selves on our ethics- to embrace the variety of our culture.

The irony is what we say and do,

What we day we are going to do.

And what we do when confronted with someone who is different and not facile two understand.

How quick we are to turn into heartless bastards and turn away from our own race.

Everyone is quick to look at the other person.

I Don’t see colour .. I’m not racist

I don’t discriminate, I’m well up for equality.

“Look at those tits!”

“She looks well up for it.”

“crazy, cheating man hating bitch.”

“disrespecting my bro..”

Consult the bro code.

This divine, esoteric oracle states that she was asking for it.

She’s trouble.

Aaah aaah aaah baah

True story – a woman lived under apartheid then came to live in the patriarchal society of English gentry. Shes spoke up for herself – acted like a dude -how dare she!

Embraced the spoken word and unashamedly campaigned for the right that it is truly ok to talk.

Segreted cos she is diverse and predispositioned to speak her mind, she made as many fuck ups as the people she met and spent time with.

She decided to end her life with

these words

I don’t don’t give a fuck, I know the world is bigger than a few small minded ,feeble gossips who use their words to bond

I died to reborn .

I answer to nature not people.

Cloud Nine EMCEES

Sometimes we a good rant- It’s an old one. I’ve got something say and I’m struggling.

I love all genders -for the record.

Old soul

OTHER WORDLY .

Unfathomable to relate how a portrait of an unaffected cherub

mirrors

a forgotten dimension to

the paradigm LONER.

PENSIVE – angelic eyes

unfreeze momentarily — expressions animate the oil painted canvass.

Voice barely audible -mouths out to me

who is this new persona?

bBlood of my labour sworn to tell the gospal TRUTH.

Astonished -wrinkles crease — at time ‘s wilfulness to penetrate her innocence—

She’s not looking back at her youth.

BULLIED

The cycle continues-

Elders blame the outsider for a lack of faith in conventional —Spirituality.

ELDER peers down through a intoxicating incensed haze.

Measures me up.

squares me up.

On humble grounds

I stand a full head above her broad shoulders.

Closer to her divine maker

pious prayers hail down

the blame game

the name game.

Torured soul seeker

Scarpers for the licks of hell’s flames.

trips over underwood

poltergeists log a strategic placed guilt ambush

rotting the core of this circle of life’s CONTINUITY.

AUTHORITY ISSUES.

time will decide whether we are cosmic twins born 3 decades APART.

this is her descent  to destiny .

roughly sketched into this world-

pallid , charcoal smudged into silence.

An artist confronted with his frailty to conceive life.

Mourns the leftover clots of a being.

Miscariage – remnants of nurture -a mere puddle of blood outlining his corrosive flaw.

A splattering of colours, tears stained by remorse.

a howl of def toned melancholy

The artist sips a cup of penny total tea.

recomposed.

A sighed relief-

she has -AWAKENED.

ALONE – – is she fated too?

-The rebels never conforms

Transience

Stricken by the awareness of my own

MORTALITY.

 INQUISITIVE betrayed by her translucence

frown rouges her cheeks in introspection.

familiar strange words

Alienation effect prompts a impulsive turn around

the past

curses

damning this  loner to truly see.

An epiphany of divine INSIGHT

UNDER or OVER ACHIEVER perfection adorned with feathers of liberty –

don’t try please anyone!

A storm intervenes obscuring the BIGGER PICTURE-

Save that energy

for life

is a gift and

It’s your greatest fight.

RESPONSIBLE for so much — tempted by earths seasonal affective disorder

why does she have to be mortal?

Wings hook into shoulder blades

Reduced to a puppet attached by silver linings.

arial view-

panoramic

circular murmuration

obsessive.

Eyes strain ,blood shot.

Wind exhales mustard peppered vapours

orchestrating sight to follow a new PERSPECTIVE.

WISDOM revealed by the crooked halo’d questions

glitterer

shimmers her every inflection.

the yearn of experience — to keep heavens babe toothless , unaware of the survival evolution taking place

Within.

TENACIOUS – I overlook her every smile

from above

stitched up my heart

remains

the scape goat

the seeker.

until a moment forces me to find a burial ground

Unwillingly close my eyes –

the universe screeches –velocity erases all time.

Formless parts full up spaces amongst the dirt.

await for these settlers to wipe all memory from this life.

Old souls never alone for eternity.

We have one another to rise above our hurt.

knowledge is power, wisdom is happiness and truth is freedom

loop of mankind

When I think of the word History, I think – ha ha!

No- erm….

I think of all my experiences.

I think of all the times I never listened to others, all the adventures -risky and dangerous -that I took myself on.

I think about where I am today – or rather how I think about my personal history.

I find it useless to blame my parents or ex-partners or people who abused me at whatever age- not because I don’t think they had an impact on some of the decisions I made in life.

Some people were held accountable either by the law or good old karma and others went and still continue to go through their own life shit.

I can’t do anything to change my history. I can’t make a person talk me  ( I can try to and have done) or love me or want to know more about me.

I find the more I rag at my past or people in my past – the less productive I am in my present life.

When I come to terms with say, a childhood experience or heartbreak/betrayal and  I decide to forgive (not forget);

I’ve seen how this conscious act to look ahead instead of looking backward has helped me deal with my past, in unexpected ways.

Classic example:   I was very hurt about the relationship I had with my Dad for many years and then, when I decided to focus on how I could try and move our relationship forward, Life found a way for us to have some kind of relationship.

He lives in Africa. I’m in the U.K. and I really love those silly IQ tests /knowledge tests on Facebook and so does my Dad!

 It’s our time together. It’s a way I have found to get to know my dad, have a laugh, feel connected to him and it’s helped me see my Dad as a human.

 I have been able to talk with him  on skype and let him see who I really am- Who I have grown up to be. I’ve had the uncomfortable ‘I don’t know what to say’ and worked through it. 

This is just one example.

I think if I had carried on being on the offensive – not being contact with him and thinking and feeling whatever it was I did, I don’t think I would have some part of my Dad in my life today.

Should he have reached out? I’m not even going there.

The point is I know how to reach out to people, I know I’m in control of me.

I don’t always get it right.

When I think of certain people and situations I’ve caused or found myself in- I can be confrontational and maybe those people aren’t ready or in a place to be a part of my life in a way, I want them to be.

It’s hard for me to accept other people’s choices.

 I don’t give in.

I’m stubborn.

The people I make time and effort for in the past or now- I do genuinely care about these people.

Eventually, I have to respect that not everyone wants me around or likeS me or …..who knows what they think!

 So, I have to suck it up – cry, refocus my energy and live my Life.

I don’t forget these people.

I often want these people to succeed even the people who made life hell for me.

The people who tried to bring me down – one  example,

At my hen do. I was looking good, my mental state was great and I felt good about me and I had an energy around me. I invited a bunch of friends out and one of the girls who I met through a relative – made the remark

” You’ve put on weight haven’t you”  

My mates were horrified knowing how far I’ve come with my issues.

 It took a couple days for my rage to kick in. I had it out with her and then I decided this girl has a LOT of her own issues.

Her life hasn’t been easy and isn’t and I’m not going to fall for it.

So even today, I big this person up. I encourage her to achieve dreams. I’m not best mates with her!

  Fuck, I’m not stupid. ha ha!

I need positive people around me.

I just realized that she saw something in me that maybe she didn’t have and it’s easier to try and bring a person down than be happy for someone.

Not everyone is on the same level of thinking you and I are on.

We all have a narrative, a past, a history. We deal with ourselves 24 hours a day.

Sometimes we try to escape from ourselves,

We drug ourselves to get away from ourselves.

Be it with sugar, food, cigs, weed, prescription meds, alcohol, crack, spice, legal highs, extreme sports, sex, porn, money.

I’m glad I’ve had people run me down in life.

 I’m not ecstatic about it but I can see the benefits of it – looking baaa ack over my shoulder…. ( like the song)

I am a person who is genuine, I have empathy, I filter my judgments, I forgive, I set boundaries, I reset boundaries.

I know what I believe in- what I am passionate about.

People do still challenge me.

 I’m  an observer and I ‘ve learned how to respond to certain types of people. Some people need to be spoken to how they speak to others.

If someone doesn’t get me -I’ve learned there are many who will and do.

I just put myself out on a limb and it feels like torture but I hang in there -until I’m just about to give up, then somebody or something comes into my life and reaffirms what I believe in.

I’m not saying my beliefs and values and the way I live are right for everyone but they are right for me.

I know what I need to work  on and I do ask for help.

January is coming to a close –

no more Just January Jots.

 

jjj-2017
 

JusJoJan word prompt – history

 

 

I’ve enjoyed the word prompts. I never know what will come out of my head.

 

It’s sunny and I have lots of work to do and I’m feeling optimistic, scared and determined.

Thanks for reading

 

The fable of Alison.

Paper, rock or scissors?

Choose one and you may win treasures.

Paper!

Congrats you have received a one-year wedding anniversary.

I’m not even married – how is this a gift I can accept ever so gratefully, oh harry?

Will you marry me?   I can make it true.

Alison threw a rock -aimed for the right side of Harries’ forehead- blood leaked out leaving his lips blue.

A twisty smile caught the ends of Alison’s mouth.

She needed a pair of scissors to cut out his heart.

Grim, I agree but her character is slighly  Magee.

Squiggled by all the paper cut out men she’s collected over the years.

Paper mache collage project- in an attempt to fix her heart.

Glue worked better when she inhaled it’s fumes .

She would depersonalise from her very self and awake discombulated- and rather confused.

This is the sad tale of how alison decided she needed to repair her heart.

She flipped a coin that flipped her mind – all in one turnabout,

she came around -started singing the the Hokie Cokie.

Her twisted jive improved when the moon drew in a little closer.

She could almost hear a beating heart – she put her hand to her chest and,

well, she fell apart.

Envious stares at Man Mickey Finn – his heart beat loudly annd glowered within.

He was her first.

First attempt to re enter the game of tick tockers.

Little did she know that this manic method would send her over to the bog marsh rockers.

Frozen on ice add a straw and a blueberry, she sipped her amorous bloody cocktail – Mary already had men gouging her blood everyday.

Shaken not stirren.

Stern she was shaking.

What did Mary’s conception have that made men fall head over heel and lap for her attention?

Frowned, knitted eyebrows – she added her own  rouge splash  to the mix.

Men looked straight throught her – perhaps she needed a bar of a twix?

She had a cunning plan- not evolved or well thought out . She tuned up her senses whenever men were about.

The throbbing , pulstating came not from the heart.

An alarming discovery – It came from below the waist.

Mary – scartlet virgin?  miracle,  my arse!.

Poor Alison only wanted to feel desired.

When she went for her next ingredient,

she balked at its form and tried to  appeal to its art .

Phallic and paternal it made  her blush from the internal .

How would she get it to stay erect so she could snip it off when it was ready to launch and eject?

She tickled the floating accompanied planets and amusement came out in oohs and aahs .

Just a little longer, Alison thought blustered through scrunched up eyes.

 make sure you aim for the right glass and not the glass eye. 

The navy would be proud of her solid sea legs.

She mixed this new concoction.  so sure she was,

 she convinced me she was  devout.

Up the straw the gloopy mixture reached her swollen taste buds.

Horrified she spat it out –  perhaps she needed to make it a little more tart.

She came acrosss a nursing mother – whipped out her hunting tools.

Crying Babe clattered to the tarmac.  Scattered  Mother one breast left on the right side.

Shake it up and  down the hatch . She waited for the rush of ardours to pour in.

Misery entered without a courterous knock. Sit down you gapless, toothy banshee of distrust.

Tears rung around her neck -weighing in at a hefty sized albatross.

The grief of being ignored compelled her into complete disorder.

How could she end this frenzied quest without settling into a forlorn heap of a mess?

Then a thought rainbowed across her mind. It lifted the burdened clouds and she put her hand to mouth to suppress a giggle.

If no one would have her then she knew what was best.

Alison abandoned her empathy in the puddle of complicated attempts to gain acceptance.

She proudly took her first step into her role as the the Queen of hearts.

If men wouldn’t love her, she would make sure they could love no other.

What a dreadful tale, is there are moral to end this fable  – make it an epic!

Jesus wept!

I get bonus points if I end this and say  she transformed – yes she did and serve this as warning on how to never ignore the self- proclaimed pious.

 

 

socsbadge2016-17

LINDA SOCS WORD PROMPT HERE START WITH THE LETTER ‘P’ AND BONUS POINTS FOR ENDING PIECE IN A ‘P’

 

Red Siamese

Stream of consciousness

 

When someone has said to her:

 oh, you’re pretty.

She always gets mad and ditzy and insulted.

Is that all , pretty?

 not beautiful, funny, smart, intelligent, dramatic?

Pretty crazy…

that fuels her embers –

I’ll show you pretty. 

Pretty demeaning is how I  would describe her state of mind.

She’s come to that crossroad: hit a right for success or hit a left for back to her ‘usual isle of distress’.

She’s always had this pretty dark quirk in her nature- a dent.

No!

 More like her nature took a key to her brain – triggered it, in the same way, a malicious person keys a person with a fine automobile or new car.

That is what she does to her mind. It’s almost like there is another- living inside her. She’s not pretty.

She is ugly.

She says ugly things.

She makes people cry.

She pushes people away.

She isolates herself.

She knows it will end up wrapped up in stained sheets of her own self-pity cries.

Ones she pushed for – ones she earned.

She never liked herself – wouldn’t have her own picture taken for a long time. In hatred, she tore up all pictures of herself,

then sometime in her life she grew confident and started taking lots of pictures of herself -too many.

Maybe she was beautiful stunning,   pretty even?

  Was it worth the self-damnation she put herself through to achieve a look she deemed is acceptable?

Many people have asked her what it feels like to be so intelligent and aware of her issues- to have so much insight and phycology into her own problems.

Is it a blessing or a curse?

Let’s try something.

Think of a person coming to her house with a bottle of wine/ cocaine /pills/ bondage-style stuff/ comic books – insert vice/ fetish /escapism tool  ………..here.

Let’s make this person -super – pervy -sleazy -gender? unknown.

PERVY PERSON: So, like, hey why the long face? (a stream of consciousness brain has become lame)  You, uh … wanna get wasted?

She does get caught off guard sometimes not always.

The truth is these days her reply is mostly,

No.

Why?

She’s a stubborn mare.

Truth?

She knows the consequences.

She knows the problem is burrowed deep within her – nothing but he can make it stop.

Pretty lame?

or,

Pretty courageous?

Either way, she has to live with herself.

So, she gets the whole escapism psychology.

She has taken countless overdoses, countless drugs, been in various institutions – locked up for being herself -criminal or “just” insane.

It doesn’t work.

Why does she push people away?

Why?

She knows about her upbringing and she can’t blame them or that or it.

Or the others- this is not a horror movie!

It’s her life.

Yeah, agreed. Pretty horrific.

She is an adult- with her own mind and life and responsibilities.

Her pretty demented reasoning is: eventually –   she will hurt those she loves and she would rather things got horribly ugly-

sooner rather later.

She doesn’t want to draw it out.

Oh, darling, Don’t let her fool you. She loves acting!

She can do one hell of a supernova act if she wants but she isn’t malicious – something inside her is disturbed.

It may have come with her when she got delivered on a wonky legged stork,

or,

she may have seen something that petrified her into this state of self-destruction.

She loves to sing twinkle twinkle little star to her only child.

Stars are huge.

She knows why people always say before they die or, to someone who has recently  lost someone

There is the person you love – twinkling above – looking out for you. 

Stars have a lifespan of billions of years. It’s pretty amazing to think she quite possibly looked at the very same stars that her great grandparents or ancestors looked at many moons ago.

( singing) When you wish upon a star…. know that once she did so same from afar.

Ha – pretty lame as it gets.

Ever thought what it would be like to have a child /ren who are Siamese twins?

Say you could only possibly save one.

One was seen as truly wicked and the other?

Well, the other one could go on to make his/her mark in the world.

 Maybe not with a fancy career but merely by being human.

 Reaching out to people in need.

It can make a difference!

 Sometimes more than all the money in the world could.

Just knowing someone cares. What does she  know?

I digress, – -in a pretty way – haha.

Think of yourself as a mother -as a person with some kind of intellect.

You would reason that no person is born inherently evil or absolutely good.

There are many sides to a person.

 Inside her is her very own Siamese twin.

She has to put one down.

 Murder it!

At that moment, that pretty wicked one has a grip on her heart and her mind – it’s all so terribly confusing and frustrating

So, she has to make a decision.

 Invasive surgery for, no – on her Siamese twins, in the hope, that the one with the potential to twinkle can be reborn.

Goodby, Red dwarf. Be angry.

Goodby, white dwarf -cool down.

And finally, ciao , Black dwarf –   your true composite make up is on a show for all to see.

Your heart is blackened –  not because you are evil.

It’s just the nature of how life (and those who energize and roam it)  goes.

 

 

 

 

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