Perspectives

If shades came in pigmented blues

Would the world recognize the significance of color as opposed to hues?

Would living in color stop it’s either this or that?

Would gray get a chance to convince us to investigate?

Would crashing into a slick  navy

crude and  lost at  sea,

Inspire old fashioned candy knots to carry us all back to safety?

If black wasn’t so noir

Would fashion dictate less to those in the savoire?

Would flags become less patronizing?

and white flags more entrancing >

A hue is a hue by its very name

A color can decide to change and play  – a child-free game.

Rich in reds and rich in Green

 Would we see who indeed profits from wealth – would we want to change this scene?

Would hearts come together under a purple strewn night? 

lovers take pleasure in dancing in the rain and seeing each other in a different light?

Emotional attachments are often aesthetically pleasing

only to the one who is eyeballing the muddied one’s  high pitched squealing.

Clarity of light sought in souls and not in places of a questionable heaven.

admirers eyes to skies

solid legs still rooted in the ground

unifying all genders of brethren.

How wealthy we are  to have  a landscape of color

Don’t ignore its beauty in the search for another.

 

 

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WORD PROMPT ‘BLUE’   HEAD OVER TO LINDA G HERE

 

 

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the You! fallacy

Just jotting my thoughts. I’ve been prompted to make a complaint.

little four eyes when you were half your current size -why did you doubt yourself so?

Looking back to a densely plotted past – hazy.

What would you have done knowing all people doubt themselves even if it means you becoming the foe?

‘Have no regrets’ – the tagline of the present.

no regrets, no regrets, no regrets.

When you are looking at granny in a catatonic state, unable to walk or talk. Fragments of images of people now gone, tell me you won’t wonder how life would have played out by taking assertive bets.

Complaints department – sizeable queue. What can we do to answer people’s feuds?

Create a passage for people to commit to taking responsibility for themselves, sign that in ink and wrangle with their own moods.

Blame everyone.

You!

You,

and you!

well…… the list unfolds until it reaches the flaws of flooring.

Finger pointing in every direction. Buckle up, prepare to look within and see how far you can go when you begin to see only you can change your state of deploring.

Control comes not from puppeteering others. Cut loose – let the strings fall.Let people walk,

hell! let them figure it out-  leave them to crawl.

Worry about how you are going to make it. What you need to do to advance in the dance – motions to elevate and bypass the savage instinct to maul.

How many complaints is your God of choice dealing with?

in Her brassic attempt to fulfill everyone’s wish

Did it ever occur to you to get off your indignant knees to check out the employment vacancies for extras needed to help your  God succeed in appetizing your particular dish?

Stop giving control to others to fix your problems. You have a brain, how much has been wasted?

Think of the energy and time used in a  futile attempt to get people to see your view,

the moment before the curtains go down you have become the finale unstitched,  obtusely basted.

What do you do to make this world a better place?

What do you do to help us people stay in the race with human grace?

Life is never going to get easy – you’re never going to be 100%  fulfilled. There will always be a doughnut sized whole to fill.

Do you even know what it is you need to fix yourself?   In monetary terms, you will have to pay for your own self- advocacy bill.

Money, time and energy well spent making you a person who can figure out how to make sense.

Dig deep and take a deep breath-  Don’t be afraid to be a master of your own success.

To run away from your potential achievement will be your greatest offense.

 

jjj-2017     THANK YOU TO  SHAN JENIAH and LINDA FOR KEEPING ME IN A WRITING HABIT.   WORD PROMPT:  COMPLAINT  CLICK HERE TO TRY IT OUT.

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.

 

 

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

 

Cape Vulnerable

Danger lurks in wild-eyed faces.

Thoughts restrained to assuage feelings inverted debases.

Danger thrusts a third eye world view,

of hatred and vomit a careless overlook of blind men seeking to anew.

Danger conquests damsel in distress.

Jeans make it pleasurable for when she denies its requests.

Danger,

danger,

danger, –  it haunts her.

She sees what she wants to see; how it taunts her.

Hush little darling, remember naive, white rose petals,

Dreams hijacked by villains in full uniform metals.

Skettled and nettled – itching to find a place to seek comfort.

A goose down feather pillow makes a dream fit for the unfit.

Danger.

Danger.

Danger, it hawks in on her.

Hush, little darling – feed thine hunger, mother goose is baking in the oven.

Commit to a mind of normal functions. Emotional battery, maternal coven.

Reach not for this soul. It is claimed and is bold.

Wretched and lectured- ears buzzing with sensory ejaculation.

Sleeping partners do just what the contract state. Don’t let this assume an identity of edification.

Soothe, muse, love every bone,

ever tenderized bruise.

Damsel will never see you fall from your pedestal – you can never lose.

Choose, use -in moderation – her body will allow you to take so know thine limits

Infants on feet -rapping at the  doors -ready to impose a new order in the house of the fidgets.

 

#JusJoJan Daily Prompt – Jan. 10th/17jjj-2017.jpg

 

Look up

Signs of life cautiously peek around the jagged  wall. Gently  calling out that it is okay to be vulnerable and strong.

Look up, oh naked child of zombies heaven. Trust in the pureness of dressing yourself like the day you took your first breath – inhaled oxygen and exhaled carbon dioxide.

Life and death are intimately connected.

Fear .

So fearful of life.

Fear not to stand up and let your breasts fall beyond the pencil rule of if you need to wear a corset or bra.   😀

Remember ,death is unknown – it is a forgotten memory – another state of consciousness.

Believe in standing – blemished , untouched, unpolished , un- cropped.

Believe  that your natural skin color is right. Whatever color it is . It is yours and it covers you so well. Protects you from elements like sticks and stones and winds and snow.

Hair – leave the three hairs on your toe. Men do. It’s winter – allow yourself to be comforted by your own body and warmth .

You are a miracle. Don’t look away – you give a lot away .

Don’t regret what you give.

Don’t regret what you feel .

It is by being naked and bare that you are able to connect with everyone you meet- – every crack in the wall is a sign that you have fought to reach out and make yourself complete.

You embraced the air- you fought to feel – you fought to care.

This prison is in your mind. Don’t fear to blossom, sweet soul. Don’t cover your mouth. Smile and laugh – you captivate the world with your unique laugh and you give other people a chance to respond and feel bold.

Rings can’t bind you,   in truth , the earth is probably flat.

Your arm symbolizes a crane – you are the hope that can only be the change.

embrace every fear.

Say yes to everything you feel will move your forward- will cut the strings of setting you loose from the puppeteers, brainwashed in stagnant gestation.

Walk silly, bounce -be flat footed . We all walk in our own peculiar way.

Don’t hide – don’t hold your breath – you deserve every single breath.

Your heart is your greatest ally – your mind is brilliant – allow it to think – allow your thoughts to come out in speech bubbles .

Be a comic, a novel, a flash piece of fiction, a stream of consciousness – don’t hide that captivating mind.

Your tears have kept me alive- nourish yourself – replenish your needs too.

Drink and rehydrate.

Eat and don’t allow barbed thoughts to intrude on your time to  re-energize.

Time won’t stop. You know it only moves on with or without you. So look up and look at me. See your reflection and see your soul is pure -forget about what has been.

Own every line, every dent, every scar on your body- that is your own personal narrative and don’t be ashamed – it is what makes up your flesh – you are not a character you are a fully fleshed out person.

You wounds are your path , your trail, your journey. Create much more if you want – but be gentle.

If only you would look up so I could see the color of your eyes. If only you would smile – would it reach up to meet your eyes?

 

 

* Today’s stream of consciousness was inspired by LINDA G’s word prompt ‘YES’ and a random  image that I googled of  someone’s work I admire. Thank you, CAKE for always inspiring me and pointing me to Art that I connect with.

Francesca Woodman 1958-1981

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I believe,to create something different we have to do something different.

Have a have fab weekend.

You have a voice and a mind and a heart – use it. Don’t let others intimidate you. Be free.

DAISY 

XOXO  ❤ ❤

 

Food for thought.

Hark! I feel the desperate need to fletcherize.

What? Is this some new mumbo jumbo, hybrid- combination form of exercise?

Yes,   I would imagine it involves some motivation from a person with no predilections to become easily disheartened.

Why can’t you just eat sensibly ,stop this   new wave of choosing a new flavor every month-

to keep up with  fitness promoters incentives  to keep  people outsmarted? 

It’s the new rage- it’s catching . It takes great skill , I can’t help but swallow great lumps of it, 7 days a week –

such is the weight of my  grief.

Sounds like a disease with such a symptom as that. Rage is not all  it is cracked up to be as a moderate form of stress relief.

It is not just some novelty – like limited -edition candy  bars being sold to profiteer the next big entrepreneur.

Oh really ,so next you  will l tell me it is an exact science – proven to actually have more lasting benefits than a summers worth of lazing on the beach in a bikini –  eyed up by the oil slick crowd that draws in like a tide -ogling to be  near.

Oh no. It has been well proven that  to engage in this exercise is likened to yoga. It is a practice.

The evidence for this is where ? a desert far away – hiding in the form of H20 in a well prickled out cactus?

Look,I’m not asking you you join the parade and get down and groove with us who choose to exert ourselves in this way.

I know , I just don’t want you to get sucked in the PR vortex and lose yourself with  an accompaniment £10  diet plan-

 to prove the results  work when you have your weekly weigh day.

Tsk,I’m not just going to gobble it all up without reading the terms and conditions.

Well, I am most sincere when I say I am glad you have paused for thought -slowed down your impulsive urge to guzzle down additional condiments –

and other unnatural apparitions

In practice, I am going to be mindful and chew on these words slowly and deliberately.

Wise words, coming from some one who is usually so careless when it comes to honoring your basic right at retaining  your  liberty.

No offence but  you  partake in media shake ups, that regurgitate  out a new shape each season,  with an  acute, floundering dignity.

Triangle.

Circle .

Square.

Heart.

Diamond.

Mmh,that’s sparkingly rich. I only look up at those who have a celestial  essence of a shape – one quite like the star.

Well, while you persecute me for attempting to live my life in a shape I desire to acquire- with all due respect ,

I will strive to be what I want to be  and you be who  you are.

Wait!  I need 20 minutes to digest all this information .

Now, that it the right attitude – jut enough time to satiate before you give in to  more  temptation.

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One day until the weekend  YAY!

 

In all honesty…..

Don’t mix your dish clothes with your serviettes? 

Ever heard of that one?

My Gran drummed that into all of us as much as she could.

She was born with money but lived the life of Cinderella because she was pretty and Grand  Mamam re married and acquired two not so pretty daughters.

She fell pregnant at 16 and was made homeless and went to work as a femme de menage and then trained to be a beautician.

She fell in love again and had my Aunt.  Her Love left her like a  stolen kiss and she then  had two children to look after.

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She had to put my aunt and uncle in a children’s home so she could work and survive and send money to them.

It’s not a train smash.

Ever heard of that one before?

My grandpa drummed that in to all of us as much as he could.

His parents left Russia in 1918, took on a Polish sounding name and ended up leaving a good life for the slums of Paris.

Grandpa was born in the slums of Paris.

Grandpa took to cruising Paris with the  other street kids ,always hungry on the look out for food.

One day Grandpa got a chance to change everything. He got a contract with L’oreal to bring the brand and introduce it to the dark continent that is Africa.

Always an opportunist he took the contract, found my Gran along the way , got married to her (much  to the disapproval of my Grans family) and left for Madagascar, then Zimbabwe and finally South Africa.

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My Gran couldn’t leave her children. She had to tell grandpa that she couldn’t leave France.He asked why and she only managed to tell him about her daughter – my aunt.

My grandpa took my aunt out of the children’s home and gave her his name that very day. My gran couldn’t bring herself to tell Grandpa about her other  son. He would remain a secret until he wrote a salacious  book about our family many years later.

Grandpa would have taken on my estranged uncle too if he had known.

They went on to have four more children.

Grandpa made a lot of money and finally  got live the life of O Riley in South Africa.

The fridge was never empty again.

I got to live a pretty good life too.

Did having money and class make me a better person?

It got me into a lot of trouble.

I had far too much money from my Dad and my Mom’s side of the family.

I got into plenty trouble.

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I ended up living in squats and places of poverty. I was always more accepted there for wanting to get high than with other wealthy friends.

The reason: I didn’t hide who I was.

I don’t regret becoming a drug addict.

It taught me that just because I was white and privileged that didn’t mean I was exempt from getting hooked on the same drugs that only the poor and coloured ( is a race in South Africa and not a slur) , Indian and black community did.

Class doesn’t buy you happiness.

Drug dealers hated me.

They didn’t get why a white girl with seemingly everything would wanted to live a ghetto life – have black boyfriends and live in squalor.

One thing having  class did help me with is get me out of a lot of trouble

Before you say money doesn’t buy class.

I already agree it doesn’t.

But have you ever noticed that some people carry themselves a certain way and others have an in bred look.

This is subjective and

Harsh ,yes!

Don’t tell me you haven’t ever had that thought!

That person looks like …. (insert your thoughts here)

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LET’S NOT TRY AND AVOID THE BIG ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM,FOLKS. 😉

 

What I love about the Word Press community is I don’t have a clue who has money and who doesn’t unless of course a person tells me.

It still doesn’t make a difference. All Good  Writing  is classy in my book.

 

 

What irritates me is even though I am living on the poverty line not because of choice but because of choices I  have made – people who don’t know my financial situation assume that the reason I got my daughter back and managed to manage my mental health issues is because of how I present myself and because I look like I have money.

I communicate well.

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Being privileged does not make me make better choices.

It doesn’t make me better in anyway.

There are many people who live in poverty who just like me want to learn. crave to learn.

I truly believe ‘knowledge is power’.

I communicate well because I have educated myself.

Everyone should have this chance

 I’m in debt because I wanted to study in higher  education. I am willing to get into more debt to get my Masters.

The problem with class is the privileged have a better chance at learning to communicate and getting their point across in a “rational” manner from an early age.

We are all born with emotions. It is as natural as breathing

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For many reasons  when we display our emotions in society, we  are seen as bad and showing ourselves and our family and friends  up.

People with mental health issues -Rich or Poor get outcast as soon as they start leading their life in emotion without knowing the rules of how to be “civilised” to try get what you want.

 I didn’t get lucky because of my back ground.

I got clever and I studied and I learnt. I watched people and how they interact. I went on self discovery courses to find out  what my priorities and beliefs and values were and what makes me tick.

I have had at least one chance to marry for money. A pity the person was double my age, got a great pension and couldn’t communicate unless in anger or affection and drunk.

I have never had a rich boyfriend.

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I think the closest I had to a boyfriend with “Money” was a brief love affair with some one in the army who had so many issues that he accused me of only wanting him for his money.

Funny story. I actually crushed on him because he had travelled like me. He had opinions  and ideas. He was creative and he made me feel special.

I am marrying for love.

My mom is  not rich any more but she has a lot of class and really great taste in fashion.

She has been my wedding planner and if our day looks privileged: it is because she got clever

We got clever. We got our priorities right.

I am rich in love.

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My husband to be was born in a place where everyone who hears the name thinks ghetto ,drugs, inbred families and rough around the edges .

Granted Gaz looks like he may smoke a bit of the  green stuff.

He has never smoked or taken drugs .

He doesn’t drink. Hasn’t done for nearly 5 years.

He does  knows how to communicate and get his point across better than a lot of the Rich people I have had the opportunity of conversing with.

His mind is open. He is not ignorant. I love him for that.

We get on so well because we try to put the world to rights,we are inquisitive, always ready to learn and find out about our world and even beyond it.

We laugh. Huge turn on.

Make me laugh or buy me diamonds ?

Oooh what will I go for?

Class is an illusion.

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Every Friday I look forward to Linda G. Hill -Life in Progress # SoCS -it is a great way to just free style and see what appears on paper or on my laptop screen

All you have to do is type and don’t over think it while you are doing it.

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “class.” Use any meaning of the word in your post. Enjoy!

LINDA G HILL