I light this vigil/ candles given to me by an individual/ a name I cannot give thee/ heart and mind forgive me.
If I said his name is Slash/ he’s indecisively crass/more renowned as a light brush stroke/ his Latin name leaves a remarkable impression in repressed folk.
It worries me that Axl hasn’t made up his mind/ more guns than roses-sublime/ A promiscuous murmur/ hidden in visual fervour.
confess/ snitch …..
Naming something can either increase/ diminish power/ I’m thinking psycho -you know – the scene in the shower? /If I had to reveal his true name is Virgule/ why does that visually conjure up an image in my mind of a gargoyle?
For the meaning of the word ‘Virgule’ scroll down.
This was so hard to do. I think I may have broken 100 rules and made up my own. Hey ho!
Definitions for virgule
a short oblique stroke (/) between two words indicating that whichever is appropriate may be chosen to complete the sense of the text in which they occur: The defendant and his/her attorney must appear in court.
Citations for virgule
It can be used, of course to indicate the choices, one or more, that may “properly” fill the blank space that follows. But the virgule need not be strictly identified with a particular or exclusive binary. It can be argued that the virgule is the poststructuralist punctuation par excellence (although a strong case can be made for the hyphen), in that is can be deployed to suggest the endlessness of binariness, a serial proliferation of constrastives in horizontally endless adjacencies …
The path was cleared for the substitution of the verbalizable ”or” by the unspeakable ”/” in the legalistic term ”and/or,” which would be hard to say as ”and or or.” Now we are afflicted by the promiscuous use of virgules.
Virgule entered English from French, where it means “comma, little rod.” It ultimately derives from the Latin virgula meaning “rod.”
The virgule, often called the “slant bar” by computer users, has four specific uses in punctuation.
A virgule separates parts of an extended date.
Example: The 1994/95 basketball season.
Washington was born in February 1731/32.
A virgule represents the word per in measurements:
Example: 186,000 mi./sec. (miles per second)
A virgule stands for the word or in the expression and/or. (Though not considered standard, it sometimes stands for the word or in other expressions also.)
A virgule separates lines of poetry that are quoted in run-on fashion in the text. (For readability, avoid this with more than four lines.)
Example: Ann continued,”And up and down the people go,/ Gazing where the lilies blow/ Round an island there below,/ The island of Shalott.”
Yes, wouldn’t you..?
What I mean to say is….Will you? Please ……
What are you doing?
Yes… Down there. I tower over you enough when you aren’t half bent and crooked…
Half bent? What is that supposed to mean?
Half bent! You have that look… that thing those people -how do you say it?- Oh, I don’t know airy and breezy…
Is this a joke? Are you really enjoying this?
I would ask you the same question. Last time I checked you were not the person I see before me…
And what person is that?
Not this – it’s so ………….so ………… unnatural. For you, I mean.
Well, I know I’ve never been conservative but unnatural?
Rather liberal I would say.
Ma Cherie, Will you?
Will, I what?
Will you come down to my level of thinking?
Are you sure you are not possessed?
I think you have confused me with some character. I’m not quite sure what it is you imply…
Look! I will come down to your level and tarnish my finery, on one condition…
Anything. of course!
Ask me the question again ?
The.. Which one ?
Oh the heavens, this will never wash out -the first one !
Oh, of course. Will you ?
You will – this is just marvellous!
If what? I beseech thee.
If I say I will: will you promise to remain the Gayest fiance there was ever born?
Gayest? Have you lost you….. I am a full-blooded Alpha. Is this a joke?
No. Just No.
If I say I will -will you continue to be the Gayest man I have ever seen?
Well, my love. Don’t mind if I get up off my knees- I need to think about this.
I said yes, I will!
You are mocking me.
No. I love to see the way you look at me – T’is the gayest I have seen you yet.
Will you? , it is just Darling.
I think ,ma Cherie . I think I need to, uh, communicate a little better..
If you say you will, you may kiss me.
If I may say….. K- cos I b like MindFuck. gotta chillax with my bros in a mo, my answer is mb. C u laterz! lols.
(Doesn’t it suck that we us text lingo instead of proper language these days)
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “mb.” Find a word that has those two letters in it, in that order, and base your post on it. Have fun!
The land of filth cost me more than a life
It cost me a dime
it cost me what stands in front of me nigh
clap your hands and throw a few bass shapes
Enter the City of funk
the soul has set two tears back for Sunday night’s carafe of wine.
Foal don’t play if can’t shake that ass.
a strewth sleuth of truths
Only one to realize
They lied to is
Grappled thoughts hazed out of all sincerity
Twice them gamblers cast away all integrity
A dire dice reveals fear & loathing tosser going for a price
Lost to waging another wank with nirvana.
Witness these winners
Outlining unspoken words
ratified a squeaky line of cheese
A meta-more selfish imitable of an Ovidian
Sniffing bloody bursts of betrayal
Carcass cordoned off by pissing yellow tape.
Not a John Doe – Fate confirms
But your own star crossed lover.
Two tall tale tellers serve hyperbole on the gossip scene —
Two punks who ain’t true to punk for the right reasons.
Caricatures emulate the shadow of these
Halve these egoistical errors-
clothed in night sheets — stark nude
Wanton to retire for a brief interlude
Sleuth blooms an alternative truth.
Hooked on Floating points & this video is autumnal in the mood. #goatbahs
I had nothing prepared to blog about in my mind. Again – I thought. No inspiration to type anything.
I’m finding out my inspiration comes from reading your posts!
So thank you.
Today I want to thank Annette @ Annettes place – post on childhood scars and her using the daily prompt.
Her child hood scars remind me of my own scars.
One scar I have is huge – it almost wraps all the way around my upper wrist -it is 2-3 cm wide. Indented, It reminds me of a dried up river.
Before I continue…
Domestic abuse & Toxic relationships
Rape -NO means NO.
I’m going to state the obvious here.
Domestic violence is a relationship fucks about with your mental health, whether you love the person or not.
Toxic relationships have usually tipped me over into using shitty coping mechanisms like drinking too much, taking drugs, overdosing and not managing my medication or my eating disorder and Bipolar.
So back to the blood river scar.
One night- no
Another night of heavy drinking and arguing, I found me in a house -not mine- that looked like a slaughterhouse. all dirty browns. There was a rusty scent of blood impossible to ignore.
Every time I inhaled, the scent would drip down the back of my throat like a tap -I could taste it too.
I had mixed copious amounts of alcohol with my medication and all I remember is trying to push my ex away with my left hand ( I am left-handed) , he grabbed my arm and I struggled back.
a massive shard of re-enforced window glass- barbered- poking out of my right arm.
the back of my exes legs and back running up the stairs.
WHERE IS THE ORANGE JUICE?
WHERE IS THE GLASS?
WHERE IS MY EX?
An arm coated thick with blood. I wear it like an accessory
Blood makes noise.
I hear screaming.
Ex reappears and tries to grab me.
I try to run away.
I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.
Why is my ex naked?
In the middle of the street?
Rolling on the floor with me- trying to muffle my screams with his hand. Trying to stop me from running away...
MIND FUCKERY at its best.
“Look what you have done…” ex says.
6 hours later – location: hospital.
The doctor asks to speak with me in private. My ex doesn’t want to leave my side.
I don’t say anything. quack quack! quack quack! quack quack! the word on a loop…
“What happened?” he wants to know.
“We don’t know. We were drinking. I can’t remember. It was an accident.” my ex speaks for us.
My head bows down,it almost appears as if I am nodding. I can’t quite remember.
What I do remember feels like I have made it up, it is so detached from my mind and emotions. It is about as close to me as Pluto or Saturn.
3 days in hospital my ex never left my side.
Not even to go home to wash or brush his teeth.
I wasn’t alone- my mother was with us too.
I was high on morphine for the pain.
Why didn’t they operate sooner?
Did they want to monitor me?
three days later… I’m being wheeled on the hospital bed- away from the stale, coughing ward…
“countback with me from 10,” says the anaesthetist.
“ 10 , 9 ,8 ……“
“1”. my eyes burst open. I gasp a breath. It is like I’ve been living in a home made sac filled with half shallow water and half air .
I look down at the art work the surgeon has done.
No more blood .
re stuffed re patched, re covered ,
by a micro surgic hand.
Back to the carnival freak show.
I enter his home – a massacre.
Dry blood everywhere.
If only it could serve as a reminder of what actually happened that night.
“I don’t remember” the ex says.
How can he and I not know?
Every time I look at my scar I am reminded of the chaos that was my life for 4 years.
This scar says –
This scar reminds me to NEVER be silent in the name of so called love or a sense of loyalty to one who claimed to love me so much he would do anything to keep me.
When I left him, I did not take his threats seriously.
What he did next gave serious competition with the scar I see .
That everyone can see.
Toxic relationships result in severe loss – sometimes that means your life.
Think carefully about what and who your life may include.
I was re born again on the 06/05/2015.
The day the court ordered social services out of my life.
The day that my ex turned his back on me, is they day I realised I had been holding my breath for years.
I had forgotten how to breath. I might have been dead- a wanderer.
06/05/2015 -I remembered not only how to breathe again but why.
Life -not just my own but that who is of me.
Life is precious
Life is my responsibility
Time stands still
Waiting for my child
To pick her up from her school.
I’m no fool
Schools not meant to be cool.
Just another institution
Similar to a prison.
My constitution was made to rebel
For a cause
Waiting around on top.
Never thought I’d glimpse a shadow of my former self -over the hill.
Curse these minutes.
Frozen into a state of blissful ignorance.
Wrapped up into a stationary kit.
Sudden bowel movements
I feel ill.
Bad humour lost to a desolate sky.
Simmer into another ghetto outfit
Sparse Sunshine shimmer flecks
Until my skin unravels into motion.
For this moment
I’m not a suicide kid
Instead, I’m knocked out
By a dead dong ringer
Them there eyes
Catch sight of her eyes.
How they glimmer!
* inspired by the school run & national poetry day & Life
I’m genuinely happy to be alive. Not because life is perfect today but because I’m happy, humble and honest.
Write to recover
Create to recover
Communicate to recover
Connect to recover
Collaborate to recover.
* 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
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
When the odds favour that one’s number is up.
Hope in one gulp.
Grim glass-eye stares longingly at well-beings thirst quenched.
Leaked buckets reveal the fluidity of
Forget about recriminations.
Don’t carry an organ donor card
To part from the complexities of life
momentarily contemplate the features of creatures born
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.
A twice bitten man shy tortured in an encounter with his tye.
Every seen a crystallized heart shatter?
Ricochet fresh flesh of four chambers?
Stained bloody by his past lover’s hand
Sodden & trodden by a call to “man up”
Pump up depleted testosterone to counteract the shame.
Even though a trampled heart was not his own doing.
Grievously body harm. It was a gift given
Not by a temptress nor a malicious entity by nature.
Ergo two hearts vowed to be one soul
Living as a unit. Love of life was their goal.
Loneliness to combat. Fated to be mortal.
Revealed their sealed vows together in front of a chosen crowd
Dramatic entrance. One heart faltered .
Death was invited to observe the day
Yesterday’s reminder of the shell of who once was.
Death reminded all that life is fleeting. Unpredictable.
Everyone but maybe one didn’t grasp the significance
Empty on reality. Thankful for ‘mothers little helpers’
Songs of blue accentuated the highs.
Hopeful for love to remain true.
Ever hope to love truly but wonder whether you do?
Obviously caught up in the fervour and knowing the right thing to do.
Obviously ignoring common sense. Abandoned security for a chance leap declared impulsive.
Ended up in heart surgery. One shattered by betrayal.
Left the other with paper scissors & words to shake a corpse into resurrection.
Note to self I’ll continue this when I feel less tired
Less restricted. I won’t be some other possession.
Day 19 prompt from napowrimo.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to write an abecedarian poem – a poem in which the word choice follows the words/order of the alphabet. You could write a very strict abecedarian poem, in which there are twenty-six words in alphabetical order, or you could write one in which each line begins with a word that follows the order of the alphabet. This is a prompt that lends itself well to a certain playfulness.
Collect your RANDOM WORD HERE
Makes this tale mangy from substance abuse.
It rips at the soul-
Makes censorship an ideal way to protect society
from the ugly truth.
Covering up their tracks.
makes for an abode
Senses summoned in to serve
a genre of the common trap.
Crazy contravenes with inner child’s freshly painted creche.
Isn’t as mighty
Paired up with a jogger,
a fit bit,
When did time get so slow?
Armour of organs in free harmonic flow.
It is wise to know.
beat sets up another trap for
The inner mouse.
it will come out.
Big Ben caught in the designated zepherous zone.
Failed to save uncapped pressure
Builds up into a deafening detonation.
The inner logic was damage limitation.
The government ordered trench coats
In full sight.
pollution seeps out from a piercing moan.
Bridal mess Sleuths about
Track tips far too early.
Hands cover sight.
Mind convinced its temporary.
It’s all right.
Habits washed in deficient light
The decision fully saddled.
The course is hardened terrain
Rumours rustle barren branches
summer shamed of its remaining leaves.
Point fingers in one direction.
Signpost makes a statement!
The border of Insanity.
the cartwheels-the body released from tension
Moment of clarity
woe, for the gifted
thorn scented roses
Stoney carves out
The centurion tone.
Inflicts an incident.
Arithmetic arrests Maroon’s motion.
Apprehended by fear.
Not one morsel intervenes.
Iris catches sight
A distasteful Discovery.
burnt the ceremonial toast.
A legitimate excuse
eyes wide open