Monthly Archives: May 2017
When Trish was of a venerable age
Sat upon her own Fate.
Ignorant to all counsel -All those who dictate
Lack in common sense for a daredevil debate.
Needy, Trish made from unusual , voodoo cut cloth.
Rarely mixed with other groups -Saved her memory for counteracting Nature's E.C.T. shocks
Outside her fear
Impend her wrath.
Third degree burns
Rare foot shuflle led to her sudden upturn.
Oh prompt of muses ,Why did Trish choose to emulate in this manner?
Speak in emotional intelligence IQ lower than the made up abyss in, Alabama?
Stumbles not long after her daily walk down yellow brick road
ignored at those gallant heartless tin, roars. Inacknoweldegded when they heled to find her an abode.
Why ,put the world on pause when time is has its own entity?
reality is independant of thought-yet
Trish thrashes about throwing out shapes revealing insecure perception in her identity
She walks a line , chokes
Trish becomes imperceptible to sight.
Sore, `Cos, maybe she's contary. or she found a fucked up Knight
Write to recover is what I always say.
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.
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
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.
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.
The Lakers swan to the crowd
I’m a nutter.
I’d crack a prince just to see a picture of a colourful scene.
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.
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
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*
*Inspired by daily human observation*
Citizens arrest a seizure
exploding out of her chest
Detest the demise of optimism- look aT that crumpled face
Raging carnival trying to stay straight
‘Nature welcomes me’
Though not blinded by an attempt on her savage drinking spree.
Moments owned in contemplation
Detest she caught a Jack Wills scent immersed is his idealised rave nation.
How many t – issues to imbibe.
Called her his inbred so he could remain high
No mirror to attest to the beauty she finds.
searched google maps for Scalifax’s finest hearth.
Should she lay down to rest?
Wait for a sudden epiphany?
Her mind can’t take twocker ignition games from kids still wet behind the ears,
straggling their momma’s rancid pyjamas
Searching for a place to settle in between her knees.
Scrumpy Jack persona
Is she really a cut above the estate who try to convince her they have answers to all the clues?
She’s not like them.
This species are not her brethren.
English cider tasters of blood from a irrefutable provider
Knock heads against tombstones and concrete walls.
Green-eyed,Winkie slept behind a grill gate to keep out the flybys.
Vulnerable heart -veil lifted from day one.
Chinese whispers of some busy blasted scum
Common decency leaves the palm of her hand -slaps a face hard – its body turns
enthralled at the chance to appear overly occupied.
Enjoy chillled !at 6 percent
Bad move to guide to her to her own whereabouts
She paid for her own calm connotation.
Guideline on how to avoid walking into a web of sin
Tanned face betrays that her heart hasn’t felt akin.
There’s nothing of substance behind the beer goggled eyes.
smoke a roll up
take a sip of the brew that simulates a disguise of content.
She’s not one to say she’s any better than these numbed, train fare skivers
Fun when a teenager…..
Numbers on the increase –
She thinks they should at least have figured out how to suit up and boot up
Yes, use your all your ties.
Bound up in this place of besmirching death
Positive energy sniffing up the vibes
conflicted as the amish addicted to meth
Red ant crawling up her thigh
more focused than most humans she has the pleasure to relate to
One mighty jump off this stony hearth would not be
how she would want end her life
Sun in her heart
Moon never far to seduce her into a twisted cadence with
legs defiantly apart.
‘The settle’ calls her home – shrieks filled with the ego of the Saint Lies -a Spinne.
What business has she pollinating with the bees?
It’s her playground too.
She won’t let the bastards inject their humdrum existence –
unleash their quiet, unpalatable disease.
Point fingers at an indecipherable colour or sound
The ku klux clan live but one gate from the smack head who sleeps with the blood hound.
Remove these walls ineffectively
Family values, Adams apple samples the hit of threes company too
Humour her, she never preached to know every pelvic beat.
Extend a hand
that one gaze will settle reflectively
Don’t make another feel uneasy
Solely because it’s you who feels Queasy.
Smirking at them playing it cool
Do they think she is a brassic , court jester fool?
Indulge them she does.
but only because she knows the truth
They live a life that’s ambiguously impenetrable.
The difference between the simple life and herself ?
An open mind.
Sentiments branded on her – costs three lifetimes in wages to wear her kind of fashion.
Attempts at making her feel she is wrong and potentially illiterate.
It’s beyond a joke – she plays naive – she knows they are a hoax
She treads through a land full of tossers
Pity not more of them get fired off into a land of terrorist moshers.
This drink was an attempt at a pitch
It’s not her style.
brewed up to tease pacman eating jack and jills in a ditch .
Irate she saw integrity in one other smothered core.
Ineffectual – yapping up intoxicated mummies three day old pyjamas.
Think it’s an accomplishment to shove her mistrials in front of her face?
How many more fuck you’s and put up’s must to deal with?
Momma doesn’t need their drama’s?
The issue with people who stick together in stitches
is that without an audience -without a chase
they will dangle that carrot
especially when their life is on the down
squinting them into the glitch.
They need her kind more than her kind needs theirs .
Empty out the contents of a full can of scrumpy poison
One factor in blurring all boundaries.
Is it fair to intoxicate nature with man -made hootch?
She’s repulsed – she sees them all their stark naked form
such is her clarity
who to label as a warning ‘ there goes another douche’ ?
ethics, medics, system of values- it’s an appeal to their humanity.
Need to get out
Get out of this space
She can see she’s playing into this heinous fate.
She makes her rules
She breaks the rules
only because she knows them so well- lets state she knows how to present the look of
I’m off my face
Temptation heel to her command
She regrets inaction of strength she usually ordains
only this time she lacks
Fuck it , she is done with the cloud of visual mace
She’ll get hammered at a location ,
on her request,
Can she have a mirror?
Third eye awaken to the true head case.
Photocredit Francessa woodman