The best way to get through rough times is to be creative.
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 downright painful blisters on the mouth.
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 dying on a rowboat 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 get their come( t)uppence.
It would be easier to get high and escape from the downside-
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 —
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.
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.
Posted on 2017-08-06, in EXPERIMENTAL WRITING, Write to create and tagged Emotions, EXPERIMENTAL WRITING, humanity, Love, Relationships, society, stream of consciousness poetry. Bookmark the permalink. 17 Comments.