Something about mortality
I may be known as an entity
Fear not for your soul – though you may be left with a serious case of dysentry.
It’s hard to tell if truth is what people want.
Franchement, I think it’s a habit conditioned by the school of the hard knock.
Supposed to mellow with age
wildness happy to forage
My abode is where it chooses to graze.
I’m not a sheep
Nor a bear
I’m a goat.
my thumbs oppose falling into line with most folk.
My every day hustling makes me wonder
if Beetlejuice would called his aside ‘everyday scuttling’..
That’s just some thought exhaled from an after toke
Time to get Kaned with Sarah
I’m craving for a skin
Youth taught my body lusts after your version of sin.
It Could be a human or another entity
Perhaps the rambling has walked me in into
a Constable painting
Dear lord – nature is so fascinating.
Take me somewhere closer to my element
prefer to bathe in baskets of oceans.
I startle my self with the ability to form words
Nah – Apple found Eve – awoke her next of kin.
Mothers living with C.O.P.D.
need to breathe -allow the light to stay a little bit dim.
Not a metaphor for simple minded grey matter
Genuine love for those I lose to mortality .
Life is closer to Death than a rattle
snowed under morphine
Is it painful to choke on your own saliva?
I admit it looks grim.
I’m not a fan of a cadaver.
I’ve applied make up to my dead grandmother
wondered if she was ever alive or if I made her up
Parchments of a book – I supposedly read.
The break down is hurtful.
Hold my tongue
the insults pierce my heart
Trample it for being a erratic , thick skinned heretic.
Words fail me – I drift from the moment.
I pray to a god I don’t believe in.
I chant Allah’s name if it heals my mother from Death’s protege reaper.
Naive – I pray for the book thief to recount what it feels like to take a soul from this world.
Life is never easy
Oddly I thrive from suffering.
Maybe not all of us are meant to couple up
Some of us are here to show how to strive as one,
give hope to those who think a partner will make life easier to swallow.
I prefer to spit – mind my manners
Words are my only defense mechanism.
Call me a dreamer
but make sure you top up my grave with grains of she knew about reality .
Authentic chants – rise
Her passion stirred
shreaked from her initial gestation.I have a heart imprinted with carbon loaded memories
I don’t answer to the various names about my failures.
I’m the fallible one – who let a doctor murder my 5 month old son;
Then gave life to a child
She reminds me to breath again
How to end and begin?
Take it from me not all females can multitask.
Bob Marley had the wailers
I have my thoughts , emotions and chaos.
I get through –
close my eyes
wake up to a
another day –
face to face with my never ending pile of litter to get done.
Posted on Jun 5, 2018, in STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS WORKS and tagged Creativity, Emotions, mental health awareness, Nature, poems, Poetry, spirituality, Stream of consciousness. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.