Monthly Archives: Jan 2019

Life Midwife

Panic  glares at them boots tossed near the scullery  bin

Churns its  stomach until it resembles a soiled salad

Curled

Brown shaded  stemmed leaves.

 

A dice scarred  thrice

Flag down

The fourth Pleiades  sister

Her face disfigured by a silhouette.

Speech dubbed over until she believes she is mute.

 

Declares her name as

Proprietor of

The scarlet barnet.

Gingerly

Desperate to hold onto her  last shred of dignity.

 

Shrouded into a solar

State

         Less

Honoured

To

Bow

Down

To  luminosity dressed up

Unperturbed

An impish grin inhabits incognisant  skin.

Burnt bloody blisters

Advertising big  lips

Still demanding to be heard.

What makes one positive push a negative

Then rebound ?

Perhaps its for effect….

 

The ribs don’t need  a tickle

To denounce the bastardisation of the butterfly effect.

 

Brazen Christians

Resurrect naked infants born with the soul clap.

Pure child neglect.

Raised on  a  hellish platform.

High  on  emotion fuelled

Atoms

Reformed into

Noxious Martians grappling to lead the IDM  pack.

 

Heavens gates part way for  Entities egos

Stumbling

Superior to the kaffirs*

Squelching about barefoot

Abandoning their   groundwork stained  blueprint.

 

Fingers retrace its  outline  with fear &
loathsome

Garments  unravel to the ground

Reveal a strangers  foot clubbed into inhabiting an  Acute Depressive

                                                                                                                      Indent.

Hands sculpt into  a perfect punch

Transforming into a  knuckle bled  fist.

Deafening  decibels desperate to  pump  up the jam.

 

Distinguished  from independent thought

Bedlams final safety net sets off.

 

Distinguished from the  shame

Prophets  betrayed my another  divine  kind.

How to love a self

                         Inflicted
Bond broken
By  the seizures  of our child?

It bear  not the demeanour of a preacher

Chanting  to

Sopranos  forced to be overshadowed by a blues  choir.

Doubt these  creatures.

Those with  eyes of a temptress.

 

Alpha romeos induced into crawling out of her womb

Thrust a pelvis

If merely to  humour.

 

 Break  down the odds of

Un

   Hinging

This beast.

Shame fulminates

Until

Blue blood  runs yellow

                                 Bloody piss takers.

Leave a heart

               Fully

Ignorant

To the  meaning of life.

Triggers free  happy clappy believers

Of  mirth.

 

Silenced to be reborn

By the creators personal  midwife.

(Kaffir-meaning ‘non believer’ in Islam and it was also the name given to African/mixed race people who lived under the apartheid regime in South Africa.)

Queen of Tristesse

Stone cold.
I sit in silence.
Tears betray the death of Another beating heart.

Distant to my heartache.
Love is meaningless accented by meaningful Nuances.

Hunger strikes, I’m alone With the pangs,
Unsure if I want to feel the Caress of familiar hands

Or

If I’d rather escape to a Nether land.

Conjuring Magicians
Ready to sell inconspicuous potions.

Allow me to flee from my Skin.
Threaded by veins
Morose in temperament.

Aloof to the consequences Of escaping this reality.
Complicit to the sadness That shrieks in my Gut: Pierced spleen.

It’s not nearly as stomach Able as watching the Chambers of my heart in My hands

Weep.

For the moments tangled In lust.

The desire to be a part of Someone else’s sun.

To inhabit their orbit.

Study the stars
Share butterfly kisses
Break free into a wild run.

Freedom is a state of Mind.

Release me from the Bonds of this exile.

I am the hunted.
I am the hunter with the Blade ready to attack.

This is my vessel.
My only means to move forward.

Cut the strings for this Puppet will not be coerced To dance nor sing,

Until I find a simple hymn.

One to attest that another Mortal respects I am more than my sin.

Words hurriedly apologise to recapture that soul

Spotted

in the glimmer of dawn
It cowers fearful deep
Within.

Have a piece of my heart.
Have a piece of my words.

Sully not my thoughts to Taint my heart with more Leacherous poison.

I am breathing

Merely existing to find out how to win.

This is Life’s charade.
The cards dealt with each hand.

Thanks to Gaia for I have Both intact.

Able to use my body.
Able to use my mind
To forgive.

Though,
Not give in.

The melancholy of my
Aura glitters like a Midas Collectible
When it touches the man I call my king.

The weight of this gloom Thunders over me.

Cajoling me.

Repressing my desire to Quit
Killing myself.
Smile authentically. Blossom again.

It ’s not time to hide under sand beds
Muted into making me think I’m still not thin,

Enough.

These words don’t do Justice
To how I truly feel.
I lose people I love.

Gain friends who form a circled ring around me.

I have to reach out.
Allow a hand to bring me Full circle.

Alone,
I contemplate.

Fighting for the thud in my Heart.
Fighting for another hot Flushed blush.

Wondering
If I have already died.

Is living not for the likes of My kind?

Am I here to exist glibly?
A ruin of poorly
constructed pyramids?

I sit here in silence , Blowing out smoke rings
Made
Out
Of
My
Woes.

I’m the queen of Tristeness.
My position is to not give in.
(Queen of Tristesse part of the ‘Be happy or die trying chronicles)