Category Archives: POETRY
Why do we close our eyes when we sleep?
When we cry?
If we imagine?
Who we kiss?
This is because the most beautiful things in
the world is unseen.
I want to stop stuffing my mouth with food
To allow the words I swallow tumble out my own truth .
I want my voice not to sound happy
I want it to be happy.
I want to eat meals without guilt.
I don’t want to be overweight.
I want anorexia to stop carving every single slice of edible part until there is nothing but my skeletal soul
Nothing but the debris of littered thoughts
Discarded remnants of self love.
Pleading for just one match to light up my black holed life
The abyss that taunts
I want to publish a book of my words
One solarity book to place on my bookshelf
I want to feel sexy without thinking that being curvy is criminal.
I want to feel pretty
Confident that I can eat sushi tonight when my daughter has a McDonald’s happy meal.
I’ve scoured the Just Eat.com menu
The thoughts become lairy loud
It becomes easier to take a valium or a drink
Awash myself clean against the accusations
My thighs touch
My breasts are disproportionately imperfect
I don’t want to blame it on Some tasteless comment some child made when I was 12 years old.
My collar bones are disappearing
My butt is bigger
Im not disappearing
I’m not smaller
I want a worthwhile exsistance
I want to claim my happiness
Perhaps my words are my winning ticket to recovery .
Perhaps I need to buy enough ink and paper to print off 6 years of documented writings, poems, plays, stories and musings
I want my body to understand what it needs
I need my mind
What it wants.
* This Borderline poem was written a week before I attempted to take my life (again).I ended up in Critical Care in a coma for 7 days & in ICU for a further 6 days. I was discharged from hospital on the 21st of May 2020 *
Please, make sense of reality.
Use a stream of consciousness
A discovery in recovery
Fathom out sense because words are only as good as the interpreter.
Could add literary success to a Gravatar profile in an E-book
Add a few drafts poured into that fulminate crunched up chaos.
This doesn’t invoke a feeling of literary success.
Struggling to convey all words .
Reciprocated words are often misinterpreted
Another attempt to convey these words.
Perhaps one person will see this array of affray spread its torment defecating the inner spiral case of the
It swirls down these steps in every way.
The moment to call it a day
This draws an outline forever to have the last say.
Hear me proclaim
Don’t want to carry on living this way
It overstays — the bailiff texts for rent arrears
What is laid down?
I’m not done yet.
Hanging by a thread it’s tethered
Seen many days to identify as weathered
Hanging by a thread
This is my life purpose!
Final chance to meet my fate
Waited for this all my life
A mystery date with a severed soul mate.
Taught & tethered & weathered is this rope
I’m no tightrope walker.
I’ve become my own word stalker.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda arrested these rants before my digress
Wait in this hidden corner.
Evidently I’ve learned that survival is innate.
It ain’t easy to digest the days I’m not blessed to eat from a plate.
keep rising up despite a lifetime’s worth of trip-ups.
Until I die
One fine day
I’ll face the final exit of my mortality
I’ll know the truth
Either way it’s gonna end up with a body
Subconsciously know why I feel
It’s called humanity
What do I know about that damp dark corner entertaining souls I’ve yet to meet?
Going to have to wait for a promising future chance we haven’t dreamt of taking yet.
If I lose all memory
Forget those words
soggy, wet, lost to another realm of the bereft
Lest I forget.
I write to recover.
Be happy or die trying.
Simultaneously a resilient species & inconveniently inept.
A true union of hearts was joined one summer in late June.
The birds chirruped, the sun shone – the two became one -reflected for all to see by La Luna- the moon
Air and Water – shouldn’t cross paths. These two elements casually ignore each other in nature’s form-its innate core.
He of Air –
She of Water.
The energy that caused the spindrift was something not even these elements could ignore.
Le Mistral caught up in a steamy, heady mood.
Strode across the sky scowling, blowing curses – chaos surely ensued .
– she was winding down for the day.
The tide had come in, and she was ready to listen to a mermaid wax lyrical her classic tale of Babe Ruth.
The wind so vexed was he – he deafened her with one strike of his herculean hair -clouded by his inability to self- soothe.
La Mer reacted in bad form. He struck her so hard, – her mind swelled up with great licks of waves – crashing and thrashing her mental whereabouts.
Never interrupt an element so passionate about listening to her favorite composer.
Le Mistral and La Mer could ignore one another no more. She would make him feel the repercussions of his foolish, senseless,not-so-well thought out Strop.
Now he would have to face his conjurer.
A tidal wave of thoughts arose inside her. He would pay dearly for interrupting her meditative state of mind.
He had no clue what feud he had started. Fire and Earth were shrewd not to intervene. They knew when to stay out of the way of a combination of this kind.
They witnessed how the passion of this great unforeseen union came to be.
The product of this affront was simply not even what the conflicted two could continue to deplore.
Witnessed by two friends .
Wind and Water created the very first image of love .
Spindrift -a physical feeling of exhilaration consolidated the two .
They were now ready for a new adventure – together -ready to explore each other, become the couple -who looked to the other with eyes that said ‘j’t‘adore.
Definitions for spindrift
spray swept by a violent wind along the surface of the sea.
Spindrift is a variant of the Scots spoondrift, with the nautical verb spoon orspoom meaning “to run or scud before the wind.” It entered English around 1600.
Danger lurks in wild-eyed faces.
Thoughts restrained to assuage feelings inverted debases.
Danger thrusts a third eye world view,
of hatred and vomit a careless overlook of blind men seeking to anew.
Danger conquests damsel in distress.
Jeans make it pleasurable for when she denies its requests.
danger, – it haunts her.
She sees what she wants to see; how it taunts her.
Hush little darling, remember naive, white rose petals,
Dreams hijacked by villains in full uniform metals.
Skettled and nettled – itching to find a place to seek comfort.
A goose down feather pillow makes a dream fit for the unfit.
Danger, it hawks in on her.
Hush, little darling – feed thine hunger, mother goose is baking in the oven.
Commit to a mind of normal functions. Emotional battery, maternal coven.
Reach not for this soul. It is claimed and is bold.
Wretched and lectured- ears buzzing with sensory ejaculation.
Sleeping partners do just what the contract state. Don’t let this assume an identity of edification.
Soothe, muse, love every bone,
ever tenderized bruise.
Damsel will never see you fall from your pedestal – you can never lose.
Choose, use -in moderation – her body will allow you to take so know thine limits
Infants on feet -rapping at the doors -ready to impose a new order in the house of the fidgets.
Breaking apart — splinting at a crucial fissure.
It causes an eruptive displeasure.
Disquieted mind brushes strokes of bad blood around these elemental chambers.
This is my plea.
So, don’t arouse my anger.
Beaten hearts with a wooden spoon.
These wings will fly-
I’m a fledgling, not a buffoon.
Weep for the Teether’s – the naive doomed creatures.
They grow into adults
Dolly the sheep baa’ed down pilgrims resting on mothering Sunday.
Bloody miscarriages — that awoke the town from their walking slumber.
Think 6 nonsense thoughts a day to keep you sane!
Perforate these gums.
We’re merely animals lacking in humanity,
Evolved to maim the world for self depravity.
Governed by social media surveyors cohearsing joined up conversation into cursive bubbles.
Uttering bullocks — unravel the mind to overcome the low ebb of the tide.
Disquieted mind tumbles over.
Terribly tainted, it is prompted to conjure a pantomime.
San Francisco knights
Dangle buckle boots or bare feet over the bay.
The full moon is reflective.
Learned that life will conquer them too if it has its own way.
Make it a Wishing well.
Make it the Stage!
Exist or live….
Hell is on earth — uprise to increasing fees,
We’re bludgeoned to death
if we don’t pay.
Over and over.
More and more.
Gluttonous gloaters feed our souls community with skunk;
not from Bombay.
We walk around the streets in mobile psychosis.
We are a society fabricated from bedlam , deserted in these woods.
Wondering about other lands,
Running away from daggers armed by cloaks concealed behind hoods.
We dance around the pink elephant cuffed behind its cage — waiting for the trumpet,
To spray all 7 dynasties with glory seeds.
A trunk with roots in disarray,
This is Life that I seek to portray.
*Inspired by writers block, panic attacks, mental illness, injustice, isolation, fear and the song ‘San Francisco Knights by People Under The Stairs’
*Inspired by writers block, panic attacks, mental illness, injustice, isolation, fear and the song ‘San Fransico Knights by People Under The Stairs’
The mirror reflects the beast is inside it.
Inside the mirror the beast reflects,
On ideas inside reflective retrospection.
Reflect reflexive reflux.
Unburden the beast
From the mirror on its side.
Cavernous cat calling, flea bags .
Black shades of night undeterred by the mirror at that angle.
Pages of bondage erotica famish the interior of the beast within.
This mirror shatters,
splinters shriek for a second too long to be assumed as straight.
Queer in the way they lay askance humming for a low light to see inside the shade.
Hecklers shadier than souls of migrated slaves left behind in the mines.
Mine’s more saintly that Mary Magdelean and her merry consorts.
Inside the mirror comes an ideology in pursuit,
In vain it pursues the ideal mirror come -ingly
Humming birds make cuckoos cower and tall trees suppress air ,sneering inwards.
Deforestation is a reflection of the soul of the beast
This is our true form.
Humans are the beasts of nature.
A crystallized form of sin
A loss of the last glimmer of humanity.
*Inspired by reading ‘Reading experiment’ by Hazel Smith. Chapter one- Introductory strategies
at the peak of her insanity
A moment to glance away from this reflection gunning down with its eyes of La Mort
if she could see past the discombulated figures
fear and self-loathing will
A moment of clarity
my child in her stark purity dancing in front of the mirror.
Find her standing motionless
pick up the comb, attend to her dutifully
This motion is fuelled by a fierce love.
A fierce love distorted by fragments
by her own mother’s dysmorphia
The same mother who flees from her Self every day.
If this is not a demonstration of love
then it is a moment of clarity
A reality of her creation
Tears or bourbon
No longer certain
Does it matter?
Then it is a moment of clarity.
It don’t matter how many selfies you take.
What matters is if you can accept your own mirror reflection.
No time to flinch.
No time to hesitate.
Free to stride across abundant valleys conjured by a sweeping imagination.
God, when she weeps!
I collect her tears.
Thankful for the martyr,
My patron muse.
Crystallized an abundant array of gifts .
Perhaps it is a silhouette…
Perhaps it is a rainbow’s smile illuminating intrinsic hues…
These words could reveal Science’s stuttering staccato voicing his love for nature.
For all her might
For all her brute
Which one is Beauty?
Which is Art?
What if you believed the sky is indeed blue?
(a stream of consciousness borderline poem unrevised)
Whilst fleeing from the echoes of ‘you were in the wrong’. The Screws twist torture upon entering her 4th chamber.
Inside her bloody mind. Dried & pressed between her breasts
Leaves, stained by painting the roses red.
Long live to leave the Queen of Hearts
Lovers lost: Lovers found -past & tense -future is uncertainty abound.
Forever locked in a gaze with the omniscient eyes of Janus
Uncalculated, her actions motivated by too much heart. Unruly emotions betrayed her by treason. Penelope, she is not for a reason.
Lost to thoughts in solitude until reunited with like-minded misfits caught up in the cycles we call seasons.
* Inspiration for Acrostic poetry word ‘willful’ came from how some people describe me & I wrote this cos the one person I thought would “get” how complicated relationships are (didn’t). #write to recover and keep me sane.
1: obstinately and often perversely self-willed a stubborn and willful child
Synonyms & Antonyms for willful
balky, contrary, contumacious, defiant, disobedient, froward,incompliant, insubordinate, intractable, obstreperous, rebel,rebellious, recalcitrant, recusant, refractory, restive,ungovernable, unruly, untoward, wayward
amenable, biddable, compliant, conformable, docile,obedient, ruly, submissive, tractable