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.
Today my thoughts confound me.
Hijacked emotions detonated into a familar war zone.
The survivors feel mixed up for another mistaken identity
passport confiscated by newfound enemies.
this queue finally advances
25 letters fated to the gates of uncertainty.
A survivor is stuck in the middle -it’s me -a headless body with a hidden agenda
Skin flushed assimilates bloody shadow a crimson hue mane of the unflinchers –
pale, skeletal, naked, destitute, some even of their robbed of own teeth
a pile-up -bodies all shook
adorned by a hand, ankle, A cold shoulder, one fair nipple, a flaccid penis
Perhaps your inner idealist
can resurrect these lives distorted by final moments -a conscious full of shame.
No burial for those of faith
Souls denied a peaceful resting place.
The faithless blasted out mid breathe energy kinesthetic Life mid beat -legged it
A desperate plight -scientific proof hearts can beat or flee.
My body under constant surveillance
The scourge of self-scrutiny
Double doubt implants enhance all traces of unwanted memories
Should I hide my body
The very essence of my being?
emotions -use tic tactics
Thoughts use unrestrained strategies.
propped up by bare feet
conditioned to protect my diasporic body
Roughly re-examine all once held beliefs.
Displaced her head!
how contrary I would have said
pure insanity I willingly would share.
If I don’t have any thought
or an opinion I’ve sought out myself.
I’ll become a diminutive
No person will ever see me
No person will hear my roar.
This voice will become non-existent -all my declarations are torn from the books of history
uninformed therefore never spoken nor unwritten
My right is to live and be!
My right is to feed peacefully
not between flippant mercenaries abiding by wall division protocol that I can’t see.
disconnected to set a prenup engagement
How is it I feel the pressure of the tummy bloat after the soldiers who gloat
of their lack of familiarity?
No sense die-hard before a sensation penetrates the first bloom of intimacy
They forget how hard they push
enter the orifice
Where I learned how to formulate words.
All I have is words and sound.
They take liberties- jabs & jeers are the echo chamber to my inner core.
These are the spoils of war.
My Emotions are absolute in their conviction
My sentence – A Disempowered daily mantra
I am to be their common whore.
a concubine filled up on spew, chunks of bile flotsam
traces keep me chronically ill.
Medical treatment denied because I’ve forgotten how to express my will
The West states I’m worth it !
the East send out a search party
on wise mind hill
There is no privacy.
My body is presented against my will
These clothes cover up the tight jeans that have become my only woe
Self-growth without a choice in how I present my self
Scratch these newly formed scabs for I have lost my flair
writing words to recover
self-oppression lost out in the talent show of acquired skills
Recovery is heartbreaking.
Hoochie flavoured scent
sniff out trouble keeps me imprisoned
I look up -the window is clear still
Or perhaps my beliefs are outdated.
Murder with intent
disarm these emotions
strangers with a familiar stance
Physical appearance is my only strength?
How Naive a woman can be
One strip away from freedom
I claim a culture of sound
Dance a tango inner peace with an outward serenity.
Silk lined hemmed skirts
embroidered letters spell out a movement of hope.
I’m one dancer
I’m one dissident
a fledgeling feather
& ink well
A pregnant pause followed by a ward filled with the birth of more words
sentences will start to show
the labour of courage pushed out in its full placenta -reborn – free feathered fledgelings take flight
-A yoke is sky born
These are my words -maybe she wrote/ be happy or die trying.
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PREAMBLE BIT -feel free to dig in to the poem and scroll down now
I’m looking forward to next weeks monthly spoken word night in my Halifax, West Yorkshire.
I get to gorge on my inner dictator and speak for three minutes & perform & be listended to.
Oh, the power over the masses. (Ha Ha)
This month some regular chip off the old block decided the theme should be potatoes!
If I were the dictator I would not choose to talk about something as common and earthy, and the -potato `is on my unsafe food lists).
Even inner dictators need a slot with their name to dicate for 3 minutes if you don’t you will be denied your voiced& forced to listen to all the other rival inner dictators.
The only time potato poems event should take place is in Africa with millions of starving children with “natural” eating disorders. This is a recipe for disaster because, mental illness fed by oppression increases achances of become a real future dicator starving their own people.
So this is my potato theme in yer face poem
Hark! I feel the desperate need to fletcherize.
What? Is this some new mumbo jumbo, hybrid– combination form of exercise?
Yes, I would imagine it involves some motivation from a person with no predilections to become easily disheartened.
Why can’t you just eat sensibly, stop this new wave of choosing a new flavour every month-
to keep up with fitness promoters incentives to keep people outsmarted?
It’s a new rage- it’s catching. It takes great skill, I can’t help but swallow great lumps of it, 7 days a week –
such is the weight of my grief.
Sounds like a disease with such a symptom as that. Rage is not all it is cracked up to be as a moderate form of stress relief.
It is not just some novelty – like limited -edition candy bars being sold to profiteer the next big entrepreneur.
Oh really, so next you will l tell me it is an exact science – proven to actually have more lasting benefits than summers worth of lazing on the beach in a bikini – eyed up by the oil slick crowd that draws in like a tide -ogling to be near.
Oh no. It has been well proven that to engage in this exercise is likened to yoga. It is a practice.
The evidence for this is where? a desert far away – hiding in the form of H20 in a well prickled out cactus?
Look, I’m not asking you you join the parade and get down and groove with us who choose to exert ourselves in this way.
I know, I just don’t want you to get sucked in the PR vortex and lose yourself with an accompaniment £10 diet plan-
to prove the results work when you have your weekly weigh day.
Tsk, I’m not just going to gobble it all up without reading the terms and conditions.
Well, I am most sincere when I say I am glad you have paused for thought -slowed down your impulsive urge to guzzle down additional condiments –
and other unnatural apparitions
In practice, I am going to be mindful and chew on these words slowly and deliberately.
Wise words, coming from someone who is usually so careless when it comes to honouring your basic right at retaining your liberty.
No offence but you partake in media shake-ups, that regurgitate out a new shape each season, with an acute, floundering dignity.
Mmh, that’s sparkingly rich. I only look up at those who have a celestial essence of shape – one quite like the star.
Well, while you persecute me for attempting to live my life in a shape I desire to acquire- with all due respect,
I will strive to be what I want to be and you be who you are.
Wait! I need 20 minutes to digest all this information.
Now, that it the right attitude – jut enough time to satiate before you give in to more temptation.