Sometimes life seems like all buckets and spades
And pensioners in rain jackets.
Until you look up
Dazzled by a spectrum that makes up your rainbow.
I am merely mortal
Hence I will laugh at that which or who makes me feel alive
Render me unfaithful
Eternal sin stains noir shades on my skin
grief knocks at my door with a leash in his hand
reads me my rights, instructions of the feelings I will parade with a downcast glare remember this moment of shame – remember the touch of the unfamiliar intimacy
Emotions torn from the sacred part Please don’t stare
Turn your eyes away -oh shame sit down I have lost my dignity – the grace to care
sinners are the reason the saints are adorned with absolute conviction in Believers prayers
(a stream of consciousness writing prompt 10 line poem REGRETS Poems_For_Life
I wish my words had more clout than my mortal weight. Once I wrote, spoke with the light,
A stream of consciousness without a tug from my mind the size of a crate.
Rhyming I sought not to intentionally copulate with.
Nor hesitate my hand from my inner ink.
Words never intentionally separated from their interwoven fate,
From the moment these star crossed others dared to kiss with a brazen grace.
I bear these words with the strength of a boulder ready to crumble
Rush my inner thoughts
Crushmy inner thoughts to a damn them to hell chowder of inner hate.
A feud of words. I hope these won’t be my last or I’ll leave this world a disgrace.
Where were the people when I needed them
Were they where I left them?
Did the full moon transform them into werewolves
In a warehouse coveted to me?
Why wear the fur of the monstrosity of nature?
Or are humans wary that they need some creature to poach so they can reach the clouds ?
Were this a poem,
A parable of wear and tear
I’d gladly state my animosity wherever it would state:
I’m a human feral.
A token to the lost parade
Share the flag of those who ask where to care and when!
I’m supposed to be the one who is feeling strong
Yet, I have got the biggest feeling I am getting it so wrong
Stick by me in sickness and in health,
You have never let me down with all your loving wealth
I feel I have let you down
I don’t need to see no frown.
The truth is as my mind slowly unhinges
The incessant call of sleeping Grimm makes sure it stays on the fringes.
Loud and shrill,
My mind took a detour- scarpered for that biggest hill.
All I want to do is be your deserving queen,
the one that acts out on the things I mean.
Mind is running away after hearing a great big boo.
I am no poet
It’s not hard to show it.
I just want you to know,
even in this state of harrow.
I love you
even when I am stripped of my bow and arrow.
You are my king
with this fact alone –
let it be known that in the end
we will soar,
even if only with one wing.
For my husband Gaz Holliday
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 over weight.
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.
Is mortal love the true sin of the man opposed to the laudable man blinded by a paradise of perfection?
We walk with no blood on our hands
Though we walk with bare feet over those corpses of our ancestors.
The biblical story of Noah is the parable of the modern day humanitarian plight.
We will return to the second day of creation fighting with sticks and stones
As prophesized by another mere mortal
As prophesized by another mere mortal sapian in well versed archaic rhetoric…
Musings of today
Life is a set of numbers within a market of numbers
who in our moments of graphic growth grapple for an extra addition to our sum total of flock.
We end up divided by a minion of millions
A herd of expletive multiplication lost to the world
Watching her frock slashed by our greed.
We are the true savages running our mouths with inequality
The demise of the humanitarians philosophy .