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Falling books never lie

Falling ( not fallin) books never lie).
It’s a metaphor not smut.

We did it in the kitchen

We did it on the sofa.

We stood like telescopes looking at opposite ends.

Me at the top He at the bottom of the stairs.

We did it to ‘its a wonderful world ’.

Dancing with our opinions Emotions diluted For we couldn’t stay away , solve our woes… Understand!

11 years..

The geek and the 40 year old welded together by the elements who will die – another day

We did it on the bed. I made the first move
We went to bed intoxicated off lavender Back to back … Is this how intimacy flies ?
Book
ends
divided .
No discussion Diss the content Broken up by genres.
Falling books never Li

e A middle Age Crisis
Buy a car

Leave me alone
Good evening heartache

Alexis knew me well. Might as well get used to MisCommunication banging our sound.

Wings
snared by tension Bare trap
array causing a future wrinkled frown
. Tangled in an intricate web of love; An angel brightens up these gloomy days
Sit

down , heartache. Walking

the green mile

We’ve invested in this framework
Solid

It’s Impossible

To predict we’ll be an over halved statistic

One done day.. Heart ache A roof , Free fall.

Not to diss his holy heart but Wishing I’ll bypass Gods will.

His will Ignores my words anyway…

Confessional poetry

Loss of control
Increased numerical equation
Detract from the value of self-worth.

Mind full
Mindful

bloated

Aspirations snipped loose by an unearthly, scale driven puppet master
Reduces an entire psyche to a chemical embarrassment.

Good mood desires nourishment
the live to eat philosophy
A heavy burden the beast bears herded in.

restricted to forage on cashing out a societal life policy.

A one manned island
ravaged
to its hunger

Hangman’s noose -Don’t give in

Never give up!

Nina sang it well: it’s a new dawn, a new day….
When you look at yourself straight on in the mirror – chant his name three times.

The Grim Reaper is more likely to pay a visit and say ‘wassup?

Thinking about all those folk who want to live. Don’t have a cat’s chance or a lucky clover to pray over.

Last night, life became mission impossible. If you read it – I’m free flowing this to say:

Don’t give up.
Don’t give in.
When it feels like you are at the end of Hangman’s noose about to kick the bucket from under your feet

that’s the moment we’ve the opportunity to reveal our true soul’s pathos.

Don’t you think the cloaked hooded figure has a lot of soul collecting to get on with?

I’m not saying that what we feel at the time is an illusion.
I pointing out -change is the only constant
That can lead to desperate ,devastating confusion.

Inside – I’m trembling worrying , wondering. What am I gonna do? Can I do this?

Question after question more questions fogging up my third eye- it’s enough to make any mind spin.
Stop. Hammer time.

Warped sense of humour.
Effective
Enough to keep all the rattling bones and bolts inside me cast a  glow over my demeanour.

Hope.
Look around. You see a flower wilt or bloom inspite of his brethren humming out sad tunes.

Hope.
That’s Life continuing in spite of all that strife.

Hope .
One.
Seed.
Of.
Hope.

Get through this second,hour, this evening

Take the seed, germinate it, nurture it, feed it, love it , talk  to it.

Take the time – make it thine.

Watch it grow into a mighty oak – proud and on display.

Seems impossible to define.
Plant it. Don’t throw it away.
Keep a hold of it. It may be the one thing that  carries you over the struggle D-day line.

On the surface – flowers, trees, icebergs – all look fantastical – magical even.
Look below the surface.

There is a formula – you can build on that too –
No magic. No miracles.

Approach thyself with an examining eye.

Make it  your number one priority to get to know what makes you  tick.

If heart’s Hope stops make it your priority to know where to go to get a battery replacement. Get it resuscitated.

Know what makes you well
Reach out to that alien.
Get out of that comfort zone.
Scream ,yell, type, don’t bottle it  up .

We have the technology – make a call -pick the phone up.
We have a voice – use it. Listen..
Sweet melodic freedom – we’re the only ones with the unlock and escape from our own self made prison key.
Hope.
Never give up.
Life gets difficult
Life gets complicated.
There is more to this space than a  one-dimensional prism.
I know it’s scary – to feel caught up in that schism.

Pieces of the mind caving in -thoughts toppling over like being a Chilean miner being held hostage underground.
Two months of no light . A sorrowful plight.

It’s dark but you are still breathing. You may be the only one but time is not about to start giving in.

Chin up. Keep looking for a strategy.
An exit route.
Use that sombre time to recollect . Hell, soak up the dramaturgy.

We come into this world kicking, screaming, wondering, possibly even believing. We mustn’t give up unless time says  ‘okay enough’.
So, I say go the way you came in . If it is not  our time – fight with every muscle. All the nerve you can summon up.
Truth  or  dare?

I  have truth spilling out of my aura like pennies falling into the slot machine- the one in  working  order.
Dare to have. 
Slip on your shades if you have to – things might just get a little brighter.

You might levitate – feel lithe even a little lighter.

Don’t be afraid to succeed.
Don’t afraid to be happy.

You don’t need to go to the dentist to get your two front teeth divided so you can look like some Go  Lucky Gappy.

Mad woman

Buckets & spades

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.

Merely musing

I am merely mortal
Hence I will laugh at that which or who makes me feel alive

#thesearemywords

Sinners are the reason martyers exist ?

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

A feud of words

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 SOCS

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!

Will write poetry for 💗💌

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.
To do
to be

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