Blog Archives

And Then there are the days

And then there are the days when the rain has stopped.
sunshine will follow the rain.
By all accounts I should feel the warmth.
My smile aches.
My heart
Breaks.

My cheeks are strewn not by rain this time but more tears.
I feel a part of me dying. I think of all the tears I’ve overcome, the one I’ve mopped up.

I think about how other people struggle, and see them get up again and again until, one day they don’t.
In these twisted moments of my melancholy; my heart beats even faster- than when I’m even tempered.
I realise I won’t die from heart ache or an abundance of leaked tears.
I won’t dehydrate.

I won’t become the next corpse poised in fledgling flight to arouse its soul.
So many words and questions I wish to ask.
I answer them myself-in moments of cowardice . In these moments of despair, I search for strength.
I love to see people I care about prosper.
I cry because
.. I shouldn’t have regrets.. but I’m beginning to wonder if I should….

HAPPINESS :Do you know where you are going?

SECRET TO HAPPINESS: Verbalise in words exactly what is is you want

TRADITION: Shinto ema (consecrated/dedicated vow plaques)

DATE: Any -time

TRADITION: Japan

Who wants to be happy? I do. That is why I created my ‘Global happiness’ page and I know I am not alone. We all want to be happy. What does happiness mean to you? Happiness is not permanent and is rather fleeting – episodic. I know that money can make me happy for a bit. I mean I don’t need loads of it but in our world to have a bit of money helps. What about things like being good at your job? Being in an awesome relationship?

Here is the plain fact, if you are unable to define what makes you happy-then you are going to find it rather exhausting to find it. Through-out Japan dotted about are what are called Shinto temples ( which are kind of like shrines –Shinsha means ‘place of Gods’.

For a few hundred yen, people write down their wishes, wants and what they hope for, they decorate these plaques, or ’ema’s’ as they are officially called, with  images -a popular one being a horse

In a fascinating article about connections with the rest of Asia, Mark Riddle looks at the subject through the lens of the Indo-European cult of the sacred horse. He identifies the principal features as follows: Horses were sacred symbols which were associated with a fertility cult and with rain. A white horse symbolised the sun and was often used in ritual sacrifice. Horses were also associated with death and funeral symbolism.

If one thinks of Mongol warriors, then clearly the horse was a vehicle of power that enabled its rider to dispense death and destruction over wide areas. It was quite literally a seat of authority. To a lowly peasant, the fast moving creature must have seemed imbued with an air of divine power. It’s but a short step to imagine the horses descending with their godlike riders from heaven. Something of this clearly entered Japan at a time when Shinto was still in the process of formation

People ask for a number of things. They are very specific in asking and writing down what they want, so it can be

To get a new car

get a job that a person wants

It could be to want someone who is going through a bad time to change it into a good outcome.

Each plaque or ’ema’ hung up , adorning the temple for the Kami of the Gods to read ( a loose interpretation)

I know that for myself that when I don’t know where I am headed in life -life can almost feel paralysing. Questions like what am I doing here? What must I do with my life? can drag you further and further away from happiness. In my own life I have gravitated to drugs and to becoming so unwell mentally because I didn’t know what would make me happy. I had a bow and arrow (tools) but I was aimless. I didn’t know what or where to aim to achieve a sense of happiness.

The ema plaques can easily be adapted to the western way by writing a wish list.

Where do I begin? you ask.

Go deeply into your mind and think how you want your life to look.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO ACHIEVE?

I want to be at peace with my body, I want to move away from my current home and work in the mental health sector – specifically I want to be employed by a mental health charity to help support people who are struggling with their mental health and I want to be a part of eradicating the stigma attached to mental illness. This is why I volunteer with mental health charities. It is why I put so much effort into going to every meeting, to do any workshops and training to achieve my goal at what I think will make me happy.

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WHAT EXPERIENCES DO YOU WANT TO HAVE?

I want my wedding day to be a happy experience, I want to experience being pregnant in the relationship I have now. I want to have another child and have a chance to embrace motherhood in a way I couldn’t imagine when I was pregnant with my daughter. I want to move away from living in a council home and be able to afford to live in a bigger home -a family home that is decorated to my tastes. I want to get out more. I want to go visit my family in South Africa and Miami.

 

WHAT KIND OF PERSON DO YOU WANT TO BE?

I want to be a person that is easy to talk to, someone who sees the silver lining in every situation no matter how bad the circumstances. I want it to inspire people that life is liveable and happiness is within their grasp. When people see me I want them to be glad to see me. I want to be a person who laughs a lot, is affectionate. I want to be the person who feels the fear but goes with it. I want to not be caught up in how I look all the time. I want to be emotionally secure and to let go of the past completely. I want to be spontaneous and go out and see more of the world. I want to be a person who people find comforting. I want to be a person that is successful in my career, being a Mom, wife, daughter, grand daughter. I want to be a person who has more friends. I want to be that person who is always psyched up to be healthy and active.

 

WHO DO YOU WANT TO SHARE YOUR LIFE WITH?

My family- my partner, my daughter and other children I hope have, my Mom, my cousins, my Dad and sister and step Mom, my Nan, my uncles and my friends old and new. I want to be a part of people’s lives who are in recovery or trying to become mentally well. I want to work well with work colleagues.

 

 

All you need to do is what I have done. Write it or type it! Do it! Aim that bow in some direction -a direction you want it to go in.

The  message is this: by expressing your inner desires in a more crystallised form -something you can see down on paper or in front of you ; the more likely you will know in which direction you want to go.  You will have goals and these will be your own set of landmarks on your journey to be happy in life.

 



Random generation of Procrastination

  1. Collect your  RANDOM WORD HERE 

News

Makes this tale mangy from substance abuse.

It rips at the soul-

 Makes censorship an ideal way to protect society

from the ugly truth.

Weak humans

Covering up their tracks.

Idle loneliness

makes for an abode

 Senses  summoned in to serve

 body possession

resembles

a genre of  the common trap.

Jedi modification

trance.

silence

or

Depeche  mode

Crazy contravenes with inner child’s freshly painted creche.

Dynamo

Isn’t as mighty

 Paired up with a jogger,

 a fit bit,

and a

radiant glow.

Three strikes.

When did time get so slow?

this temple-

Armour of organs in free harmonic flow.

one

Sincerely thinks.

Yes.

It is wise to know.

Faithfully your

beat  sets up another trap for

The inner mouse.

Eventually,

it will come out.

lose control.

No.

Leave.

Go!

 Big Ben caught in the designated zepherous zone.

 Failed  to save uncapped pressure

 Builds up into a deafening detonation.

Unintentional.

The inner logic was damage limitation.

The government ordered trench coats

  In full sight.

Tainted

 unprotected,

pollution seeps out from a  piercing moan.

Bridal mess   Sleuths about

 in slippers.

 Track tips far too early.

Nevertheless

behind.

Hands cover sight.

Mind convinced its temporary.

Blindspot.

Nevertheless

It’s all right.

Habits washed in  deficient  light

 credit token-

a  gesture.

kinder

More compassionate.

Guilt?

perhaps…

The decision fully saddled.

Vows  riddled

Wholly broken.

The course is  hardened terrain

Rumours rustle  barren branches

 summer shamed of its remaining leaves.

Scarlett

Stops

Shaded

Strangers

Point fingers in one direction.

Signpost makes a statement!

all-inclusive meals

Beyond

The border of Insanity.

Handstand

then

 the cartwheels-the body released from  tension

 Moment  of clarity

woe, for  the gifted

gasping on

thorn scented roses

Stoney  carves out

The centurion tone.

Inflicts an incident.

A beat.

A blockage.

A seizure.

 Arithmetic arrests Maroon’s motion.

Apprehended by fear.

Not one morsel intervenes.

homebound

Iris catches sight

 A distasteful  Discovery.

Host

bloody

broody

burnt the ceremonial toast.

Finally

Alone

A legitimate  excuse

 eyes wide open

 shed

Timely tears.

Sabali wabi sabi

SABALI WABISABI

Does it need to be said

Because the Media makes you think your makeup is inappropriate?

If you are horrified to ask Google for mental health support

You know I’m here to tell it — (once )’for a cause not for an applause’

To avoid the pariah of your mind.

Who you are is important for your wellbeing

Beautiful you are because of your malaise.

It’s about what you think.

A unique template for peace of mind.

Alone-thoughts are you,

And yours together.

Others’ opinions must dance alone with their shadows.

Fathoming the world is relative to your state

Your kind.

Diagrams and graphic diagnostics aren’t “normal”!

Natural ?!

Necessary?

Merely for inferences and academic utterances.

Your Beauty is personified by playful events racing around your head.

Love it like you love…

…another human

Beings

Those who have numbers and words yet can’t calculate when there’s enough unsaid.

Needs are experiences.

Feelings are needed…

Interpret the world through the vessel of your spirited Self.

When skies hang drab

Do you dazzle because you can see a scattered horizon of hope — as a possibility ?

When the Others tether connections

Tumble into an abyss —

Can you see their limits ?

Step back.

Allow them to be.

Is your world subject to scrutiny because of how you interpret human nature?

Do you deviate from society’s accusations of what is the trending status quo?

What if the box you live in is… outside?

What if you build a bridge

Bearing a cross

Over to acceptable taboos ?

Breath prescribed by an arched smile.

Diagnose yourself Beautiful- because of your laments.

Before time becomes an absolute Obsession

Forecasting the outcome to the finale to the play of ‘This is your Life’.

Take moments to repose.

Free yourself from the expectation

To be your career

To win over the Marvel comic genderless hero.

Deprecate your expectations to finance your inner Happiness resources.

This entity is inside your realm of Consciousness — restless

Trodden and stamped into a standing pose.

Moments of reflection pace

Forwards then backwards

Misunderstood

Are you what you want to be?

Can you begin a journey if you don’t understand where you are?

Certainly living up to some other lifer’s calculation should

Pause your being into a statuesque introspection.

To dismiss your guttural instincts will unravel you at the seams— out-thread you out of your very own mind.

Success comes from mapping out your own directions.

Hopeful-to wake up to another day of understanding ‘This is your Life’.

Your ability to comprehend, foreshadows your failed attempts to claw out of the darkest pit.

Sounds of the ocean lap to your melody.

Nothing that you feel about Today

Can conceive the trembling murmurs cut off from the guillotine of your Sanity.

In all of your figurements…are you determined to act out your suicides because you fear your inability to state your arousel ?

Who you are

Is that wrong?

Thoughts preempt if everything is filled in with Leftism.

Resist apologising

Dismiss you have the good view

Change your world

Thoughtfully

Refuse everything

That threatens your Passions —

That provokes beta beatings whistling out of tune.

Precious notions find a sense of disambiguation before the matter resolves itself.

Do you tell others to respond to what you fail to question?

Where is the perversity in watching the death of your inner Flinch — to conclude this delusion ?

What if you won’t be the canvas that contains an abstract spectrum fading you out of your very own Self ?

Look on at those who shrink into their frames bled of every shade of hues

Is this what you want?

Daughter of Rose

I am Daisy

Daughter of Rose

Who needs love, loyalty, laughter

Who loves music, silence, decadence

Who sees lonely people, people better off, empty glasses once full of hope

Who hates curves on herself, being misunderstood, bad odour

Who fears abandonment, rejection, gossips too

Who dreams of career growth, success, beauty to blossom from within

Who has found forgotten poems, memory gaps, words unable to recognise as her own

Resident of no fixed abode

Willows.

Thoughts about my daddy issues

If this is hanging my “dirty ” laundry’ out then I will say that this a fresh lot of laundry, just out the machine. It smells of. Jasmine & posies. It’s clean.
And me? I’m only a rag n bone hope sapien like the rest of us. I do what I do to get by. Enjoy your day & if it isn’t Father’s day in South Africa (it is here in your Yorkshire).
I can still see the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh & I can hear your laugh in my inner ear (or mind).
HAPPY FATHERS DAY!
I wish I could give you a hug cos I know how close you were to your Dad. And the loss is hard. You have support ( and I will be thinking of you). I still remember how you broke down great Grandad fell ill when I was 12 or summit. I hugged you. And you let me hug you. It made me cry. These are my words.

The vessel- a short story by Daisy Willows

“Every day innocent lives are been taken by war and still there are so many countries where it is illegal to have an Abortion. This does not stop Abortions. It just increases poor health risks to women who then have to have Illegal Abortions. Where is social justice?” DAISY

‘Miss Sainte!’ the travel consultant’s hands twitch like bee feelers, ‘let me get your tickets for London.’ and she is off. I’ve always found it amusing how people assume that your life is more exciting than theirs. My life had taken on the acrid taste of bourbon. Hard decisions require liquor. There I was bobbing up and down like a buoy in a sea of bitterness. Disconnected from all sources of life. Waves of nausea threatened to bury me, deep, in an unrefined grave. This was my existence until I sobered up.

The hairs on my arms prick up like ears on stalks, straining to confirm what they’ve heard. Shivers rush down my spine. Impulsively my hand goes to feel the smooth outline of the documents in my handbag, confirming that the surgery will go ahead. I look up from the tropical brochure and nearly fall head first into a pair of dung coloured eyes. She’s that close. I quickly murmur my thanks and bolt out the door, the wind slamming the door for me

My life tends to go from one oblivious moment to the next. One ginger bastard is all it takes for the state of my jagged ignorance to be shattered. Now all I can see is my former ignorance smirking everywhere. All of a sudden its: Ginger beer, Ginger bread, Ginger cats, Ginger biscuits, Ginger nuts, Ginger pubes, Ginger! Ginger! Everywhere! I’ve reasoned that it’s not too avaricious to want more than ‘current-girlfriend’ status. Why would a heathen (his -word) such as myself, all tits hanging loose, wild hair and barefoot, want certainty and commitment? Why indeed?! Every time it’s the same watery twaddle:

 ‘I’m a married man… A Catholic!’ –with a bellyful of 24 hour bargain booze. It’s all driftwood. I’m Odyssey’s ‘Scylla ‘or ‘Charybdis’. If he wants to treat me as a necessary evil then instinctively I will lure him to my grotto and devour him.  Men have this habit of changing anything they see as mystifying into the female form

Yesterday his spinal support kicked in and he decides to call me. It went something like this:

‘Babe, things are … complicated. I’m here for you.’ he said.

Then, that familiar feeling, the tightening jerk on my voice chords, taut like a gymnast’s rope. Panic. The struggle to gulp in air. My throat is blitzed with grainy, arid sand. The beat. The beat in my heart starts clanging cacophonously and belches up into my throat. My instincts are shrill. Screeching: Caution! Do Not Proceed. This is what his voice does to me.

‘Babe, we’ve been through so much?’ Smelly feet. All I can smell is pongy feet; His feet! I’d rather go collecting cacti with my teeth than screw you. Yerr screw you: That’s what I should have said.

‘I’m on my way.’ C’mon you don’t wanna be loved? So instead he gets his way and I’m running like an Olympic sprinter to get to my car.

There I am sitting in the car about to gear it up. Panic. With my palms I start slamming the steering wheel. You stupid bitch. SLAM! Greedy stupid bitch.  SLAM!  Blasted tears form. I look into the rear-view mirror  and with a fingernail, I press down hard, scraping my cheek- only satisfied when I see the offensive, black line of soggy mascara tarnishing  it .Ugly Bitch! I pound the rear view mirror-over and over.

*

I can feel the gamut of my emotions and thoughts losing form. So fragile. One knock. One tiny crack is all it takes. When he opens the door all the innards of my mind start to scramble.

‘Neck this’, he says. He plays his part well. He picks me up like I’m a delicate fawn and gently lowers me onto his sofa. He waves a bag of coke in front of my face. My fucking dopamine receptors are giving you a standing ovation, mate! Trust an ex-army cadet to bring out the Bolivian marching powder. Several hours later, we’re both wading deep in over consumption. Billie Holliday is playing, her voice becomes the beat in my heart.

‘Love. Love her voice… so raw … .so pure…but damaged like… Know what I mean?’

He just sits there, shakes his head mindlessly, not even one cobweb is disturbed. Great bulging eyes leer out at me. I might as well have a pair of fucking rabbit ears and a hat on with electrodes attached to my head.  One eye hanging precariously out of its socket. It is torture what he does to me. I want to scream: Why do you look at my pain? Consider it. Consider me! And then decide this bitch needs sterilising?

He’s suddenly up and real close. His odour arrests my breath, it’s like taking in a whiff of a Parisian fish market at the end of a hot rough day. The hairs stand up on my body betraying my true feelings. Then he demands that I laugh.

‘Laugh. ‘He roars. Followed by frenzied laughter – Shit what’s he gonna do? He’s just laughing. Standing over me and laughing at me. Kick him in the gonads, quick!  He stops. Breathe. He moves up close again, our faces touching.

‘Boo! He whispers, slapping his hands together with glee, he grabs my arse –roughly. I’m smiling. My mind serves itself from my body. It too plays its part well. He then begins to undo his jeans.

                                                              *

A bloated smiling face. The receptionist takes my documents. The ballooned smiling face points us in the direction of the waiting area.

‘Whoa!  They must have known we were arriving, all the chairs were set up, ready for a blessed sermon. Wanna do the honours?’ What am I saying? I watch his fat turnip- shaped face go red. Blood red. He is simmering away like a stew but someone forgot to put the meat in. Jesus why the hell did I agree to this? The walls expand and shrink like I’m sucking on a plastic bag.  Panic. I’m in Plato’s allegorical cave. His shadow torments me, I’m convinced that Mother Nature has given him rights over oxygen.

            ‘Hope Sainte?’ a nurse’s voice booms. Jumped up like a leap frog. Crap joke but I got spooked. The nurse looks up at me, she raises her eyebrows which make her glasses slant downwards. He heaves his body upwards. I feel his skulking bristling my nerves. The Nurse ushers me into a cubicle.

‘Change into this then hop on a bed’ she gestures to a bed. I touch the blue gown and put my fingers to my nose. Tainted, I gag. How can I put it? It’s like I’m inhaling water. Panic has dropped her anchor.

 Lying horizontally I turn my head to the left and I look up into a pair of nostrils. It’s the Surgeon. His lips are moving like that singing bass fish that was all the rage in the nineties. I can’t hear jack shit- the porter wheels me into the theatre.

                                                            *

 I open my eyes.  I exhale, the cubicle expands. He enters, drops his head. Doesn’t even bother to look at me. He stands in a corner and folds his arms. He just stands in that corner reminding me of a scarecrow. All stiff and glacial. Hours slither by, the silence hissing mercilessly. A hug. I want a hug. The silence is pierced. It’s me. I’m screaming. Little critters are scratching away at my insides. The attack is stabbing and sharp. The pain throbs with intent. Panic.

‘What the hell is happening?’ I look over and he’s fiddling with his fucking phone like he’s re-arranging his balls. Strap on cock-face! He turns around to face me. Did I say that out loud? He looks demonic enough.

‘Erm… well derr!’ He slaps my forehead, ‘you’re giving birth to our baby! Look at the state of ya!’ I follow his eyes. They settle on my well-formed bump.

‘You stupid murdering bitch!’ He then spits in my face and turns to leave.

‘Hey, where’re you going- we agreed on this?’ Panic. There’s more screaming.

‘Why? Why? Why?’ Each “why” grows in expectation and volume. Sobbing, through my tears I can just about make out a figure of the porter. Everything starts to slow down. No. Retardation is setting in, slowing me down. Panic. The surgeon appears again. It’s like I’m in a macabre pantomime

‘Now, please, count backward from ten, please.’ he smiles down at me.

‘I can hear you!’ I dribble out. The surgeon smiles and nods his head like one of those Chinese paw-waving cats.



What is this ban on abortion—it is a survival of the veiled face, of the barred window and the locked door, burning, branding, mutilation, stoning, of all the grip of ownership and superstition come down on woman, thousands of years ago.” 
—Stella Brown

“Against abortion? Don’t have one.”
“Every day innocent lives are been taken by war and still there are so many countries where it is illegal to have an Abortion. This does not stop Abortions. It just increases poor health risks to women who then have to have Illegal Abortions. Where is the social justice?” DAISY

The harlot

Heathen!

Thieving!

Scheming!

A woman who professes to be authentic

Yet all she does is make herself look pathetic.

 

The heart connects with what it wants.

Mind comes in with that rational thought of ‘you can’t’.

Deserve to be kicked to the gutter.

She can’t even summon up the courage to talk about it. 

It all comes out in a garbled stutter!

“Believe in yourself.”

“I know you are scared.”

She only ever wanted to see him fare and succeed in his own concept of desired wealth.

He says:   “We can’t be in the same room as each other”

For he and her may just tear their clothes apart again and enjoy skin on skin contact  -She loves to discover.

She walked out like a harlot.

 

Made her bed and

Oh, how she lay in it!

 

Thorns are necessary to feel the pain of her errant milkmaid, hay, rollicking moment as Charlotte.

She is not some good little girl who knows how to carve a lie out of it.

 

A piece of her heart is not with her.

She left it with another soul she is not allowed to bother.

What one wants the other has,

what the other wants the other has.

 

Slow down.

Be a happy family.

You are going to have to rip this ‘party girl’ crown off her to get some sense of loyalty.

She is the betrayer.

She shows what she reaps.

If that means loss.

Then I guess she needs to stick to her decisions and take the leap.

 

Questions?

Answers!

“Look into my eyes,”

“did you feel it?”

Or is that her reading into things too much and getting smogged in the thick of this illusory bet?

Illusions and fantasy are all played out fantastically in the mind.

Put it into practice and she gets to be the one who has to deal with her foibles and his  own “diplomatic” declines.

 

She is going to make it through it,

no matter what she does.

She is here for a purpose.

Let’s make sure it counts and is worth it.

The harlot – the whore.

The one who felt wanted for a whole hour more.

 

No payment.

Just talk.

Do the right thing.

She tries but her heart fucking stings.

 

Blue eyes that pull her closer.

She pulls away because she knows that he can let this go and invite around a medley of his most champion party voters. 

She champions you as she always has,

 She respects your need to get your life in order.

When you  left you,

You never even looked back.

Just another 2 weeks of holding onto your sac.

Its cool.

  When she plays with fire, what must she expect? 

 a bunch of free fries to go with her  Macccie D?

Had more time to cuddle. 

The best part was the silence.

It didn’t feel awkward, it felt right in the wrongest circumstance.

Feeling alienated from my family.

My friends.

Blue pills and champagne soften the blow. 

 Why are we celebrating?

Her perfect timing on how to right and sort out the logistics of it all and tamper with a heart is an epic disaster

-given to me by another.

No butter required!

The harlot pays her own way, just for the record.

Feeling impulsive, doped up and feeling not too shit. She thought she would wake up in A&E –

Some source has greater plans for her.

I don’t know how he can bear to look at her. 

She wants you to know that she  loves You G

the You! fallacy

THE YOU! FALLACY 

Just jotting my thoughts. I’ve been prompted to make a complaint.

little four eyes when you were half your current size -why did you doubt yourself so?

Looking back to a densely plotted past – hazy.

What would you have done knowing all people doubt themselves even if it means you becoming the foe?

‘Have no regrets’ – the tagline of the present.

no regrets, no regrets, no regrets.

When you are looking at granny in a catatonic state, unable to walk or talk. Fragments of images of people now gone, tell me you won’t wonder how life would have played out by taking assertive bets.

Complaints department – sizable queue. 

What can we do to answer people’s feuds?

Create a passage for people to commit to taking responsibility for themselves, sign that in ink and wrangle with their own moods.

Blame everyone.

You!

You,

and you!

well…… the list unfolds until it reaches the flaws of flooring.

Fingers pointing in every direction. Buckle up, prepare to look within and see how far you can go when you begin to see only you can change your state of deploring.

Control comes not from puppeteering others. Cut loose – let the strings fall.Let people walk,

hell! let them figure it out-  leave them to crawl.

Worry about how you are going to make it. What you need to do to advance in the dance – motions to elevate and bypass the savage instinct to maul.

How many complaints is your God of choice dealing with?

in Her brassic attempt to fulfil everyone’s wish

Did it ever occur to you to get off your indignant knees to check out the employment vacancies for extras needed to help your  God succeed in appetising your particular dish?

Stop giving control to others to fix your problems. You have a brain, how much has been wasted?

Think of the energy and time used in a  futile attempt to get people to see your view,

the moment before the curtains go down you have become the finale unstitched,  obtusely basted.

What do you do to make this world a better place?

What do you do to help us people stay in the race with human grace?

Life is never going to get easy – you’re never going to be 100%  fulfilled. There will always be a doughnut sized whole to fill.

Do you even know what it is you need to fix yourself?   In monetary terms, you will have to pay for your own self- advocacy bill.

Money, time and energy well spent making you a person who can figure out how to make sense.

Dig deep and take a deep breath-  Don’t be afraid to be a master of your own success.

To run away from your potential achievement will be your greatest offence.


Daisy chains a stream of consciousness

You do that thing the others do.
Throw a googly-eyed look away
Well, am I stark raving mad?
Gnarly Serf on a wavelength similar
to loyal Harvey the dog of Sam.
One eye hung out precariously
Electrodes attached to its head.
Tortured by experiments
Wronged species deserve rites
two
Left-handed Nuns appear unGodly.
Impregnated 9 months later delivers a postpartum already dressed up in blue. Momentarily stunned by nausea pangs
Delivered momentarily still
Birth devoid of cries then a shout out hits my ears
He’s not breathing
Inarticulate mid sucking on gas and air queer eye of this realm I pray for skin contact
You worry about your own soul shell feed
I can’t mimic the A team
A letter murmuration in full Flight
Fight solo traversing oceans
awash with
Contemporary pirates chaffed from over self-masturbation.
See men wink & weep over Oats that taste so so…..
Self-destruction ejaculates an abundant pressure of love.
Images of enjoyment flicked out a nebulous cornea.
Scattered
Failure caught wind of future events impossible to foretell a farewell
That would be hell.
Eloquence raped of its plumage
Abreast Birds hearts juking at 160 bpm
The final crash coursing bloody soundbites around the ministry of meow-em’s mouth veins
Shed tears for our once feathered friends.
Ravens versus magpies
A sign glitters all is not well
Clear sight lights up a mass derelict graveyard.
Those blinded peacocks.
How they spent their lives chasing cataracts from the omniscient Third eye.
No remorse
What have I done?
Pushed away those doves, drowned out the screaming stars.
Irksome elements are the dwarfed remainders of a mind
bent against its will.
Teething the Tension
Widen the gaps in this pension cut
Tender.
Rise
this morn, big mouth
Gums gunned down left in a flap,
When is my end?
The highest peak.
A gaze overlooks
A future uncertain.
Stuck in reverse
Cold cuts down play -sessions.
Seek out fabricated modifications
Hide happiness with a common dividend.
We believe the 365 tales told
Thoughts toss flip
Look what ‘s up
Ahead,
step after step on stealth mines muddled.
For today I love you…
Enough,torture by anguish.
Sundowners gravity compel an early Eve to blush at seeing Adams
apple tree deceived
down
fall
a pair of knees tainted by grass painted in slithering silence.
Limber climber defy the mass cavity awaiting
Underground Unwanted guardian angels willingly discredit the Grim reaper
even
When the odds favour that one’s number is up.
Down?
Hope in one gulp.
Grim glass-eye stares longingly at well-beings thirst quenched.
Leaked buckets reveal the fluidity of
love.
Forget about recriminations.
Don’t carry an organ donor card
To part from the complexities of life
momentarily contemplate the features of creatures born
Free.
Will,
They graciously mutate into mere mortals as time calls it a day?
Surrender to terminal Life
Know Death can’t kill
Those already Buried under their own ills.