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Mumms the word

I’ve tried to epitomise my mom-in a few words. No easy feat to do.

Mom

a la mode
Bang on-trend

a Panache for transforming a lifeless neck scarf into an haute couture piece -an eye for detail that makes you a formidable fashionista Godsend.

Finesse in all you do: from baking bananas loaf’s salad Nicoise or cauliflower cheese.

Woe, the day a chef attempts a bake-off with you for he’d lose his hat, all his stars and wail, mamma Mia what a mistake ah I make a. I must have caught some disease.

Self-sufficient -you can lift your bed on your own, fix your dryer, paint your home, fix the boiler. Your tenaciousness growls especially when your body dares groan: please take it slow!

Talented at reinvigorating my moods with that eccentric, warped wit.

An example: the time you thought it would be fun to pay for me to get my entire face threaded. You laughed at my pain.
I love our giggles-the side-splitting snorts are hilarious to watch and hear. It takes me back to our flare nostrils days. Who could make each other laugh first?

Your loyalty towards me astounds me, your unwavering love for me confounds me, your forgiveness impels me,

Life gives us many hard knocks -your heart nor face betrays your past pain. It reveals your altruistic complexion. A reflection of your heart. When you give you to do so freely without seeking to gain.

I’m in awe of your spiritual journey. You think I’m not remotely interested in your opinions & sentiment. Your faith is truly remarkable- a tangible contrast to your ethereal temperament.

Remember how you tell me to straighten my crown, the world is in the palm of my hand?

Remember numbers do not define a person’s character, beauty or ability to achieve greatness. I see the talent and potential within you. You should/could become an interior decorator. No age or number can dictate your dreams, hopes, aspirations and goals. The skies the limit.

Happy Birthday, mom.
I love you xxxx

Melody of those in the Same boat

My cow bells are a little bit off par
My serenade seemingly won’t separate the stars

They’re dying
Earth bound

Trees won’t surround my natural state of being.

Everything I feel
My inner sight.

I’m meant to be singing a stream of consciousness of my inner plight
To gloat I’m on another planet.

If only I knew how to consistently cope

In this moment
In this dimension
I might have a bit of hope.

A full fleshed 3 D character would awash with the flostam
Starting from the Knee deep creeping up to reveal my fragile throat.

I’m you, man.
You are me, men and women.

We’re all floating in the same boat.

Different directions
In water we still get soaked.

A place we try to fathom
No .
stake as our own.

If not to deem ours authentically
Then atleast to titillate to titivate
With a decorum of sensuality

Melody of the same boat

My cow bells are a little bit off par

My serenade seemingly won’t separate the stars

They’re dying

Earth bound

Trees won’t surround my natural state of being.

Everything I feel

My inner sight.

I’m meant to be singing a stream of consciousness of my inner plight

To gloat I’m on another planet.

If only I knew how to consistently cope

In this moment

In this dimension
I might have a bit of hope.

A full fleshed 3 D character would awash with the flostam

Starting from the Knee deep creeping up to reveal my fragile throat.

I’m you, man.

You are me, men and women.

We’re all floating in the same boat

Different directions

In water we still get soaked.

A place we try to fathom

No .

stake as our own

If not to deem ours authentically

Then atleast to titillate to titivate

With a decorum of sensuality

If blue was a hue

If shades came in pigmented blues

Would the world recognize the significance of colour as opposed to hues?

Would living in colour stop it’s either this or that?

Would grey get a chance to convince us to investigate?

Would crashing into a slick  navy

crude and  lost at  sea,

Inspire old fashioned candy knots to carry us all back to safety?

If black wasn’t so noir

Would fashion dictate less to those in the savoir?

Would flags become less patronizing?

and white flags more entrancing?

A hue is a hue by its very name

A colour can decide to change and play  – a child-free game.

Rich reds

Glorious Greens

 Would we see who profits from wealth – would we want to change this scene?

Would hearts come together under a purple strewn night? 

Lovers take pleasure dancing in the rain, see each other in a different light?

Emotional attachments are often aesthetically pleasing

Only to the one who is eyeballing the muddied one’s high pitched squealing.

Clarity of light sought in souls and not in places of questionable heaven.

Admirers eyes to skies

Solid legs still rooted in the ground

Unifying all genders of brethren.

How wealthy we are  to have  a landscape of colour

Don’t ignore its beauty in the search for another.

Mike banana

I don’t believe in a day a tee.

I don’t believe in a die a tee.

I believe in emotions.

A parable.

A moral .

A story. A lesson to learn.

If I listened without interrupting ( never filmed my candidates on camera) I would see my past ignorance for intentional hind sight ah.. pause… ( episodic moment).

Should have put a hashtag

(#) may cause seizures * bright lights * drug use * misuse * violence * harsh violence * .

Film censorship can be deceiving.

I watch many films primed or netted for my viewing,

I see the warnings and see violence ,

Albeit sexual violent violence I need a bit of tuning.

I started this off topic ness from listening to a past recorded conversation. I’m out of my depth .

I see

I’m out of my depth.

Now..

I’ve a 6 4 2 bounce back pillow from the silent sisters who muted on their way to the unseen pleides.

Piroutte mode.

Did I lose you to a Mike bananas T- shirt that the mad republic would ask a beetle to submerge These words to a submermarine …. 7 dots of dismal drivel.

Iil

Love less -a pense poem

I’ve never done this type of poem. The format is straight forward.

Title 2 syllables

Description 4 syllables

Action is 6 syllables

location 8 syllables

ending 6 syllables.

And the final rule is that it can’t rhyme

LOVE LESS


it won’t hurt much
scrub off the scent of his odour
bleach the bath with your morning shit
love costs more heartache

Passion less magical

Cats demand cuddles
A clean page soaked in wasted words written in yellow ink
The music falls on deaf ears
Unread unopened books will let me down – or will it be my imagination?
I glance around the room of despair comfortably numb for three hours until a child smiles for her mom’s unfounded fears.

Untitled

so inept by a blackened imagination
colours wither away, winter outsmiles
stilled yet not frozen. those exhiled frowns en route stragglers exhiled to Siberia.


I’m desperately desolate that these nightmares took the by pass . Limits to hope of revelling in reality once more spring
bursts into a yawn , light stretches worn out clinging onto last winter’s stained sweater.


A scream demands tending to kettle whistling for it’s masters attention
it begs summer to part with mercy & grace
so inept by a blackened imagination.

Everyday churn

I’m having a nervous breakdown

No tear gas needed to see my features frown.

Give up, let go.

It doesn’t matter.

Give in , give away the words

I write from my inner chatter.

Pride may come before a fall.

This writer is mad and frenetic enough to bawl.

Sleeping alone with a furry bengal.

Live and breathing, nightmares shedding one too many a ghoul.

I live in fear of letting myself  fail.

It’s more innate stubbornness that leaves my face pale.

I’m sick of over achieving. I’m jaundiced from worry.

Projectile thoughts invade my space. illegal immigrants hide in my quarry.

Work so hard and see no results.

When I see the rainbows end -I may watch the blood seep from my wrists.

The mind won’t let me have a moment off.

Fatal escapism needed

a dose fit for a carcinoid cough.

Every moment – liquid drains  my lungs.

Torture

when talcum powder is  blown into organs.

Mop up creativities flow.

I can’t breathe in this dungeon.

Get out of my way ,don ‘t look at me – snarl and bite a portion out of your flesh.

Vegan turn rotten, core bound up with an unnerved bile uprise.

Human machine venting  for my inability to refresh.

Hold up my dignity

keep me in stents;

make sure I don’t end up in a coffin embellished with the last person buried alive.

A scene far too surreal and intense.

I’m spent.

I’m howling.

I’m a lunatic.

I’m prowling.

Injured.

You scare me but dammed if I will roll over and play dead.

Like sand through the hour glass

blink once and the deadline is almost head over arse.

I’m scared of failure

I want to be the man to pull out exacaliber.

Merit and knighted.

how shallow  glory is,

I’m far too short sighted.

Immobilized in a zombie fashion

Micheal Jackson thriller

Nearly forgot to yell ‘action’.

Take me to a planet fermenting in sushi.

I need a trip to find my very own mighty booshy.

Writing is my hoochie. 😁

Justify

Why do I justify myself to others if I’m not working in a full paid life capacity?

It’s not like we’re still living in a Victorian era where I need to prove I’ve achieved my full belt in chastity.

I’m not kept nor groomed.

I’m a woman of the age of independence. When I hold my breathe I think of the oceans of ambition, fills me to a combustion ends- infallibility.

Self justification.

Words to sell the people who haven’t walked a second in my shoes.

Self justification who’ve never seen a man who sold ice creams on a beach with his bare arms.

No feet.

No feat.

He wouldn’t allow the cha cha dance of life let him be the one who gave in to defeat.

Even when the sun, it melted into his ebony skin-a parched man not bitter .

Even when children mocked him with no adult to inform them they were creating a culture where we judge people by being born in breach.

These words are going nowhere unless, I tell people I’m a winner regardless of the mind state – an alternative view they may one day wish to seek.

Their unbeknownst ignorance of those mountains I’ve so far climbed to be deemed fit in a society increasingly lacking in human empathy just to stay in view

To remain an arm within terre ferme reach

These are my words. This is what I wish to impart. I refuse to give up until my soul recoils from my body,

Honours it’s vow –til death do us part.

If you taunt me I’ve learned

Not to teach nor preach.

Life’s a beach.

I’m a woman of the world with nothing but reach.

Does this sound preachy ? 😉😅🤣🙄.

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.

Peer pressure

My pain is an insufferable spurt of growth as your own

If I led you into my darkness

Would you you identify me as your own?

Or dispose of me if I were to say no?