Oh how did this happen to me
The girl from some other foreign city?
Wiley enough to make a plan.
Cunning and soft of heart -all my eggs bled before the start of labour
Before the sun came up.
Hide all pain,
all the blood clots in her smiles.
She would koo koo
for her soul was of one who couldn’t quit even when they shouted: She’s already dead.No need for an off with her bed hair beheaded mentality
Ex oh ex oh
*8th March women’s international day 2022*
Under a senseless war you are not as noticed as your insight ..
Know that female propaganda protestation is a liberation .Maternal is a revolution
Starting with faith not doubt .
Radical against the martial law
reveal your beliefs with the strength of your education
Never forget you have a duty to stand up .
Voice your opinions.. you are part of your nation.
Even when the patriarchy has you under a thumb.
It’s a parody
employed mercenaries to pluck his monoborw.
Inhabit a cold continent to suit his Napoleon Bonaparte with fashionless gout.
He’s tied up , suited & booted mannerisms to strangle the patriots to go without..
A Siberian exile
An excuse to out those who’ve already come out.
No shame , my women …
Evil will lose this small man’s willy , I believe without a doubt 😏.
International women’s day
Russia we stand as our tribe .
We will win with every gender with clout.
He told me to shut my mouth
A matrix mixed up reality.
No voice could penetrate my words
Over & over ,
I said too much
Googled each mythological Grecian character channel without further a due.
He told me to shout out with his present presence.
I took offense due to my theoretical thoughts
An invasive entity .
Unsettling striking parallel perspex
Cognitively one was watching the movie without subtext
The other summoning books of mythological Gods.
She clubbed the moment
She clubbed all movement to death.
Mere words- littered
Pollute the stratosphere
Tube fed turtle dying on his tomb head
What to say ?
Keep my mouth shut!
Recalling an author – Christopher Vogler-heroes journey
A triumph against my early dementia onset.
Failure to visualise a world now mature
A pavement to display the current concrete buns news .
Two little lives at me for food .
Did I make a mistake when my absorbed self brought nothing but blues
Veered too far
This wasn’t premeditated
Merely wanted him to fondle my breasts
Last Friday he said I recoil like a chicken headless
From his touch or his brazen cackle
Eclat Yves Se laurent
No brush can lighten this intimate blush.
What more can I divulge ?
Not much with
All of my clothes.
That’s too much information…
Google the rest on my admission.
Why do we close our eyes when we sleep?
When we cry?
If we imagine?
Who we kiss?
This is because the most beautiful things in
the world are unseen.
You’re still here to stay
You keep my smile a smitten simile
Whether it makes sense
From day to day
That goes by
Needless to say
We’ve had our moments
Better than nuances of the sane
Members of the ministry of love
Not circa 1984.
You’ve grown up
And become a mature man
I’m proud to have in my life
I’m proud to be your lioness
I’m proud you are my king .
Happy birthday, Gareth Edward Holliday.
You are the man who has seen past Every sin.
Sees beauty when others discard me as flotsam on a tide
Tired when my damp tearful matchstick
Yet the flame you ignite remains within
The diamond that bled for more than skin.
Noble , you are , I’ve learnt to trust you.
Happy birthday , Phillipe flop. Every day is a vacation when my eyes spot your baby eyelashes
Daring to look beyond
( encore ) HAPPY BIRYHDAY MON AMOUR!
If you could see the myriad memories that run across my eyes : you would be driven into a bedlam.Wishing for a forget me sods lot of wild flowers enraged with the promise of eeergh de parfume- dementia.
Who am I ?
Designated driver left with that old Mad hatter.
The old mercurial adage
If I don’t write, talk or express myself
My beliefs mean nothing
My mind is a personality of multiples
The story of my life.
Desonate or disconnect from past traumatic strife.
Moving on automatic
No sense , inebriated , toxic , sober my God has left the pall bearer in charge of my destination.
Music is my only salvation
No! Just my words are the above without hesitation.
Print ink on my soul
Cast a shadow
A casket made of ornate gold.
Maybe I’m not the oldest of souls
The palm reader knew when my rings didn’t make it up to my elbows
Fate ? destiny?
What does it matter when life is a choice whether you die or break the glass between the two worlds
It may shatter
I’m into cats.
Does it matter.
I’m a riddle of my own inertia.
Though the light may fade.
Dark shades heighten the Euphoric daze
Forgotten words wasted on ill-gotten behaviors.
In that quagmire
Still driven to send out a vigil of hope.
Buried within me.
Buried under a myriad haunted ghost.
What keeps disarming me
Whose charm beckons me to this world?
When I open my eyes
Betrayed by curiosity in gazing outwards.
Look back at the words you have’ written.
Be inspired that you wrote them!
Sweep those sneaky snide comments out through the back door
How dare they Prevent this form of self-expression.
words made up of simple dimples are all we need
He cautiously peers out
perched a top
the Jonnies rotting,
Infected tears confidently descend
To the basement days
when his best foot turned all the bedheads.
Don’t over -care
Don’t Glare without an ending for sentence as to what grows out from your mind.
Hauled up in dusty webbed rags of self-doubt.
Can you catch the Shadows doth change according to light.
Mere reflection and perception of how you do intimidate me
shadows can’t exist without a living
Take the power back.
At least from behind the scenes
Don’t hide from those
disproportionate contortions of their own path.
Happy lights-faeries delight.
Blissful smiles stipple out faces.
There can be no ulterior motive.
Unless we retrace for an Agenda?
confused about life twists mysterious Genders.
Guilt sprouts up-GMO crops
Pesticidal casual all matter starts to hoe out my mind
Crucify my time?
Fraternized with Flowers more sentient than humans taken up by nocturnal spaces
Unevolved sight is having an identity crisis.
Army of words
A halo of benign bravado.
To those monsters of Carpathian.
Here is my audacity & Gumption.
Shout me down.
Mere echoes with no home.
Threaten me or one of my own,
I will stand up and defend my home.
Bats of fear — Clots of blood
Circulate above in a murmuration
So much I want to put down.
Not in the stream of consciousness
No more ashamed of how far down I free-fall into the squid ink mouth of the abyss.
I gripped onto nature’s own boulderous
A safety net of
I seek out another taste