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If you wanna switch off you could

I threw it away

Not realising I would come to call it my most favoured crown.

Fascinated seeing my self riding waves of the guilt

drowned in salt tears of rumination to the hilt.

letting mom down

all my fam too.

Those who truly love me.

There are but few.

Hot damn! That’s better than cool.

Gave self-destruction a permit to ride out a course of self-flagellation

decorated in sleuth

The truth hit me oops upside of my head

Discombobulated -I saw the truth.

I let myself down

I deduce.

Take me back to my roots.

Be nt over crooked

wrung my hands for people who haven’t left my life

Yet

Anticipate gloom & doom.

allow these drum beats to perform

my body afloat

on cloud nine singing cheerfully to the staying alive tune…

Regrettably, I’m responsible for this present predicament.

There goes a fully armed disorderly platoon.

One setback

folded like that grieving widow.

She had a reason

I still have an abode

I’m not a widow.

I’m down on my knees & up off them almost like it didn’t happen

Stood defiant still feeding an outdated superstition

of other motives

This is my prison.

Trust in people

Risk my heart

Yes, It didn’t go my way

This was a time to not fall apart.

A glimmer of hope I’ll grow strong

again

Make mirth and merriment

not misery & disappointment.

I have only one person to blame.

I disappoint myself over and over again

then Surprise myself by what achievements I continue to create.

How am I to play this next move?

escape to another alternative reality – never to bloom!

Or talk about my feelings -is anyone listening?

Cos they have, what is the problem, strewth?

facing all that ‘I feel fat’ STUFF

Makes me wanna holler hey you, cat, scat!

Look me in the mirror & be proud

of my deeds for seven consecutive weeks.

Nor ask my loves to keep turning another cheek.

I’m ashamed.

I am to blame.

I have to fight

My mother is alright. I mean my mother is right.

This half-hearted escape acts

attempts on my life.

attempts to self-harm

They come & they go.

If I can keep this train of thought

the cravings of self-hate might go

come back

less frequently…

Perhaps I will still hold on to some of my dignity

or become a statistic…

We all end up a statistic one way or another

What statistic do I want to come under?

Now there’s a question to ponder over.

Speech Debelle

I’ve had this song on my playlist for years now.  The track- Finish this album is taken off her ‘Speech therapy’ album( 2009). It won the British Mercury Prize award. She was 19  years old when she wrote this  & it shows the introspection of a person wiser than her years. The track comes across as a discourse on the reality of how so many people in the U.K. (and global)  still feel more divided  & increasingly feel alienated from our communities.

In Debelle’s case, she used poetry and writing to get her through her own homelessness experience.  Debelle is a rapper and musician  /homelessness social activist from South London.

Debelle started writing poetry when she was 9 years old. Her influences range from  Mary J. Blige, Micheal Jackson, TLC & reggae.

Her lyrics are raw, honest, self-reflective & engaging. She unfolds stunning vivid narrative in her delivery of the song.  When I hear her vocals I feel her passion & fire. Her vocals are the perfect uplifting antidote to the overwhelming reality of her world with her insight into Life, its battles & her ambitions.

Honesty is courage and since I got the heart of a lion then there’s no sense in lying

lyrics from ‘Finish this album’

This is a philosophy for the soul.

She’s been signed to independent British label Ninja tunes

Home to  brilliant British artists from

  • Kate Tempest spoke word performer/poet/playwright  (Her play ‘wasted’ is worth a read)

  • Sampa -the great poet/hip hop M.C.

  • Bonobo

  • Roots Manuva

I’m a massive fan of the Kitchen sink drama creativists of the musical world.

Write to recover, perform to recover, do whatever it takes to express yourself authentically.

Creativists 

creativist

Noun — (1) To be a creative activist. (2) To challenge conventionality using art and expressionism as your tools. (3) To creatively enact change.

Blocked by representation

Two blocks stand in front of me

Prevent me from re writing unforgettable history.

Two  blocks part to reveal

That brazen  character,

It stands in front on me.

Deceive my fatal flaw from completing my true destiny.

Insidious eyes cause a distress call

Warrant to see,

Feel,

Smell,

Breath.

Clamouring hands apply pressure to  the ear

Drums

Detect the sharpening of  feline claws .

Stealth like

So poised

That nightshade

taunts

my dreams-

Haunts my waking hours.

A ruthless Freddie Kruger

Pounces

Veers just out of reach of my tunnel vision.

Scratches out eyeballs

With no need for an applause.

Urine infected chaise longues

For a burial in secret.

Littered skies

Unadorned  eyes.

we live to see the lie.

Despise the gluttonous blocks

Too

For its depiction .

The reflection of its nebulant disguise

 starves all growth

withholding all affection.

 

These two  blocks

they obscure security

Make life seem like a mere deflection.

*Writers block. Write to recover. An unrevised stream of conscious piece. Needs more work write to recover *