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Challenge the elements

A breath of air
Fresh from the battle of morn
A new day has begun.

This has been a tough week for me- in terms of writing especially when I have to I am challenged to condense my words. The pressure to write comes when I’m under extreme pressure. The emotions I’m experiencing before I write are more often than not “negative”.
I wrote ✏️ this Haiku

A breath of air
Fresh from the battle of morn
A new day has begun.

Atrophy

Demise.

A state I  claim as my own.

A walking catastrophe.

There

I saunter

Meander

in the state of atrophy.

 Cackles  full of apathy

No more I write for pleasure

I write  more for  no pleasure.

Wasted to academic response.

The demise of a broguer weary wasting away on the scribe’s chopping board

The life in an annus miribilis  mocking bird world.

Woken by the tweet ( hashtag) Motivation Monday.

Today’s news

The latest politician to fall into a blunder.

Cordoned off by the first sizzle of thunder.

Dissociate  from a time they could

Muster

Guster

Cluster

words connecting heart and mind

Until

over spillage

Foam  froth

Displayed shapely snowflakes

A Costa ‘s  coffee hallmark.

Glug down for the dawn of the   festival of the dead

 Mourning

in a town close to the  Pennines-

Lost to me is this place meant

To prove to be a better person,

My woe.

Ungirthed

A  spit  fire roasting.

A  moaning myrtle.

Toilets

vacant

Blocked up with  yesterdays cum

By  Yadda Yoda .

Glee geeked a fatal flaw.

A whore — seeking out the currency of words.

Could screaming out his name strengthen muscles of an inner core?

Bathe in white milk entice to indulge in a  favorite parlor  game?

This back drop.

A mood scape.

Blinded archetype to fate.

If this story could end..

Two acts saved by marty’s who implore

Destined by a saviour

Garnished blistered scabbed covered  Hope fulled folklore

May clarity denounce

infinite  notion  of worthlessness

Disparaged hypo-manic thought hindsight

Goaded in to  a contemplative state

sat on the floor

Coloring in books

Mind

Fully Clothed.

hidden from a distance

Write to recover  or die trying to be

A better self

at peace away from this tumultuous existence

These are my words.

atrophy

nounat·ro·phy | \ˈa-trə-fē \plural atrophies

Definition of atrophy 

1: decrease in size or wasting away of a body part or tissue atrophy of musclesalso : arrested development or loss of a part or organ incidental to the normal development or life of an animal or plant

2: a wasting away or progressive decline It was not a solitude of atrophy, of negation, but of perpetual flowering.— Willa Catheran atrophy of imagination. 

nounat·ro·phy | \ˈa-trə-fē \plural atrophies

Definition of atrophy 

1: decrease in size or wasting away of a body part or tissue atrophy of musclesalso : arrested development or loss of a part or organ incidental to the normal development or life of an animal or plant

2: a wasting away or progressive decline It was not a solitude of atrophy, of negation, but of perpetual flowering.— Willa Catheran atrophy of imagination. 

MERRIAM WEBSTER

Words are our mercy

I have to read a few quotes of Oscar Wilde’s 100 page letter to his lover whilst incarcerated in prison for homosexuality called ‘Profundi’ ( read full article at end of post)

A few people I have spoken with about Wilde’s works dislike him.

He wasn’t a sexist. How could he be? He was for civility or equality and many of his musings and poems big up women & make fun at men.He was abhorred by society for being a homosexual.

For loving some one with his entire being.
Most of us may never feel that intensity of love. To love even if your life is at stake, your career – your status takes utter devotion.

Society is cruel,it really is and from reading this post I truly believe that words are our way to freedom. The one thing / people that we are not at mercy to .

Words are our mercy.

Quote Natasha Bodley

A trip to Oxford reading prison is now on my bucket list.

I became so emotional reading parts of it in this article.

One of my favourite parts of his letter Profundi

I want to get to the point when I shall be able to say quite simply, and without affectation that the two great turning-points in my life were when my father sent me to Oxford, and when society sent me to prison. I will not say that prison is the best thing that could have happened to me: for that phrase would savour of too great bitterness towards myself. I would sooner say, or hear it said of me, that I was so typical a child of my age, that in my perversity, and for that perversity’s sake, I turned the good things of my life to evil, and the evil things of my life to good.

What is said, however, by myself or by others, matters little. The important thing, the thing that lies before me, the thing that I have to do, if the brief remainder of my days is not to be maimed, marred, and incomplete, is to absorb into my nature all that has been done to me, to make it part of me, to accept it without complaint, fear, or reluctance. The supreme vice is shallowness. Whatever is realised is right.

[…]

Society, as we have constituted it, will have no place for me, has none to offer; but Nature, whose sweet rains fall on unjust and just alike, will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide, and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed. She will hang the night with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole.

BRAIN PICKINGS