Blog Archives

Coalesce

Don’t give up – don’t give in.

Eyes discover you bloated- vomiting up your own sin.

Brain chess- pawn after pawn is taken unjustly,

Black equality doesn’t matter – cognition will conquer what it desires lustily.

Ivory conquests – impure from the acidic bile.

Caffeine alert – simulate all senses –   the target is common -the biggest bargain ransom.

Flogging a dead horse to a blind, muted soul –  cognitive dissonance –

child sings ‘Out comes the sunshine’  in the disguise of a bloomed blossom.

Wasted life.

Wasted wife.

Wasted mother .

Wasted father.

Wasted land.

Travesty lurks spoof like

 We know it is there

 Feet kicking, hiding behind the sofa, giggling childlike thinks it’s invisible.

Unchain my heart.   Hostel bed sores – shine a light on our plight – save us from This saw hand, marked fallible.

Man-made – pharmaceutical drug lords inject a lethal dose of synthetic Gamma wave stationary by product.

Profiteering – collateral damage – no name – no existence mere condensation trickling down a viaduct.

Fight for your life- for your consciousness .

Throwdown the tools of self-destruction

 only ashes to see here

Phoenix bird eloped with the Dodo bird in Act two.

Aristophanes’s – Greek tragicomedy – bawdiness.

 One character stumbles along a plot that emerged in the opening scene of the frenzied laughter (offstage)

Tame that harlot shrew.

Glasses askew – brightness dulled by 1960 tranquilised   blue smurf salesmen.

What do we know of consequences?

When we seemingly have found an answer to a long-held problem of delirium tremor flashbacks from war apocalypse rehabilitation stint-

Take 911!

Hurry or we will need another corporate shaman.

Worry not – reverse psychology.

Worry a lot – trust in the depth of raising questions in philosophy.

I write with no answers,

intelligible at times.

Wondering how to get back to a well-educated mind

who knew how to rationalize.

splitting images

 There goes a notorious caricature of her former self –  ignoring traffic lights and all her accumulated speeding fines.

Slow-release.

Hat trick

Card trick

Fear of bats

Watch the finest disappearing act,

coalesce.

It’s not dementia

Some folk say I speak too much

I say that’s rich.

 

I’m not even 40 years old & my bones are crumbling

Hind sights a bitch

Hell – a sight so unappealing

it brings me out in an itch

A rash of nervous eczema.

 

Today is my first adventure

with my partial denture

Like life, it’s only temporary

at least I’m not doing time in a state penitentiary

 

I can’t speak

this foreign object prevents me from talking

properly

 

The older I get I realise how naive I was to forget

that my mind is my greatest asset

 

Body, I love you

Looks? you’ll do

I’m yet to find perfection

I’ve almost given up on the pursuit of it

boohoo

 

What is beauty?

Judge we do under a unique hue.

 

Age has its wicked way with us all eventually

I’ll never let go of my character to laugh, be stubborn

go against all adversity

 

No, I  still won’t conform

The shy girl will not come out to perform

 

Inside my pride has been wrenched out of me

And I laugh at the old me

I laugh cos we are so beautiful

We just can’t see what others never fail to see.

You starring yourself

titled  ‘back in reality ‘.

 

Daisy does time

 

High on life- no light of artificial sight.
I know what I will do if I ever get mugged.
I will look my mugger right in the forehead and say I can see the emergence of his third eye.
 
His monobrow will wriggle in confusion.
Then, I will 1970’s kung fu him in the balls – He will be blubbering.
 
This is my first chance to demonstrate my self-choreographed, self-defence, dance class, get fit for life infusion.
 
I’ll grab my bag and wallop him once or twice.
I’m not condoning violence, but I get the feel for it, I’m grooving, putting my own spin on it. So he rolls with the punches and I carry on rolling my dice.
 
Then when I feel we are on an even keel I’ll stretch out my arm, give him a hand up. Hell, I will even get down on one bended knee.
 
The score will be settled and even.
That is what you get, mate, for attempted thieving.
Panic alert flashes across my eyes. I didn’t know Mr potential mugger had another job. He’s a rather talented actor – he is making me believe he is actually bleeding.
 
Wait a few seconds – look left -look right -look left again. Got to keep my wits about me. Road safety training might seem elementary but it can be a lifesaver.
Seconds turn into the longest minute ever documented. I don’t think he is an amateur. In fact, I’m checking for signs of a well-known face; not some chip off the old block. I can hear the other stars calling out for their missing, celebrity neighbour.
Things are starting to turn grave. I’m the one who was in true danger.
Superheroes, do they exist?
I need one pronto – bring a carpet -we have a John Doe to roll up and we need a couple of spades and all of the aces. I need a super professional with a zany twist.
 
Moments pass. My superhero hasn’t pitched up, he must have run out of gas.
I’m on the run with an imaginary gun – this is not fun. He started it. What an ass!
 
“Oh why hello, officer, I know what this looks like. Yes, I am running” mentally exercising my train of thought.
“Hit and run?”
“I don’t drive officer. So can we skip the walk in a straight line, touch my nose and rub my belly and get to the part where we both laugh about this situation.”
We may end up in a quaint bar.
The one that sells all the good rum.
 
My mind is working overtime. Think! Think! What would any civil, well to do, ordinary, civilian lady do in my circumstance?
 
“Now, officer. I think we can have a bit more fun with those cuffs. Got any fur? oh, how I love to purr.” I’ll lean over just so he can clock my cleavage. Hey, this could work! Have you got any better ideas?
 
This may be my only chance.
 
“Ma am , Are you trying to poodle face with me?”
 
“Me? I don’t even own a dog. Are you trying to call me a bitch? Now that is offensive.”
I was merely using my right to freedom of expression.
 
My wits tell me to back the fuck down. He is jangling what sounds like more than one key.
He reads me my rights. I tell I’m Catholic.
 
I ring God daily, no messing with Angel administration. I have him on speed dial to atone for my sins.
Now, this-this is unjust. All this fuss. What happened to the good cop, bad cop scenario?
 
All I’m seeing is the end of his boot and my own reflection in his riot helmet gear. Have I been transported into some retro game and swallowed a mushroom and turned into super -uber Mario?
 
Granted, he is a shitty plumber. But, he does get to collect plenty of coins. Maybe I can bail me out.I don’t need no man to rescue me. I am the victim and the surviving princess.
 
I get the feeling the only jangling I am going to do is when I walk the line. Stub my toe. I think my entitled title just got ripped off me.
 
Scoundrel.
It was that mugger that’s got me in this stitch. I’ve been demoted to a rather fatigued and distressed seamstress.
 
Moral of the story?
Don’t go acting like those sensational media heroes.
 
Just let your entire shit go-
JUST.LET. IT.ALL.GO.
And tomorrow you will wake up not in a cell but smiling into your favourite stripy bowl of cheerios.
 

*inspired by absolute nonsense. Stream of consciousness