Instinct them there eyes that sit on the side of your face
where your ears shoot up from the top of your head.
Primitive- does it have a capacity to learn?
What is instinct?
the ability to know if something is a good idea or bad?
Is it just leftovers from another former homo sapien – who didn’t get the Darwinian letter notifying us to change?
Second guess it –
Third time make a mess of it.
What about those who have been conditioned by torture?
How do they know if their instincts can guide them to shores of safety?
Mothers instincts – is it the same as caring?
The instinct to repeat the same mistake – short circuit -rewiring alert .
Instinct tells me I am fucking it up.
I lie typing furiously trying to have my way.
I paid to be happy and don’t tell me I’m wrong,
instinct tells me this already.
Inside there is a stubborn overgrown tree – happily rooted-
Oh what a character!
It takes over me. Seen those shows when a person is hypnotised?
Never been hypnotised but…. I can imagine that worst case scenario is wanting to do something or not wanting to do something but having this entertainer conjure me to do the opposite of what I want.
What I say I will make me happy.
The rules is I am in a theatre of sorts – being watched, performed on .
I’m paralyse, can’t move -yet still I get to see all my actions performed for all to see.
I’m compelled to just let it be.
I was born with an inherent instinct to destroy every opportunity to feel a laugh leave my throat or a smile find it’s way curving upwards.
what is in me?
Who put it inside me?
I was pulled out with forceps and a low tolerance for people –
Did I get put on the wrong planet?
was I a botched experiment from a distant galaxy that needed terminating?
Who in their right mind throws away happiness like a blossom tree losing her flowers in autumn?
I don’t have that much to give. I did at some point but…. now that seems like a far away – old shedded skin
Creativity comes from within.
Instinct compels me to sin and win
LittleBee I failed you…
Can’t finish this… it is glib.
I can’t forgive me.
I’m a monstrosity.
DOn’t say those words daisy or you will become what you think you are.
True but I’ve forgotten how to be I am , I are, I will ,I think…
Don’t know how to …….
I may not be anonymous
I’m predisposed to mostly white.
Paled by charming powder puffs
Under any paltry day or night.
I may not be anonymous
I may appear big, small heavy and then light.
one little line of chronic
then it’s down & up 1000s hillside slopes to cut the gluttonous lust.
It grows in fervour
Diminishes all care.
If time is money (Wutang)
then it’s wasted to card dealing chancers
who think it is fair in the twilight
to fight this addiction to an eating disorder.
Sizes me up
Rounds me in
Not time to feed but blanch Guts away to her final slaughter.
Why do I want to change my hues?
Or maybe these words are a whitewash of denial or a statement covering up a fat lie.
Instinct -don’t know how to be
Fledgling or not -here I come
Today my thoughts confound me.
Hijacked emotions detonated into a familar war zone.
The survivors feel mixed up for another mistaken identity
passport confiscated by newfound enemies.
this queue finally advances
25 letters fated to the gates of uncertainty.
A survivor is stuck in the middle -it’s me -a headless body with a hidden agenda
Skin flushed assimilates bloody shadow a crimson hue mane of the unflinchers –
pale, skeletal, naked, destitute, some even of their robbed of own teeth
a pile-up -bodies all shook
adorned by a hand, ankle, A cold shoulder, one fair nipple, a flaccid penis
Perhaps your inner idealist
can resurrect these lives distorted by final moments -a conscious full of shame.
No burial for those of faith
Souls denied a peaceful resting place.
The faithless blasted out mid breathe energy kinesthetic Life mid beat -legged it
A desperate plight -scientific proof hearts can beat or flee.
My body under constant surveillance
The scourge of self-scrutiny
Double doubt implants enhance all traces of unwanted memories
Should I hide my body
The very essence of my being?
emotions -use tic tactics
Thoughts use unrestrained strategies.
propped up by bare feet
conditioned to protect my diasporic body
Roughly re-examine all once held beliefs.
Displaced her head!
how contrary I would have said
pure insanity I willingly would share.
If I don’t have any thought
or an opinion I’ve sought out myself.
I’ll become a diminutive
No person will ever see me
No person will hear my roar.
This voice will become non-existent -all my declarations are torn from the books of history
uninformed therefore never spoken nor unwritten
My right is to live and be!
My right is to feed peacefully
not between flippant mercenaries abiding by wall division protocol that I can’t see.
disconnected to set a prenup engagement
How is it I feel the pressure of the tummy bloat after the soldiers who gloat
of their lack of familiarity?
No sense die-hard before a sensation penetrates the first bloom of intimacy
They forget how hard they push
enter the orifice
Where I learned how to formulate words.
All I have is words and sound.
They take liberties- jabs & jeers are the echo chamber to my inner core.
These are the spoils of war.
My Emotions are absolute in their conviction
My sentence – A Disempowered daily mantra
I am to be their common whore.
a concubine filled up on spew, chunks of bile flotsam
traces keep me chronically ill.
Medical treatment denied because I’ve forgotten how to express my will
The West states I’m worth it !
the East send out a search party
on wise mind hill
There is no privacy.
My body is presented against my will
These clothes cover up the tight jeans that have become my only woe
Self-growth without a choice in how I present my self
Scratch these newly formed scabs for I have lost my flair
writing words to recover
self-oppression lost out in the talent show of acquired skills
Recovery is heartbreaking.
Hoochie flavoured scent
sniff out trouble keeps me imprisoned
I look up -the window is clear still
Or perhaps my beliefs are outdated.
Murder with intent
disarm these emotions
strangers with a familiar stance
Physical appearance is my only strength?
How Naive a woman can be
One strip away from freedom
I claim a culture of sound
Dance a tango inner peace with an outward serenity.
Silk lined hemmed skirts
embroidered letters spell out a movement of hope.
I’m one dancer
I’m one dissident
a fledgeling feather
& ink well
A pregnant pause followed by a ward filled with the birth of more words
sentences will start to show
the labour of courage pushed out in its full placenta -reborn – free feathered fledgelings take flight
-A yoke is sky born
These are my words -maybe she wrote/ be happy or die trying.
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Squwark sounds byte
… shake it baby
unsilence the drama
a happy Russian Soviet bass choir impersona
I can’t rap
But I do
70% water — can’t make this shit up…
Scientists don’t discriminate-
Updated stream filled in
by today’s quantified current
First and foremost a muse of note —
scale down the scratch post
common clouds count in beats
search for a pulse in
no more inches to add to her form
other than to
intro- apple -genuisly feed
worthy for wonderlands flowers to perform ?
‘mo brain mo crane’
Fly to the East
Sigh to the West
side with the South
Hustle with the true north.
Whatever get’s these words out
If this riff sounds willowy
Shucks,Throw in a hillbilly
ain’t apologising for being an invader of my own rythmic space.
ha ha when you cha cha.
Giblets strutting down this street.
Shake a tail feather to those with the Harmonised Harlem shufflers feet.
chiming the bell
Modest mouse slam beatbox a scat cat.
improvise the blues in fluent meow-skies —
Tell her where she lost the plot?
The living aint easy
Where is she at?
doing the wriggle worm , 8 years young
‘ maybe I’m a kid ‘— kidders rights to think
‘maybe I am shit hot.’
Impervious to the nonsense .
Tolerate her apparent nonchalance.
wind down tempo
No more Scratching ideas shape throw your hands in the air
Hit, publish —
have no shame telling people move on to another cloud
Your content is your own style and flair.
Sometimes you gotta groove the ghetto to let up some get up and get some get go.
Can’t Promise her a title
Lazily, a tigeress snores into her paws . If only retiring was as simple to rule her inner world.
Curled up in warmth after a stroll into the big wide world,then settle for a quinquennium pause.
Her heart beats.
Nationalists- not even patriots are exempt.
All want to play in their own chord, tighten the strings ,she keeps it together, to satisfy their crucified minds.
In a state of constant – motionless movement.
If not an act of physicality -drill cumbersomely inside her cranium and you will see chemicals and synapses – making up fresh bricks and mortar, to fit in with the latest homemade yeast infused hootchie.
Glance away now, for fear of pitying an evocative attempt to get a rise from it.
Secret plots to charge this queen with treason.
Where will she live?
Her throne burnt to the ground to make way for a newly elected dopamine and serotonin scrupulous , democratic union.
Flags of self-belief – burned infringed – protecting her staked land was all this monarch tried to take into hand.
Defamation – character assassination.
Cloaked – in darkness- rat scuttles past – no pause – it already knows this violated prisoner is barren.
Scars and welts – a confession is sought after by the cardinal living east of the castle manor.
Employed only to instill courage when the most powerful empire seized a chance to escape into heritic souls howling in the wind.
Faith and Hope – not draft an erratic, purple, incensed dogmatic pope .
Dire retribution -execute the one who claims this state is her very birthright.
Clubbed to her knees – she will crawl not humbly- you shall hear her plea.
She wants to make them a better nation.
It’s her biggest exclamation.
Out plotted by her very own court – bribed by cheap whores-given away by the roughness of their hands, dressed up as expert courtesans, who clearly have seen at least one day of sun.
Intoxicated by some amorphous potion.
Formalyhde doused in cleaveaged lace dresses – it was not her initial notion.
A scented air of burning flesh
A greek tragedy indeed.
Scorned by her very owns subjects . She may be longitiduely dimintitive but she refuses to be bullied into showing them that wanted emotion.
Defeatist attitude does not a fit queen make.
Words in a precise order do not prize a piece of art,
so clearly a fake.
Forgiveness is her only weapon. She won’t see her country be overrun by zealous creachers.
It would appear her subjects wish to prove that she is illiterate.
Tortured, holding her breath under water to procure a confession – let her reiterate.
The crown is made to fit one head – It is symbolic and vaporizes with her when she exhales all energy and is varnished as dead.
Look how you’ve turned on one another – in the pursuit of power. It is a notorious illusion.
To master control over all subjects requires more than an iron-clad fist and an outraged dalliance to declare outright confusion.
recognition and honor are what she offers,
accept these as the wealthiest of gifts.
Only a fool would scream,
‘Off with her head‘ -a face full of sour lemons and a lust to frazzle the last tether.
The Noblest of causes – so much bloodshed – look into her bloody, vein threaded eyes.
She hasn’t slept for weeks in her fight, to appease all those in famine, hungry and underfed.
She needs no steering Regent to aid her in her duty.
All she demands is loyalty and valor.
With you all at her side ready to conquer life’s copious battles,
we shall not go down .
your hearts will not know the true grief inflicted made up of another community of arrows.
we shall not waiver.
Trust in your queen to walk as a stout cripple ,duty bound to protect and hold it all together.
Inner dictator: Food for thought
PREAMBLE BIT -feel free to dig in to the poem and scroll down now
I’m looking forward to next weeks monthly spoken word night in my Halifax, West Yorkshire.
Turn The Page
I get to gorge on my inner dictator and speak for three minutes & perform & be listended to.
Oh, the power over the masses. (Ha Ha)
This month some regular chip off the old block decided the theme should be potatoes!
If I were the dictator I would not choose to talk about something as common and earthy, and the -potato `is on my unsafe food lists).
Even inner dictators need a slot with their name to dicate for 3 minutes if you don’t you will be denied your voiced& forced to listen to all the other rival inner dictators.
The only time potato poems event should take place is in Africa with millions of starving children with “natural” eating disorders. This is a recipe for disaster because, mental illness fed by oppression increases achances of become a real future dicator starving their own people.
So this is my potato theme in yer face poem
Hark! I feel the desperate need to fletcherize.
What? Is this some new mumbo jumbo, hybrid– combination form of exercise?
Yes, I would imagine it involves some motivation from a person with no predilections to become easily disheartened.
Why can’t you just eat sensibly, stop this new wave of choosing a new flavour every month-
to keep up with fitness promoters incentives to keep people outsmarted?
It’s a new rage- it’s catching. It takes great skill, I can’t help but swallow great lumps of it, 7 days a week –
such is the weight of my grief.
Sounds like a disease with such a symptom as that. Rage is not all it is cracked up to be as a moderate form of stress relief.
It is not just some novelty – like limited -edition candy bars being sold to profiteer the next big entrepreneur.
Oh really, so next you will l tell me it is an exact science – proven to actually have more lasting benefits than summers worth of lazing on the beach in a bikini – eyed up by the oil slick crowd that draws in like a tide -ogling to be near.
Oh no. It has been well proven that to engage in this exercise is likened to yoga. It is a practice.
The evidence for this is where? a desert far away – hiding in the form of H20 in a well prickled out cactus?
Look, I’m not asking you you join the parade and get down and groove with us who choose to exert ourselves in this way.
I know, I just don’t want you to get sucked in the PR vortex and lose yourself with an accompaniment £10 diet plan-
to prove the results work when you have your weekly weigh day.
Tsk, I’m not just going to gobble it all up without reading the terms and conditions.
Well, I am most sincere when I say I am glad you have paused for thought -slowed down your impulsive urge to guzzle down additional condiments –
and other unnatural apparitions
In practice, I am going to be mindful and chew on these words slowly and deliberately.
Wise words, coming from someone who is usually so careless when it comes to honouring your basic right at retaining your liberty.
No offence but you partake in media shake-ups, that regurgitate out a new shape each season, with an acute, floundering dignity.
Mmh, that’s sparkingly rich. I only look up at those who have a celestial essence of shape – one quite like the star.
Well, while you persecute me for attempting to live my life in a shape I desire to acquire- with all due respect,
I will strive to be what I want to be and you be who you are.
Wait! I need 20 minutes to digest all this information.
Now, that it the right attitude – jut enough time to satiate before you give in to more temptation.
Love set free #poetry #haiku #tanka
Love set free captured in verse & imagery. Simply superb
She gets on with life as a wannabe music journalist,
She’s a charismatic kinda gal.
She likes chilling on Sundays,
She likes reading in the week.
She likes to contemplate owning a goat.
But when she starts to daydream,
Her mind turns straight back to her cat-Tatty Anna
Sometimes I look at her and I look into her eyes,
I notice the way she idolises about Tatiana with a smile,
sensual lips she can’t disguise.
But she thinks it’s GOAT making her life worthwhile.
Why is it so hard for her to decide which she loves more?
She likes to use words like ‘eish man
She likes to use words like ‘sorry.’
She likes to use words about GOAT finds
But when she stops her talking,
Her mind turns straight back to Tatiana having a heart attack.
She likes to hang out with Pinkie
She likes to kick back with Belle,
But when left alone,
Her mind turns inwards she obsesses over losing her Tats
She’s not too fond of gossip,
She really loves cheesecake & wants a goat
But she just thinks back to Tatiana
And she’s happy once again. knowing she is owned.
Words are my moonshine
When you feel you’re hanging on the vine,
Remember- a seed push forth a mighty sign.
You must take the sunbeams and treasure what’s thine
Wild Kansas City is but one destination on the sign.
Take hope, light and lose the animosity,
for inside you, there is no monstrosity
Get caught speeding in high velocity.
It’s not a train smash — nor a catastrophe.
When you’re stuck in the middle of time.
Jump off the fence ‘cos that’s doing yourself a crime.
Don’t you let commoners think your words cannot define,
Your value, worth and dreams are not benign.
Take it from the apple tree
He allows fruit to aid in his victory.
Oh don’t, hide like a willow tree
Cry, but remember you have a destiny.
Everything will start to — lookup — allow the clouds to throw some shapes.
Open them wide , mind expand — understand the lessons from life’s true greats.
You’re already one them-slightly chipped — still most valuable of porcelain plates.
Never doubt what you can do — take a leaf from natures golden ratio
You radiate when you guide the fates.
Lets’ lasso this up and keep your spirit wild
Grow tall — never lose your inner child.
A silly poem to spread to the crowd
Accept her quirks — light-hearted, silly sap — never lose a day when she has smiled.
*I Iwas inspired by the song ‘This little light of mine’. live, love, don’t hold as grudge. Remain true to who you are and you won’t stand alone for long.
Hermit Hymn take two
*Revised draft- still needs work *