Mrs. Tersable had the patience of Hades with a lengthy dose of blue ball build up syndrome.
Beans on toast, eaten straight out of a tin can – this is not how she was used to living, outside of her comfort zone.
She wore wooly jumpers to cover the razor sharp teeth piercing through her very own flesh.
She was so gifted in signing off with a ‘kiss kiss’ and a ‘mwah mwah’– tres AbFab darling
BBC Nigella’s best Italian dish.
Unfortunate event, she was the kind of lady who had to learn how to suck the devil’s cock. Have her ass smacked and molded into a fine knight mare.
The tragedy in her quest to rise to power in a Patriarchal society took a heavy blow on a high voltage setting ,following a trail to the bully matriarch beatbox competition at ye olde fayre.
She rose in stature until she hit her own glass ceiling – a rose always needs to be pruned. All flowers, eventually, lose their fragrance and bloom.
Every season there will always be another eager seedling waiting to come out and steal her once-signature odorous perfume.
It’s a lamentable world we live in when the people who are meant to be teachers and mentors,
refuse to listen to their own apprentice or student who listens , then questions the station ranked above.
Not all students climb this far to then curtsey disabled in fear, at one vicious bark – all the way on the Yorkshire moors.
What does this say about us as parents, role models, teachers when we refuse to admit our own errors?
We pinch our noses to avoid inhaling one whiff of humble pie, no one saw you order a Miss Hannigan chaser.
An associate of those benefit drunks with the DT tremors?
Feedback at any age,gender ,role or title is crucial to evidence your presence in eternal life learning.
Mistakes are a necessary jigsaw piece to conclude this game.
It’s not so much what we don’t say as to how we say it.
Oops, maybe that 15-year-old child shouldn’t have appeared to be marking that essay on the subject of learning to ‘look kept while she is on the game- earning’.
Bullies come in a plethora of forms – the ones with the sweetest touch can turn on a person like a stye in the eye.
Manic and wide-eyed .
‘Attention , we now introduce you to Sir werewolf faint heart . ‘
His title gives him permission to tear down the fourth wall but he promptly decides to use off stage to indicate he has his role – his own part.
So changeable – so constant.
If it weren’t for experimental folk, you might believe that the very word had been a word that ‘phantasmagoria -the shouting star’ ,hurtled down to you from a startling height in a –
can you picture it?
A cosmic sky.
Oh, how some serfs do like a good old-fashioned backdrop.
Kitchen sink drama – ironing and puffing a cig so soon after a hideous operation tumor larynx op.
I don’t mind subjective commentary .
Political and social change is in a state of osmosis.
Where is she hiding ? be a darling and throw us an adlib objective objection – based on some factual,theoretical documentary.
Ego hypothetically propositioned and the recent report is he is officially unwounded.
Id is feeling indulgently charitable.
Super ego is insulted on behalf of all the marginalized it chooses to write about.
Prepared to work with all senses engaged, ready to gain insight and to ‘show and tell’ how flawed this world truly is .
Just because it says something black on white – doesn’t mean it’s exempt from giving you a bad case of colonic irrigation ,peppered doubt.
The biggest bullies are the usual suspect atypical members – they all have a hidden agenda.
Keep your cool and refuse to cower from the tirade of abuse screamed down the cord of a retro style, dial-up telephone – switch on to radio channel smoothie blender.
Only you can be your greatest ally and defender.
you could go on one hell of a bender.
Never been an option for the author who has fought off more heated bitches in duplicitous organizations with a questionable gender.
*Inspired by good old fashioned rotten to the core bullies sitting in apple trees *
Bang Bang, I’m going to shoot you dead!
Electric convulsive shocks creating heightened velocity in her head.
Trigger words of mothers who have died, snowed, under morphine.
Malignant lungs charcoaled.
The death rattle – gargles and fills up the lungs ready to drown every last Mercedes Benz dream.
Bang Bang – a Prayer sent up to her envisioned maker with every bad lead thought that scatters across her mind.
Know psalms off by heart. Guy Fawkes terrorism paid for this public bonfire – doesn’t make it right -doesn’t make it an act of kind.
Chug a glass of spirited potatoes – grapes squish out the thoughts that stain thy window.
Moderation is not what she seeks, she merely wants to come to terms with her grief.
Such a sudden blow.
Patriarchs invades her self-made sanctuary – no amount of sage can expel the plague he carries.
Itching, biting, scabbed. riddled with disease.
Blackened limbs fall off – ebony hearted-trickster – outlawed even the one he marries.
Therapy Cluedo in the south of France, – sewn up mouths and eyes , compassionless – flesh hanging – bubbled , leathered and well worn.
Every day he promises he will leave. He promises he will come visit his own mother – She can’t speak or talk – she is one of the frail old born.
Forlorn- A bus goes by – Sunshades hide the tears pouring out of her eyes.
Waving off a friend she once knew – she may be safe under lock and key – it doesn’t make her feel better when they embrace with such passion, it could stoke a field of fires.
Brazen- bewildered – lice infestation and puffed up Eskimo mess – Look at this fragmented shell , she is in need of just one caress.
Consumed with guilt – that is not hers to own. It is the cat’s fault your home is a shambles and smells of piss , whispers biased loose lips, fresh off a scandelous printing press.
Chased out of her very -own home – headphones firmly planted in her ears to make her life monotone .
A spectrum of color and vivaciousness she has lost- who can silence the screams pouring out of her mouth in tones of monochrome?
Safeguard her from inbred exploitation – cast back this tokoloshe to his own devised theater of purgatory.
If Jesus wept – he didn’t do enough- a lake full of holy water can never anoint his aimless trajectory.
Justice is who she sides with ,in every battle – Ready for an outbreak of war – she will evict Denial from her friend’s abode.
No more dossing about and ejaculating scandalous words – lies -that make justice’s head spin around so fast. Run Tyrant -she is about to explode.
Remember, what a scrupulous enemy she can make out of you.
Manipulation test- she scored well above average – The school of the gifted bestowed her with the largest milked cash cow taken from mother nature’s personal reservoir of dew.
She knows the rules, she knows the moves- instinct and empathy are her winning tools.
She cares not for his sexist Judgment increasing multiples of spore bacteria – frozen in barricaded transparent igloos .
All it takes is one breath of hers to melt him into a little boy blue. crying profusely until he is nothing but another muddled puddle in the tarmac.
A careless afterthought only remembered if one is quick enough to look at the sole of the innocent’s shoes.
* inspired by my own personal feelings towards something I have witnessed in silence for far too long. My fuse grows shorter*