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Squwark sounds byte

https://youtu.be/9Gc4QTqslN4

 

Shake it

… shake it baby

prompting

This

Behaviour.

Uptempo Keys

unsilence the drama

a

hip-pity

a happy Russian Soviet bass choir impersona

caricature

I can’t rap

But I do

got flow

70% water — can’t make this shit up…

Scientists don’t discriminate-

Updated stream filled in

by today’s  quantified current

His-

the premier

First and foremost a muse of note —

scale down the scratch post

lude blues.

Look

Above

common clouds count in beats

search for a pulse in

Metropolis  Metronome

Vinylise –

no more inches to add to her form

other than to

intro- apple -genuisly feed

a podcast

 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

 Sound squwarks

Splat!

doo wee

doo wop

Guess what?

ain’t apologising for being an invader of my own  rythmic space.

R. iveting

I.nsightful

P.ost

ha ha when you cha cha.

It’s dead.

‘it’s gone,Gym’

Giblets strutting down this street.

Shake a tail feather to those with the Harmonised Harlem shufflers feet.

Footwork.

Intro

Outro

vitro –

Dutch flowers

chiming the bell

toll

Modest mouse  slam beatbox a  scat cat.

improvise the blues in fluent meow-skies —

Stop.

Hammer time

Tell her where she lost the plot?

The living aint easy

life hint

Where is she at?

doing the wriggle worm , 8 years young

thinking ,

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.

 

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.

Triangle.

Circle.

Square.

Heart.

Diamond

Potato

 

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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My thoughts on escaping the past

Bahtuhkid · my thoughts about the past

When I think I’ve escaped the past

I know my Ma doesn’t drink alcohol and she Sort of kicked me out without kicking my ass.

My daughter cried

Tatiana didn’t meow

I came back to the place where I thought I would relapse

I went to buy cat food

shop was closed

memories of that drug dealer who shine bright with implanted teeth

£4000 inclusive holiday

I could have gnashed

Instead, I congratulated him for his holly wood smile with panache.

Using my money to fulfill another dream — one more ticked off his bucket list

It’s so sad

I’m back in the house

haunted by ghosts of the past.

Mother wouldn’t let me in

steam off on a legal poison

Get Sleep with Prosecco & a gin with a 60 pence glass.

Daughter cried I packed my bags

I saw her cry for our cat

I packed up all my bags

And walked out like an immature twocker

with a dirty rash.

DIDI WANT TO SCORE THE GREATEST OF THE GREATEST OF SNIFF?

Nah, all I wanted was freedom & to sleep without alcohol and illegal grass or bash.

Here I sit in darkness not happy to be back.

I have a packet of lamberts and Prosecco I’m NOT interested in drinking until I’m befokkered.

I won’t sleep

Forever forgotten all thoughts that made me  high

Making drug dealers run for corruption, greed, and bite so compared to ash Wednesday like sinners driving by.

My bee she cried for my Tatiana

I left

 Guilt came flooding for sleep in a bed

where my inner whore rode the men who treat me like trash

Except for my soul mate …

He told me to fuck off and I gladly said

Fuck you

Went to the shop

Closed

no

cat food.

Found spring water tuna-I

Felt Less guilty

felt less crass.

Went against the momma bears rule.

I’m a wildflower with an instinct to rebel from life rules.

THE FALLEN ANGEL WITH INVISIBLE WINGS

If chickens could fly  higher I’d fly higher than the dragon from the land of sniff  ready to rape

& Chase

fOr an extra taste.

In coma 5 days x another  5

In a coma, I remembered the alien abduction

Their torture made me atone to live life differently

I’d even believe in mom’s anointment of Jesus Christ.

Thorns of roses

Thorns of self-destruction.

Alone with my cat — my husband won’t come back-

My child is probably still crying.

I’m alone again

I can’t complain

This was my choice.

I want to sleep

Dream of  our family home

help those who shouldn’t live a history worse than orphans blurred vision live on the African continent

Not their decision.

*written on 13 June at 11 pm.  2020 ( today is 29th June and still wanting to Live)

I didn’t relapse. I didn’t want to get high. I had a drink because I needed to sleep and I’m on sleeping medication 5 days a week out of 7. I’ve asked my doctor to take me off 15 mg of Nitrazepam that I had been since 2007.

It three weeks since I tried to take my life and nearly succeeded, maybe Life is not finished with me yet because my family were told to prepare  for my death, brain damage or me being paralyzed*

Second Life- Mort tell et tea

 

* This Borderline poem was written a week before I attempted to take my life (again).I ended up in Critical Care  in a coma for 5 days & in ICU for a further 6 days. I was discharged from hospital on the 21st of May 2020 *

 

Please, make sense of  reality.

Use a stream of consciousness

words to vent,

rant,

rave,

A discovery in recovery

 Fathom out sense because words are only as good as the interpreter.

20200521_0850322064238938547478683.jpg

 


 Could add literary success to a Gravatar profile  in  an ebook

Add few drafts poured into that fulminate crunched up chaos.

This doesn’t invoke a feeling of literary success.

Trying

Struggling to convey all words .

Reciprocated words are often misinterpreted

Misheard

Another attempt  to convey these words

Perhaps one person will see this array of affray spread its torment defecating the inner spiral case of the

Mind,

It swirls descends these steps in every way.

The moment to call it a day

This draws an outline forever have to have the last say.

Hear me proclaim

This

Is

My

Life.

Don’t want to carry on living this way

Shame lingers

It overstays — the bailiff  texts for rent arrears

Read,

What is laid down?

Listen

I’m not done yet.

 

 Hanging by a thread it’s tethered

Seen many days to identify as weathered

 Hanging by a thread

This is my life purpose!

Final chance to  meet my fate

Waited for this all my life

A  mystery date with a severed soul mate.

 

Taught & tethered & weathered is this rope

To late

 convinced

I’m no tight rope walker.

I’ve become my own word stalker

Shoulda, coulda, woulda arrested these rants before my digress

 

Covert corner

Wait in this hidden corner.

 

Evidently I’ve learned that survival is innate.

It ain’t easy to digest the days I’m not blessed to eat from a plate.

 keep rising up despite a life times worth of trip-ups.

 

Until I die

One fine day

I’ll face the final exit of my mortality

 

I’ll know the truth

Either way it’s gonna end up with a body

Fatality.

Subconsciously  know why I feel

It’s called humanity

What do I know about that  damp dark corner entertaining souls I’ve yet to meEt?

Going to have to wait for a future promising chance we haven’t dreamt of taking yet.

If I lose all memory

 Forget those words  

soggy, wet, lost to another realm of the bereft

Lest I forget.

I write to recover.

Be happy or die trying.

 

Simultaneously a resilient species & inconveniently inept

 

 

 

Athena

 

Infamous conquest of the human race to expose life’s epiphany.

de harmonisation fails to uphold Athena’s liturgy.

 

Poorly managed Pomodoro method

Metis grant Deep Thought access to the mind of the thunderstruck.

Search engine optimised  –  the ultimate article   42 disinhibits a libertarian’s reclaimed autonomy to debate life’s purpose for freedom.

hypophysectomise the moody matriarchy with

Pheromonal replacement therapy

 

Single seeded sire declares she made it up -it’s all in her head

Shamed  for  her  bloody lunar cycle – men stand Erectus repulsed yet horny

 cautioned to never mirror  the gorgon with  serpent  hair

live a life  barren or

Welcome the stones for a martyr’s death.

 

(I’m seriously stuck with this one writer’s block &  in writer’s self-doubt in full force. It needs a lot of work. )

Moon Go Viril phase

Though the light may fade.
Dark shades heighten the Euphoric daze
Forgotten words wasted on ill-gotten behaviors.
In that quagmire
Still driven to send out a vigil of hope.
Buried within me.
Buried under a myriad haunted ghost.

What keeps disarming me
Whose charm beckons me to this world?
When I open my eyes
Betrayed by curiosity in gazing outwards.
Look back at the words you have’ written.
Be inspired that you wrote them!
Sweep those sneaky snide comments out through the back door
How dare they Prevent this form of self-expression.
words made up of simple dimples are all we need

Self-respect
He cautiously peers out
perched a top
the Jonnies rotting,
woodlice.
Infected tears confidently descend
To the basement days
when his best foot turned all the bedheads.

Don’t worry.
Don’t over -care
Don’t overthink.
Don’t Glare without an ending for sentence as to what grows out from your mind.

Hauled up in dusty webbed rags of self-doubt.
Can you catch the Shadows doth change according to light.
Mere reflection and perception of how you do intimidate me
shadows can’t exist without a living
body
soul
And mind.
Take the power back.
At least from behind the scenes
Don’t hide from those
Impervious sighs
disproportionate contortions of their own path.

Happy lights-faeries delight.
Blissful smiles stipple out faces.

There can be no ulterior motive.
Unless we retrace for an Agenda?
confused about life twists mysterious Genders.
Tender

Guilt sprouts up-GMO crops
Pesticidal casual all matter starts to hoe out my mind
Crucify my time?
Fraternized with Flowers more sentient than humans taken up by nocturnal spaces
Unevolved sight is having an identity crisis.
Army of words
A halo of benign bravado.
To those monsters of Carpathian.
Here is my audacity & Gumption.
Try
Shout me down.

Mere echoes with no home.

Threaten me or one of my own,
I will stand up and defend my home.
Bats of fear — Clots of blood
Circulate above in a murmuration

So much I want to put down.
Not in the stream of consciousness

No more ashamed of how far down I free-fall into the squid ink mouth of the abyss.
I gripped onto nature’s own boulderous
A safety net of
Silver linings
I have.
I seek out another taste

https://youtu.be/Q04ILDXe3QE

Beggars Society

Beggers society.

true love insatiety.

 

Two lovers with no fixed abode.

Pariahs to a culture in the quest for a monetary load.

 

Shelter over head versus security locked on the inside.

Freedom in exploring lovers to expel,

outcasts have rights to claim base to a premise.

 

Basic needs

Allow Emotion necessary feeds.

Inconceivable,two teens choose homelessness!

Increasing sorrow into the hearts of a young generations bliss?

 

The fault is not with those who choose companionship.

The system fails us all.

 

Digits in Information Data protected code.

Silicon domain ship drives the latex whip.

 

Norms of society don’t make for a decent person.

 

Laws in place to follow obediently -can’t find a pulse – humanity is cursing.

No religious books needed to teach us how to know right from wrong.

Morals are instinctive-passed down a DNA cell telethon.

 

Spirituality and science

is empathy responding in defiance.

Scrutinise the tramps

for he who makes not a wage sufficient to put in our governments’ banks.

Gleam citizens of society!

 

Feed your families by working for a legal, unethical corporation.

Where will you take your possessions when nature sheds a hernia?

Blood bank Sponsorship in need of a different type of currency.

 

Fear

we have lost.

Not long until we see all genders in mass hysterization.

Followers, likes, tags, social status

irrelevant.

 

War on the photoshop Generation

insert a sultry slavering pavlova condition.

 

wear the no makeup look – wear less makeup.

no need for a two-hour trial and a tutorial book.

 

A means to an end.

Look at how we teach our children to defend

themselves

alone

for one day we must die.

 

How can we continue to justify how we live life?

living in hope of being upgraded by united airlines,

feet up in the sky

‘on the high’.

36186390-368-k525336

Hermit hymn

*To be revised*

 

I write about the hermit man

He often takes me by the hand.

Lost to gravity a  fan falls

The same one I use to navigate the wind.

 

Pushed me forwards never touching my body.

Motivated a will to resurrect forgotten seeds of hope

Planted for days when there are more downs than ups.

 

This son of a mother pulled out the brazen sun – shed the waning Luna

Roused the Apollo within

  stumbled about -gaze upwards  until

 in sight caught winged creatures

Caught a glimpse of the emotion of flying free.

 

The knowledge found  in a bare, withered  tree

Stem cell life.

 Presumed  the creature lived in my shadow

Turns out  it  had a growth spurt in

An external effort to shirk off the title of the saviour’s chosen one.

He who wears the hallow

Crucified by the unsynchronised dubbed over mouths

Pitched sounds out a  smoke effect bellow.

Can I get a score?

 

Few get to see his fallen wings

Unless preparation  sees an alternative

look to familiar skin.

 

That ole devil called love

Billie holiday thanks for the speckled dove.

 

Highs & lows

hi’s and by’es

 

High light

 at what remains

A pint of Bitter froth decomposed lost in the train of thoughts.

How the sun shine when it comes out.

blossom in spite of mood.

 

Life

you

I

we

Aren’t  vapid merely  short-sighted when  grey-bearded clouds appear

stubbled by  the  5 o clock shadow

 

Stunted by  growth paradigm

tuned into that dark cosmos we know is responsible for feeling so dim.

A connection to a  reflection of original purity to contrast moments we believe we don’t deserve to move forward.

Clandestine cloaks conceal our original sin.

 

This ongoing duet I sing with a feminine hymn

scintillates my belly until I feel the fire lit again from within.

 

Just a few words

 

Heart lurch

Sometimes I feel like an aged whore

Haggard

Men only want me for a shag

Stopgap

Nice bed.I’ll nail it later.

Like nothing happened merely past the bedhead look

 

My features won’t betray the truth I wear on my sleeve.

Discontent

Scorn

Repulsion

And other adversities

 

Is my sexuality all I have to offer?

Give it some clout

No need to rinse or buffer.

 

Mantras ‘you’re good enough

Don’t manifest a reality I wish to create

 

Rage & anger

Stupidity & tears

 

Self-hatred has become an overdue break up with that same old date.

Habitually

This is my mind speaking

My heart sighs

Then pleas

To one day be a freeborn

Wings spread airborne

Follow the winds

Nature’s heartbeat

Repaired again

Not broken nor torn

Glued back together

Reckless risk-taker let no arrow

Poison dipped

Enter my chambers

Rose-tinted glasses make dead flowers appear good.

Keep Livin

My body isn’t a shrine

Nor half as gory as the scene of a horrid crime.

It’s not that abortion clinic

beating hearts put on a foetus pant

in

mime.

It’s not pretty.

I don’t do chocolate box

Not in my city.

This image I have…

of a body in the stocks.

I may look thin. I’m a result of Eating disorders, body image issues & a wasted life on self-destruction.

Well… I’m not dead yet……..

(It’s painful to write about this cos I’m starving my body, mind & soul. I won’t give up!

So I’m going to eat some sushi & smoke a blunt.

20190516_141400698446744.jpg

I don’t know how much I weigh. I don’t care to or dare to out of fear that I will feed even more into my “issues”.

I don’t look or feel good.

This is me today. Thin & far from happy.

A few selfies to make me feel tons better . (sarcasm alert)

Every day is a chance to start again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Love your body And don’t strive to look like anyone else. Talk about your emotions. Don’t internalise. You don’t deserve to hurt yourself this way. It is suicide. You may want to die & get close to it. You are here today. Make it count.

I’m out of here.

No masterpiece to find here… just words. It’s how I survive.HP-PIC-green-ribbon (1)