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Pink Shaggy

*( inspired by my garden& watching my washing dry. I tried. Ha ha!)

Pink shaggy rug

  freshly spun 

New man with a Brazilian just looking for fun.

A hanging basket.

 No drills to screw it into the place 

Hitting  my alphabetical lah lah

Sublime.

Momentarily  on a bent knee phallically,  potted plant lowers its fees. 

The law of gravity serves the man

 The feminists of this generation … 

Look within

Some bushes thrive on moisture..

 Those lil weeds grow faster than  mother’s ducklings -highly strung.

A bush with no name but heavily influenced  by the 70s – missed the bell bottom end of Fearne cotton’s 

runny tum 

A gnome is a gnome by any other name 

unless you call it a gargoyle then you’ve followed the rules and found yourself an OG 

Spot 

under the bridge – you defecate   graffiti will pay for shelter:

A fedora hat,purple blush hearts,a stiletto , glitter ,fire 

Even for your sin.

Looking into the eyes of a monster BIG mama bush -I daren’t trim her  

fear she will suck me right in her tush.

A relic of tears

 A blaze  my malbora stallion.

Clearly I’m flaying

Sincerely,

The Ending.

Lynx Fur coat


My French Grandmother, who (at the time)  had the last stages of vascular Dementia lived in a different time to me.

Before my existence ,  a couple of generations  before mine, my Grandpa, bought a gift for my Grandma. I was told she had the coat made for her  in Vienna.

  I have a confession to make ,  I am so (so) ashamed.

It’s no ordinary coat,it has her initials engraved on the inside (lynx fur.I’ve seen Kate Moss wear  something similar).

For my 27th Birthday my Grandma gave me her coat. It didn’t fit her any more (& she loved me –of course).

I ignored my guilt,played the  ignorant person  when I wore it  ( in hypothermic temperatures in the U.K.) with  hesitant pride. It kept out the cold off my bones,it was soft and beautiful.

I own a lynx fur coat. (cue: Gasp, shock & horror).

Now before  you all judge me with sentiments such as:

“Burn it ,Daisy , burn it. Sell it or whatever.. Just get rid, girlfriend cos if you don’t,see this?  You and me? We are done. And I mean done .”

Try to  understand that this is something sentimental  (an heirloom) that my grandma gave me before she got ill and passed away from Vascular Dementia & Alzeihemers.

I live with this secret. Erm, not any longer….

I don’t wear it these days.

It makes me  feel like a hypocrite.

My Mom has  kept it.

She didn’t  want me to get rid of it while my grandma was still alive.

So, this is my shameful secret.

Last time  I looked at it, I put it on, and I felt like Hannibal.

Images of torture came to the forefront of my mind  of what happened to this animal.

How to end this post?

It’s not easy (or even affordable) to just switch over your whole lifestyle /ethics/family traditions etc.. to not eating or wearing anything that hasn’t had an animal involved in the process in some way.

The truth is

I frittered my wedding money away (a couple of years ago) working for a non animal tested and environmental friendly business that sold products from A-Z

I ended up buying most of the products (and it led to nada profit for me)

It was expensive.It cost me an income. It alleviated my consciousness.

I stopped eating sweets  (Haribos)because I knew that they had gelatin in them, and that derives from animal fat.

Who needs motivation for going on a diet?

(You now have one )

We can’t get it right all the time. .

 We can  become  more aware about where our consumables  come from, who suffers & power ourselves up with knowledge (as shocking and awful as it is).

I’m not saying be   ‘overzealous ‘,  however,the first step to fighting this massive topic of animal abuse in all its forms -is to become conscious & then to act.

Being conscious leads to decision making  and any action you do that comes from a good place in your heart or mind is a good start.

One final thought before I wrap this up.

I recall a time  I woke up to the salacious smell of   grilling bacon – thanks husband for the temptation.

I nearly threw up. The smell was rank.  He thought I was going all ‘Johnny Drama’ (Entourage) on him but, honestly it made me feel sick to the point I ran out of that kitchen.

I DON’T WANT TO EAT SOMETHING OR SOMEBODY JUST LIKE ME.

Today

Walked out my front door

First time in 5 days, I turned right for a change of scenery chucking out the rubbish – the highlight of this today

Beneath my feet the concrete was still grey

My demeanour resembled the bland council houses’ unimaginative choice of decorating on the cheap -resembling a prison … whatever . No , I’m done rhyming today.

What prompts these feathered words typed and on display – a bird not in flight

Wings tinged with blue a sorrowful sight to see no fight

Eyes bright with dewy deadpan  light.

Eyes screeching victoriously: I found the worm special of the day!

How do I say , justify , describe the way my heart swooned the wrong way. I looked up at the sky thankful for the first time in many years for its consistent rays.

A distraction , a ruse – I knew it was dead . I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t move him onto a more dignified path. I was afraid he’d come back to life.

Circled around him in a hesitantly callous way

How dare he interrupt a quiet walk-the first in almost a week from sunday?

Did I imagine it semi fluttering whilst I walked past him with my bin liner full of litter ?

I profess to love watching those with wings -airborne soaring . I’m envious. A speculative  visual adorned with glittered hues , proof that life moves in every way.

I confess I have a phobia of dead birds. Past memories of one I wasn’t able to save in my childhood

Direction moved me to walk the other way from a lifeless soul left to rot on a staircase.

I’m ashamed.

New dawn

New day?

SHAON THGHILP

Is mortal love the true sin of the man opposed to the laudable man blinded by a paradise of perfection?

With  blood on our hands

 With  bare footed callousness

 We walk  over the corpses of our ancestors.

The biblical story of Noah is the parable of the modern day humanitarian plight.

We will return to the second day of creation fighting with sticks and stones

As prophesied by another mere mortal

As prophesied by another mere mortal sapian in well versed archaic rhetoric…

Musings of today



Eulogising Tatiana

Today ,I wasn’t prepared though my gut knew better than to be not blase but scared.

A fleeting hope that the healers could give you a boost

The hardest decision was to accept that your time was up.I had to cut you loose.

I’m numb, guilty, wishing I had you for a few more nights.

Allowing your sorrowful suffocating soul seconds more would add to this punishing plight & dreams of death – faeces, dead babies, deer, filthy flies and discarded driftwood souls drunk on flotsam

Waived inner strength; sight to ignite a courageous carcass of hope

Never mind , my Tatiana. You breathe free , unleashed from the God’s who wouldn’t let you rest.

You were too remarkable to ignore.

Your status has soared

A wing span of your choice.

These words don’t do justice

I love you

This is your eulogy

An ode to your life with no apology.

So cold,

so sweet ,

so fair…

Life and death

The mortal twins

The janus of the past , the future

You -the  triplet was my greatest  moment of

present present.



And Then there are the days

And then there are the days when the rain has stopped.
sunshine will follow the rain.
By all accounts I should feel the warmth.
My smile aches.
My heart
Breaks.

My cheeks are strewn not by rain this time but more tears.
I feel a part of me dying. I think of all the tears I’ve overcome, the one I’ve mopped up.

I think about how other people struggle, and see them get up again and again until, one day they don’t.
In these twisted moments of my melancholy; my heart beats even faster- than when I’m even tempered.
I realise I won’t die from heart ache or an abundance of leaked tears.
I won’t dehydrate.

I won’t become the next corpse poised in fledgling flight to arouse its soul.
So many words and questions I wish to ask.
I answer them myself-in moments of cowardice . In these moments of despair, I search for strength.
I love to see people I care about prosper.
I cry because
.. I shouldn’t have regrets.. but I’m beginning to wonder if I should….

The lure of fascination 

 


Write to recover

Don’t underestimate the power of a few choice words from another.

Still the mind-frozen ice bar decline

Mountain conquest-The victory is in the scenic  songfest

Emotions sprayed in clouds of mist.

A place so far from  the abuse of the daily grit.

Fight to recover — remember hope thrives in another day

Feed and nurture this seed-give it an opportunity-don’t let another life sit and decay.

Losing time — people fragmented in a hazy rhyme.

Distance double flips somersaults. Impressive only till the sun dims less radiantly  clocking off to snooze-lay down with others in benign.

Can only write when thoughts form in  a Conga– order, progress-the dance in these words come from a heart who usually expresses mime.

Inflicted amoeba-exhaling indignant carbon monoxide. I despise seeking out for the ones cued up at destination  ‘one stop’,Integrity lost standing mid line.

Metamorphose into a grey lizard , eagle or indeed be reborn as the mighty phoenix.

Third degree  burns — death — ashes to ashes worth the pain to be reborn into the matrix.

The urge to sin imparts thoughts to defecate-all held sacred in the church of integrity.

Not enough to know the meaning-practice is what gives this value its credibility.

Walk the straight line — fight the inner hate crime.

Searching for a divine sign-reason dictates energy must endeavour with one’s moral  returning — to refine. 

Speak up for the light that waivers-clinging on to its last breath

Inspired by an element with the capacity to cause devastation or provide a clear path leading to expulsion ending in

 relief.

One wish to formulate all the intelligence into an honest medium of communication

History teaches-not all understand the world on multiple levels of perception of another situation.

Courage to flush  the contents highlighting the spiral of organic destruction.

One day at a time — one moment to lie. Craving for the mythical Elysium.

Compulsive tics  create a house of pain-exhaling tension-containing the nuclear fetus-nature’s own opium.

Losing track of the words that stumble — imbibed drunks-hungover searching for  a quench of delirium.

Evade – This is the time when courage fails to conquer

 life’s illusive temptations — the bell tolls-the seekers contort to fits of tingling.

Invisible to the faithful patrons in full  stasis cycle. A burden

a cross —

communication interrupted by Manic pleas to bear Atlas boulder with herculean madness lingering.

Cross eyed staring at the lit up pyres, 

The smell of human flesh disintegrates into a ritual released for those travelling the unknown path of death.

Reason can’t imprint enough ink — memories inclined to dementia bouts of forget.

Last night’s shallow breathing ,shadows taunt — loom over until the inner eye seeks regret.

Promises made in a plea of  chaotic desperation

Only to be forgotten the day after  the congestion lifts —   arise the sleeping urge to  compete with this  peculiar fascination

Daisy chains a stream of consciousness

You do that thing the others do.
Throw a googly-eyed look away
Well, am I stark raving mad?
Gnarly Serf on a wavelength similar
to loyal Harvey the dog of Sam.
One eye hung out precariously
Electrodes attached to its head.
Tortured by experiments
Wronged species deserve rites
two
Left-handed Nuns appear unGodly.
Impregnated 9 months later delivers a postpartum already dressed up in blue. Momentarily stunned by nausea pangs
Delivered momentarily still
Birth devoid of cries then a shout out hits my ears
He’s not breathing
Inarticulate mid sucking on gas and air queer eye of this realm I pray for skin contact
You worry about your own soul shell feed
I can’t mimic the A team
A letter murmuration in full Flight
Fight solo traversing oceans
awash with
Contemporary pirates chaffed from over self-masturbation.
See men wink & weep over Oats that taste so so…..
Self-destruction ejaculates an abundant pressure of love.
Images of enjoyment flicked out a nebulous cornea.
Scattered
Failure caught wind of future events impossible to foretell a farewell
That would be hell.
Eloquence raped of its plumage
Abreast Birds hearts juking at 160 bpm
The final crash coursing bloody soundbites around the ministry of meow-em’s mouth veins
Shed tears for our once feathered friends.
Ravens versus magpies
A sign glitters all is not well
Clear sight lights up a mass derelict graveyard.
Those blinded peacocks.
How they spent their lives chasing cataracts from the omniscient Third eye.
No remorse
What have I done?
Pushed away those doves, drowned out the screaming stars.
Irksome elements are the dwarfed remainders of a mind
bent against its will.
Teething the Tension
Widen the gaps in this pension cut
Tender.
Rise
this morn, big mouth
Gums gunned down left in a flap,
When is my end?
The highest peak.
A gaze overlooks
A future uncertain.
Stuck in reverse
Cold cuts down play -sessions.
Seek out fabricated modifications
Hide happiness with a common dividend.
We believe the 365 tales told
Thoughts toss flip
Look what ‘s up
Ahead,
step after step on stealth mines muddled.
For today I love you…
Enough,torture by anguish.
Sundowners gravity compel an early Eve to blush at seeing Adams
apple tree deceived
down
fall
a pair of knees tainted by grass painted in slithering silence.
Limber climber defy the mass cavity awaiting
Underground Unwanted guardian angels willingly discredit the Grim reaper
even
When the odds favour that one’s number is up.
Down?
Hope in one gulp.
Grim glass-eye stares longingly at well-beings thirst quenched.
Leaked buckets reveal the fluidity of
love.
Forget about recriminations.
Don’t carry an organ donor card
To part from the complexities of life
momentarily contemplate the features of creatures born
Free.
Will,
They graciously mutate into mere mortals as time calls it a day?
Surrender to terminal Life
Know Death can’t kill
Those already Buried under their own ills.

Shame boy.

My first attempt at Flash fiction. 

 

No one  knows just how much I see. I’m just the scare crow to keep the birds away and for the children to mock me. I am made of sticks. Where do sticks come from?

Trees!

Once upon a time I was a living breathing being. I helped sustain life and I even got hugs for it. People would marvel at my glorious lush head piece of green foliage. I was tall and grand and people sat by me, happy to take some shade.

Now ,I am just a bunch of twigs. Look at how they dress me. I am so ashamed. I can’t bear to look anyone in the eye. This is why as each day passes I die just that little bit more. Rigid – if only I could reach high enough to be a part of heaven’s deities again.

The indulgent wool gatherer

Let us sit here for a second , right here on top of this lush hill.

Pause, for a moment and think about life and what we want to do – explore how we feel.

Lie down ,sprawl out  our arms and legs like star fish and gaze up into the sky.

Cloud gazing- can you see we reflect one of those red dwarf stars, we can see at nigh?

Let’s see what we can find in our future  before the clouds pass along.

They move far too quickly, our imagination needs to be strong.

We don’t always have to live in the ghetto.

We could pack up  our bags and travel the world , live hand to mouth with a  more energetic flow.

Learn different languages, eat fine food, dive off cliffs into  the ocean – wanting to live and win.

The reason very much different to how you wanted to end it on Hollin’s lane on the island of ‘Gyve inn’.

Second by second is passing us by.

We could get a move  on – leave all this materialistic waste lying  just here.

We just take ourselves and book a flight to anywhere -all we need is our combined heart and minds to see things more clear.

Bah!

Bah! 

Bah! 

Bah!

Bah!

What a great game. You do an excellent impression of a sheep, mon cherie.

Okay my turn ……

Arms prop up on elbows, Blonde curls and a mouth seemingly dipped in honey,

looks at the man and those bee sting lips are guarded by  all seeing drones.

What is the matter, my little sparrow?

You look at me with such warrant arrest,like we have only just met – you look straight past me like I am not even here.  Of course we can stay in touch with our loved ones  and take our cellphones.

‘I have a game”, says she, eyes dark, exposing true twinkling  stars.

The man forgets to breathe his head fully intoxicated like he has spent the day tumbling out of various bars.

“Walk over to those sheep – there! and I will tell you then what it is you next have to do.”

Slightly fazed but not wanting to show it – he heaves himself up and approaches the sheep with a hesitant  brazenness-

“Erm well – hello to you and ewe.”

He turns around to listen to the next part of his task.

His little buttercup opens her mouth , urging him  on to stroke the sheep.

Hesitatingly, he laughs when he starts to pet one and it lets out a great bleep.

Laughter emanates from  the couple, meets in the air, merge -dancing cheek to cheek -finally a caress.

The lady starts to announce she has something she would like to address.

Obligingly, the man will hear anything she wishes to confess.

“It’s all very romantic this talk of living a better life.

‘I can see it happening  -‘

‘Yes, I can see this happening. Me standing next to you  – I would love to be your wife.”

The man continues to stroke the sheep ,looks at the tufts falling away in his hands , looks down in horror.

Lady continues –

“if you were as half as good at taking action than talking like you are the  confirmed lead in every conceived theatre production of tomorrow…

I look around and see trees but alas, no money.

It’s all very well to sit and fantasise with you, when it is bright and sunny.

Well, I see a  much truer future with you – you have such a skill,indulging on your feet.- even if you are slightly heady and staggering.

I foresee a better  future for us -one with more purpose – by all means  continue with  these notions  of yours- not in  part but as a  full time career  in wool gathering.”

*TRYING TO INCREASE MY VOCABULARY*

WANT TO HAVE A GO?

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Definitions forwoolgathering

  1. indulgence in idle fancies and in daydreaming;absentmindedness: His woolgathering was ahandicap in school.

  2. gathering of the tufts of wool shed by sheepand caught on bushes.

DICTIONARY.COM

SPECIAL THANKS TO LINDA G. HILL’S #soCS -always inspiring.    

This, like all my work, is mostly free flow writing. I don’t really do much planning when I write.

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “second.” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

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