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.
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. )
Eyes lowered, separate from the crowd if you ignore her frowns,
Could this wallflower throw down the gauntlet of one party reveller- Time himself dozing before the stroke of midnight?
Or, Would this wallflower anticipate the daffodils, daisies and roses to save the day with clear cut stems of prosecco?
The garden of gaiety pours out bubbly conversations
Impervious to check if the seconds move forward.
Ignorant to an eternity doomed to this New years eve of 2019
Bursts of lavender- waft obscure goals
a hint to a future -proposing a nouveau depart without delay.
Red-faced by an anxious creeping Rosacea attack
Wallflower cuts the vines tethering her from the wall tower.
Unveiled from the comfort familiarity penumbra.
Walking she becomes an unwanted eavesdropper attunes not just the laughter but the punch lines too.
music notes intermingle. A few casualties drowned out of feeble conversations
Whilst whistling a lament to the blues
Eyes peer up – sordidly scans this once garden turned wild.
Junglist Wallflower wilt not
Nor wither a delay when mere seconds away from unwaning entrapment
Threatened confinement to this moment
Never to feel the breath of another day.
never to leave this place & go home.
Mustering grande efforts hands push further into the jungle depths
Navigating a path. Not once does she recoil?
Less apologetic her persistence carves out a clearing to reveal stroke victim -Sir time.
An interruption with grace
You’ve fallen asleep at an extremely important time.
Dressed up in Thyme Time awakes shuffles one then two steps forward,
the jungle momentarily quietens
then corks released from restriction pop in Ecstacy
In the air are hanged notes of Celebratory songs
A new year to make life count.
Time over -foliaged stumble forward until he finds a chalice of wine.
turns his head -Gratefully raises his glass directly to the shadow.
The wallflower is not there, here