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GOAT pancake pie erm…

Pancakes share a growling affair
To boost the morale of the monster with
jowls

Still

hibernating
inside a despairing mind of an almost self redundant writer

groans unable to fit into an unremarkable, once favoured racy red garter.

This poem is quite silly
I could throw a goat in here and call him
Kill Billy…

Because he had a penchant for consuming plenty pancakes with half fat cream cheese

Sell them on the hillside,
he did.

Not far from
ole blighty

With a spring in his hooves,
a dapper smile,
a shimmy in his groove.

Singing through a mouthful of home made shove

This isn’t a poem!
These are words to be damned to the books of ,’oh, Crikey’!

No underworld

I have no soul.

I am just a mix of seeds

When I draw my last breathe there will be no underworld.

cos everything will blow away

Mixed particle seeds will have reformed.

It is Natures way.

Nature can be kind nor cruel. Make sure you always have a witness to back up your worldly point of view 🌅

Chiasmus wordplay

Hope-2021

Here I stand

On a mountain 🗻 of solid gold

Praise be for the choices I’ve made.

The toxicity of my past ends with recriminations with my inner foe

Self-respect glimmers

Good riddance to the self-destruction of the days now old

A clean closet reveals a door ajar

Bestows

a journey of new beginnings

If I vow to lift the cloak of doubt

Find the courage to replace it with hope.

These voices

These voices in my head gossip it’s a constant source of bedlam.

They never stop,

They never leave.

Their constant trolling,

There incessant banter

Sparks a hell-raising fire

Until I kick out from cracking up from all of their heckling.

I imagine a dark horse rescues me so I can canter away, breathe in the ocean air.

Keep up this distraction forever.

These voices make me pull at my hair, I see I have a few grey hairs now.

Droopy disproportionate boobs.

I fear the larger breast a whole 2 cup sizes bigger needs to be stabbed, squeezed, cleansed from the infected fat.

If only this would quell these voices in my homely self made asylum.

Perhaps my patients would snap back into reality

Snap out of their various maladies.

Even when my glass house shatters

These voices know I’ll glue back each piece bit by bit in an attempt to make myself better.

These voices know they can always come back.

Rent-free

The foods on me.

Feeding on the folds of my imperfect flaws.

That emotion I can only describe as fatness.

A feeling, a thought, a moment, an eternity, a sense of a loss of control.

It comes and it goes

It takes a second glance

Catches me off guard.

I have to take pictures to believe I am not hallucinating. Pictures lie.

They do and then a second glance and they don’t.

They do and they don’t.

They do and they don’t.

They do and they don’t.

This is what these voices chant.

That fatness comes

That fatness goes with a second glance.

Another thought pulls through for me

One second glance

One more chance to be lucid.

To survive another day

To survive another day

Only for these bastard critters to gorge on my mind.

Make all their fears mine.

These voices, they scream at me.

They yell at me.

They tell me to go away.

Often when I wish to disappear I dissociate

Have a rest

Go on autopilot.

Leave the carnival of freaks to cast me out.

I want to process what I hear, what I watch, what I read, what I see without them humming their filth in my head.

I want to be present

Tune into my world

Reality.

where it truly matters.

I don’t want to miss connecting with my loved ones.

These mouthpieces…

I have nothing left to say.