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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.

Slinging Sleuth

Is it me?

Or is it you?

For the years we scarpered away like dissident spew.

Acceptance should come from our real 3-D form.

Instead,

I find it in the eye of the cyber- sphere storm.

Thunder used to scare me

 Evidence was heard with me on skid row.

Now, I love a good drummer, to play my heart,

awaken you,

so you too have to face it and know.

Who are my friends among so many foes?

?

You may know my name.

You may have heard of my doings.

Gossip is for the feeble minded –

fun?

Yes, but all it does is reduce you to what I call are my fewings.

Lacking in truth and compassion.

In denial of your own feuds.

It’s a shame you, fewings, have to shine a light on my silky nudes.

Paint a picture – tell it.

Make it your own.

When you get closer to the next ear,

make sure you credit yourself with what you have weaved into that picture and sewn.

I may be mad and success is giving me an incredible hand.

We all have to play.

don’t go eyeing up all the spades.

End up back to level one and start off as a one-man marching band.

Look into my eyes.

Don’t like what you see?

Well, my dear .. what is that makes you want to get the hell up and do the blitz and flee?

See something?

someone familiar?

see your own self?

Feed your ego with ya very own distiller killer.

Rattle my bones.

I am transparent.

I know your secrets.

They are not mine to go and unleash like they are a target for a spent errant.

Ignore me if you must,

but then don’t go using my name in a scattered attempt to unearth some dust.

If you want it.

You have your own soot.

Talk about that.

At least you are sure to have more than half the goddamn loot.

Opinion is not the truth,

but suffer fools gladly,

if it gets you to feel like some kind of Mickey mouse sleuth

Little lady dancer

She dances to my fascination ,

a soul that is filled with imagination.

carefree , bliss…. 

..no gravity can hold her –

Oh,what a kiss!

Pointed toes,

add a heel,  another toe ,a shuffle and hop.

She leads the lot with her teeny tiny bop. 

Four years ago. Born in the full sac.

Midwives tore at her home to make sure she would not lack

Life – no scream.

He had to be so mean.

She’s not breathing.

What the fuck ? I haven’t even recovered from all the sweat pouring and heaving

Skin on skin contact.

Brief .

Enough to instil some sense of relief.

Four years later she is tall and graceful,

The word – darling springs to mind.

I look into her eyes,

I am blown away  by the  compassion I find.

She is my little lady –

Thank God I  never stopped being a chancer;

because  today I get to see my daughter  ,blossom as a true dancer.


To be as you like

 

To be or not to be.

I could have stopped right there

Today I choose to be.

This family in all fairness will grow and grow.

Hockey team?

Feeling like I do

 Score as many times as you like.

Surrogate needed?

No.

Suffragette?

 Yes,

Suffer we must

those who refuse to eat and instead are force-fed  chickens on a battery farm.

Cow or Bull?

Shit,

Conflict.

Why do men get to enter and exit when they want?

Why do women only have the key to the chamber with the will to want to open or not…

Which is better?

I suppose both is just as fair.

‘Blue balls  isn’t  a medical condition

Alas,  if one must act this way,

A medical solution,

I have.

Used since the most ancient times.

 an Antarctican blast  of water

Ask any lunatic worth his marbles.

That one rolled right under the door.

Enough space for it  to peek.

Not so fair when we cheat.

Monopoly.

Monopolise.

monogamy.

Westerners sodomise.

How to end with a two-letter word?

 Shall I be a rebel and give not one but two fingers up to the rules?

Broken.

glass.

splinters –

a wooden leg tries to stick his in one hand.

Running away – I don’t want to see red.

rather  break open the heavens

reveal yellow yolk hues

Crimson Fans snort in disgust

If I must

put a rose on the end and forevermore you  will  have my friendship,

on every level of schools, we enter.

You two?

too?

or,

to?

or rather,

enter in to.

Will write poetry for love

I’m supposed to be the one who is feeling strong

Yet, I have got the biggest feeling I am getting it so wrong

Stick by me in sickness and  in health,

You have never let me down with all your lovin wealth

I feel I have let you down 

I don’t need to see no frown. 

The truth is as my mind slowly unhinges

The incessant  call of sleeping Grimm  makes sure it stays on the  fringes.

Loud and shrill,

My mind took a detour- scarpered for that biggest hill.

All I want to do is be your deserving queen, 

the one that acts out on the things I mean.

To do 

to be 

Mind is running away after hearing a great big boo.

I am no poet  

It’s not hard to show it.

I just want  you to know,

even in this state of harrow.

I love you

even when I am  stripped of my bow and arrow.

You  are  my king 

with this fact alone –

let it  be known  that in the end

 we will soar,

even if only with one wing.



Mike banana

inspired by this T -shirt )
Mike / Nike bananas – waaaah?

Don’t believe in a day a tee.

Don’t believe in a dye a tee.

I believe in emotions.

A parable.

A moral .

A story.
A lesson

learnED

If I listened without interrupting ( never filmed my candidates on camera) I’d be past  the ignorant rear view mir row ing
dialed   hind sight one wave  too late.


Long pause… ( episodic moment).
Bananas
Should have put a hashtag

(#)  radiation *may cause seizures * * drug use * misuse * violence * harsh  misuse of a vape * .

Film censorship can be deceiving.

I watch many films primed or netted for my viewing,

I see the warnings
How these kids ever going to adjust to life calling ?

I need a bit of tuning.

I started this off topic ness from listening to a past recorded conversation. I’m out of my depth .

I see

I’m out of my depth.

Now..

I’ve a 6 4 2 bounce back pillow from the silent sisters who muted on their way to the unseen pleides.

Piroutte mode.
Peel out of the mould

Did I lose you to a Mike bananas T- shirt that the mad republic would ask a beetle to submerge.
These words  die with a relic…
. . . . . . . 7 dot dive  of dismal drivel.

Iil

Born

Some of us are born heartbroken from the initial

To final push .

We are the ones that don’t cry until we get a pat on the back

We are the ones that know the doctors’ have a hypocratic oath to enforce .

Life is forced upon those who don’t ask…

The ties must be cut with or without a puppet curtsey or kneel in prayer.

The law states we have a duty to care for ourselves

for others ..

The laws – they diminish a heart beaten with a wooden spoon .

Zero tolerance.. humanity is a price we have come to despair.

Punitive the fare we must pay. The care sector,our families who wish no t pretence
to smile on arrival  at a wake.

We live for our reasons . We betray our feelings .

Perhaps it’s when the sun denies we are in treason
we  dare shed a tear for our shadow

Some of us born heartbroken ’til we die.. we become the life savers or the enablers of the lie.

#writetoexpress

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?

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….