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A feud of words
I wish my words had more clout than my mortal weight. Once I wrote, spoke with the light,
A stream of consciousness without a tug from my mind the size of a crate.
Rhyming I sought not to intentionally copulate with.
Nor hesitate my hand from my inner ink.
Words never intentionally separated from their interwoven fate,
From the moment these star crossed others dared to kiss with a brazen grace.
I bear these words with the strength of a boulder ready to crumble
Rush my inner thoughts
Crushmy inner thoughts to a damn them to hell chowder of inner hate.
A feud of words. I hope these won’t be my last or I’ll leave this world a disgrace.
Will write poetry for 💗💌
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 loving 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.
For my husband Gaz Holliday
Oxymoron of life
I got caught in the rain again.
I let it drizzle down on me.
Eventually it started to gently pelt my face.
I didn’t run for shelter this time.. I just stood there
next to that tree.
I gazed up to the sky and smiled up.
I’m the defiant one who knows my place in nature.
I knew I was still winning. ‘Fake it until I make it ‘
Nolite te bastardes carborundorum.
These are slogans I told myself to believe I wasn’t drowning. Inebriated by the sobriety of our existence . Is that an oxymoron of life ?
Clean page
Passion
less magical
Cats demand cuddles
A clean page soaked wasted words written in piss yellow ink.
The music falls on deaf ears
Unread unopened books will let me down – or will it be my imagination?
I glance around the room of despair comfortably numb for three hours until a child smiles for her mom’s unfounded fears.
LOVE LESS
it won’t hurt much
scrub off the scent of his odour
bleach the bath with your morning shit
love costs more heartache.
The colony
My faith was tested by the colony
The cross bore into my chest like multiple sessions of ECGS
I thought I had forgotten what it was to feel like an honest me!
The strength of survival of the fittest
Compelled hope to flee
Or save me
My choice
Brainwashed for a profit
A racquet
Insidious to true inequality
I’m here
I’m an insurgent
Indulgently
Indignant to all the two faced flags
Denying
denoting
Independent thought
For the books to be written
of/
Off
philosophy
Clouded the dogma that corrupts those who believe in their infallibility
Water – a drop
A drop.
A drop.
A drop
Do not judge me
For my sapling survival
a birth of a scape goat to inscribe the words of a free spirit
With no country
I claim as my own
I am who I choose as my identity
Borderless
No government
No political movement can discriminate against my spirit
For I denounce those who cannot see the truth
In front of them
even when they kneel
Before nature
The only divine death
With nothing to face.
Sincerely,
The unknown scripture of abandonment sans fear
Mo by
How many times can a man kill
With the swell of pride in his heart
The ocean stained with the sins
Of his foibles and ills?
A death wish
Mammoth moments sunken by the greed of this lot
Moby dick stood afloat
Whilst man’s morals were lost.
To the rise of egos
The wan of humanity.
The flag ships raised
A toast to a humans descent into insanity.
Without affirmative action these are mere words of profanity
Scorpion poetry
I drank a lot today
It read back to me like it was poetry
I woke up yesterday
Tomorrow
Some other day
And the words hung over me like a scorpion waiting for a punch line to pass onto it’s ancestors
A bloody Mary
Dog of the hair
These words aren’t poetics until
I glare at that question
Maybe another time?
Gris gris
If you know how to love you know how to live
If you know how to live you know how to love
Momentary
hyperbole
state
Meant –
This
ends badly
A stolen sign
whilst awoken waiting on directions for heaven’s gates
Titillating times
Run out of fuel
Exhausted
words condemned ?
Atoned
Alchemical
Skeletal
soul ( emaciated)
Wasted (fabricated)
Walking into
A fat
Fated
E Lated
Disorderly
slum bum
Arrested for
Apathy..
No
A
trophy
Padam
Padam
limited vocabulary…
Dispose these written words
To an insincere society.
Gris gris
A hex
Agon.
Gal
I glee.
The mardi gras lives within
Thanks Ray
Charleton
a breathe wren
Sightless strumpet life (insert your own GIF)
Daring
Demanding hymn for those
A genesis
Singing pslams to the prejudice
Justified :those folk who missed the nearest fire exit.
Ugly nose
He can’t bear to look at me.
I hate your nose – it’s bulbous, broken
by his nemesis circa 2017.
It blows. It’s flat. It stinks. It’s fat.
It’s a face he doesn’t want to know.
If he knew how close I am to snubbing him
It will show up in a bloody knife responsible for cutting off his honker.
Noise pollution-snoring slovenly.
I should be asleep!
3am is a bit late for a distorted nose disfigured by his hatred for gluttony
If he hates this nose
If he detests to look at me with an impoverished plea , why won’t you up and leave me?
I need to change!
Don’t we all. Happiness resides in our very own core.
I love you , do what you need to do. Thank God it’s friday.
I’ve gone off fish -is he interested in this snivelly, snotty news?
No, he’s confused.
What do you want if money was unlimited?
No
No
No
No
No
No
There’s not limit to further your happiness
Depart from those dirty, tinted glasses
Depart from the lady you thought you once knew
You’ve outgrown her dance. Your silence is more than a clue
The confrontational snoring . I want to bludgeon him with out further ado
Who really blew it, God knows! to hell with his slumbered shout – the only form of commication he can muster or do.
The lack of reciprocation.
The lack of effort.
The lack of indecisiveness
Cut ties
Start again .
Change is a fearless beast for many rather than the few.
Guilty as charged.
Perceptive-on my guard.
Make a choice. Don’t sit on the unmade bed. Your freedom is self made. Doubt starts in the mind.
In defence
Mode
He snores.
I’m awake.
Who wins?
Who has the highest score?
Perhaps if I took my sleeping tablets I’d have drifted into my haze
Tonight I’m the monster awake with a the unsightly nose.
Gastly
Despicable.
God only knows why his zen state lie soley with me changing my all.
He snores and snores doesn’t know what he wants. He’s his own boat with a chance to carve out oars.
Right, that’s it I’m going to get the carving knife
I’m going to cut off his nose then we’ll see if we indeed reap what we sew.
What a carry on.
Blow after blow
A mindless hedge untrimmed unkempt. Shut up I’m the one who knows.
A charlie chaplin lost in translation
He mimes in waking moments
Dictates his Hitler speech in the hours of slumber
Separate the whites from the yolk.
I’m out of here. He’s bleeding profusely.
You heard nothing but the snores of a sloth.
It’s up to me to disappear. The ugly nose is a no show.
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 -resembles 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 dew dawn light.
Eyes screetching 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 for it’s consistant rays.
A distraction , a rouse – 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 flutter whilst I walked past him with my bin liner full of litter ?
I profess to love watching those with wings -airborn soaring . I’m envious in away. A speculating visual painting 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.
