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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 πŸ’—πŸ’Œ

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.