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Perhaps I want to..
I want to stop stuffing my mouth with food
To allow the words I swallow tumble out my own truth .
I want my voice not to sound happy
I want it to be happy.
I want to eat meals without guilt.
I don’t want to be overweight.
I want anorexia to stop carving every single slice of edible part until there is nothing but my skeletal soul
Nothing but the debris of littered thoughts
Soiled emotions
Discarded remnants of self love.
I’m screaming
Pleading for just one match to light up my black holed life
The abyss that taunts
Torments
Each moment
Each breath
Every movement
I want to publish a book of my words
One solarity book to place on my bookshelf
I want to feel sexy without thinking that being curvy is criminal.
I want to feel pretty
Confident that I can eat sushi tonight when my daughter has a McDonald’s happy meal.
I’ve scoured the Just Eat.com menu
The thoughts become lairy loud
It becomes easier to take a valium or a drink
Awash myself clean against the accusations
I’m tainted
Impure
My thighs touch
My breasts are disproportionately imperfect
And,
I don’t want to blame it on Some tasteless comment some child made when I was 12 years old.
My collar bones are disappearing
My butt is bigger
Im not disappearing
I’m not smaller
I want a worthwhile exsistance
I want to claim my happiness
Perhaps my words are my winning ticket to recovery .
Perhaps I need to buy enough ink and paper to print off 6 years of documented writings, poems, plays, stories and musings
I want
I want
I want my body to understand what it needs
I need
I need
I need my mind
To understand
What it wants.
Second life -Mort tell et tea
* This Borderline poem was written a week before I attempted to take my life (again).I ended up in Critical Care in a coma for 7 days & in ICU for a further 6 days. I was discharged from hospital on the 21st of May 2020 *
Please, make sense of reality.
Use a stream of consciousness
words to
Vent,
rant,
rave,
A discovery in recovery
Fathom out sense because words are only as good as the interpreter.
Could add literary success to a Gravatar profile in an E-book
Add a few drafts poured into that fulminate crunched up chaos.
This doesn’t invoke a feeling of literary success.
Trying.
Struggling to convey all words .
Reciprocated words are often misinterpreted
Misheard
Another attempt to convey these words.
Perhaps one person will see this array of affray spread its torment defecating the inner spiral case of the
Mind,
It swirls down these steps in every way.
The moment to call it a day
This draws an outline forever to have the last say.
Hear me proclaim
This
Is
My
Life.
Don’t want to carry on living this way
Shame lingers
It overstays — the bailiff texts for rent arrears
Read,
What is laid down?
Listen
I’m not done yet.
Hanging by a thread it’s tethered
Seen many days to identify as weathered
Hanging by a thread
This is my life purpose!
Final chance to meet my fate
Waited for this all my life
A mystery date with a severed soul mate.
Taught & tethered & weathered is this rope
To late
convinced
I’m no tightrope walker.
I’ve become my own word stalker.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda arrested these rants before my digress
Covert corner
Wait in this hidden corner.
Evidently I’ve learned that survival is innate.
It ain’t easy to digest the days I’m not blessed to eat from a plate.
keep rising up despite a lifetime’s worth of trip-ups.
Until I die
One fine day
I’ll face the final exit of my mortality
I’ll know the truth
Either way it’s gonna end up with a body
Fatality.
Subconsciously know why I feel
It’s called humanity
What do I know about that damp dark corner entertaining souls I’ve yet to meet?
Going to have to wait for a promising future chance we haven’t dreamt of taking yet.
If I lose all memory
Forget those words
soggy, wet, lost to another realm of the bereft
Lest I forget.
I write to recover.
Be happy or die trying.
Simultaneously a resilient species & inconveniently inept.
Misfittingly beautiful
It’s always the unexpected people I’ve come across in my life who I often wonder about.
The ones who I can’t forget ..
If I described even one of these people to someone..
They may think-
Well, survival of the fittest.
Hindsight makes me see that we can’t all be saved .
We all have our own path to tread.
But what if we could have done..
More…
More !?
Where does less or more stop?
The ones who touched my life so briefly ;
Often
I imagine what happened to them or what where their journey led them to before their final destination.
The people who have had a
an impact on my views are usually those passing or perhaps “insignificant” people who’ve brought out the best in me & who taught me something about humanity .
The humanity I was born with.
It’s not taught .
Humanity is our first grasp with the lessons of life.
Our first test in grasping what it means to us to be human.
Dedicated to those who helped me realise that my core is good & helped me to develop my own humanity & reflect on my own savagery.
We are beautiful misfits.
We are misfittingly beautiful.
All hands on deck
A silly poem –
Ho! Ho! Ho! I’m going to put my two cents worth in.
Board the Jolly Roger with Hook and his crew of Rum kins.
Ah no, I’m not slumming it. I’m going to be an honourable Captain.
See that ship flying out of the clouds? Welcome aboard the Jolly Willows- sorry,Hook I can’t do with the bellowing acting.
I lost two excellent Bloggers at sea these past two days.
Left the Willows. I never told them to walk the plank. Maybe it was the Sirens who lured them to an unfortunate land of curds and whey- more an isle than a bay.
Please, as a Captain of this gallant vessel – understand I can’t always be around in one place,or indeed in several dimensions.
I am merely human – I have a lot of responsibility -. I sincerely care for all those in my community. You are my stars, my right navigation – you are my suspensions.
I have many journeys I need to make -some are on here and others in another place.
Neverland -is not just me expressing my presentiment . I have been there. I don’t want you to think I am a coward bowing out of my duties trying to save my wilting face.
Today, I take a trip to the land of the forgotten. The old and frail and the ones who need my time for just a couple of hours.
My family needs me.
So does Miss Tatiana- not a parrot but a cat who gets irate when she misses her daily dose of affectionate showers.
When I return, I trust you will still be here – we can give a great cheer- shout outs to the newest Friends of the Willows who enjoy many adventures.
Magic is everywhere.
All you have to do is believe, ignore the sceptical skeletal ones who still have their chattering dentures.
I do not wish for no heart; that I could collect you like a pirate collects simoleons- that is not what makes this ship vibrate, gets it revving.
The most valuable treasures are the souls and bodies who inhabit this space.
Bon voyage , my true stars . I shall never be lost if I look to the skies ,I most certainly won’t need a thimble of rum close by me- for – just in case.
Do I get a star?
Discipline is what is required to receive a Masters of Creative writing.
To be perfectly honest when I am told to do something- I just want to be a bit of a rebel.
Shout out a mega –No!
My spirit kicking and fighting.
Word of the day.
Absurd to think I don’t even know if I have started to go grey.
Vanity.
Simply vanity.
A neutral medlem of society.
forget the bloods and the crips -it is we who are the true calamity.
Word of the day.
Can I just willy Neigh Neigh?
September,
September is coming.
Or as they say in Games of Thrones –
Winter is coming!
It is on this isle.
I must write every day – stretch my brain – like- candyfloss.
Chewing on thoughts, words to use,to make this an epic – poetic -nonacademic, empty sweet wrapper to toss,
In the bin.
Environmental awareness is ever so hip and positively in.
For how long, though -we are a fickle lot?
Where to place this word in my head?
Scooby doo comes to mind,
Daphne,
Blonde dude and who was that other one?
He had a hell of a time conquering his phobia – which turned out to be his career – catching the rising dead?
I’ve heard of challenging yourself but what’s his name -seriously needs a new career counsellor – open up a burger joint or smoke one.
Daisy doesn’t condone drugs, in fact, I am the only person I know that can’t smoke the herb due to the whiff of paranoia that is unleashed from my sensors –
I become that buxom lass who lost a few buttons on her blouse and finds herself – ahem unsexily undone.
I can assure you – it is no fun.
Books, so many books to read………
If only I could inhale books as much as I can inhale food like mead?
Well, drink, eat, whatever- you get my drift……
Oooh, that was spooky.
Did you feel that ice plummeting temperature drop?
It left with the drift.
on its way out,
I think it whispered boozy I mean breezy .
Did it just call me a floosie?
Goose pimples,
do not want to make me show you my dimples.
I’m being frivolously silly, I do sincerely know it.
I’m having a ball!
In an earthy, grounded way of course. Go get into my extra, bespoke, vintage flow kit.
Dapper!
Flapper.
Starlight scatter!
I want to live in a world where everything is just, Darling!
Okay – this is getting ridiculous.
I’m sure by now -you are pulling out possible grey hairs,
rolling your eyes,
spitting out ‘time waster’, snarling.
Okay, folks, I will put you out of your misery –
I recalled the name of that last bumbling, ghost hunter gang banger – my mind is no longer scuzzy.
Are you ready?
His name was Thrummy.
Why are you laughing?
I know my characters!
Shaggy was the one who did all that banging on the bathroom room floor – butt naked I might add.
I say let it be.
It sure as hell wasn’t me.
I wrote something. I come bearing gifts…..
Street life
Anno Domini, episodic moments of yore.
Excalibur sword wielding, mind-bender moments – mind your step and hit the dance floor.
Decadent, whisky on the rocks, Drugs fresh from the Durban harbour docks.
Uncut, fresh,this shit gets you in a state of euphoria that makes you a natural at dancing the charleston without spilling a sip.
Ice cool , candy flip – time to get a grip.
Eyes close, pass the ball to a fellow game player.
Eyes open – the dancefloor has become a party of howling werewolves in clothes ,time to shake hands with the new mayor.
Heart palpitations – this is no comic strip . Pushing past the furred crowd, talking animals in their lairs .
A hit of oxygen to the lungs – knocks away the culpable house with its cymbal, progressive climb up the winding stairs.
Walk into a potential crime scene – apparently, a runner doing his job running – his boss not far behind him.
He falls to his knees – mercy -covers his head. A steely glint of a revolver aimed- to the back of his head, ready blow him into Infiniti tum
Deities break out through the stars. One last chance for this soul to retrace his steps and get creative, cough up not shades of red but sprightly hues of fresh Mint .
Apollo wakes up long enough to gives the thumbs up and then goes back to a golden age of sleep.
The beats will consume my soul again – this vessel will not become a nazi graffitied derelict.
Gulping down sugary drinks.
Recovering from nearly hurtling into a trip- blindingly.
A mole hole, abyss- deep.
Music, life is my school , my community , my church.
The orphans , the lost , the ones called ET who wanted to have a place to call home.
We had to put up with the freaks coming out ,once in a while – ogres, pixies, a dreadlocked gnome.
Education doesn’t have to start in an institution called school with a ‘YOU must think this.’ mentality.
Where Black people are called ‘Kaffirs’ – ‘they are simple’ – learn the truth early on.
Gunshot – start running at an age of infantility.
The street life takes you around twists and turns.
Left , right , left again.
HOW do you want to think?
Why do you think this way?
Drop out, dirty stop out, learnt more about how to protect myself – when I had to defend myself against 5 skelme tearaways – half baked under a drug sway.
Wasted lives,
wasted dreams.
Time has been kind so it has been worth every second- even the tortured screams that have come out from me.
The years have gone by – damaged ,
omniscient,
played ,
player ,
yearned ,
yearner –
the most blessed scat cat to come out of the debris.
Spindrift
A true union of hearts was joined one summer in late June.
The birds chirruped, the sun shone – the two became one -reflected for all to see by La Luna- the moon
Air and Water – shouldn’t cross paths. These two elements casually ignore each other in nature’s form-its innate core.
He of Air –
She of Water.
The energy that caused the spindrift was something not even these elements could ignore.
Le Mistral caught up in a steamy, heady mood.
Strode across the sky scowling, blowing curses – chaos surely ensued .
La Mer
– she was winding down for the day.
The tide had come in, and she was ready to listen to a mermaid wax lyrical her classic tale of Babe Ruth.
The wind so vexed was he – he deafened her with one strike of his herculean hair -clouded by his inability to self- soothe.
La Mer reacted in bad form. He struck her so hard, – her mind swelled up with great licks of waves – crashing and thrashing her mental whereabouts.
Never interrupt an element so passionate about listening to her favorite composer.
Le Mistral and La Mer could ignore one another no more. She would make him feel the repercussions of his foolish, senseless,not-so-well thought out Strop.
Now he would have to face his conjurer.
A tidal wave of thoughts arose inside her. He would pay dearly for interrupting her meditative state of mind.
He had no clue what feud he had started. Fire and Earth were shrewd not to intervene. They knew when to stay out of the way of a combination of this kind.
They witnessed how the passion of this great unforeseen union came to be.
The product of this affront was simply not even what the conflicted two could continue to deplore.
Witnessed by two friends .
Wind and Water created the very first image of love .
Spindrift -a physical feeling of exhilaration consolidated the two .
They were now ready for a new adventure – together -ready to explore each other, become the couple -who looked to the other with eyes that said ‘j’t‘adore.
Definitions for spindrift
spray swept by a violent wind along the surface of the sea.
Spindrift is a variant of the Scots spoondrift, with the nautical verb spoon orspoom meaning “to run or scud before the wind.” It entered English around 1600.
DICTIONARY.COM
The gods must be crazy
When chaos has erupted ready to engulf all that we are ;
Death will raise a fury to sustain all mortals with life.
The scales must never meet
For then only foe succeeds it’s ally.
- the God’s must be crazy or a lie.
#justafewwords before I die.
Cape Vulnerable
Danger lurks in wild-eyed faces.
Thoughts restrained to assuage feelings inverted debases.
Danger thrusts a third eye world view,
of hatred and vomit a careless overlook of blind men seeking to anew.
Danger conquests damsel in distress.
Jeans make it pleasurable for when she denies its requests.
Danger,
danger,
danger, – it haunts her.
She sees what she wants to see; how it taunts her.
Hush little darling, remember naive, white rose petals,
Dreams hijacked by villains in full uniform metals.
Skettled and nettled – itching to find a place to seek comfort.
A goose down feather pillow makes a dream fit for the unfit.
Danger.
Danger.
Danger, it hawks in on her.
Hush, little darling – feed thine hunger, mother goose is baking in the oven.
Commit to a mind of normal functions. Emotional battery, maternal coven.
Reach not for this soul. It is claimed and is bold.
Wretched and lectured- ears buzzing with sensory ejaculation.
Sleeping partners do just what the contract state. Don’t let this assume an identity of edification.
Soothe, muse, love every bone,
ever tenderized bruise.
Damsel will never see you fall from your pedestal – you can never lose.
Choose, use -in moderation – her body will allow you to take so know thine limits
Infants on feet -rapping at the doors -ready to impose a new order in the house of the fidgets.
Daisy in the willows 
5 responses to “P.S. I’d do it again in a heart beat”
That’s about where I am
In a heart beat
Only grander,bigger
Life is for the living
Fuvkin its not my turn
I do it all in a heart beat
Step to the back of the
Cold bust I would do it
All again to play with
All the ones I have missed
I can hear your voice sayin
I only wish I had known sooner
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Sheldon, Here is to better days. Stay strong 🙂
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Yes if not the day
At least to the image
In my mind
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You’re a wonderful writer. Love this xxxx
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Summer xx you are my sunshine xx TY ❤ mwah xxxx
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