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Not a suicide kid

Time stands still

Waiting for my child

To pick her up from her school.

Locked out

I’m no fool

Schools not meant to be cool.

Just another institution

Similar to a prison.

My constitution was made to rebel

For a cause

Less

Waiting around on top.

Never thought I’d glimpse a shadow of my former self -over the hill.

Curse these minutes.

Frozen into a state of blissful ignorance.

Wrapped up into a stationary kit.

Sigh

Sudden bowel movements

I feel ill.

Bad humour lost to a desolate sky.

Simmer into another ghetto outfit

Sparse Sunshine shimmer flecks

Until my skin unravels into motion.

For this moment

I’m not a suicide kid

Instead, I’m knocked out

By a dead dong ringer

Them there eyes

Catch sight of her eyes.

How they glimmer!

* inspired by the school run & national poetry day  & Life

 I’m genuinely happy to be alive. Not because life is perfect today but because I’m happy, humble and honest.

  • Write to recover

  • Create to recover

  • Communicate to recover

  • Connect to recover

  • Collaborate to recover.

If blue was a hue

If shades came in pigmented blues

Would the world recognize the significance of colour as opposed to hues?

Would living in colour stop it’s either this or that?

Would grey get a chance to convince us to investigate?

Would crashing into a slick  navy

crude and  lost at  sea,

Inspire old fashioned candy knots to carry us all back to safety?

If black wasn’t so noir

Would fashion dictate less to those in the savoir?

Would flags become less patronizing?

and white flags more entrancing?

A hue is a hue by its very name

A colour can decide to change and play  – a child-free game.

Rich reds

Glorious Greens

 Would we see who profits from wealth – would we want to change this scene?

Would hearts come together under a purple strewn night? 

Lovers take pleasure dancing in the rain, see each other in a different light?

Emotional attachments are often aesthetically pleasing

Only to the one who is eyeballing the muddied one’s high pitched squealing.

Clarity of light sought in souls and not in places of questionable heaven.

Admirers eyes to skies

Solid legs still rooted in the ground

Unifying all genders of brethren.

How wealthy we are  to have  a landscape of colour

Don’t ignore its beauty in the search for another.

Love less -a pense poem

I’ve never done this type of poem. The format is straight forward.

Title 2 syllables

Description 4 syllables

Action is 6 syllables

location 8 syllables

ending 6 syllables.

And the final rule is that it can’t rhyme

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

Passion less magical

Cats demand cuddles
A clean page soaked in wasted words written in 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.

Untitled

so inept by a blackened imagination
colours wither away, winter outsmiles
stilled yet not frozen. those exhiled frowns en route stragglers exhiled to Siberia.


I’m desperately desolate that these nightmares took the by pass . Limits to hope of revelling in reality once more spring
bursts into a yawn , light stretches worn out clinging onto last winter’s stained sweater.


A scream demands tending to kettle whistling for it’s masters attention
it begs summer to part with mercy & grace
so inept by a blackened imagination.

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.

A week of faces

Monday’s face has plenty to face.

Tuesday’s face has plenty to chase.

Wednesday’s face feels less need for mace.

Thursday’s face can be detected by a mere outlined trace.

Friday’s face can be detected by it’s bedroom taste.

Saturday’s face has a fashion full of party clothes in a suitcase.

Sunday’s face hides from a morning that is Mondays to face

Peer pressure

My pain is an insufferable spurt of growth as your own

If I led you into my darkness

Would you you identify me as your own?

Or dispose of me if I were to say no?

Words are.

Infidelity

If you took away  my infidelity
Would you let me have my way?

If these words were flesh
Would you  bury my  bones
Dig up the grains  of sand
Left
Over
Blow my spirit so the the people who could never  say
The bones could never declare
I existed
For a day
A season
Unless  you said I  was fair.

For  a moment
An hour longer than you dared to muster
To declare I’m  the loyal mare
I dare you to share
Laisse faire
For another day might tame
The girl who cared.
Or are afraid to .. …

Character & mortality

If there was ever a time

If there was ever a time to put your words on display

National Poetry Day is the time to use your voice to say

What is in your heart

What do you feel

Reveal the emotions -at inner play.

Don’t admonish your words merely to paper

Don’t admonish your words merely to your mind

Shout out: I’m worthy. What I’ve to say is enough for today and another and another and ..

National poetry is for more than one day

Make each one count

Not merely the words you deem fit to convey

Your worth is more than hiding away behind myriad of masks to please those who get in your way

Your words are worth more than those whom you justify your truth without causing affray.

Your life story : Not merely poignant

Make your impression

Make your mark

I’m here to stay for more than a moment

more than a hashtag.

Use your words

Use your voice

To guide you to a better life -your way

For better or for worse

You are brave

So, seize your day

Its Okay.