Blog Archives
No underworld
I have no soul.
I am just a mix of seeds
When I draw my last breathe there will be no underworld.
cos everything will blow away
Mixed particle seeds will have reformed.
It is Natures way.
Nature can be kind nor cruel. Make sure you always have a witness to back up your worldly point of view 🌅
Hope
We all have a different interpretation of what the word hope means to us.
To want something to happen or to be true, and usually have a good reason to think that it might
The Cambridge dictionary definition of hope.
So I’ve decided to think about what the word Hope means to me.
Hope is the ability to see the silver lining in one’s darkest moments.
Hope is about having the strength to hold on to a belief that no matter how scary and overwhelming life can be at times -we can get through those moments because we have done before.
Hope is holding into the belief that we can get better. We can grow and achieve our goals, dreams, and become the person we want to or aspire to be.
We all find different meanings in words. There is no wrong answer.
I decided to start writing ✏️ down words that I associate with the word Hope
Here is 3-minute Acrostic poem I wrote about hope 🙏
H ear heavenly angels descent.
O pen ears; wings in full flight.
P assion stirred; Fears dissolve.
E motions soar; new day begun.
Squwark sounds byte
https://youtu.be/9Gc4QTqslN4
Shake it
… shake it baby
prompting
This
Behaviour.
Uptempo Keys
unsilence the drama
a
hip-pity
a happy Russian Soviet bass choir impersona
caricature
I can’t rap
But I do
got flow
70% water — can’t make this shit up…
Scientists don’t discriminate-
Updated stream filled in
by today’s quantified current
His-
the premier
First and foremost a muse of note —
scale down the scratch post
lude blues.
Look
Above
common clouds count in beats
search for a pulse in
Metropolis Metronome
Vinylise –
no more inches to add to her form
other than to
intro- apple -genuisly feed
a podcast
worthy for wonderlands flowers to perform ?
‘mo brain mo crane’
Fly to the East
Sigh to the West
side with the South
Hustle with the true north.
Whatever get’s these words out
If this riff sounds willowy
Shucks,Throw in a hillbilly
Sound squwarks
Splat!
doo wee
doo wop
Guess what?
ain’t apologising for being an invader of my own rythmic space.
R. iveting
I.nsightful
P.ost
ha ha when you cha cha.
It’s dead.
‘it’s gone,Gym’
Giblets strutting down this street.
Shake a tail feather to those with the Harmonised Harlem shufflers feet.
Footwork.
Intro
Outro
vitro –
Dutch flowers
chiming the bell
toll
Modest mouse slam beatbox a scat cat.
improvise the blues in fluent meow-skies —
Stop.
Hammer time
Tell her where she lost the plot?
The living aint easy
life hint
Where is she at?
doing the wriggle worm , 8 years young
thinking ,
‘ maybe I’m a kid ‘— kidders rights to think
‘maybe I am shit hot.’
Impervious to the nonsense .
Tolerate her apparent nonchalance.
wind down tempo
No more Scratching ideas shape throw your hands in the air
Hit, publish —
have no shame telling people move on to another cloud
Your content is your own style and flair.
Sometimes you gotta groove the ghetto to let up some get up and get some get go.
Acrostic poetry -Daisy
D utifully fights death with hope
A ccepts pain will help shed its old purpose
I n light it seeks for a rebirth – instincts prevail
S adness embrace – for loss will lead to freedom
Y esterday is a forget me not – a death sentence.
Such a sexy little number
Such a sexy little number
I cry looking for a matching lingerie set
in
case
I want to look great for the moment I hit Downunder.
Laugh at your tears
Say a Huge fuck you to your fears.
This is the week when bash didn’t do it for me
Sniff
Sniff
Banging
Pocket pat down
hear a jingle
Family matters is more substantial for me.
Write to recover or die trying to live the life of another.
Freedom will come from sucking the teet from how you was mothered.
Be real
authenticate
deliberate who you gonna get rid of
You know them Twockers,
those who instigate?
I dilly dally
Think
Cut through the same ally
Second thoughts
Nah, maybe… another time.
No masterpiece -is this stream of consciousness
Too oily for an academic poets diet
Borderline poetry on the rocks
Top of the evening to those who think creativity is a bit of alright.
