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My only foe woe

I

     have

taken
       a
few              tablets.

Prescribed; but more than  I usually allow myself.

I’ve been d
r          ink.
          ing .
I’m     

        furious at school.

Sent them a message .

I don’t want to interact.

I know I will have to be momentarily just dandy, for my bee when she gets home, however I may retreat
I don’t want to interact. I want to be alone .
I Hope to have a shower soon, sleep or be a perfect mom,  person .

A place – people feel secure , free , loved – not merely an abode.

My body has grown;my head – I want to disown.

I have no place to go
I can                   run away
Again

Without my own
Usual gumption.

Dis  
app     
        ear

from the lengths of life’s demands – another 25 metres * here I bloody go!*

Ad infinitum

There is no
Amen.
No peace
Nothing to burn.

My bras

need replacing- precious support to keep my dignity inert or is it alert?
We live in a millennial world.

I want to be .
I want to be not.
La vie en Rose
Simply….

All the regrets , the mistakes , the people I’ve lost.
I want to leave – die

Before you or my husband , mom and leave

                     Me.

         Alone .

As I am now.
It’s easier knowing you are still breathing

With an upside down frown. Said the cliché crow

I’ll engulf my darkness
With eyes closed, a mind blotted with discombulatory thoughts

aboundlessy

Thank you .

Xxxx

The crown of the Willows irrepressible woes

A moment – a weed – a daisy in need –
Is the last sentence a creed?

Who will ever know?

Except the one I title as this: my only foe.

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 .. …

Saints need sinners

Everyone can feel like a
Nobody.

All it takes is a
Dose of creationist bacteria inciting
Ovulation;
on grounds countering humanity.


Freedom shatters pedalling gamblers.
Cards spiral up.
Hands
free
Offers new found grip on this moment.


Cha cha amorous
Latin her body speaks.


Acquaint within ear shot of an organic pulse
Inertia rests in patchouli scented tomstones.


Nobody sheds dull
the skin held in chains invisible.
Everybody still ignorant to the body disappearing into Huxtable’s fable.


Iris shows off her pupils under natural sun light.
Rainbow replenishes chakras.


True beauty
Illustrated by the refusal to keep a voice hidden


Saints need sinners. New mantra forwards a thinker.
Embrace beats without hesitation.
Life moves along with or without your participation

Line of Deliverance

In the shadowed shades of my blues.

I tenderly look for another who I can summon as one who lives life in honour,

Of all that is true.

Those who speak the spoken word in all its iridescent hues.

Colours drape my inner wardrobe.

Yet, I clamber for my grey, nuances of noir.

Catastrophizing all the whites for showing up my yellow gnashers.

Against a blustery pale backdrop of mountains blanketed by capped ice.

Brazen, I stand on the highest peak.

Cheeks misted by tears.

Contemplative in being joyful for the moments of inner peace.

Cast out this unwanted wardrobe.

No more colours in clandestine!

The drab shabby (not so chic) curtains concealing my true identity.

My makeup is not for every entity.

I’m asked to write the truest sentence I know.

Hemingway knew a way to interweave words worth more than bread made from the finest patisserie dough.

Scraping pennies to get by the hard knocks.

We do what we gotta do to get by.

Poverty causes ‘bros before hoes’ and ‘chicks before pricks’.

Keeping my pins steady as balls curve to nebulant sides — it incites fear into my inner stream of consciousness, dialogue conflicts –

Savaged by doubt and insecurity.

I’m on a trip with a Make believe demeanour.

One to conjure up more stamina and longevity-

To warn my inner Hecate to hesitate before she dare pro-curate.

Write to recover through seeping, bandaged wounds.

Riddling the mind with infectious curiosity,

To want knowledge is the power I crave.

It’s my security.

Droplets of lonely anguish torment my darkest spell.

I am the white temptress tempted to awaken the beast inside.

Though, I know it will be the catalyst to an eternity of mocking turmoil.

My final destination is not the country I occupy.

I’m an immigrant

I’m a traitor.

Colonised and imprisoned by outdated Imperialists.

The world is full of egotistical folk in full throws of the delirium tremens.

Murmurs of fragile Life keep me close to the fire.

It scintillates what I know is inside — lying dormant.

Ready to drive out the cancers multiplying with faces frozen,

In that blissful look of the ignorant .

I raise my sword.

It bleeds ink.

It is my heart : my deliverance.

I can’t fathom another way to jolt my instincts to kick out, and rise to take another breath.

I’m the one who needs these murky waters to survive . Forget I too need oxygen and gills to stabilise my Eco system.

If my world was captured by a drone;

I would want it to show me evolved into a hybridised pro-humanity amphibian.

Swimming side by side

dolphins & whales ad infinitum.



Pink Shaggy

*( inspired by my garden& watching my washing dry. I tried. Ha ha!)

Pink shaggy rug

  freshly spun 

New man with a Brazilian just looking for fun.

A hanging basket.

 No drills to screw it into the place 

Hitting  my alphabetical lah lah

Sublime.

Momentarily  on a bent knee phallically,  potted plant lowers its fees. 

The law of gravity serves the man

 The feminists of this generation … 

Look within

Some bushes thrive on moisture..

 Those lil weeds grow faster than  mother’s ducklings -highly strung.

A bush with no name but heavily influenced  by the 70s – missed the bell bottom end of Fearne cotton’s 

runny tum 

A gnome is a gnome by any other name 

unless you call it a gargoyle then you’ve followed the rules and found yourself an OG 

Spot 

under the bridge – you defecate   graffiti will pay for shelter:

A fedora hat,purple blush hearts,a stiletto , glitter ,fire 

Even for your sin.

Looking into the eyes of a monster BIG mama bush -I daren’t trim her  

fear she will suck me right in her tush.

A relic of tears

 A blaze  my malbora stallion.

Clearly I’m flaying

Sincerely,

The Ending.

Slinging Sleuth

Is it me?

Or is it you?

For the years we scarpered away like dissident spew.

Acceptance should come from our real 3-D form.

Instead,

I find it in the eye of the cyber- sphere storm.

Thunder used to scare me

 Evidence was heard with me on skid row.

Now, I love a good drummer, to play my heart,

awaken you,

so you too have to face it and know.

Who are my friends among so many foes?

?

You may know my name.

You may have heard of my doings.

Gossip is for the feeble minded –

fun?

Yes, but all it does is reduce you to what I call are my fewings.

Lacking in truth and compassion.

In denial of your own feuds.

It’s a shame you, fewings, have to shine a light on my silky nudes.

Paint a picture – tell it.

Make it your own.

When you get closer to the next ear,

make sure you credit yourself with what you have weaved into that picture and sewn.

I may be mad and success is giving me an incredible hand.

We all have to play.

don’t go eyeing up all the spades.

End up back to level one and start off as a one-man marching band.

Look into my eyes.

Don’t like what you see?

Well, my dear .. what is that makes you want to get the hell up and do the blitz and flee?

See something?

someone familiar?

see your own self?

Feed your ego with ya very own distiller killer.

Rattle my bones.

I am transparent.

I know your secrets.

They are not mine to go and unleash like they are a target for a spent errant.

Ignore me if you must,

but then don’t go using my name in a scattered attempt to unearth some dust.

If you want it.

You have your own soot.

Talk about that.

At least you are sure to have more than half the goddamn loot.

Opinion is not the truth,

but suffer fools gladly,

if it gets you to feel like some kind of Mickey mouse sleuth

Little lady dancer

She dances to my fascination ,

a soul that is filled with imagination.

carefree , bliss…. 

..no gravity can hold her –

Oh,what a kiss!

Pointed toes,

add a heel,  another toe ,a shuffle and hop.

She leads the lot with her teeny tiny bop. 

Four years ago. Born in the full sac.

Midwives tore at her home to make sure she would not lack

Life – no scream.

He had to be so mean.

She’s not breathing.

What the fuck ? I haven’t even recovered from all the sweat pouring and heaving

Skin on skin contact.

Brief .

Enough to instil some sense of relief.

Four years later she is tall and graceful,

The word – darling springs to mind.

I look into her eyes,

I am blown away  by the  compassion I find.

She is my little lady –

Thank God I  never stopped being a chancer;

because  today I get to see my daughter  ,blossom as a true dancer.


To be as you like

 

To be or not to be.

I could have stopped right there

Today I choose to be.

This family in all fairness will grow and grow.

Hockey team?

Feeling like I do

 Score as many times as you like.

Surrogate needed?

No.

Suffragette?

 Yes,

Suffer we must

those who refuse to eat and instead are force-fed  chickens on a battery farm.

Cow or Bull?

Shit,

Conflict.

Why do men get to enter and exit when they want?

Why do women only have the key to the chamber with the will to want to open or not…

Which is better?

I suppose both is just as fair.

‘Blue balls  isn’t  a medical condition

Alas,  if one must act this way,

A medical solution,

I have.

Used since the most ancient times.

 an Antarctican blast  of water

Ask any lunatic worth his marbles.

That one rolled right under the door.

Enough space for it  to peek.

Not so fair when we cheat.

Monopoly.

Monopolise.

monogamy.

Westerners sodomise.

How to end with a two-letter word?

 Shall I be a rebel and give not one but two fingers up to the rules?

Broken.

glass.

splinters –

a wooden leg tries to stick his in one hand.

Running away – I don’t want to see red.

rather  break open the heavens

reveal yellow yolk hues

Crimson Fans snort in disgust

If I must

put a rose on the end and forevermore you  will  have my friendship,

on every level of schools, we enter.

You two?

too?

or,

to?

or rather,

enter in to.

Will write poetry for love

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 lovin 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.



Mike banana

inspired by this T -shirt )
Mike / Nike bananas – waaaah?

Don’t believe in a day a tee.

Don’t believe in a dye a tee.

I believe in emotions.

A parable.

A moral .

A story.
A lesson

learnED

If I listened without interrupting ( never filmed my candidates on camera) I’d be past  the ignorant rear view mir row ing
dialed   hind sight one wave  too late.


Long pause… ( episodic moment).
Bananas
Should have put a hashtag

(#)  radiation *may cause seizures * * drug use * misuse * violence * harsh  misuse of a vape * .

Film censorship can be deceiving.

I watch many films primed or netted for my viewing,

I see the warnings
How these kids ever going to adjust to life calling ?

I need a bit of tuning.

I started this off topic ness from listening to a past recorded conversation. I’m out of my depth .

I see

I’m out of my depth.

Now..

I’ve a 6 4 2 bounce back pillow from the silent sisters who muted on their way to the unseen pleides.

Piroutte mode.
Peel out of the mould

Did I lose you to a Mike bananas T- shirt that the mad republic would ask a beetle to submerge.
These words  die with a relic…
. . . . . . . 7 dot dive  of dismal drivel.

Iil