Blog Archives

Regrets

Render me unfaithful

Eternal sin stains noir shades on my skin

grief knocks at my door with a leash in his hand

reads me my rights, instructions of the feelings I will parade with a down cast glare remember this moment of shame – remember the touch of the unfamiliar intimacy

Emotions torn from the sacred part Please don’t stare

Turn your eyes away -oh shame sit down I have lost my dignity – the grace to care

sinners are the reason the saints are adorned with absolute conviction in Believers prayers

Ghostly mother

She’s dying not wanton for living in nebulant world
caught up in a shimmer

She is my cognitive dissonance a prisoner or
the one who keeps me safe form all harm

She takes me to a blissful cave hung with roses

yellow

sunshine smiles challenge my retreat

If her love snuffs out

Flames of regret will burn until cinders remain

didn’t show her the true love she deserved when she was even ill
Selfish
Ignorant to what is in plain sight
Words tempted to expel her ignatius existence.

Forlorn- she was not a tree

She didn’t know it then

she knew now.

Woken up with on a  loop blasting around her mind in surreal sound-

 the Russian bass choir chanting in all surround.

An apt app unconsciousness knew her well.

A year ago, life had been different.

Mirthful, optimistic playful

 Now,  rooted to the spot with foliage, branches, lush leaves taking in the vagabonds seeking shelter.

Lost souls in need hidden by darkness

these nomadic souls plotting their next move.

Time for souls to gather there their thoughts

 the continued search of their dreams and pursuits.

Forlorn found herself lost in her own shades of solitude.

She was alone. Tucked up in her double bed -a pattern of flowers – all Huey reds and purples.

 Forlorn – wrapped up in a ditzy forlorn pattern matched her current mental state.

She could feel the bubbling creeping up to death by poison ivy- curling it’s away from the roots of her feet upwards.

It would not stop until she was mummified into silence.

She knew it wanted to make sure her mouth, eyes & nose covered  in bondage to the soil solidly planted her roots.

One day she had an epiphany.

 Moments of clarity were few.

 A  possibility to be something purposeful meaningful for her.

She had given life sustained it for those souls.

Yet she was weary, ageing.

Before she was forced to put down roots in an abode that spoke in foreign serpentine tongues;

Forlorn had forgotten she used to be a road runner girl.

A girl was taken by flights of fancy on a whim.

Ready to outrun her nemesis wanting to keep her hostage in a place she knew she didn’t belong.

An elder had kept her close to her.

Fearful to let her be free

To be whatever She wanted to be.

 She begged her ancestors to rouse the beasts of deforestation to seize her keeper.

 she could get a clean break – start over.

Feel movement not in height but in fluidity.

Nostalgic fragments of past it feelings -fragments

a pair of wings

A pair of  arms

Even a pair of legs again.

 Seasons passed still, she lay rooted to this spot. Full and plumaged as ever.

Ready to entice wanderers to seek shelter for without telling her a reason.

 

 She fidgeted, yawned, stretched willing pine bristles to deter these unwanted vagrants.

 Her heart had almost given up. She had succumbed to what she supposed was her last winter.

One eve she looked at the bees collecting sweet nectar for the unseen Gods.

Forlorn conceived a sapling of hope

Mental Rummaging a sense of Deja Vu.

I know it’s here’- impatient, sighing.

 

A piece of technology from the world she was once a part of.

A means of magic.

A way to communicate her distress.

Tangled hands finally caught the pointed end of a carved, wooden wand.

Slim, compact light.

Her true form to be again.

Stretching open her eyeballs could be made simpler if she had the eyelashes to wipe away the moss interfering with her vision to flee..

Diminished another sense

She would forget who she was

 what she wanted to be

 She drifted into a frightful sleep.

A woodpecker hammered a hole of her  bleak existence.

The epiphany.

The start of her new life was in a gestation period of fewer than 12 hours!

How did I sleep for so long? Christ! berating her herself under the twilight

Suddenly a swarm, around her were a fleet of fireflies.

 One eyeball strained

and out into focus confirmed  her impending anxiousness starting to emit it’s familiar disparate gas into her trunk form.

The final place she held on to her liberty – her mind.

Thoughts ploughed at her – like a farmer attacking a poorly harvested crop.

Not fit for tendering

Nor the soft touch of her keeper.

 

Soiled ground.

Soiled soul.

Soiled mind.

She fought with all might

Absorbed more -light, water, words…

The elder’s I told you so voice pulled her back into the darkness of her gloom.

Just like a car needs fuel to keep going so does the body need food… photosynthesize.

Try and be what you are destined to be. A tree.

Blasting  those voices back into the void from whence it had snatched out

Reaching over – without much of a search

 Rustled her leaves  -A call  out for new bosom firefly friends.

A loud moan persisted from her innermost pit.

Hunger.

Hunger to be free in the form she still chose to be.

Chronic cramp. If only for the longing desire she had for her legs or wings to ease the pain of being motionless.

It wasn’t enough that she contributed towards sustaining other life species.

This stagnant obsession never seeing a sunrise from another part of the world again.

She looked down at her well-worn form.

How hard can it be to throw herself back to a time when she had legs?

Gills?

Wings?

a moments thought yanked her back like leashed like a dog to this home she felt no affinity .

Forlorn inhaled the scented berries, unravelling the mask of sight at the  ivy,

A glimpse an assortment of psychedelic fleurs initiating that it was time to wake up.

One more push, one more fight.

Forlorn no more she’d set herself free.

Hold the Ice

If I could make an incision in my heart let my true feelings secrete

Reveal the true blood count I’d weep if we were to part.

If I stole your vision your very own sight – just one eyeball

to entice me to reveal how I love your ambition

your drive

your sexual prowess

I’d leave you sightless

Devour you

Selfish -a crime with a sentence of life

no bail – a sin too priceless

for words

I could impart with an auger in flight

Wing of the mystic

Would you send me letters written in pen ink well spilling out-

all of your feelings like tweed drapery drawn with bejewelled tie backs?

Is it wrong for me to want a piece of you or to borrow one fo your senses

prove I am sentient being ?

love you with my outer demeanour frozen in a stony glare

turned askance over my cold shoulder – drive you to break your sobriety – pour yourself a whisky – hold the ice.

To prove I dress in reptile attire –

Too afraid to entice you

Afraid you’d flee from a shy girl vulnerable to rejection

from the love of my life?

Creativist Andrew MCg -The Rage

I wanna write something new

I wanna write a poem that’ll make me forget

Just like the alcohol use to

I wanna write a poem that’ll make me regret

Just like all the one-night stands did

I wanna write a poem that’ll make you feel dirty

The kind that makes you get dressed, leave immediately than go get tested

I wanna write the kind of poem that is as hard to listen to as it is to recite

I wanna write a poem that’ll leave my skin crawling and my ears bleeding 

I want this poem to bleed as much as I did

Let these blue lines be my veins, the bleached paper be my skin

This poem doesn’t have much left because my heart is paper thin

Let the ink run deep, leave this page looking like a murder scene

I wanna write a poem like murder she wrote 

Right before she broke her knife off into my back

I wanna write a poem like a sneak attack

The kind that catches you by surprise in the middle of the night

Like a nightmare with no way out

I wanna write a poem to allow my darkness a way to scream and shout

It’s not meant to be loud, it just is

This poem doesn’t care if you listen

This poem will slit the wrists to any awkward silences out there

Beware of the dog its bark is far less than it’s bite

I wanna write a poem as long this line of crushed up valium

Let this poem leave me just as high and as numb 

I wanna write a rain dance than bring forth the dark clouds

Drown out this piece of paper and wash away the doubts 

I wanna write a poem like a one-way road

Then bulldoze everything in its path

I wanna write a poem like a cold body in a warm bath

Then give it 13 reasons why it never should’ve been alive

I want this poem to be a fit of my desolate rage 

That still burns even after I exit this stage.

Fledgling or not -here I come

Today my thoughts confound me.

Bombard

Hijacked emotions detonated into a familar war zone.

The survivors feel mixed up for another mistaken identity

passport confiscated by newfound enemies.

A glimpse

the letter

E
motion

this queue finally advances

25 letters fated to the gates of uncertainty.

A survivor is stuck in the middle -it’s me -a headless body with a hidden agenda

Skin flushed assimilates bloody shadow a crimson hue mane of the unflinchers –
pale, skeletal, naked, destitute, some even of their robbed of own teeth

a pile-up -bodies all shook
adorned by a hand, ankle, A cold shoulder, one fair nipple, a flaccid penis

Perhaps your inner idealist
can resurrect these lives distorted by final moments -a conscious full of shame.

No dignity

No burial for those of faith

Souls denied a peaceful resting place.

The faithless blasted out mid breathe energy kinesthetic Life mid beat -legged it

A desperate plight -scientific proof hearts can beat or flee.

My body under constant surveillance

The scourge of self-scrutiny

Double doubt implants enhance all traces of unwanted memories

Should I hide my body

my identity?

The very essence of my being?

Caught unawares

emotions -use tic tactics

Thoughts use unrestrained strategies.

Haunched knees

propped up by bare feet

conditioned to protect my diasporic body

Roughly re-examine all once held beliefs.

Displaced her head!

how contrary I would have said

pure insanity I willingly would share.

If I don’t have any thought

or an opinion I’ve sought out myself.

I’ll become a diminutive

No person will ever see me

No person will hear my roar.

This voice will become non-existent -all my declarations are torn from the books of history
uninformed therefore never spoken nor unwritten

My right is to live and be!

My right is to feed peacefully

not between flippant mercenaries abiding by wall division protocol that I can’t see.

body displacement

head

disconnected to set a prenup engagement

How is it I feel the pressure of the tummy bloat after the soldiers who gloat

Finally relieved

of their lack of familiarity?

No sense die-hard before a sensation penetrates the first bloom of intimacy

They forget how hard they push

enter the orifice

Where I learned how to formulate words.

All I have is words and sound.

They take liberties- jabs & jeers are the echo chamber to my inner core.

Rotting

Bed rest

Bedsores,

These are the spoils of war.

Degraded

Defaced

Disgraced

My Emotions are absolute in their conviction

My sentence – A Disempowered daily mantra

I am to be their common whore.

a concubine filled up on spew, chunks of bile flotsam

traces keep me chronically ill.

Medical treatment denied because I’ve forgotten how to express my will

The West states I’m worth it !

the East send out a search party

Direction?

Possibly

on wise mind hill

There is no privacy.

My body is presented against my will

These clothes cover up the tight jeans that have become my only woe

Self-growth without a choice in how I present my self

I can’t

I have.

Scratch these newly formed scabs for I have lost my flair

writing words to recover

self-oppression lost out in the talent show of acquired skills

Recovery is heartbreaking.

Hoochie flavoured scent
sniff out trouble keeps me imprisoned

I look up -the window is clear still

Or perhaps my beliefs are outdated.

Murder with intent

disarm these emotions

strangers with a familiar stance

Physical appearance is my only strength?

How Naive a woman can be

One strip away from freedom

I claim a culture of sound

unification

Dance a tango inner peace with an outward serenity.

matching outfits

Silk lined hemmed skirts

embroidered letters spell out a movement of hope.

I’m one dancer

I’m one dissident

My possessions:
Passion

a fledgeling feather

& ink well
will deliver

A pregnant pause followed by a ward filled with the birth of more words

sentences will start to show

the labour of courage pushed out in its full placenta -reborn – free feathered fledgelings take flight

-A yoke is sky born

These are my words -maybe she wrote/ be happy or die trying.

archetype life-Septet

freedom to climb
ethos -act first worry later
indulge all cravings at any expense
fainting goat syndrome can occur
a phenomena
a goats life

be creative -Quinzaine

sounds words, pictures are a start
enough to express oneself`?
should I try?

 

Fear

FEAR

Is an aggressive Siamese fighting  fish
ninja like territorial guards what  it deems its possessions
intemperate seas
unable to recognise its own reflection.

 

Les Fleurs de mal

The willows have found Flowers of evil 😀

What better way to merge a post with my love of poetry & music with an experimental fondue such as this. If you love this track  (taken from Ciani’s Lixiviation album),  then you should definitely check out her debut EP  (2019

I’ve never heard of Suzanne  Ciani until today,  & I’ve not read much about Charles Baudelaire ( the controversial French poet) who produced the famous work ‘Elevation’.

Suzanne Ciani ( musician, composer, sound engineer, record label executive who predominantly creates Avante Garde electronic music.

If you are a fan of into Boards of Canada or Aphex  Twin this EP might just be what you need to hear today,.

Suzanne Ciani uses a (previously unheard) sample from one of Baudelaire’s 4th   part of his  Elevation works, ‘Fleurs de Mal’, in her new track.

This is the exact kind of stuff I love.out of chaos I find order ( depending on mood)

She has been compared to  the legendary Serge Gainsbourg ( another musician inspired by Charles Baudelaire’s  works)

The track  starts with the intro of Baudelaire’s ‘ELEVATION’   Check out the English translation at the end of this post)

Baudelaires ‘Elevation’ is  divided into 6 parts.

 Charles was seen as a  visionary and a  rebel of his time. Elevation has been quoted as contributing work to the symbolism & modernist movement in the early 1900s.  Charles was a  part of-of the symbolist movement in France.  depicting art metaphorically, using wordplay and allowing more fluidity in writing poetry.

YAY! POETRY doesn’t have to rhyme.

 This opened up a new platform for free verse poets.

They wished to present an object not as it appears in reality but how it affects the senses. This is the basic technique of most successful literary works known as ‘show don’t tell’.

Baudelaire also translated many of Edgar Allan Poes English works into French.

So what do flowers represent in symbolism?

Since ancient Greek times, they have represented peace and happiness in the afterlife &  of course, they are also often seen as a symbol of life & hope.

So what do the flowers of evils mean to Charles Baudelaire’s? From my Google search, He wasn’t s peaking of the feminine form.  Althoug he has referred to females as a dead animal carcass (as an example). Make of that what you will…

A metaphor – Ha ha! use all your senses not just your visual ones. mmh meat .

The closest meaning could be that even in beauty there is evil or ugliness or even sorrow and pain.

Either way, I love music, experimental works of art, flowers, symbolism, spoken word, the French language & taboo subjects like Erotism and decadence. Haha!

Above the ponds, above the valleys,
Mountains, woods, clouds, and seas,
Beyond the sun, beyond the heavens,
Beyond the confines of starry spheres,
My spirit, you roam with agility,
And, like a good swimmer bracing the waves,
You soar happilythe into profound immensity
With exquisite male delight.
Fly, far away from these noxious surroundings;
And cleanse yourself in the pure air above,
And drink, the clear fire that fills lucid spaces,
As you would a pure and divine liqueur.
Behind the nuisances, and the vast chagrins
Amassing with their weight our bewildering existence,
Happy is he who can with a vigorous wing
Propel towards the luminous and serene realms;
He whose thoughts, like larks,
Free, in the morning take flight,
— Hover over life, and understand with ease
The language of flowers and silent things!