Blog Archives

It’s not dementia

Some folk say I speak too much

I say that’s rich.

 

I’m not even 40 years old & my bones are crumbling

Hind sights a bitch

Hell – a sight so unappealing

it brings me out in an itch

A rash of nervous eczema.

 

Today is my first adventure

with my partial denture

Like life, it’s only temporary

at least I’m not doing time in a state penitentiary

 

I can’t speak

this foreign object prevents me from talking

properly

 

The older I get I realise how naive I was to forget

that my mind is my greatest asset

 

Body, I love you

Looks? you’ll do

I’m yet to find perfection

I’ve almost given up on the pursuit of it

boohoo

 

What is beauty?

Judge we do under a unique hue.

 

Age has its wicked way with us all eventually

I’ll never let go of my character to laugh, be stubborn

go against all adversity

 

No, I  still won’t conform

The shy girl will not come out to perform

 

Inside my pride has been wrenched out of me

And I laugh at the old me

I laugh cos we are so beautiful

We just can’t see what others never fail to see.

You starring yourself

titled  ‘back in reality ‘.

 

These few words are my words

Write to recover

or die living the life of another

I disappoint your heart everyday.

I rape it copiously

Hope you  won’t wake up.

Its better to get fucked over if you are asleep or slightly disorderly .

I don’t know why I am this way

muster the audacity to pretend life is Gaye

I wonder why I’m still alive,

and the I look into the eyes do my cherub sent from the royal family of storks

She and my tabby are my family.

my heart beats-disorderly but it tangos  to their bars to be free.

 

DAISY UPDATE:

I’m trying to live with a bit of weight I have gained. I hate this medication – deposit injections in the ass are primitive. 

Still divorced -still fighting to have my voice heard and to live creatively 

Old soul

OTHER WORDLY .

Unfathomable to relate how a portrait of an unaffected cherub

mirrors

a forgotten dimension to

the paradigm LONER.

PENSIVE – angelic eyes

unfreeze momentarily — expressions animate the oil painted canvass.

Voice barely audible -mouths out to me

who is this new persona?

bBlood of my labour sworn to tell the gospal TRUTH.

Astonished -wrinkles crease — at time ‘s wilfulness to penetrate her innocence—

She’s not looking back at her youth.

BULLIED

The cycle continues-

Elders blame the outsider for a lack of faith in conventional —Spirituality.

ELDER peers down through a intoxicating incensed haze.

Measures me up.

squares me up.

On humble grounds

I stand a full head above her broad shoulders.

Closer to her divine maker

pious prayers hail down

the blame game

the name game.

Torured soul seeker

Scarpers for the licks of hell’s flames.

trips over underwood

poltergeists log a strategic placed guilt ambush

rotting the core of this circle of life’s CONTINUITY.

AUTHORITY ISSUES.

time will decide whether we are cosmic twins born 3 decades APART.

this is her descent  to destiny .

roughly sketched into this world-

pallid , charcoal smudged into silence.

An artist confronted with his frailty to conceive life.

Mourns the leftover clots of a being.

Miscariage – remnants of nurture -a mere puddle of blood outlining his corrosive flaw.

A splattering of colours, tears stained by remorse.

a howl of def toned melancholy

The artist sips a cup of penny total tea.

recomposed.

A sighed relief-

she has -AWAKENED.

ALONE – – is she fated too?

-The rebels never conforms

Transience

Stricken by the awareness of my own

MORTALITY.

 INQUISITIVE betrayed by her translucence

frown rouges her cheeks in introspection.

familiar strange words

Alienation effect prompts a impulsive turn around

the past

curses

damning this  loner to truly see.

An epiphany of divine INSIGHT

UNDER or OVER ACHIEVER perfection adorned with feathers of liberty –

don’t try please anyone!

A storm intervenes obscuring the BIGGER PICTURE-

Save that energy

for life

is a gift and

It’s your greatest fight.

RESPONSIBLE for so much — tempted by earths seasonal affective disorder

why does she have to be mortal?

Wings hook into shoulder blades

Reduced to a puppet attached by silver linings.

arial view-

panoramic

circular murmuration

obsessive.

Eyes strain ,blood shot.

Wind exhales mustard peppered vapours

orchestrating sight to follow a new PERSPECTIVE.

WISDOM revealed by the crooked halo’d questions

glitterer

shimmers her every inflection.

the yearn of experience — to keep heavens babe toothless , unaware of the survival evolution taking place

Within.

TENACIOUS – I overlook her every smile

from above

stitched up my heart

remains

the scape goat

the seeker.

until a moment forces me to find a burial ground

Unwillingly close my eyes –

the universe screeches –velocity erases all time.

Formless parts full up spaces amongst the dirt.

await for these settlers to wipe all memory from this life.

Old souls never alone for eternity.

We have one another to rise above our hurt.

knowledge is power, wisdom is happiness and truth is freedom