https://youtu.be/diZEGYsAvJg I used to think my writing was ineligible maybe that was its charm. These days I write more concise cos a guy couldn’t take in more than 300 words of what I wrote. I detest this undercover cop writer fraud Its mind possesses my pen The daily dips in a stream in consciousness […]
Lazily, a tigeress snores into her paws . If only retiring was as simple to rule her inner world.
Curled up in warmth after a stroll into the big wide world,then settle for a quinquennium pause.
Her heart beats.
Nationalists- not even patriots are exempt.
All want to play in their own chord, tighten the strings ,she keeps it together, to satisfy their crucified minds.
In a state of constant – motionless movement.
If not an act of physicality -drill cumbersomely inside her cranium and you will see chemicals and synapses – making up fresh bricks and mortar, to fit in with the latest homemade yeast infused hootchie.
Glance away now, for fear of pitying an evocative attempt to get a rise from it.
Secret plots to charge this queen with treason.
Where will she live?
Her throne burnt to the ground to make way for a newly elected dopamine and serotonin scrupulous , democratic union.
Flags of self-belief – burned infringed – protecting her staked land was all this monarch tried to take into hand.
Defamation – character assassination.
Cloaked – in darkness- rat scuttles past – no pause – it already knows this violated prisoner is barren.
Scars and welts – a confession is sought after by the cardinal living east of the castle manor.
Employed only to instill courage when the most powerful empire seized a chance to escape into heritic souls howling in the wind.
Faith and Hope – not draft an erratic, purple, incensed dogmatic pope .
Dire retribution -execute the one who claims this state is her very birthright.
Clubbed to her knees – she will crawl not humbly- you shall hear her plea.
She wants to make them a better nation.
It’s her biggest exclamation.
Out plotted by her very own court – bribed by cheap whores-given away by the roughness of their hands, dressed up as expert courtesans, who clearly have seen at least one day of sun.
Intoxicated by some amorphous potion.
Formalyhde doused in cleaveaged lace dresses – it was not her initial notion.
A scented air of burning flesh
A greek tragedy indeed.
Scorned by her very owns subjects . She may be longitiduely dimintitive but she refuses to be bullied into showing them that wanted emotion.
Defeatist attitude does not a fit queen make.
Words in a precise order do not prize a piece of art,
so clearly a fake.
Forgiveness is her only weapon. She won’t see her country be overrun by zealous creachers.
It would appear her subjects wish to prove that she is illiterate.
Tortured, holding her breath under water to procure a confession – let her reiterate.
The crown is made to fit one head – It is symbolic and vaporizes with her when she exhales all energy and is varnished as dead.
Look how you’ve turned on one another – in the pursuit of power. It is a notorious illusion.
To master control over all subjects requires more than an iron-clad fist and an outraged dalliance to declare outright confusion.
recognition and honor are what she offers,
accept these as the wealthiest of gifts.
Only a fool would scream,
‘Off with her head‘ -a face full of sour lemons and a lust to frazzle the last tether.
The Noblest of causes – so much bloodshed – look into her bloody, vein threaded eyes.
She hasn’t slept for weeks in her fight, to appease all those in famine, hungry and underfed.
She needs no steering Regent to aid her in her duty.
All she demands is loyalty and valor.
With you all at her side ready to conquer life’s copious battles,
we shall not go down .
your hearts will not know the true grief inflicted made up of another community of arrows.
we shall not waiver.
Trust in your queen to walk as a stout cripple ,duty bound to protect and hold it all together.
I’d be letting myself down if I didn’t post about my Eating disorder or mental illness nor if I didn’t write about my body image issues.
I shouldn’t be alive. I’ve been in & out of hospitals sectioned, medicated, threatened with E.C.T. therapy, my Dad didn’t want to care for me & asked social services to get involved in my life. I had other family members who loved me more & didn’t think that is what families do to their children.
I am still alive (obviously). I wish that kids could learn about body image & emotional intelligence at school.
Body Image is the mental picture you have of your body. It includes attitudes and feelings about how you look & how you think other people see you.
Hosted by the Mental Health Foundation, Mental Health Awareness Week 2019 will take place from Monday 13 to Sunday 19 May 2019. The theme for 2019 is Body Image – how we think and feel about our bodies.
Body image issues can affect all of us at any age. During the week we will be publishing new research, considering some of the reasons why our body image can impact the way that we feel, campaigning for change and publishing practical tools.
My stepfather used to tell me I was fat & would eat sweets & cake in front of me. He was a bastard for many more reasons than that….
People with HEALTHY Body Image…
▪ Accept bodies come in different shapes and sizes. ( I accept that as long as it doesn’t affect me)
▪ Know there are good things about their bodies. ( sure- legs……….)
▪ Are comfortable with their bodies. (Most of the time I wish I could swap heads with someone for peace of mind)
▪ Are critical of the ‘ideal’ body seen in the media. (Yes
People with UNHEALTHY Body Image…
▪ May think a lot about how they see themselves or how they think others see them
▪ Maybe uncomfortable with their bodies. (I’m not shy just aware of it).
I found Sa Roc when I was going through another post-suicide blues.
I’m also inspired by her courage to talk about her own self harm & body issues
I dealt with feeling inadequate or less worthy because I didn’t fit conventional standards of what was considered beautiful,” Sa-Roc explains to HipHopDX. “There was also a lot of unexpressed anger and pain that I didn’t feel comfortable or courageous enough to share with my loved ones, so I took it out on myself.
I identified with her honesty & her strength, and her vulnerabilities.
Because she emcees about how much trauma she went through & thinks that as an artist she needs to empower women especially in the one-dimensional world we live on social media. She has her own style & doesn’t conform to any style but her own. She has a message. She wants other women to feel free & she wants to break the discrimination of men in the industry dismissing talented & credible female emcees.
People forget that women have been instrumental in Hip Hop since its inception,” she says. “Most of us are really familiar with the early male Hip Hop icons and pioneers, but women have been present and just as instrumental since the beginning. One of those women, who my name actually pays homage to, is Sha-Rock.
Her album is a personal inspection of how her experiences and childhood shaped her personal views.
Sa Roc is in a league of her own because she wants other women to feel empowered and to be self-defined on their terms.
I look to the past a lot.
And worry about the future.
I lived in other homes though I had a home.
I was lost.
I was dying.
I’ve looked to others for approval to my detriment.
I’ve turned away from people who put me down.
I’ve been fighting an eating disorder-Anorexia since I was 5 years old. It is a chronic illness & I have a Bipolar & Emotionally unstable Personality disorder too.
But I think I just had a very mixed up childhood & responded to trauma by turning on myself. I had a lot of love and a lot of craziness.
I love my family.
I’ve erased /dissociated from my memories of the past. I have huge gaping holes of cosmic proportions. I have blacked out so much.
I’ve been in many hospitals for suicide attempts mine or watched family close to me harm themselves others, Sectioned many times, I’ve been drugged by doctors, men, myself.
It doesn’t make me a victim. I know how hard I fight with my thoughts every second of the day.
I too live with my guilt
I have moments when I Think I’m worth it. 😉
I can’t seem to confirm. Even when I try……
I always get back up after getting knocked down.
Sa Roc is proud of her African heritage & she embraces it.
I am not a black African, I am a white South Africa. Lived there for many years.
I was from the pre & post-apartheid era. I mixed with as many cultures as I came across. There are many.
I’ve seen a lot of gun crime – had one pointed to my head, seen my mates owing money to drug dealers with guns, I’ve met diamond smugglers & nearly ended up dead. I almost lost my life to living with Niagarians. Attending to the bar & getting addicted very quickly. I’ve had Mandrax dealers set a dog on me. I’ve just seen a lot of guns. South Africa, yaar?
I have regrets ( I’m working to not dwell on them)
I dig the chorus cos it lends the tune a bit of soul.
I’ve starved myself physically, emotionally & spiritually
The chorus is like a mantra I sing to trick myself into believing a lot.
I love stars (even if they are dying)
I’ve self-harmed in so many ways -self-harm, knives, drugs, toxic people…
I was advised by my doctor & professionals to have an abortion in 2010. I regret my actions though I know I did the right thing.
I went on to have my daughter who will be 8 in October.
I’ve had many break downs and I’m still here.
I’ve fought many people & gained strong allies too.
I’m on a spiritual journey not religious.
My eating disorder consumes me.
I too don’t know what I would do if I could reverse time?
I have experienced a life that many people wouldn’t believe if I told them.
I’ve had gold teeth 😀
I love the drumming bit in 3.18 min ( What a #goatbah)
She’s got gumption.
Listen more………. 😀
Read in between the lines
A few years ago (when I was in college) I tried to make money & raise awareness of my eating disorder by sharing my story with a scrupulous magazine. ( many years ago) & all my words, my moms were distorted.
I was naive. Don’t buy into any one’s media hype if it makes you feel shit about yourself.
The article ended up pitting me & my Mom against one another.
I don’t believe my Mom made me anorexiC Be careful of what the media is doing and how it wants to portray people. Sensationalised bullshit.
First of all, I have never called my Mom – ‘mum’.
If they can twist words then they can make us want to look like people who don’t even exist.
I hate being skinny but I love the security it gives me.
I hate being hungry & I hate feeling full.
Nobody talks like this and these are not my written words!
I’m glad I wrote these words.
When you feel you’re hanging on the vine,
Remember- a seed push forth a mighty sign.
You must take the sunbeams and treasure what’s thine
Wild Kansas City is but one destination on the sign.
Take hope, light and lose the animosity,
for inside you, there is no monstrosity
Get caught speeding in high velocity.
It’s not a train smash — nor a catastrophe.
When you’re stuck in the middle of time.
Jump off the fence ‘cos that’s doing yourself a crime.
Don’t you let commoners think your words cannot define,
Your value, worth and dreams are not benign.
Take it from the apple tree
He allows fruit to aid in his victory.
Oh don’t, hide like a willow tree
Cry, but remember you have a destiny.
Everything will start to — lookup — allow the clouds to throw some shapes.
Open them wide , mind expand — understand the lessons from life’s true greats.
You’re already one them-slightly chipped — still most valuable of porcelain plates.
Never doubt what you can do — take a leaf from natures golden ratio
You radiate when you guide the fates.
Lets’ lasso this up and keep your spirit wild
Grow tall — never lose your inner child.
A silly poem to spread to the crowd
Accept her quirks — light-hearted, silly sap — never lose a day when she has smiled.
*I Iwas inspired by the song ‘This little light of mine’. live, love, don’t hold as grudge. Remain true to who you are and you won’t stand alone for long.
Girl bets he weren’t always so plastic.
Fell deep into a pool of eyes that hinted at a heart full of fantastic .
The world is now a bit colder.
Sun shines even a little bolder .
Don’t know why son pushed away the great play to his heart when it only allowed the room temperature to stagnate into a cancerous cadaver
now 30 years older.
Harsh cold facts .
Perspective bound by smaller minds clouded in a haze of toxic, inner house attacks.
Girl weeps to know two doors down
son and mother abuse each other.
We were all once innocent.
We all grow up to the reality of life.
We all make mistakes .
Son hides behind a pointed finger for a cover
to save face from only himself.
not even the one he now calls his true blood brother.
walls whisper inferior
by the son
Girl bets he wasn’t always so plastic.
How many more years is he gonna carry on sucking lemons?
sitting on a pedestal of empty cans
spitting out condescending pips and belittled bits?
A hard,long way to fall
Always taking the moral high ground.
Amongst the smudges of smugness
girl saw a glimmer of his original fantastic.
Lines crossed – militant gas -lighting to the ones on a lost path.
Characters don’t need to be shouted down at.
raise son’s ego so he can live amongst the Olympian Gods;
Devastation – pride miseducation
can be the only aftermath.
Girl weeps – reasoned with her heart – trouble found her passing inappropriate affection.
This time she won’t carry the burden when she floundered in son’s manipulation and rejection.
Players play a part.
Games lose all fun when the son only sees people he can step on
Heighten an evoking, abstract canvas.
Draw out a new horizon.
A disappointed son
finds he has exhausted all misaligned souls of their energy.
Turns up the abuse and sticks a knife into a beating , drumming heart.
overflows the space with shades of reds and blue hues.
Trurh be told.
It’s better to have everything to lose and still walk tall with purpose
live an inebriated lie.
Hoaxing folk with a demeanour of nothing to lose.
Eventually,we all have to play our cards.
suffer the consequences of our enacted desires.
Girl weeps for the carbon copy spirits
consciously conscious of losing sense of all self .
Grab a hoe
dig for more dirt to throw on misplaced bodies
already buried vertically .
son’s light gets dimmer.
The deities stole their fire back.
Girl bets he weren’t always so plastic .
Spinning dog – hounding smaller animals with greater spirits.
Poacher trophy show case
in a house of broken doors,overflowing ashtrays, side way glances.
Specks of dry spit spewed from another night screaming in an accusatory fit.
Close the curtains on the yo yo man – the son that once shone vivid, in the coat of arms, bearing fantastic.
I followed a trail
To rock with scurvy emotions inside of me.
Don’t know what to expect.
All the rage, ignorance, silence
bleaches the promise of a future sapling tree.
Astrology says we have a Destiny, and there’s apart
Who revels in the nostalgic quest within me.
Why do I shirk off those who encourage my rays to reflect outwards?
Why do I seek out on my impulses, toxins to detract from my light?
Keep me from growing into a burst of melody I can shout out to the cowards.
Confidence issues get the best of me
it’s just all about
It isn’t-it’s also about my husband , my Bella bee.
When I enunciated my vows last June-what a chirrupy day.
I didn’t have a clue what commitment to another meant
That I would be required to stop mid-flight and stay.
Stagnant breathe, I cry out for security
Inside it’s all I’ve needed to explode into full maturity.
I write aplenty about letting go
The rage, the ability to let it stop over analysing my creative flow.
Seeking out what exactly?
Roses thrown at my feet every hour?
In case I forget in my self and believe I am merely dour.
I crave a prism of connection and escapism.
All I want is to answer my own question.
What is my purpose?
The birds murmur in their usual stanza of cursive.
Have I ever learnt the language of civility?
Emotions have tripped me over
Surprised to appraise the sky admiringly
I’m chasing after the elusive high
Frequent in multiple forms.
Sometimes a shape in a human form of fungi 😉
sigh, me and my warped sense of humour
Desperately trying to prover I need a holiday under my current demeanour.
the rage inside is never quelled .
I write and I write yet the tears continue to overspill.
Reticent to see what is standing in front of me
I look up
and despite the majestic scenery,
I feel the weight of my guilt-dissecting me into bits to use as flotsam at sea.
One small town to the next
Happiness is a state of mind
Not some hidden idealist.
A paradox of uncertainty
Believe in me-
The true person outside of my physicality.
I’m not stating I’m beautiful or full of grace.
I do believe I am unique .
This is more than a hope or a whim.
I don’t see absolute distaste when I glance at my face.
The simple moments, the words , the memories that won’t hold on.
I have a purpose-some path to walk without feeling triste
Emotional depths descend into an abyss — it ranks.
I adore the ocean , I hate that I need technology to breathe in, and gasp.
I’m not a shipwreck lying on the floor who gave up and sank.
I’ve learnt how to swim and fight,
For what its worth.
What do I want with this life-streaked , woven into nature’s tapestry?
Here, little bird, come closer unlock the coded language that will show this mystery is more than a pyscho spieling diatribe of empty soliloquised solecisms
Heart stammers .
Side by side a pack of soulless zombies.
*only you can decide which oddities are worth keeping or eliminating some most definitely are worth keeping- the ones that make you feel alive keep- the ones that make you feel ugly and insignificant -discard*
TIP FOR A SENSE OF EMPOWERMENT:
Bonjour tristesse, I leave you without a second glance.
6hours to go until a new dawn greets me with its fiery dance.
No amount of Moons ago, could I foresaw this trip to such a bodacious planet.
Lavender dreams interrupted by the need for a bubble bath to cleanse my soul,
enrich my palate.
How it leaves me in stark clarity,
other daisies grow wildly in meadows.
2 am cleanse off- eliminate others’ unwanted worries and troubles.
Herbal tea infusions – a meet up with friends who know about life’s true haggles.
Comments intended to cut to the core.
Manage to lick-up one salty tear
begging for more.
A soul is awoken when it faces all directions.
Never blind yet always courageous to evoke dear affections.
Common goals shared by trolls made by the same finger pointing corporation
Pity those who continue to live not a decade but over half a century in miserable devastation.
Hot water filling a tub – a sauna to enlight.
You are “divorced”, a drama queen, I only wanted a shag.
It tickled your delight to dangle carrots when I was newly married
you are most certifiably unbecoming the state of inner jihad.
I’m having fun acting in a workshop.
That accent is dreadful I can sign you up for
electrocution elocution lessons.
Don’t mind me having a gas- the whole purpose of improvisation is to get involved.
Don’t use me as a pawn for fear of being put under your harsh self-imposed scrutiny.
You are ugly.
the biggest topic under dissection in a house full of self-confessed millionaires.
All those beatings, and Sangria holiday hangovers yet,
still, no permanent fix for happiness to last longer than a child’s joy at the penultimate of funfairs.
Three perfect lessons in all that is wrong not with me, but with others,
who can’t equate strength alongside vulnerability.
How can it be true that the two run side by side like rivers?
merging into one ocean of clear waters.
Confucianism arise in accountability.
No one can possess opposing characteristics!
She does not conform to why we hate her
so, now we must turn up the gas lighter
justify our vexes and vehemence to assure we are credible witnesses, to attest, this Red lettered calamity remains hidden,
In dead carcasses.
we shall honor you and remain her loyal Foe.
A few written words, at an ungodly hour.
I’ve never been one to conform to another with power.
Time is up, my bath tub is run.
Imagine it freestanding.
careless in an era where it is encouraged to be eccentrically unique. cartwheeling in a quest to not only live and work hard,
remember to have fun.
*inspired by toxic people.
Daisy, how can you just assume it’s other people who are toxic and not you?
Well, I say it takes one to know one.
I know how to be toxic, I’ve been toxic and I know how it feels to live away from toxic vibes and people. *
Every door closes on him.
Preying on vulnerable open wounds -healing will never begin.
Investigate those eyes before committing to a reprise.
Listening to melodies – Sirens come with mixed genitalia -long hair is but one disguise.
take a ruler to the heart – measure the worth of sufferance again.
Sever the connection – scatter archaic ashes in rivers – imposing artificial zen.
Follow your path. Look at how far you have climbed.
Never forget the struggle of clinging onto that mountain – raging, over-imbibed.
How many tears must you swallow before realizing he only wants you to taste his edifice?
He will spin webs of verse -words veiled in lust just to share his murderous impotent vice.
Remember the reality – the aftershock of his insults.
Remember the silence- the disrespect – the calculated spasmodic my mind has no google map whereabouts
This is a wake-up call – a reminder – It is not just you- he has chosen in an attempt to toast with a contrived roast.
He suffers from genuflecting self-esteem issues that cause the desertion of Hells own residential ghosts.
You and he are not alike.
You and he are not alike.
You and he are not alike.
You have a mind that looks for the good- seeks to find friendship without shame.
He has a mind that will convince you are ruined to think two genders can reasonably rhyme or mime without the bane of another unfulfilled echo of ‘I just came’
Take this negative,
filter out all color from this overspeeding thought.
Look at the skeletons – black and white – bones tell the history of those who he tried to thwart.
He’s alone for reasons he alone can only answer for.
Keep hold of your bright light for those who offer you a light when they sense a dull veil surround your core.
Gentle men and women don’t give ultimatums laced with sexual innuendos.
Sing this kumbaya to those ready for climatic conscription conditioning,
volumize the colony of desperados.
*dedicated to all the toxic pricks I’ve ever met. You taught me how to recognize your kind well. Namaste*
I’m taking back my power.
I’ve got my ammo and my gun powder.
I’m not going to use it cos I’m more of a peace than a ‘fuck you -let’s bomb you to oblivion’ type of person.
I have realised that to allow someone who thinks nothing about me to have so much power to lure me into a paralysed state of persuasive perversion is:
True insanity. I have my true penny and that is what counts.
I pushed him away like a woman under attack – I pushed my lot away – until it formed blood clots on the insides – comparably sized to mounting a herd of elephants.
unwilling to be ridden- trunks raised up, irate – exploding in shouts.
I started to talk about what goes on in my head and my true penny told me that we all makeup scenarios in our minds, to make sense of the lives and situations we come across, in this world of an uncertain, never-ending skyline.
I thought I was losing it.
I thought I was obsessed.
Turns out my brain works out my issues based on characters and story lines and other shenanigans.
Crazy? maybe but creativity strokes the beat with a brush – I feel there is almost a genius to be found walking on this fine line.
Swastikas and Reds are not my idea of interior decorating.
Tearing down my walls.
One little Nazi’s thought is not going to make me come down to that kind of level.
I have my life.
I am the queen of my disco.
I have retro roller skates on .
The sun is my Disco ball. I’m on the rooftop, in the light-beaming under the rays.
Not hiding in the dark, under the influence,an imposter.
A star that can’t twinkle, dishevelled – so shady – a back turns away – It’s the one known as the blue devil.
We are on two separate paths – I notice the screams of a shaken baby.
A rattle spins across the floor – Dummy dribbled with garbled spit.
I guess mommy is right when she says: ‘You always want what you can’t have’
It’s not infatuation, love or anything like that – This baby is having a tantrum – she didn’t get what she wanted .
She didn’t even get a maybe.
I’m done slithering on my belly across damp floors. Waiting for the next Gestapo, soot-stained boot to squelch me.
Turn out my guts until, all you can see is the insides of me- a sore sight of limacine.
Phantom limb syndrome – I am back from the war of past, oppressive obsession.
Nightmares were all I had to grieve over.
I didn’t lose any limbs. Only my inner self- belief .
I’m a china teapot lady – I’m done trying to find happiness in a person who happily lives life drinking out of cups made of polystyrene .
The present is my greatest gift. I’m not wasting another second wishing on dreams that we can be friends.
My heart is my greatest ally and foe. It makes me work.
Dwarves getting their hoes to do all the work – chasing fairy dust , axe- picking fights with one another, to grow in a place under a roof of artificial light.
Genuine and melodic – true light – mountain breeze is the only place I will find a place to atone.
To make amends.
Let it go and go with the flow
I stand before the world smiling – unashamed – this is my show.
SHOUT OUTS AND AWARD NOMINATATONS TO FOLLOW