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.
Too much so dispense
Emotions ladled with cheerios
Not fun when rotund escapees flee from the nick.
Allow inner self respect to dictate your tone.
I can write.
It’s a ‘happening’ .
I’m not doing this out of lust or hate.
Per chance,I did go to heaven or indeed another similar place-
14 hours unconscious and not one recollection — not even my mother thumbing rosary beads
A doctor shakes his head
This patient is not good. prepare yourself, Madre
Rely on myself. Thanks fam for keeping me in Santa’s good books.
I’m already a well established drama telethon.
Damn I don’t need extra baggage-unless I can pay for it.
Even then should you allow me to?
Excess mass – Ovid thinks I’m Italian.
I fell off that mountain – Artemis mouthed out the word,
Yeah that is a fact.
12 Caesars rendered him an asylum seeker in religious scriptures.
Buck a wheat
mind your feet.
I’ve stopped caring.
I care enough to share my time, my belongings even..
I’ve stopped crying over boys sti growing into men
who provoke Life to ankle bite at 11th hour on the clock face
Solemn how it stare.
Routine attacks-skin rendered ready for a dose of reupholstery.
I do care.
I am kind.
I’m immune to people and places that hold me as a
syndronised Swedish ball,
slurpie, slush puppy.
Made in Stockholm.
Rhese are justwords,
it’s not about defining what this is or isn’t.
Conversations are a top way to parlez vous
Chapeaux -we have come to untether my very end.
If you don’t feel a vibe speak not in tongues or a form of verbose
I’m not one for stuttering.
I guess I’m fickle too
I thought I fell harder way more than I have.
What does love for a soul mate feel like?
Two hands framed by a scarf around a neck?
Blue Smurfette isn’t down on my list of taboos to do.
A few words…
Keep talking ,
keep laughing ,
Whatever you do — sweet heart — remember to stay true to you.
Yes, love — number one.
I’ve got you .
The calm before the storm.
I break my fast musing over my odds of being crazier than the norm.
— Brain sensory overload — the cranium structure is deceiving in its form.
The third eye lazily flickers in a state of REM.
an attempt to channel my inner chakra.
I’ve resorted to stick-on Googly eyes to play the part of spiritualist guru, sipping on high tea, to awaken my inner rapture.
Dear Goddess Kali, can you save me from the howling winds?
The mooing cows spinning around me
moaning gutturally for their new fateful flight as fledgelings?
My Glasshouse shatters into a myriad of snow flaked, razor-sharp, jagged pieces.
unable to repair the damage.
Take a searing hot iron to my face to smooth out the grimace in my features.
Sacerdotal screams interrupt the night — another man stolen from his lullaby.
brazen in their efforts to destroy,
my favourite playlist titled: sweet dreams.
behind the thousands of words, I’ve ploughed through with oars
Where will I be?
Will I have sailed?
Will I capsize?
Will I have the ability to walk?
Will I be a cripple, dragging myself by the elbows under a storm pelted bleached , grainy beach?
The Temptations won’t knock
They will saunter in.
Oh, it’s to be expected.
I refuse to fall to my knees
swearing my allegiance to make another man’s family richer
Than see mine indicted.
I’d sooner sit on a floor, covered in colours of paint and corners lit with the smiles of my loves.
I’d sooner watch paint dry or read a screenplay loosely based on what I know about when life comes to rouse me with rough pushes or shoves.
Elements balance my kinetic,
complex feelings of despair.
Change comes with a promise.
Fear comes with very little solace.
Motion to a new position –
don’t cower from success
It might even suit your current attire and inner prowess.
My time to deliver.
Get my due.
For me and my few.
My kind words are still here and my support?
I have some to spare.
I won’t waste it on those who don’t reciprocate
The err is but their own.
Chosen to remain frozen-staring down a hall of, pale, mirrored self-reflection.
unable to see
they are not the only ones
in need of encouragement or care.
I swill down the remnants of this blessed day with a bitter tea.
I clamour to suppress my applause.
I catch out the dawn rising with a yawn unashamed ,gloriously
I’m no longer afraid to be the lunatic.
I’ve seen the powers of nature.
Forces of rage.
still, waters run deep.
This insanity is something I hold dear to me-
The great mother gave it to me-
I will set with the sun
It’s my duty to consummate all that is sacred.
Revised stream of consciousness — borderline poetry.
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.