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LUCIDA

The need in me is to create. What?
Anything – it is all up for debate.
I’ve been away far too long from my usual stream of conscious ramblings.
Doing important, official work in the real world. I don’t mind but my urge to write ding dongs in my head like Big Ben , pinching at my nerves like little crablings.
Walk sideways, it’s fun .I don’t mind. To not feel able to put thought to paper is a pain that lunges at me with pincers.
Threatens to cut, alter my composite chemistry that aids my synapses to hop from one tufty cloud to the next .
I’ve fallen off this heady tuft of higher ground. Landed in a dank, damp, dark marshy bog – I look around me and I see my only flight back home is sinking in the mud.
Oh, see how much I have wept.
Humpty dumpty had a far easier break. I’m burning up – I’m spilling out my innards from every orifice. I’m burning up a fever, tactile sensations- uncomfortably scrambled.
If I could just sit up and inhale a breath. I’m tired.
Tired.
I am sick of heading for the routine spine bash.
Dreary Dystopic drones in uniform hedge all around me.
I know I am ambushed.
Spare this loaf. Save some for later . Don’t be Greedy.
We all need some form of energy to buzz us into a land of fantasy.
This existence is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Necessary to be a part of, I agree .
I need to chill-out. Don’t you see?
I have to have an outlet – that allows me to just, Let me be me!
I promise I won’t hide from my civic duty. You don’t need to contain me in a fryer with other slices of chips off the old block.
I am patriotic.
I understand my need to be part of the solution.
Eyes rise up to the skies- Pink tufts, hues colour me in , a chance for wizardry to occur. I promise I won’t become unwell again .
I won’t lose myself entirely that I become an invalid to humanities true cause. Resolve for my Absolution!
Before you take that roller pin to my head. I’m already malleable – ready to rise . See how blanched I am – covered in fine ,white, earthly grounded flour.
See, look! Pat me down.
Check my left pocket.
A quill.
Check my right pocket.
ink .
Together I can re write this story – or create a captivating ending for everyone – I can whisk you away from a life so dour and sour.
Temporarily of course. Just for a fleeting moment – I can change your wooden hearts and make them beat again.
Feel, breathe.
You can be Lucida.
Fetch me that parchment – just by that oak tree. Three combined ingredients are all that we need.
No dark spells. My intentions are pure.
My need is to make you see an alternative style of Living – a tiny bit clearer.
Imagination does get rusty when we don’t use it.
We can use some of that oil from the this-worldly fryer to lubricate , intoxicate.
Envision any place you want to go that feeds into your happiness
How do you want me to start?
Once upon a time, we abandoned our traditional milieu to head to a place, where we all could flex our buns in a manner of straight out wackiness.
I have my cure!

Sunny disposition’s shadow.

 

Harried. Hurried. Life pulls me into its vortex.
Tears drip, sealing up presents protected in pink wrapping paper.
She is growing too old, too quickly . Nauseating -left sickly.
Guilt erodes my cavernous mind -echoes dart all around.
So triste. If only I could plug in a pair of earphones so you can hear my heart’s melody- a melancholic cacophony of unequal distributed sound.
Courage,
bravery.
A new day and it’s time to celebrate.
Cake and food and balloons to check off the list.
Snacks, goats cheese quiche. They don’t do a version called hashish.
Khaleef.
Relief.
Slide my cell phone out, to check how many miles I’ve clocked on my fitness app. Gravity does an honourable job of conforming to what I’ve been told it should do when my phone disconnects from my hand.
Shattered glass. I scream:
No, not the screen!
Smoke ablaze, allow me to atone for my karmic debt. Soul let me be clean.
God theory – Spiritual . Analytical – my faith is still reciprocal.
Hope to make a punch in the fruit aisle. Grapes ,peaches, grab a sack of bananas.
The educated children won’t remember the birthday girl if we don’t get 22 packets of individually wrapped Haribo sweets for them to take home.
Sugar rush -sweeten the crush . No huge party – with a whole class invited to practice nurse and doctors with up to date human body scanners.
Time.
Pressure.
Stress.
Masters of writing .Deadlines.
Party time or Mommy will get stuck with the craziest fine.

Sunshine?
Rain – divine. Only when wrapped up in a duvet in my precious bed – liken it to someone’s favourite merlot wine.
Bus. Wind. Howling and scowling. A face – a perfect reflection of the weather.
Dentistry. High priority. Teeth fixed.
Smile and show off your invisible vulnerability.
Pictures dating back to the 1920’s – Man with 1000’s of vintage cameras has a hobby, he can unfreeze time and develop older pictures into negatives. It’s all about integrity.
Pass them down to your future generations – remember those who came before us. The ones we inherited our addictions, maledictions.
Nose catches a whiff- a sense of a DNA code .
Imagination.
Frozen Snapshot!
Talking to myself -creating characters in a place of puffed up, cloudy mindfulness. Not so sure that inherited genes fall under the category of serious afflictions.
Not crazy perhaps a mere case of unharnessed creativity.
What is so wrong with riding on an elated bull of mimicry?
Smokescreen – less hazy. £100 bill to fix my technological , grave -sadistic error in clumsiness.
PC world.
Would you rather pay £1000 for a new mac laptop or £49 ?
Ex-navy man, stop skirting around the gravy line, drop it on me like an anchor. In my world money is your pay packet. All I have is a sense of running out of time.
Rabbits are late. Missed the date , bounced cheque couldn’t secure my delivery bundle, all inclusive with the hottest corporate communication and logistics stork delivery enterprise.
Maybe next year I will miss the pill.
Phones for you.
For me?
For you!
Warranty does not cover intoxicated phones.
Why did you have to get giddy and go bonkers at the mention of a few smartie infused cocktails, for a party happening at 4pm ?
This is festive stuffing prepped for nightmares. 1000’s of drones willing to commit mass suicide – I don’t think bee heaven has parties streamed with foam slides and glow in the dark stick tones.
Deaf – no jam.
Talking in my ear. Three wise men chasing a star .
All I need is one competent man.
Pass me a fan. English turns into piggish.
Yes, the laptop is exactly what I need.
Writer? -one of the things I do.
Student debt. This mute starts to laugh .
Their bombastic moves to persuade me leaves me with the taste of lead. I’m tempted to walk out of here as a woman converted to the Amish.
My specs are more concerned with software.
Microsoft,
SoundCloud.
Insurance?
Don’t make me use my collateral.
Figures ruminating around my mind – 400 – 500.
Add-ons.
More fad songs.
Inside, Hurricane Matthew remnants rattle Mount cranium. Hurtling through the air – a cow passes by me in flight, with a courteous: moo.
This is my despair.
The carefree and serene look is the only bargain I am looking for.
Time is zig zagging up behind me in crocodile form. He has that tick-tocking swag -his tail -swish swashes-ear drums deafened.
Momentary paralysis.
Mentally confused.
Mindstate? Ready to light the cannon ball.
Scream: terrorist.
I am that bemused.
I will give you £60 worth of Morrisons grocery shopping if you stop selling to a seller – trying to service a servicer
Yadda yadda yadda. Green is grasser.
Too much fodder . Where’s the verbal shredder?
Noise pollution.
Recycle your position.
You can choose to not tick: employment occupation – Ass wiper.
Sit down. Take it all in. Funds ready to transfer. Card amped to stick it in and spread that green cum from within.
No protection.
Dirty laundering.
Hand wash only.
I’m thinking my accepted friend V has an addiction .
I satisfied him last night. Friends do that caring thing.

All week I have had him in and out. He doesn’t even remember most of his hits.
I spent most of Wednesday washing out bloody sheets, stained with a not so virginal hole.
Sinful statement – let’s sing a hymn for her cheery soul.
Disease seems not far from our midst.
I need to contain it and stop passing it on and encouraging sharing.
Vee – I don’t want to lose you to a pair of sharp tools.
Poodle-haired lady bitch behind me – tit tittering.
Leave empty-handed. Priorities in order.
Not High street fashionable but then again I have always been drawn to disorder.
Time to leave consumer society.
I’ve already taken a shot to the shoulder with over a hundred pound bill.
Narcotic.
Alcohol arises from its slumber. Coughing,cunning and conniving.
Remember next Thursday. All day Workshops on how to handle stress, delivered to four back to back classes of teens in year 10.
Safety zone. A place I have to call my own.
Rant. communicate.
SURPRISE!
Look at her face – full of delight. Illuminati – unbelievers.

Esther Roe

Charlie met Esther on abortionist row.

Hedges neatly trimmed – enough to dishevel a bearded vagabond to weep after his latest woe.

No coat hangers to gut the newborn sac.
Charlie stood for hours until her number came up.

Raging
rouge screams with a tremulous beep.

Surreal
Conceal
Unable
to strike the star lead role in a Bollywood film deal.

Unsullied arrived in a cumulus cloud stricken by a thunderous compulsion to wail.

Esther didn’t hear the bond lust, lilted scream.
Memory hazed -by two fat ladies at gate number 8.
Efforts disarmed – the inability to count down to the primal odd.

Nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth. Envy immobilised to an unrecalled dream.

 

Innocents smile swinging on tyres.

Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumberless nightmare  loses credibility to a sterile clinic

Action paralysing every unconscious scene.

Stratham, London. the  Knight defends to keep watch.

Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defibrillator harmonizing jolts to the melody of

‘ Staying alive ‘

Old granny hoovers up flowers choking on an ivy patterned carpet.

Mist of lavender lingers.

This bitch knows how to spray.

Don’t mess with this O.G.

Peppered, seasoned hair, non-linear lines carve out a facial narrative.

Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.

Inebriated illiterate desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel Cluedo.

It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know…..

 

Scissors aimed

ready

to

stab

a beating heart

 

Positioned in foetal

Sucked out the uterus.

 

Pro-choice.

Pro voice.

Pro-life.

Pro midwife.

Tall walls

Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.

Fiercely scrutinized is the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideas can afford her.

Quality control.
The NHS paid for a private eye.

Two signatures deemed sufficient to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.

Shameless in her deflowered disguise.

Ginger nuts, unsavoury tufts.

No, this wasn’t her nine month due – no ice cubes for killing in the name of freedom to govern her own vessel.

No need for pro-life Stepford wives lies.

Sins anoint.
Sins accumulate.

Where would our saints stand without a dissident at hand?

Society sits down, protest proudly.
Part the veil of clouds
Peer piously downwards,

ready to strike thunderbolts of judgement.

 

Rain down booming terror tactics.
Esther cares not for their gospel band.
Society sips, exhaling wafts of fair trade Ivory coast coffee beans.
Privilege smells of a modern holocaust of starving babies in bony mothers arms.

Who said any of these women consented to consummate?
Penetrative obedience to the phallic statues erected in morning glory psalms.

Civilized society!

What if God was one of us?

a scripture in the making.-

Touch and kiss the sky.

Would he become the true reflection we see, when we catch ourselves about to exhale the final breathe before we die?

Fantasies always signed off with a silver lining and promises of a rainbow.

Reality is cold,

winter serves a plateau of ice.
Frigid flowers are frozen in angst
Shatter like glass.
Rebel against their reproductive nature.
Air.
breathe.
One full gasp.

If only a mere raspy rant leaves on its depart.
It’s either them or an urban jungle of homo sapiens collecting another free day ride.

Ready to infect ignorance on every global ocean that has shows we all go out at low tide.

Rebirth!

JUST

ICE.

Everybody’s got to hear the shit on FM willows call!

Stumped hand makes it arduous to know what to write about.

These are my words

She’s must be  a fraud. Disconnected to this world

a caricature of a  human.

 

An imposter  civilian of society – a living entity to her dismay incapacited  to disappear

permanently.

 

always chased  back in this race -the rush

It’s  marathon pace she detests 

 

Ravenous

Cream crackered

Loafin about

 

The  First in line to devour   the  despo’s discarded crusts.

Her washed out  hat mirrors

Her bottom lip

waxen

Scrutinizing the clouds wafting by.

 

Human puppets strung up

Wooden  ideals

Generic.

Stereo types

 

 

A

Mother

A woman

A lover

A thinker

A doe-or,

A reason to  carry on the charade?

 

 

Compelled by the  hypnotic pull pulsating with a love song  serenading  the humanity of  heart.

propaganda tree

Random reflections.

We shouldn’t be afraid to reach our full potential in life and blossom. Yet we do. Are we so scared of decay and rot and to be forgotten? 

Seems that way.

We must not fight what and whom we were born to be. 

Why do I have to pick the one tree that I love, over all the other ones, that is only with us briefly?

A blossom tree

 

I wanted to get married under one. There is something so ethereal about them when I see them at the height of their beauty.

Falling petals.

The moment they seem most exquisite is when they are closer to death than life.

I see the beauty in death.

I see the beauty in life.

I researched what the Blossom tree has been used for as a symbol.

In Japan, in world war 2,

It became the symbol of patriotism to the Japanese people.

They too see how fleeting life is. All the more to live it with great deep breaths and with as much gusto and energy as one can.

LIVE!

 

What does piss me off is the propaganda the government spread around beliefs of the blossom tree.

As poetic as it sounds: It is said that people were encouraged to believe that when the souls of warriors died, they came back as blossom flowers.

A lovely notion but this is on a par with Roman rhetoric. It is a manipulation and I hate seeing the words – Nature and manipulation standing together.

But can the two exist without the other?

I think, let flowers live and be what they are.

Let us humans live and be what we are.

Humans with a  heightened awareness of the fragility of life,

are the ones that put the humane inhumaneness.

We don’t need to be any other but ourselves to stand out and be beautiful.

Look how magnificent we look when we coexist with nature.

Appreciate what we have today.

Our beauty in all its manifestations from the second we shine never leaves us -not even in physical death.

Yes.

It does transform.

Transformation is not a bad thing.

Revel in each one.

 

I

Always closer to death but rocking the Wabi-Sabi philosophy.

“Wabi-sabi reminds us that we are all transient beings on this planet—that our bodies, as well as the material world around us, are in the process of returning to dust.

Nature’s cycles of growth, decay, and erosion are embodied in frayed edges, rust, liver spots. Through wabi-sabi, we learn to embrace both the glory and the melancholy found in these marks of passing time.”

http://www.utne.com/mind-and-body/wabi-sabi.aspx

Beautiful because I am withered.

One element of me

  First appearances people see the peak of an iceberg
I’m frosty, aloof and alas, on occasion I am mean.
                                   GRRRRRRR.

If a person wishes to explore more of my make up they’ll find layered depths of frenetic intensity.
I have secrets of a history spanning over decades often feeling I’ve lived for centuries.
Am I immortal?
I’m merely human, don’t you see?

Occasionally, my demeanour melts at the sight of past enemies.
I’ve learned to be durable
Have the strength to endure a life span of over three decades.
An incredible feat, don’t you agree?

When poorly I’m cold
Under the sunshine, I bask in the glory
Honoured to feel;
Honoured to acknowledge I too have victories.

Oft I catch people off guard with bursting shouts, Look at my glee!

Inner confidence harks, Don’t underestimate me!


Many moon cycles left behind in the dark.
Startled by spring to be reborn
Nature is cruel
Thoughts of how can I summon up the will to carry on?

Life drags on a lit cigarette hope rapidly distinguishes
The light I can barely see.


Life stamp me out,
a frazzled repressive voice alien to the world.
This is how I feel!

A weedy, nondescript Daisy,
If it turns a head to the sunshine I bloom into a true flower
radiant; carefree

Wild and untameable.

I was born to be free
I wasn’t born to conform to the expectations of some society.
 

Truth

Tell me what you want to know.

Rainy days included, storms do pass

Under the bridge the homeless huddle around a fire trying not to cause too much trouble.

Together their eyes vacant, some stumble some stutter.

Hoping society will give them a second glance, a second chance.

Words are our mercy

I have to read a few quotes of Oscar Wilde’s 100 page letter to his lover whilst incarcerated in prison for homosexuality called ‘Profundi’ ( read full article at end of post)

A few people I have spoken with about Wilde’s works dislike him.

He wasn’t a sexist. How could he be? He was for civility or equality and many of his musings and poems big up women & make fun at men.He was abhorred by society for being a homosexual.

For loving some one with his entire being.
Most of us may never feel that intensity of love. To love even if your life is at stake, your career – your status takes utter devotion.

Society is cruel,it really is and from reading this post I truly believe that words are our way to freedom. The one thing / people that we are not at mercy to .

Words are our mercy.

Quote Natasha Bodley

A trip to Oxford reading prison is now on my bucket list.

I became so emotional reading parts of it in this article.

One of my favourite parts of his letter Profundi

I want to get to the point when I shall be able to say quite simply, and without affectation that the two great turning-points in my life were when my father sent me to Oxford, and when society sent me to prison. I will not say that prison is the best thing that could have happened to me: for that phrase would savour of too great bitterness towards myself. I would sooner say, or hear it said of me, that I was so typical a child of my age, that in my perversity, and for that perversity’s sake, I turned the good things of my life to evil, and the evil things of my life to good.

What is said, however, by myself or by others, matters little. The important thing, the thing that lies before me, the thing that I have to do, if the brief remainder of my days is not to be maimed, marred, and incomplete, is to absorb into my nature all that has been done to me, to make it part of me, to accept it without complaint, fear, or reluctance. The supreme vice is shallowness. Whatever is realised is right.

[…]

Society, as we have constituted it, will have no place for me, has none to offer; but Nature, whose sweet rains fall on unjust and just alike, will have clefts in the rocks where I may hide, and secret valleys in whose silence I may weep undisturbed. She will hang the night with stars so that I may walk abroad in the darkness without stumbling, and send the wind over my footprints so that none may track me to my hurt: she will cleanse me in great waters, and with bitter herbs make me whole.

BRAIN PICKINGS

Dissecting Freedom

 I’ve been on Facebook and Twitter this morning and came across this status update.

“How can a Utopian exist in a Dystopia ?”

( author of the source has rights to privacy without breaching any rights/ plagiarism)

My answer:

“It can only exist for the minority and the ones at the top. One great way the elite create an illusion of Utopia is by conditioning.”

I get mentioned in a comment with this reply- from the author of the status update

“Maybe I have conjured up a perfect paradise in my mind. A place where there are love peace and happiness. A place where everyone works towards the betterment of everyone else. A place where people go out of there way to help and support each other. An environment where laws are just and true.

A place where truth, honour and justice aspired by all.

A world where equality, brotherhood/sisterhood and fraternity is second nature.

A place where war and the wholesale slaughter and genocide is abhorrent and inconceivable to all the inhabitants of Utopia. T

he Utopian being born in this ideological setting then wakes up one day to find himself or herself trapped inside this present reality of modern-day existenc”

I think: what an idealist- how can I respond? My Brain is doing overtime.

I respond:

That place in your mind is a place in my mind of what I think would be the ‘perfect’ society. I don’t know why we need to suffer and why suffering continues to go on mercilessly.

I see so many FB posts of quotes about wanting to wake people up to what the governments of our world do, how we are slaves, To stand up and unite against all the injustice, the crime of pain. I have got bored with these posts for what is enlightenment without action?

I take small steps to not be so influenced by a world of decay and diseased minds and I am not talking about people with MH issues. We have been conditioned to be ignorant for so long that it has become an automatic default- we go to ignorance because it is exhausting to challenge our perceptions.

I still do it.

If this world we want existed how would we know we are happy? Do suffering and evil have to be a package deal to experience or wish for something better? I don’t know the answer”

What do I think when I re-read these comments? is, what do we as a society symbolise ‘Freedom’ with?

If you can picture the generous extension of France’s ‘Statue of Liberty’ gift to symbolise the centenary of the American war of independence and a symbol of the solidarity of French and the American friendship?

WHAT IS REALLY GOING ON BEHIND THIS SYMBOL OF FREEDOM?

The burning torch is the ultimate emblem of freedom. When I look at this statue and go back to all I have read about it’s the true meaning. I see darkness. I see lies. I see people thinking they are walking around with freedom, to be who they were born to be.

This symbol of fire goes back to Archaic times.

The myth of Prometheus – the Titan who made humans out of clay.

The Titan who went against the Gods and tricked them.

As punishment, the Gods took fire away from the humans and he stole it back and gave it back to the humans. . In occult terms, Prometheus would be associated with the name ‘Satan’ or ‘Lucifer’.

Prometheus-i-told-Zeus

He betrayed the Gods and tempted to elevate humans to God-like status (in the context) of knowledge and free will. I use the term Satan and Lucifer in a metaphorical/philosophical way. He is the symbol of betrayal.

Helena Blavatsky explains in her classic occult work, The Secret Doctrine Volume 2 (page 244) that, “The allegory of Prometheus, who steals the divine fire as to allow men to proceed consciously on the path of spiritual evolution, thus transforming the most perfect of animals on Earth into a potential god, and making him free to take the kingdom of heaven by violence.

Hence also, the curse pronounced by Zeus against Prometheus, and by Jehovah against his ‘rebellious son,’ Satan.”

https://stevenjohnhibbs.wordpress.com/…/the-hidden-meaning…/

I’m don’t want this post to get too complicated. Here is a summary of my opinion of the duplicitous meanings of symbols of Freedom.

Freemasons/Illuminati – members, know the power of using symbols in business and in governments, to manipulate events so that these events go in favour for the select few. Guess who?

Read these quotes by Adam Weishaupt founder of the Illuminati ( he later said that he didn’t mean what he said)

“There must not a single purpose ever come in sight that is ambiguous, and that may betray our aims against religion and the state. One must speak sometimes one way and sometimes another, but so as never to contradict ourselves, and so that, with respect to our true way of thinking, we may be impenetrable.”

“This can be done in no other way but by secret associations, which will by degrees, and in silence, possess themselves of the government of the States, and make use of those means for this purpose.”

“The Order will, for its own sake, and therefore certainly, place every man in that situation in which he can be most effective. The pupils are convinced that the Order will rule the world. Every member, therefore, becomes a ruler.”

(https://stevenjohnhibbs.wordpress.com/…/the-hidden-meaning-…)

Us “commoners” are told that knowledge is power – yet they hide a large portion of that knowledge from us.

We are told:

Freedom is being able to vote democratically.

Freedom is wealth.

Wealth = happiness.

They don’t reveal how they use these symbols to condition us to think we are happy and successful. We are mere slaves and help a very small elite portion of the world’s population live, in an almost utopian life, of their making, creating a dystopia for the rest of us.

Most of us don’t know we are anything but free.

Think back to the decade before the roaring ’20s.

Victorian times – solemn, sombre, emotions in check moderation, void of emotion.

Then, BOOM! The age of decadence arrives.

Diamonds become ‘A girl’s best friend’-worn by all the stars in Hollywood –

The film industry tells them to wear diamonds. Advertise them.

The message: If you love me -you will buy me a diamond because diamonds = wealth and success which makes me feel happy and loved.

When I am happy and loved I am truly free. There is nothing wrong with this statement

This was a well thought out and executed propaganda. The problem with the above statement is we still believe freedom comes from external things. Cast your mind to the slaves mining for diamonds under the watchful eye of the corrupt Congolese Dictatorship. Not so Utopian and free for all after all?

Another symbol comes to mind when I think of Freedom. The dove. Here is a bit of information for you – ever heard of the term Augury?

The definition of augury is the practice of clairvoyance by a prophet or oracle or is a sign or harbinger of things to happen in the future.

An example of augury is a priest explaining a divine act.

An example of an augury might be the flight patterns of birds.

Remember knowledge is power. What greater power is there than predicting the future? There is no mystical bullshit – governments and people who have their own interests at heart, use the symbol of a Dove to signal that the future holds peace and love.

It is an Aldous Huxley -brave new world, brainwashing, narcotic to numb us.

Subdue us.

All is well with the world.

It isn’t.

I could go on and on so I will summarise what I have learnt about these symbols of freedom.

In my opinion,

True freedom can only be found within oneself. So far the best answer to coming up with a solution to this problem is denouncing all modern society and live in Nature and become self-sufficient and independent. I don’t see many people willing to give up their mobile phones, flashy cars, collection of fine wines, burn up a bunch of millions of dollars to live a life of true freedom.

A snake has the power to kill yet it can be’ hypnotised’ by a snake charmer…

Does a snake have ears? can it even hear music?

A snake has eyes and responds to what it sees.

What do you see and feel when you see the word FREEDOM?

Capital gains for an elite aura

Random fandom

Venerable vulnerable

Society disappoints my inner light.

It screeches out a backdraft

 Quell the passion at the lack of incompetence.

 

Respect our traditions and values

Society came and went.

Flew over a universal credit faux pas.

 

Capital gains for an elite aura

Chakra karma paid & displays a tramp with an earnest title.

 

Sir Display Equinox Sonic fox

Sly enough to out weevil the equestrian retriever.

 

Animus archetype

Character sparks a debate seeking clarity.

More insight.

Live for the day (they say)

seize the Monet.

 

Be true to our nature?

Humanities’ fatal flaw.

The world is our stage.

only in hindsight

do we engage in our higher self.

 

It comes with the cycle of age.

Respect to our elders living in a world blinded by ignorance.

Dictating  Hyacinth Bouquets ‘ keeping up appearances’.

 

Failing to honor our  stories

Altering texts to appease the Ego.

Inner Iago

Escapism found in pictures of the anonymous

framed around wisteria fantasies

It screams autonomous

cantering  on beaches in a dark continent

Memories are all we have to keep us on the right side of sanity.

The acquisition of wealth is useless

Where did the mummies end up?

 

Eyes dazzled by coins.

The mystery of life lies in a pyramid.

Inverted by the shape of   our expectations

We let ourselves down.

We became Sellouts

Conforming  to Huxley’s  dystopia

conforming to live out Pret a porter lies

Covet  our true  label

hanged man squints

in contempt

inscriptions fail to authenticate our brand

Our tag

Our blueprint.