Blog Archives

The gods must be crazy

When chaos has erupted ready to engulf all that we are ;
Death will raise a fury to sustain all mortals with life.
The scales must never meet
For then only foe succeeds it’s ally.

  • the God’s must be crazy or a lie.
    #justafewwords before I die.

The classic Mrs Thought bubble

This is a surreal piece I wrote about the cruelty of life and how the elderly are treated in Britain. It was inspired by the time I spent with my grandmother in her care home when she had Dementia and Alzeihmers. It’s a stream of consciousness borderline script.
MRS BRUISED : “I’m tired”
“I’m tired”
CARD SHUFFLER: (throws his voice from a table on the left)
tired too.”“I’m
MRS BRUISED: (Sitting upright like a majestic, beaten up old queen)
“I’m tired”
CARD SHUFFLER: “Aye? Go to sleep then”
The room fans out into a full house of insidious laughter.
MISS CARDIGAN: excuse me Dear, can you tell me where the toilets I’ve only just popped by
THE WEED: ( Looks around for sign of a staffed house)
Of course just follow me….
(The weed walks back from the toilets and goes to crouch down to hold Mrs Thought Bubble’s hand).
THE WEED: She has pissed herself. Can someone change her?
THE ROSE: No- she hasn’t.
GINGER: Here you go. Open your mouth?
(Shovels a hefty spoonful of what looks like boiled bagged food)
Lost in thought……
(The smell of piss can’t be worse than death’s kiss…)
GINGER: Here- wah la! open your mouth.
Listen to thoughts of an animated Mrs Thought Bubble.

THE WEED: Tu es Pleine?
Like an old coffin opening for the first time in a century;
MRS THOUGHT BUBBLE: ( creeks out slowly)
Pleine
THE ROSE: ( Comes back from the kitchen with another full beaker of red diluted kids juice)
You are thirsty today.
So so thirsty.
Three empty beakers all lined up in a row – My eyes rest and are ready to aim – trigger happy and ready to blow.

THE WEED: She has pissed herself, look!
THE ROSE: Oh you have made a pee pee Mamie- a pee pee!
BABIES ARE SO CUTE. LISTEN TO HOW REGRESSION SOUNDS

Nodding.
A skeleton- face grinning .
Bright light beams from Mrs Thought Bubbles eyes.
An Image.
A carved pumpkin with a toothy grin.
Burning away in a dark room: within.
More strained laughter churning out lactic acid.
MRS BRUISED : (on a loop)
Oh ,I am tired.
BRUNETTE: Fiddler! Stop putting your hands down your pants.
Maybe that is the only way she gets to feel something.
Legs splayed- FIDDLER’S fingers exploring her vagina hungrily.
MRS BRUISED: I’m tired
CARD SHUFFLER: Yeah me too! Shut up.
Eyes veer to the table on the left.

Dying flowers in a glass vase.
If I had to throw it would reality become what I once knew it to be?
Jeer me on, why don’t you?
Throw the fucking vase.
Throw it!
How long have those silver wrapped chocolates been standing there? This is not some fancy New York hotel.
If they are going to start leaving chocolates make sure you get Hershey’s kisses.
Brown as the shit underneath Mrs Thought bubble’s nails.
THE WEED: She has pissed herself!
GINGER: I will go get dessert.
Does it come in different sex positions?
Sweet Silence.
One of the toughest spells to break.
No one dares look at the other.
Carers go a drift.
Congregate to conflate into gossip office politics.
THE ROSE: Go and tell them to change her.
The weed creeps along the floor until it has found the right door.
THE WEED: Can someone change Mrs Thought bubble! She is in her own piss.”
MRS HEGEMONY: Where’s nondescript and the other one too?
Great big sighs. A room full of eyes wondering if the pay they get is worth the time.
Time finally has a stroke and then another and another.
The hoist in all its bluesy hues comes for Mrs Thought-bubble .

GINGER: I’m sorry I got called into the office.
THE WEED: Look it’s not you. It’s just.. I am sitting watching Mrs Thought bubble over here, shout out…. and “she is wading in her own piss!
THE ROSE: Let’s go outside
THE ROSE: ( turns to BRUNETTE)
Can we take her outside?
BRUNETTE: ( a voice rolls out like a plush red carpet)
Of course.
( BRUNETTE rolls out the wheelchair – )
She hasn’t been outside in over a year.
She shouts and protests.
Vintage sunglasses are placed on her to help process her eyes.
Flowers.
Bees.
Sunshine.
Colours.
More shouts and protests.
MAINTENANCE: Do you want me to take a picture?
(THE WEED and THE ROSE in unison) Oh yes please.
CLICK !
CLICK!
Mature cheddar smiles captured against the vines.
THE WEED: I love you Mrs Thought-bubble.
Muffled sounds.
Feral.

I’ll settle for that as an good enough au revoir.
Four doors.
Four Windows.
Four wheels.
Taxi take us very fucking far away from here ,please.
THE WEED: Did you notice that nobody came to clean the chair?
THE ROSE: DON’T TELL ME THAT?
EVERY NIGHT I CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP!
IF WE MOVE HER AGAIN(pause) SHE WILL DIE.
PLEASE LET HER DIE
WHY?
WHY?
IT IS BEYOND MY UNDERSTANDING.
Petals start to turn inwards – it’s a crying shame to see a rose start to wilt.
RED CAP: There was a sticker attached saying ‘TO CLEAN’
THE WEED: Oh.
I’m sorry.
I love you , Rose.
I can’t imagine what you are going through.
THE ROSE: (Wilts that tiny bit more)
She doesn’t even know who I am anymore.
THE WEED: I know who you are.
You know who I am.
It doesn’t matter if the sun is shining- water will always ignore the air around it. If it wants to pour, it shall.
Tears pour.
Tears break.
The weed reaches and creeps until it has a secure grip around The Roses stem.
Hands entwined.
The Weed .
The Rose.
Both look out their own private window.
Bee would have loved to see that cow…..
THE ROSE: ( watered and ready to pose)
So tomorrow is a busy day. We have to sort out the cake
THE WEED: The cake?
THE ROSE: Daisy, the wedding cake? And We need to find Mr. Thought bubble an outfit for the wedding.
THE WEED: (grapples for breath)
Is she actually allowed to come?
THE ROSE: Madam Hegemony, says it is fine.
THE WEED: (flat)
Oh,Cool. I wonder did we tell the cake makers that we have changed the theme from sun flowers to yellow roses?
THE ROSE: (exasperated)
YES! We are just having yellow icing on normal flowers..
THE WEED: Oh… like the colour on our invitations?
Stationary.
THE ROSE: See you tomorrow.
THE WEED: (as an afterthought)
Mint,yes, tomorrow.
THE ROSE: 10:30, Don’t be late. We are getting threaded first.
Have you got The Bees shoes?
THE WEED: Yes Mam.
THE ROSE: I swear if you had loads of money in this town you still wouldn’t be able to spend it.
It’s all bullshit
From the horse’s mouth – let him narrate for this bit.
And so the earth continues to travel around the sun.
The sun goes down.
The moon is full faced and all fluttering eyelashes.
And I still have a long face.
Nothing but everything changes.
Nay,
Neigh!
Horses don’t talk.
Neither do flowers
Horse manure.
Bullshit.
Jut another day in ‘I wonder what the fuck next land?
Just an average day in an average Care home.

Choice has always and forever.

-Candor, heart spilling starch tumble dry fresh.

Ominous eyes on stalks can feel the tearing of flesh.

Lobster bisque – feel the pain- rubbing eczema flakes in the mesh.

Motivational mantras praying for imaginative depth.

A leap of faith from a dark quarry,   novels unwrap intoxicating pages saturated in meth.

White suits, red suits, black suits – jokester howls in lunatic tongue at his procurement of all laughter.

Voiceless, misunderstood, invisible  swan still morbid, unhappily ever after.

Death scents not in lavender bursts, clashes with stale tobacco.

Steven Hawkins robot voice stuck in a stench of staccato.

Future anxiety.

Past Regrets.

  Present lives in the moment -startlingly clear.

Blink and the eyes will miss it. Shut off all senses and lose the rest of the steer.

Grace be mine!

  Ego ride away on a horse of jaded divine.

Little Mockingjay prepares Dame to release her idealized body preconceptions. Babies speak in benign.

Selfish task force. Love to bind a new union.

Born addicted –   a chance encounter for a significant sibling reunion.

Selfish, marred acts of those who seek to atone for sins of Greed.

The world’s a lot smaller, fewer cards.

Time to make new memories in clear waters running with creed.

Tall orders,   cats mewling, and choleric baby withdraws from life’s order.

What a sappy mess they make.

  Second chances don’t come with a promise.

Each soul has its own border.

The ring of education – judicators,  over boil in an over timed pressure cooker.

Hungry students ready to whore out the possibility they carry the pearl.

Send out for the Hookers booker.

Close these scriptures. War wages paid out in illness.

 Mind cavernous in an unresolved mess.

Sales galore – glorified slave stitched clothing for all.

Moral urges to make do with a Makeshift dress.

Recycle on thought- careless whisper – the banana flavored condom went in the wrong bin.

Karmic balance.

Next time buy the toilet freshener with the least amount of Carcinogenic properties within.

The future promise of a surge in over priced goods.

Planning for this new hood smacks of a drugged reality.

Low suspension thoughts, feelings soar through the milky way- lost in an energy of fatality.

Maternally skinny – nourished on a liquid diet, uppers, downers and 7 0f your five a day.

recoil in horror for the day expectant ghoul comes from it’s decided gestational incubation from its hostess.

Who deserves to pay?

A hike up in rent for turning out disabled and bent or, a life staring into the consequences of hitching up an unhemed skirt?

Murderous plot.

Rumors of have not. Denial that life belongs under flowers in stalks covered with dirt.

There is always a choice, Never a right time to get to perfection.

One decision to make.  God willing, the next messiah is a fruitful resurrection.

Annagram haiku

Who

is this deity of mine ?

Know no worries ,let each demon grieve earth

Privilges of wanton entities rivals?

Word prompt

  • wisdom

  • Knowledge

  • Power

Falling books never lie

Falling ( not fallin) books never lie).
It’s a metaphor not smut.

We did it in the kitchen

We did it on the sofa.

We stood like telescopes looking at opposite ends.

Me at the top He at the bottom of the stairs.

We did it to ‘its a wonderful world ’.

Dancing with our opinions Emotions diluted For we couldn’t stay away , solve our woes… Understand!

11 years..

The geek and the 40 year old welded together by the elements who will die – another day

We did it on the bed. I made the first move
We went to bed intoxicated off lavender Back to back … Is this how intimacy flies ?
Book
ends
divided .
No discussion Diss the content Broken up by genres.
Falling books never Li

e A middle Age Crisis
Buy a car

Leave me alone
Good evening heartache

Alexis knew me well. Might as well get used to MisCommunication banging our sound.

Wings
snared by tension Bare trap
array causing a future wrinkled frown
. Tangled in an intricate web of love; An angel brightens up these gloomy days
Sit

down , heartache. Walking

the green mile

We’ve invested in this framework
Solid

It’s Impossible

To predict we’ll be an over halved statistic

One done day.. Heart ache A roof , Free fall.

Not to diss his holy heart but Wishing I’ll bypass Gods will.

His will Ignores my words anyway…

Merely musing

I am merely mortal
Hence I will laugh at that which or who makes me feel alive

#thesearemywords

The colony

My faith was tested by the colony

The cross bore into my chest like multiple sessions of ECGS

I thought I had forgotten what it was to feel like an honest me!

The strength of survival of the fittest

Compelled hope to flee

Or save me

My choice

Brainwashed for a profit

A racquet

Insidious to true inequality

I’m here

I’m an insurgent

Indulgently

Indignant to all the two faced flags

Denying

denoting

Independent thought

For the books to be written

of/

Off

philosophy

Clouded the dogma that corrupts those who believe in their infallibility

Water – a drop

A drop.

A drop.

A drop

Do not judge me

For my sapling survival

a birth of a scape goat to inscribe the words of a free spirit

With no country

I claim as my own

I am who I choose as my identity

Borderless

No government

No political movement can discriminate against my spirit

For I denounce those who cannot see the truth

In front of them

even when they kneel

Before nature

The only divine death

With nothing to face.

Sincerely,

The unknown scripture of abandonment sans fear

Thoughts about faith

The world globe doesn’t stop spinning today because our global happiness secret is something practised around the world, any time, any place.

SECRET TO HAPPINESS: Reign in the need to control everything and have faith

TRADITION: Prayer / mantras/ meditation

DATE: Everyday

CELEBRATED :Around the world.

I don’t know about you but I have always had control issues- my weight being a huge bugbear. I even want control over things like knowing what my Birthday presents are.  I mean I used to  hate surprises. I think it has something to do with knowing how to react. I don’t want to get into loads of  pyscho babble. Surprisingly 😉 (wink wink nudge nudge)   I do like surprises more than I used to. Lots of therapy did the trick 😀

The truth is;

Can we control the weather?

Well, if we  actually did something to help our environment maybe we can to some degree save it, but we can’t control if it is going to snow, rain, etc..

Can we control the economy?

No, because we already have a bunch of corrupt bastards who have a better hand in ‘controlling’ it – to be fair no one can control it but they can influence it.

Can we control Death?  No.

George Michael hit it on the nail when he sang

‘you gotta have a little faith a faith a faith aaah.’- that is how it goes in my head anyhow.

Faith  hooks an index finger under our chin and turns our face to it and says;

“It is what it is”

images (1)

Faith is always linked with Religion.  Whatever religion you can think of there is always some ritual of offerings, prayers, sacrifices and putting our trust in an unseen entity ,that we  believe has the power ,that we perceive we  lack to change things.  I have a saying about this – you may not like it but when has that stopped me  from being blunt before?

 By all means practice your faith and let me practice mine or lack of it.  I always get peoples backs up when I say,

” Why give some invincible God all the credit for my own hard work?  Credit where it is due. “

I’m  kind of kidding. We all need to place our faith in something when  there is the possibility of losing all hope.  The same goes for what we can and can’t control.

 My family have this in-house joke that my Grandad is up in heaven or wherever and ‘making bets and business deals with God’ .

That’s why we surrender.  There is no address we can Google, no appointment we can make to visit our God of choice and talk business. We don’t know if our ‘prayers’ will be answered -so we have to take comfort in hoping that our Gods are merciful.  There is always the middle man – priest, witch doctor etc..

Personally, I prefer to go to the direct source.

This is where faith can ‘move mountains’ – as the saying goes. The  direct source  of faith is inside us all, no matter what religion we identify with.   When you get on the plane for your vacation – you place your faith in the pilot to get you to xyz destination. You don’t ask him which God he answers to. If we need surgery we place our trust in doctors of all faiths because  in my opinion all those faiths lead to one source.

images

 For what it’s worth,I believe in something more tangible – I believe in energy. That energy doesn’t discriminate. My faith is  in knowing there is scientific proof  that there is kinetic energy. I believe when I release any energy I am holding hostage inside me in the form of thoughts ,emotions etc… it helps me direct my energies  outwards into the cosmos.

So, when things are not going so great, think about what it is that you can truly control and cannot control. This post is not about religion. It’s about taking ownership of what you truly have power over  that can make a difference and letting go of the things that you can’t control.

Example:

You can’t control it if your partner cheats on you but you can control how you respond and how  you let it play out.  You decide the outcome –  you may decide to never place your trust in another person again. You can also summon up hope and have faith that things will get better over time.  Your heart will mend.

MESSAGE: Unburden yourself. Who ever  you place your trust in – be it  a God, an Angel, the four elements, energy, allow them him/her/it  to lift the weight off your shoulders of  what is beyond your control.  Only then can you truly move forward and be free.

(ALL IMAGES SOURED FROM GOOGLE IMAGES)

Folds of skin

A poetry work in motion.

A night before Ebony

Ebony’s shadowed legs followed like bone ivory music notes.

Umbrellas at dawn

No longer will the vampires mourn when each and everyone’s turn

Becomes an endeavour

Becomes closer to a pawn of the bloodless, pastry Underworld.

Fangs serve no required love

Unless

For the hearts that break

fastly

Under the tombstones engraved with dear forlorn amours.

Vials and trials make for complicated aisles.

Stephen Hawking’s shadow couldn’t blacken the suns holy masquerade without a tentative backhanded smile.

Flatulent legs pass an accordion player drowning out the tears of the past crystal nachts denial.

The fish bone corset of his lover – bygone

Weaved into a weathered, once feathered basket to uphold her now skeletal dignity,

A patched-up virgin awoken

A red sealed cockerel

His scarlet fever only breaks

out at night.

Nothing makes sense.

Not the severed maimed gingerbread men

Nor the black pudding

Nor the books written after the King’s night well spent.

Those paltry pawns of Christmas past climbed up the stairs on a general’s stare.

A goose-step march without all the trimmings

Merely a one-armed procured letter bitten off a one-off affair.

The traitor of Ebony’s moonlight dalliance wasn’t in his devilish dance on his journey

It was in the faces of his pseudo, mutilated, unvaccinated bastard offspring

Of each adultress, he gazed upon with an unassuming leer.