N/ Atrophies needed
my wish is for no person to resonate with these words. Live happy for as long as those who help you negotiate happy *
Musing from a head disassociated from its heart ( insert arrow ).
A musing of a separation only the disillusioned would consider.. an Art.
Perhaps all I need is a cup of ‘Let’s go dutch’ English Tea..
To announce I miss my Teddy bear tea zen.
I always thought a broken heart would keep me writing ✍️.
Now whose woes are teasing ?
Now, I know that I’m not broken hearted 💔 ;
What keeps me from writing is a form of atrophy?
I’m hardly breathing …..
The highest treason.
I fold in .
My blush is as good as my spade ♠️.
My heart tastes like the finer cuts
strips off a Wilkinson’s razor blade.
There is a difference between a heart ❤️ and a spade ♠️.
The space between the dashes of our existence.
Just words & Numbers .
Won. Not pretty .
It was never to be.
The word –
A coin has two sides.
Heads or Tails – it’s crazy how we let fate decide how our life will transpire.
Fate. Mate. It’s all overrated – celebrity ,drug addicted ,dead skateboarder – cremated ashes arise from the livings tears-earths most selfish empire.
Hawks’ is a brand name. I find his business methods something left to be desired.
Underhanded- an opportunist.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
If we don’t speak we will never have our say.
Seems obvious right? Don’t hold it all inside – don’t delay – make a good go at it and relay.
Play the violin, a piano. Instrumental sounds.
Rap beats- car sounds reverberating – runners paving the tarmac with their well-trained feet.
Musical – emotional .
I ‘m touched by what I hear.
It moves my soul quicker than all the gold or silver in the world.
My words serve to validate all that I seek when I am feeling somewhat unworthy.
Why do we undervalue ourselves ?
The ones who should sign a cheque to get a re-evaluation – go up in our own self-estimation.
Uncurl your fingers – point in whatever direction the wind blows, just walk wherever your finger lands, you can always change your mind if you hear the squawking of black crows.
It’s all there – in
We are a work of seraphic art.
Goals achieved ?Celebrate them. Flaunt them -don’t sit there with your head in your hands full- tearfully grieving. You must not be deceived.
Chimney poison ivy creeper.
Santa has decided to go for the crimson look for yet another year – What a heathen!
Life is a miracle . Look at your child – turning five , thirteen ,sixteen , eighteen.
I don’t care if she decides to run with the LGBT team or swap cuticle tips with the latest Hollywood cream queen..
Her individuality. Her style.
Stars above – sit, wide-mouthed, in awe . Blessed to have sight.
I’m not Stevie wonder.
True, some say he was talented but he was not me.
I too am Original .
I too am visional.
Open your mind to the possibility that money is nothing but worthless of your valuable time, scavenging around under the bed mattress, in hope of clocking an epic find.
It’s all relative.
That’s what the judge said.
In proportion to Age.
The solicitor offended his honour in his own chambers, pulling the ageist card to a venerable man .
His honourable threatened the organisation to pay out – headless chickens running around, not enough eggs or battery farms.
Overfed already underfunded.
Hegemony -sums in deficit- terminally defunct.
send them back to the Flinstones era .
Exile – a yabba dabba doo ban.
Embrace every compliment, every kindness , every soft touch.
For you don’t have a clue just how much you have to offer,
just how much you give to so and so and such and such.
Make a treasure map – Find a weather app.
What do you value? Does it make you happy?
Elevator music- always smells of corporate candy -a chihuahua at your ankles, constantly snapping.
Don’t blend in. Stand out. Be fierce, Be proud. You’ve come far.
The underdog title has got a new replacement.
Now don’t hesitate.
Now don’t fear.
Take that hair-raising step . Success is attracted to you like static – you don’t need a lint roller to wipe away all of you. You’ve worked – you have put in the time.
Look at your face!
I know we all battle
Not every day is full of sunshine.
Some stay the same.
You are here to honour your rightful place next to your fellow man , women – indeed even that sodding goblin.
Two sides of the coin
. No, you don’t have to flip it like a burger. You have a choice. You always have a choice.
To give power – to give your free will away to chance – heads or tails .
It’s unbalanced , unnatural . Shed away the archaic scales.
You are in control even when you are on automatic.
let’s wrap this soCs up and affirm how hard you’ve worked -you have every right to celebrate your achievements. Stare people in the eyes – make sure that they are on your level.
Tell them -Let them all know.
Yes. I am.
Yes. I did.
Yes. I will.
When you do decide where it is that you are headed for next on the chessboard . Sing, dance ,shout -do a jig – do it your way.
Make sure you are emphatic, Charlie Chaplin style or simply be over dramatic.
Line of Deliverance
In the shadowed shades of my blues.
I tenderly look for another who I can summon as one who lives life in honour,
Of all that is true.
Those who speak the spoken word in all its iridescent hues.
Colours drape my inner wardrobe.
Yet, I clamber for my grey, nuances of noir.
Catastrophizing all the whites for showing up my yellow gnashers.
Against a blustery pale backdrop of mountains blanketed by capped ice.
Brazen, I stand on the highest peak.
Cheeks misted by tears.
Contemplative in being joyful for the moments of inner peace.
Cast out this unwanted wardrobe.
No more colours in clandestine!
The drab shabby (not so chic) curtains concealing my true identity.
My makeup is not for every entity.
I’m asked to write the truest sentence I know.
Hemingway knew a way to interweave words worth more than bread made from the finest patisserie dough.
Scraping pennies to get by the hard knocks.
We do what we gotta do to get by.
Poverty causes ‘bros before hoes’ and ‘chicks before pricks’.
Keeping my pins steady as balls curve to nebulant sides — it incites fear into my inner stream of consciousness, dialogue conflicts –
Savaged by doubt and insecurity.
I’m on a trip with a Make believe demeanour.
One to conjure up more stamina and longevity-
To warn my inner Hecate to hesitate before she dare pro-curate.
Write to recover through seeping, bandaged wounds.
Riddling the mind with infectious curiosity,
To want knowledge is the power I crave.
It’s my security.
Droplets of lonely anguish torment my darkest spell.
I am the white temptress tempted to awaken the beast inside.
Though, I know it will be the catalyst to an eternity of mocking turmoil.
My final destination is not the country I occupy.
I’m an immigrant
I’m a traitor.
Colonised and imprisoned by outdated Imperialists.
The world is full of egotistical folk in full throws of the delirium tremens.
Murmurs of fragile Life keep me close to the fire.
It scintillates what I know is inside — lying dormant.
Ready to drive out the cancers multiplying with faces frozen,
In that blissful look of the ignorant .
I raise my sword.
It bleeds ink.
It is my heart : my deliverance.
I can’t fathom another way to jolt my instincts to kick out, and rise to take another breath.
I’m the one who needs these murky waters to survive . Forget I too need oxygen and gills to stabilise my Eco system.
If my world was captured by a drone;
I would want it to show me evolved into a hybridised pro-humanity amphibian.
Swimming side by side
dolphins & whales ad infinitum.
Is it me?
Or is it you?
For the years we scarpered away like dissident spew.
Acceptance should come from our real 3-D form.
I find it in the eye of the cyber- sphere storm.
Thunder used to scare me
Evidence was heard with me on skid row.
Now, I love a good drummer, to play my heart,
so you too have to face it and know.
Who are my friends among so many foes?
You may know my name.
You may have heard of my doings.
Gossip is for the feeble minded –
Yes, but all it does is reduce you to what I call are my fewings.
Lacking in truth and compassion.
In denial of your own feuds.
It’s a shame you, fewings, have to shine a light on my silky nudes.
Paint a picture – tell it.
Make it your own.
When you get closer to the next ear,
make sure you credit yourself with what you have weaved into that picture and sewn.
I may be mad and success is giving me an incredible hand.
We all have to play.
don’t go eyeing up all the spades.
End up back to level one and start off as a one-man marching band.
Look into my eyes.
Don’t like what you see?
Well, my dear .. what is that makes you want to get the hell up and do the blitz and flee?
see your own self?
Feed your ego with ya very own distiller killer.
Rattle my bones.
I am transparent.
I know your secrets.
They are not mine to go and unleash like they are a target for a spent errant.
Ignore me if you must,
but then don’t go using my name in a scattered attempt to unearth some dust.
If you want it.
You have your own soot.
Talk about that.
At least you are sure to have more than half the goddamn loot.
Opinion is not the truth,
but suffer fools gladly,
if it gets you to feel like some kind of Mickey mouse sleuth
To be as you like
To be or not to be.
I could have stopped right there
Today I choose to be.
This family in all fairness will grow and grow.
Feeling like I do
Score as many times as you like.
Suffer we must
those who refuse to eat and instead are force-fed chickens on a battery farm.
Cow or Bull?
Why do men get to enter and exit when they want?
Why do women only have the key to the chamber with the will to want to open or not…
Which is better?
I suppose both is just as fair.
‘Blue balls isn’t a medical condition
Alas, if one must act this way,
A medical solution,
Used since the most ancient times.
an Antarctican blast of water
Ask any lunatic worth his marbles.
That one rolled right under the door.
Enough space for it to peek.
Not so fair when we cheat.
How to end with a two-letter word?
Shall I be a rebel and give not one but two fingers up to the rules?
a wooden leg tries to stick his in one hand.
Running away – I don’t want to see red.
rather break open the heavens
reveal yellow yolk hues
Crimson Fans snort in disgust
If I must
put a rose on the end and forevermore you will have my friendship,
on every level of schools, we enter.
enter in to.
inspired by this T -shirt )
Mike / Nike bananas – waaaah?
Don’t believe in a day a tee.
Don’t believe in a dye a tee.
I believe in emotions.
A moral .
If I listened without interrupting ( never filmed my candidates on camera) I’d be past the ignorant rear view mir row ing
dialed hind sight one wave too late.
Long pause… ( episodic moment).
Should have put a hashtag
(#) radiation *may cause seizures * * drug use * misuse * violence * harsh misuse of a vape * .
Film censorship can be deceiving.
I watch many films primed or netted for my viewing,
I see the warnings
How these kids ever going to adjust to life calling ?
I need a bit of tuning.
I started this off topic ness from listening to a past recorded conversation. I’m out of my depth .
I’m out of my depth.
I’ve a 6 4 2 bounce back pillow from the silent sisters who muted on their way to the unseen pleides.
Peel out of the mould
Did I lose you to a Mike bananas T- shirt that the mad republic would ask a beetle to submerge.
These words die with a relic…
. . . . . . . 7 dot dive of dismal drivel.
Some of us are born heartbroken from the initial
To final push .
We are the ones that don’t cry until we get a pat on the back
We are the ones that know the doctors’ have a hypocratic oath to enforce .
Life is forced upon those who don’t ask…
The ties must be cut with or without a puppet curtsey or kneel in prayer.
The law states we have a duty to care for ourselves
for others ..
The laws – they diminish a heart beaten with a wooden spoon .
Zero tolerance.. humanity is a price we have come to despair.
Punitive the fare we must pay. The care sector,our families who wish no t pretence
to smile on arrival at a wake.
We live for our reasons . We betray our feelings .
Perhaps it’s when the sun denies we are in treason
we dare shed a tear for our shadow
Some of us born heartbroken ’til we die.. we become the life savers or the enablers of the lie.
My mind has been focused on simple acts.
I got lost in the tiniest of fish bowls,
now I have got what I want, my mind is on detonate mode.
123 – it feels like I’ve sold almost all of my souls.
Bolivian marching powder?
No, not that kind of blow
I need a fix to settle these nerves.I have to take it and there are no more chances to ignore.
My very core.
Paddling with or without an oar.
What do I know about writing?
I signed up for this,now it feels like I have sucked myself into my own suicide pact, by leaking out the gas-
Riding on a high:I think I can fly.
I hit the floor -head first.
Brain cells die.
The illusion is no more.
Fish have evolved and learned to grow wings!
I’m a fallen angel, feathers already in place.
I shouldn’t have a problem claiming my precious, idolised rings.
It ain’t hard to fill out my own sin award credit tax.
Therefore, I are pilgrim -like innit mega -sir!
fetch me my gown.
My mind is running on crazy adrenaline,
panic sets in and I am fucked if I can remember whose bed I am meant to be in.
Perspective just got that bit closer
It punched me in the face-
Invisible fists just came at me like a ghost –
Can I do this?
I seem to always get what I want.
Except with emotional IQ situations – I kind of let that one slip into the abyss.
So, I continue to create my own destiny…
Fate is for people living in a book of dizzy ,fairy tale necessity.
I feel the fear.
I’m not gonna lie.
All this sudden knowledge makes me want jump ship and say,
‘fuck! Au revoir, matie. Here, you have a go and steer.’
Fear is good.
It means I care.
Passion is good
It means I will probably fare.
So cool how I fooled my way into school.
This shit could still just backfire- now who’s the cool fool?
Past is a bit tense.
Future has been signed by my consent.
Got to the end – we all want a happy ending.
I made this shit up.
Why do I justify myself to others if I’m not working in a full paid life capacity?
Why do I justify myself to others if I’m not working in a full paid life capacity?
It’s not like we’re still living in a Victorian era where I need to prove I’ve achieved my full belt in chastity.
I’m not kept nor groomed.
I’m a woman of the age of independence. When I hold my breath I think of the oceans of ambition, filling me to a combustion ends- infallibility.
Words to sell the people who haven’t walked a second in my shoes.
Self justification who’s never seen a man who sold ice creams on a beach with his bare arms.
He wouldn’t allow the cha cha dance of life to let him be the one who gave in to defeat.
Even when the sun, it melted into his ebony skin-a parched man not bitter .
Even when children mocked him with no adult to inform them they were creating a culture where we judge people by being born in breach.
These words are going nowhere unless I tell people I’m a winner regardless of the mind state – an alternative view they may one day wish to seek.
Their unbeknownst ignorance of those mountains I’ve so far climbed to be deemed fit in a society increasingly lacking in human empathy just to stay in view
To remain an arm within terre ferme reach
These are my words. This is what I wish to impart. I refuse to give up until my soul recoils from my body,
Honours it’s vow –till death do us part.
If you taunt me I’ve learned
Not to teach nor preach.
Life’s a beach.
I’m a woman of the world with nothing but reach.
Does this sound preachy ?
And Then there are the days
And then there are the days when the rain has stopped.
sunshine will follow the rain.
By all accounts I should feel the warmth.
My smile aches.
My cheeks are strewn not by rain this time but more tears.
I feel a part of me dying. I think of all the tears I’ve overcome, the one I’ve mopped up.
I think about how other people struggle, and see them get up again and again until, one day they don’t.
In these twisted moments of my melancholy; my heart beats even faster- than when I’m even tempered.
I realise I won’t die from heart ache or an abundance of leaked tears.
I won’t dehydrate.
I won’t become the next corpse poised in fledgling flight to arouse its soul.
So many words and questions I wish to ask.
I answer them myself-in moments of cowardice . In these moments of despair, I search for strength.
I love to see people I care about prosper.
I cry because
.. I shouldn’t have regrets.. but I’m beginning to wonder if I should….
One response to “And Then there are the days”
hope is to cope
not always the dope
what he did
should die in the past
which all too much and oftern
still doth cast dark shadows
as jonathan frid was vampire collins
for the wrong people we both have fallen
in lieu of someone like you
hey i thank
you for those kind kudos
all those years ago~
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