ALL MAGIC COMES WITH A PRICE
Not all men can handle a strong woman.
A lot of them tend to make us feel like we are weak,wrong , crazy even with our impulse to rule and to be dominated.
They would happily send us to a place to be Abominated.
Not all men can dominate a strong woman
It takes a real man – with a front and backbone – one that he uses .
One that he knows how to use and simply won’t take her refusals.
A firm hand – pressed against her delicate neck bone – windpipe-disarmed . A Struggle to breathe.
Shock – Fight or flee.
Stay and put up with it – two stubborn souls connect – who is going to win?
She could fight you, she will put up a good bluff .
Poker face. Stoke his fury – Flush her out – until she is red in the face .
Hair fanned out in a perfect pose,astrologically aligned with her sin.
She knows when to stop him. She pushes back his arm.
Will he get the message or will he continue with the power trip and go one and on ?
The moment of truth is in his bare hands.
Her life, her breath is his – she is at his wildest demands.
He won’t take no for an answer – she won’t refuse his frustration.
She would rather end up black and blue
Thumbed, printed ,read all over- front to back.
than pass on her pain,
Her 6 red eyed ,three-headed Cerberus demon.
Dizzy disparate desperation.
She won’t see that reflection – not one drop will trickle from her eye; the mirror that she sees is, in fact, her depiction.
She is his keeper – She owes him his salvation.
Till death do us part.
Charon take your ferry – set back sail on the river Styx . She casts the ferryman back to eternal damnation.
Lust , love , it’s all a part of the combined heady scent and the sweat .
gender – Sexual Agenda – together, forever in each others debt.
A pounding heart. She suddenly gasps.
Does she fight for one last caress?
Love is complicated. So is she.
He is her man.
Her king and she will let him be.
Euphoria – her hands tremble – she is shaking.
Pins and needles – no voodoo.
True Magic is two people madly in love.
two hearts – hers stopped beating so he took out his own – ripped it from his chest – tore it in half and gave her one part.
She doesn’t need a rib.
She needs a beat – a rhythm.
A Civil rights movement protest.
bloody driven from her comfort- safety zone.
This time, when she makes a noise it won’t be a solemn, repressed moan.
Jolted into believing.
Stained sheets. She is done with teasing.
She is the Queen of his heart.
Same time tomorrow – so they can resume their riske business meeting.
SAD BUT TRUE
Just let go – what have you got to lose?
eyes veer from every inch of the walls surrounding her, desperately imploring, pleading for an answer.
Gain, gain – You have everything to gain.
Let yourself be loved, adored; laugh.
Gain some weight. Give Life a heartbeat that doesn’t stutter out cacophonously.
Passing by incongruent signs.
Lose what exactly?
That last chance to see that person or experience that moment again.
Move on. Time escapes no one.
Yes, move on but isn’t that like quitting?
You are too stubborn. You will be the tower that gets struck by lightning. catches fire and burns to the ground.
You would have been at your highest yet still trying to glimmer amongst stars you imagine are on top of the true hierarchy.
‘It wasn’t a solid foundation, to begin with,’ she says. This time, I get to start again,’ she says.
We all deserve a second chance -even a third – not all of us are so pleasantly aligned with the heavens to be given such a gift – another chance to explore.
Fantasies played out over and over in her mind.
Could that be the allure?
She is aware her thinking is not based in reality but in a place where everything works out just fine.
Let go, that part of your mind. That dream. Free up space for new ideas, true goals to achieve and be who you are meant to be.
Sometimes, that is why she chooses to escape. She can’t handle feeling the tug. Sitting, looking at lines on the palms of her hands Feeling trapped.
To make contact -one last time. her heart sighs….
Sounds like a recording from the denial addiction hotline.
One last time will never be enough.
It isn’t physical. It’s emotional. It’s deep – it’s raw. It’s irrational. Bordering on obsessiveness.
If she could frolic with ignorance – it would make this sentence- seem less like walking the green mile.
Fighting emotions with reason – battery, assault, bruised, cutting remarks.
Too much time has passed. She has experienced the same mistakes all too often.
She can’t run to her nearest anchor be it – drugs, alcohol, eating, not eating,
Her will has been made. She signed on the dotted line. Willingly.
She has chosen Life .
To feel is a double-edged sword. No matter how many times you practise and try to form it into a skill ,a talent even.
The blunt edge is the one that gets sharper.
Equality is a simple equation.
Look at Algebra!
when you know the rules it all becomes a little simpler to understand.
Life is not one and one makes two.
It is all an illusion. We are everywhere, everyone, every feeling, every planet, every language, every song.
When any species is under attack it will either choose immortality or fight and evolve- transcend – would you believe she learnt that from a sci-fi film?
Life is short. bittersweet. Is that why she won’t let go?
She wants to make sure that whatever happens to someone she has ever had the privilege of meeting to make amends and not feel grief.
Selfish, yes – at least she will be at peace.
High on life- no artificial sight.
I know what I will do if I ever get mugged.
I will look my mugger right in the forehead and say I can see the emergence of his third eye.
His monobrow will wriggle in confusion.
Then, I will 1970’s kung fu him in the balls – He will be blubbering. This is my first chance to demonstrate myself-choreography, self-defence,dance class, get fit for life.
I’ll grab my bag and wallop him once or twice.
I’m not condoning violence,but I get the feel for it , I’m grooving, putting my own spin on it . So he rolls with the punches and I carry on rolling my dice.
Then when I feel we are on an even keel . I’ll stretch out my arm, give him a hand up. Hell, I will even get down on one bended knee.
The score will be settled and even.
That is what you get, mate, for attempted thieving.
Panic alert flashes across my eyes. I didn’t know Mr potential mugger had another job. He’s a rather talented actor – he is making me believe he is actually bleeding.
Wait a few seconds – look left -look right -look left again . Got to keep my wits about me. Road safety training might seem elementary but it can be a life saver.
Seconds turn into the longest minute ever documented. I don’t think he is an amateur . In fact, I’m checking for signs of a well-known face; not some chip off the old block. I can hear the other stars calling out for their missing, celebrity neighbour.
Things are starting to turn grave. I’m the one who was in true danger.
Superheroes, do they exist?
I need one pronto – bring a carpet -we have a John Doe to roll up and we need a couple of spades and all of the aces . I need a super professional with a zany twist .
Moments pass. My superhero hasn’t pitched up , he must have run out of gas.
I’m on the run with an imaginary gun – this is not fun. He started it. What an ass!
“Oh why hello,officer, I know what this looks like. Yes, I am running” mentally exercising my train of thought.
“Hit and run?”
“I don’t drive, officer . So can we skip the walk in a straight line, touch my nose and rub my belly and get to the part where we both laugh about this situation.” We may end up in a quaint bar .
The one that sells all the good rum.
My mind is working overtime. Think! Think! What would any civil, well to do , ordinary , civilian lady do in my circumstance?
“Now, officer . I think we can have a bit more fun with those cuffs. Got any fur? oh, how I love to purr.” I’ll lean over just so he can clock my cleavage. Hey, this could work! Have you got any better ideas?
This may be my only chance.
“Ma am ,Are you trying to poodle face with me?”
“Me? I don’t even own a dog. Are you trying to call me a bitch? Now that is offensive.” I was merely using my right to freedom of expression.
My wits tell me to back the fuck down. He is jangling what sounds like more than one key.
He reads me my rights. I say I’m catholic. I ring God daily, no messing with Angel administration. I have him on speed dial to atone for my sins.
Now this – this is unjust. All this fuss. What happened to the good cop , bad cop scenario ?
All I’m seeing is the end of his boot and my own reflection in his riot helmet gear. Have I been transported into some retro game and swallowed a mushroom and turned into super -uber Mario?
Granted, he is a shitty plumber. But, he does get to collect plenty of coins. Maybe I can bail myself out .I don’t need no man to rescue me . I am the victim and the surviving princess.
I get the feeling the only jangling I am going to do is when I walk the line. Stub my toe. I think my entitled title just got ripped off me.
Scoundrel. It was that mugger that’s got me in this stitch . I’ve been demoted to a rather fatigued and distressed seamstress.
Moral of the story?
Don’t go acting like those sensational media heroes.
Just let your entire shit go- JUST.LET. IT.ALL.GO.
And tomorrow you will wake up not in a cell but smiling into your favourite stripy bowl of cheerios.
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.
Monotone. All alone.
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 our head.
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.
Happiness. Her individuality. Her style. Her choice.
Role model. Demonstrate .Affection. Reciprocate.
Infectious . Laughter – 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. 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! amazement.
I know we all battle. Not every day is full of sunshine.
Colours change. People fade away. Some people stay the same. Dismal,but that’s not your problem.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Masters of writing .Deadlines.
Party time or Mommy will get stuck with the craziest fine.
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 .
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.
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.
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.
Don’t make me use my collateral.
Figures ruminating around my mind – 400 – 500.
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.
Mindstate? Ready to light the cannon ball.
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?
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.
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.
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.
Look at her face – full of delight. Illuminati – unbelievers.
When my Kalinda sees her reflection she flinches over jagged, ragged parts of a body
Staggered & separate. -body parts sewn together haphazardly.
The truth is stranger than fiction.
How can it be?
His soul mate doesn’t mirror the effort in his deeds.
pierce fleshy skin -protruding hanging agape
flesh separates from the bo.ne
she is more than a blow-up doll wearing a t-shirt that says ‘corruption feeds on poison egos.’
The Skullbones cross over .
Point at marks left from a flirtation with suicide.
Maidenhead Hymen annuls her delusional animas.
Make her believe she breathes!
What is wrong with all that is her?
doesn’t my Klaineda get that life weith me can be whatever she will her self to dream .
Yes, a bargain plea?
instead of radiating from true love’s scribbled scribes in blank verse.
The stonewalled chamber gathers ipapalbe silence born from these disjointed words
Talk. You have time to make my life right.
Perform this pantomime on Las Ramblas knowing the days will turn bright.
Perhaps I cup over & caress her excess mounds.
Compliments ‘damn you look good, healthier, you’ve put some weight on’
Must she hear this now? Does it matter?
It’s too avant-garde even for Gaudi
Face swollen from a sting with an arbitrary drone.
Monthly luna flickers up sheds of decrepit blood
compound that to a portrait that makes her face plump–fits of
Hands hesitate over arms once scrawny, cheek bones sliced inwards.,
She’s rather own her shame and reach every gaze at her in a state of lean chronic thigh gap syndrome
spongy Food floats
-drowns all sign of hope.
enough self loathing to remedy it with a calibre of a gun.
Date with Russian roulette –
6 chance distractions from this body, this mind , every part called forward into existence.
five rounds until she lands in the seat of a crash test dummy.
Grief , guilt ,
unpleasant to the taste.
fret bursts in beads of sweat – her few will revolt into petulant demonstrations of
Get by on hope and luck and a fine mother hen
A good sized egg , pair of irises that delude her into feeling all her sins have been revoked.
Here she comes
Me -the late bloomer
I have a revelation words matter circa 2015.
ALL WORDS MATTER.
Let me try and type something with substance
Words have power.
collectively should choose our words carefully.
Don’t stop talking.
hashtag it’s still okay to talk.
start a difficult conversation.
Mental health is here for as long as we humans are.
Stop with the sincerely Stan – suicidal fan stereotyping –
Passive aggressive greeting -Hello hunties
Yes I have a cunt and I won’t let any man hunt me -unless he is prepared to be chased too.
How can we all be so woke when
we stilll choose to believe in fake news?
People love to give blow jobs on other peoples words.
Most people swallow and don’t spit.
Retweet it to keep it 100.
can we put a value on integrity?
Words matter -when we stand up for our belief to break away from the mould.
Open mic night’s expressions should be honoured by doing our words -over and over.
Especially when people aren’t watching.
Show and tell how to walk the talk.
Match a wage bet — that another brother’s claims of little Miss trouble are too high key.
It’s okay to talk.
Tupac once said
People should see before they make a judgement.
express yourself – in the social accepted way –
Aspire to appear lowkey?
All these quotes about
Keep your personal business to yourself. –
then do a 180 and take the ” power back”.
A calculated performance
reveal you know how to manipulate words – with barely legal finesse.
Hashtag wars still matter.
Use language for positive change.
Start a difficult conversation.
Think about your fellow patient in the opposite bed.
Why does she haveresting bitch face syndrome ?
Why does she stare at back after you state
‘That feeling when you feel like Briney spears circa 2007?
oh you have problems – you slit your wrists – oh how savage – roll of the eyes.
Let’s get creative with our words.
affected by a mental illness.
Lives with a mental illness ?
or suffers from a mental illness?
How savage (roll of eyes)
These labels – – schizophrenics. Bipolar , psychotic
2018 is the year where Everyone wants to be insane 😉
the reason to be a certain way is the new aesthetic
or an excuse
to be lowkey about our true shame and high key about superficial hurt not to lure in the Stans.
It’s not relevent as long as I get approval from my fam or
my Sis from another Miss.
We are more than a tick boxed list of criteria.
We are complex humans , with diverse traits and interests.
Who is that? Over there- making a statement.
Not relevant – That there is just some extra.
Not part of the true fam –
Is this how we wish people to feel?
For all the RT’ers out there who love to share,
Share your own personal story.
The world will become a place where you are lit by your integrity.
Not everyone can relate to the G.O.A.T.’s
We probably are pretty for real when we embrace our bromances and our militant feminists.
True power is being woke enough to see the ethic in bringing out the G.O.A.T. in EVERYONE of us.
We can all be be lowkey.
we are all fam.
I’m not going to say its cool to call my new ‘ship interest- Dad.
and the lack of them.
What we don’t say .. is a statement of power.
Spoken word – maybe we all have inner dictator waiting to stand up and be heard.
I don’t know how we can claim to be so woke when everything we do is to death.
What am I going on about?
Apologies for this is the mix in slang –
I’m not pedantic … I am keeping my integrity – my code of of ethics.
If we are going to talk and be true about our feelings – Remember that the words we use to connect on a level can out you as a hypocrite –
Words matter because they help us communicate and relate with a diverse bunch of people who may end up feeling like family more than your own Dad or sis.
Communication can cause dis -ease – challenge our own self awareness;
Not because you the go to p[person to get the latest scoop on someone else in life detention.
Its cool to be high key about not fitting the mould –
Embrace the idea that to be holistic is not going to conform to your method of living –
WE don’t have to be conventionally spiritual to have faith.
Well-being of the mind and body is the G.O.A.T.
– the power –
the perfect ratio.
Sometimes we fall – human after all ..
When we outcast others for assuming their make up
judging every part of them based on an undemocratic vote of what a person’s true disposition is.
How fair and unbiased are our Hugh key views when we don’t have the whole picture?
That moonscape – that attitude is a predisposition to sus and ghost others because of their diversity.
We spit words , stand up for diversity and equality –
Express ourselves through didactic verse.
Congratulate our selves on our ethics- to embrace the variety of our culture.
The irony is what we say and do,
What we day we are going to do.
And what we do when confronted with someone who is different and not facile two understand.
How quick we are to turn into heartless bastards and turn away from our own race.
Everyone is quick to look at the other person.
I Don’t see colour .. I’m not racist
I don’t discriminate, I’m well up for equality.
“Look at those tits!”
“She looks well up for it.”
“crazy, cheating man hating bitch.”
“disrespecting my bro..”
Consult the bro code.
This divine, esoteric oracle states that she was asking for it.
Aaah aaah aaah baah
True story – a woman lived under apartheid then came to live in the patriarchal society of English gentry. Shes spoke up for herself – acted like a dude -how dare she!
Embraced the spoken word and unashamedly campaigned for the right that it is truly ok to talk.
Segreted cos she is diverse and predispositioned to speak her mind, she made as many fuck ups as the people she met and spent time with.
She decided to end her life with
I don’t don’t give a fuck, I know the world is bigger than a few small minded ,feeble gossips who use their words to bond
I died to reborn .
I answer to nature not people.
RIP KEITH from the Prodigy.
I planned another attempt on my knees
Spoke to a God
Daisy is no more.
A body emptied walking on egg shells.
Cause me to break out in blisters.
Words fail to recover my obsolete pose
stream of wrong chosen floaters in crimson blood rivers.
white foam is my diffident
Angry cross dressers
hung by confusion
bungee jump without rope into a quagmire.
Prayed to a cloud God in an attempt to die
Lost, scared, dreading my loss of locks
inside I’m already dead.
Queen bee keeps me in fear
droplets of pollen
my rival is life
Alone decorated in red confetti
Enraged at my syphilistic minded inability to write even borderline literate.
Fits and spirits
rummy body popping misfit.
Failure to perish
shelf life insignificant.
A failure at talking transparent.
A thief of integrity.
A coward rumpled into a once upon a time melody
No solace — out grown to suffer from eternal colic.
Stubborn push me over
‘cos it’s a waste of oxygen.
Recovery is overrated.
Trust when I say
I lied and I planned
My prison is this world.
Let me go!
I’m not strong enough to serve the bee revolution cos I’m different.
Scared to never feel my bones.
Scared to lose my only love
My minds my terminal to Cancer.
Purpose – 37 years wasted in ignorance.
I’m not writer
I’m a fighter.
An enemy of my Self.
Uncomfortable with peoples apparent confidence in my ability to not give up.
Strength is not telling
Can’t keep a secret — I’m a fraud — I lost my soul to the devil 3 decades ago.
A ritual given freely to a demon I couldn’t please.
Why did I tell of my plans?
Damn do gooders orchestrating my life.
Suicide is the answer.
I’m dead inside
I’m a joke-I’m aimless — shameless
Engaged – remember to pretend to be engaged.
Life is a sham — there is no plan.
Fear makes me who I am.
A writer died on that table.
I shrink my words-
I am not who I say I am.
Don’t tease me;
People — I don’t get you — assist me — talking in skipped beats
Daisy in the willows
I’m not a fan.
Help me disappear
not in another room with four walls
you hold me rooted
Why do I love you ?
You’re my child
I am A mother on mute.
Lost to a cause
Petrol bombed mind.
A lost cause to
These four walls.
Life is a shore ditch with no applause.
alive — so very sudden.
Cheated out of death
I don’t want to live
Stop saving me
Screaming to a society blinded
Samaritan I’m your even,
selfish? , yeah
welling up in self pity.
Take my Queen — kill me — a paperless tree.
these words are not free
I cannot be
Fuck the world
Listen to my plea.
Let me die
damn you all
I have Cancer in my mind.
You live behind fake smiles and superficial styles.
The only time i ever felt free was when I wrote without thinking
I’ve lost my creativity
I’m done thinking
My rights taken from me.
Death embrace me
Why can’t you fall in love with me?
Damn you all.
I am my biggest flaw.
Live for yourselves.
let me disappear into a shallow grave carved out of skin
Scarred by the welts of time.
A master of self distortion
Fuck the life-it serves no function.
All I had were my words.
Now I have nothing but a habit of crawling on hands and knees hiding from life’s sores.
I don’t want to be famous.
i want another chance to die — Fuck you
Hospital and doctors orders
I’m not an animal!
I’m a ghost of the cult of the morbid.
These are my words
Damn you, Bee!
Manipulate me into loving you
If only I didn’t care.
Maybe I don’t…
These words are simple.
Not good enough.
I’m the fucker with the guardian angel who won’t let me go.
Fuck you, you test me, then arrest me.
I’m perpetually unhappy.
Let me go.
Let me finally be free.
I was born into the wrong world,
The wrong time.
fuck you all – I don’t want to be
I’m too damningly kind.
Survival of the fittest — I’m a rumpled coward-a retard — a misfit.
Damn you,host — you saved me — when you should have save your breath for another.
I exist for others peace of mind.
*something self loathing in Rage -is (?) I wrote post -suicide attempt*
Write to recover. I don’t always feel so much self loathing. There is always a silver lining…….
(a stream of consciousness borderline poem unrevised)
Whilst fleeing from the echoes of ‘you were in the wrong’. The Screws twist torture upon entering her 4th chamber.
Inside her bloody mind. Dried & pressed between her breasts
Leaves, stained by painting the roses red.
Long live to leave the Queen of Hearts
Lovers lost: Lovers found -past & tense -future is uncertainty abound.
Forever locked in a gaze with the omniscient eyes of Janus
Uncalculated, her actions motivated by too much heart. Unruly emotions betrayed her by treason. Penelope, she is not for a reason.
Lost to thoughts in solitude until reunited with like-minded misfits caught up in the cycles we call seasons.
* Inspiration for Acrostic poetry word ‘willful’ came from how some people describe me & I wrote this cos the one person I thought would “get” how complicated relationships are (didn’t). #write to recover and keep me sane.
willfulwill·ful | \ ˈwil-fəl \variants: or wilful
Definition of willful1: obstinately and often perversely self-willed a stubborn and willful child2: done deliberately : INTENTIONALwillful disobedience
Synonyms & Antonyms for willful
balky, contrary, contumacious, defiant, disobedient, froward,incompliant, insubordinate, intractable, obstreperous, rebel,rebellious, recalcitrant, recusant, refractory, restive,ungovernable, unruly, untoward, wayward