Blog Archives

Pushing up Daisy

“… It’s passed on! This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be! It’s expired and gone to meet it’s maker! This is a late parrot! It’s a stiff! Bereft of life, it rests in peace! If you hadn’t nailed it to the perch, it would be pushing up the daisies! It’s rung down the curtain and joined the choir invisible. This is an ex-parrot!”

Monty Python

In my darkest moments when air extinguishes all light

Hopelessness hangs heavy above me

It hovers

Spongy , dense

A Cloud with a fierce clout.

I scramble around seeking for a match

I hear the mirthful giggle of a child

The purrs of a blissed-out cat.

My senses are aroused -Suddenly

The rain pelts down, the wind whips, lashing my face, arms- my entire mortal skin.

Eyes filled with tears of rain

Eyes filled with tears of despair

I’m reminded to look up.

I see a glimpse of a silver lining

My soul is weary

yet

 form of hope crystallizes.

Sealed into my thoughts for this second

I’m the Daisy that keeps pushing up

I’m the Daisy that proves that Life must go on.

My soul is renewed with a melancholic joy

I’m not dead

still,

I’m rejuvenated once again.

Goofy Goat syndrome

Mouthwash gargle soprano interlude

Still damned if I do or don’t by my inner feud.

Can’t Darwiniate  like a bird fish off the fly

Nor grow a pair and touch the sky.

 

Sunshine intervenes rubbing in a static state of mind.

If I started to grow and extend a branch – could it be so bad as to what I find?

Life needs nurture – decay -70 pounds of envy watching Nervosa images online.

 

Scales de harmonise ‘we are family’ tune

Burning the bridge -wasting so much of this vessels time.

Come out and play and invest in cherished moments

priceless.

 

Chronic choleric temperament pillaged as  I stand my ground

spasmodic

crisis.

Fits jump to the left -turn your cap back to front, leave me in the wind.

don’t mind a body making a life out of lying down – this vessel scowls out an impediment.

Red Dwarves s fall shortly from the sky.

Blackhole theories bask in the sun,

nebulous erasure

Convince counting blue sheep  makes sense

Only if I’m constantly on the run.

Never  leave currently occupied dwelling

 convinced I’ve spun around the globe and back- too quick to reject love.

Trees I planted.

Trees  I denied oxygen -another one down from the felling.

Breathe of grit

fluoride is the key to mutate this smile.

 

A Disposition in denial.

Government extends VAT -we’re all walking a green mile.

Pencil marks that wooden table – with the view to fraternise with  my education.

Anxiety levels cut off circulation.

 Leaving all my bluds homeless without an occupation.

Distress call.

Look above you for the murmuration.

Gone against my nature – constant dance with eternal damnation.

One theory for all of this

Life straight through to death.

 Most of us become motherless.

 

Sorrowful faces- show me the money.

Natures green lights my path

A scant scent bears purified honey.

Extinction of the masses. Humans never as smart as we think.

 Creator reveals a divine plan

Printed  the golden ratio

No time to blink.

Floppy child syndrome, fetus rest dormant for 36 weeks.

Blood, tears, love -fallibly

selfish

The  side effect  of an action of the seeker

Fear destroys love.

Hate is Its biggest symptom.

 

Ever seen a child frown sliding down into his daddies arms?

rapid growth

we could be forgiven for thinking

Life is a phantom.

 

Feed into reality.

Convinced happiness is closer to any eventuality.

Exacerbate peoples problems sad resolution for those deemed insufferably stupid.

Set the sound wave to my biggest moan: why can’t I be a shade of norm Amish tone?

Constant craving for a   collect call

silence breaks out wind to an unsuspecting receiver.

Heartbreaking words to have everything given

then denounce it was ever mine to own.

 

Blocked by representation

Two blocks stand in front of me

Prevent me from re writing unforgettable history.

Two  blocks part to reveal

That brazen  character,

It stands in front on me.

Deceive my fatal flaw from completing my true destiny.

Insidious eyes cause a distress call

Warrant to see,

Feel,

Smell,

Breath.

Clamouring hands apply pressure to  the ear

Drums

Detect the sharpening of  feline claws .

Stealth like

So poised

That nightshade

taunts

my dreams-

Haunts my waking hours.

A ruthless Freddie Kruger

Pounces

Veers just out of reach of my tunnel vision.

Scratches out eyeballs

With no need for an applause.

Urine infected chaise longues

For a burial in secret.

Littered skies

Unadorned  eyes.

we live to see the lie.

Despise the gluttonous blocks

Too

For its depiction .

The reflection of its nebulant disguise

 starves all growth

withholding all affection.

 

These two  blocks

they obscure security

Make life seem like a mere deflection.

*Writers block. Write to recover. An unrevised stream of conscious piece. Needs more work write to recover *

7X7X7 = creative reciprocation

Art,’he said, ‘should offer the viewer the chance of merging with the creator.’

Colours explore emotional Integrity – encourage the oft skittish after thought.

His rainbow palette unlocks the blueprint of his makers true motives.

Reasons for his restless soul ; to convince us to pause; then walk away appraising transformation.

Change in notion pollinates – an opportunity to conceive to full bloom.

Open minds connect to open hearts .Creation over rides desire- Fosters survival.

Existence is impassive – Life becomes a conscious act of fruition.

This writing prompt came from the the seventh sentence on the 7 th page of the 7th book my bookshelf .

The task was to write a poem starting with the sentence from my book and make a seven line poem. Almost did it 😉

the sentence comes from the book ‘Screenplay -the foundations of screenwriting by Syd field

Even Lunatics must break fast

The calm before the storm.

I break my fast musing over my odds of being crazier than the norm.

Muttering,

stuttering

— Brain sensory overload — the cranium structure is deceiving in its form.

The third eye lazily flickers in a state of REM.

an attempt to channel my inner chakra.

I’ve resorted to stick-on Googly eyes to play the part of spiritualist guru, sipping on high tea, to awaken my inner rapture.

Dear Goddess Kali, can you save me from the howling winds?

The mooing cows spinning around me

  moaning gutturally for their new fateful flight as fledgelings?

My Glasshouse shatters into a myriad of snow flaked, razor-sharp, jagged pieces.

broken,

unable to repair the damage.

Take a searing hot iron to my face to smooth out the grimace in my features.

Sacerdotal screams interrupt the night — another man stolen from his lullaby.

Sleepless ideas

patrol,

brazen in their efforts to destroy,

 my favourite playlist titled: sweet dreams.

behind the thousands of words, I’ve ploughed through with oars

Where will  I be?

Will I have sailed?

Will I capsize?

Will I have the ability to walk?

Will I  be a cripple, dragging myself by the elbows under a storm pelted bleached , grainy beach?

The Temptations won’t knock

They will saunter in.

Oh, it’s to be expected.

I refuse to fall to my knees

swearing  my allegiance to make another man’s family richer

Than see mine indicted.

I’d sooner sit on a floor, covered in colours of paint and corners lit with the smiles of my loves.

I’d sooner watch paint dry or read a screenplay loosely based on what I know about when life comes to rouse me with rough pushes or shoves.

Fire,

water,

earth,

and air

Elements balance my kinetic,

dynamic,

complex feelings of despair.

Change comes with a promise.

Fear comes with very little solace.

Motion to a new position –

don’t cower from success

It might even suit your current attire and inner prowess.

 

My time to deliver.

Get my due.

Affection,

laughter,

love,

and living

For me and my few.

 

My kind words are still here and my support?

I have some to spare.

I won’t waste it on those who don’t reciprocate

The err is but their own.

Chosen to remain frozen-staring down a hall of, pale, mirrored self-reflection.

unable to see

they are not the only ones

in need of encouragement or care.

I swill down the remnants of this blessed day with a bitter tea.

 

I clamour to suppress my applause.

I  catch out the dawn  rising with a yawn  unashamed ,gloriously

naked.

I’m no longer afraid to be the lunatic.

I’ve seen the powers of nature.

Forces of rage.

still, waters run deep.

 This insanity is something I hold dear to me-

The great mother gave it to me-

I will set with the  sun

It’s my duty to consummate all that is sacred.

Revised stream of consciousness — borderline poetry.