Lazily, a tigeress snores into her paws . If only retiring was as simple to rule her inner world.
Curled up in warmth after a stroll into the big wide world,then settle for a quinquennium pause.
Her heart beats.
Nationalists- not even patriots are exempt.
All want to play in their own chord, tighten the strings ,she keeps it together, to satisfy their crucified minds.
In a state of constant – motionless movement.
If not an act of physicality -drill cumbersomely inside her cranium and you will see chemicals and synapses – making up fresh bricks and mortar, to fit in with the latest homemade yeast infused hootchie.
Glance away now, for fear of pitying an evocative attempt to get a rise from it.
Secret plots to charge this queen with treason.
Where will she live?
Her throne burnt to the ground to make way for a newly elected dopamine and serotonin scrupulous , democratic union.
Flags of self-belief – burned infringed – protecting her staked land was all this monarch tried to take into hand.
Defamation – character assassination.
Cloaked – in darkness- rat scuttles past – no pause – it already knows this violated prisoner is barren.
Scars and welts – a confession is sought after by the cardinal living east of the castle manor.
Employed only to instill courage when the most powerful empire seized a chance to escape into heritic souls howling in the wind.
Faith and Hope – not draft an erratic, purple, incensed dogmatic pope .
Dire retribution -execute the one who claims this state is her very birthright.
Clubbed to her knees – she will crawl not humbly- you shall hear her plea.
She wants to make them a better nation.
It’s her biggest exclamation.
Out plotted by her very own court – bribed by cheap whores-given away by the roughness of their hands, dressed up as expert courtesans, who clearly have seen at least one day of sun.
Intoxicated by some amorphous potion.
Formalyhde doused in cleaveaged lace dresses – it was not her initial notion.
A scented air of burning flesh
A greek tragedy indeed.
Scorned by her very owns subjects . She may be longitiduely dimintitive but she refuses to be bullied into showing them that wanted emotion.
Defeatist attitude does not a fit queen make.
Words in a precise order do not prize a piece of art,
so clearly a fake.
Forgiveness is her only weapon. She won’t see her country be overrun by zealous creachers.
It would appear her subjects wish to prove that she is illiterate.
Tortured, holding her breath under water to procure a confession – let her reiterate.
The crown is made to fit one head – It is symbolic and vaporizes with her when she exhales all energy and is varnished as dead.
Look how you’ve turned on one another – in the pursuit of power. It is a notorious illusion.
To master control over all subjects requires more than an iron-clad fist and an outraged dalliance to declare outright confusion.
recognition and honor are what she offers,
accept these as the wealthiest of gifts.
Only a fool would scream,
‘Off with her head‘ -a face full of sour lemons and a lust to frazzle the last tether.
The Noblest of causes – so much bloodshed – look into her bloody, vein threaded eyes.
She hasn’t slept for weeks in her fight, to appease all those in famine, hungry and underfed.
She needs no steering Regent to aid her in her duty.
All she demands is loyalty and valor.
With you all at her side ready to conquer life’s copious battles,
we shall not go down .
your hearts will not know the true grief inflicted made up of another community of arrows.
we shall not waiver.
Trust in your queen to walk as a stout cripple ,duty bound to protect and hold it all together.
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.
Character sparks a debate seeking clarity.
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.
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
inscriptions fail to authenticate our brand
So many people watch and talk about those who they under estimate. By all means watch,
Maybe you will learn how to deal with one or two of your own issues
A perfectly flawed Daisy Willows
I let us down?
Shadows betrayed with a mere glimpse of a frown.
No words can express the guilt dictatorship governing me
It’s not a cop out. I know right from wrong – I know this plea
Manipulations-sucked into the vortex
Epileptic fits, child crying for a place where dinosaurs indeed exist in the mix.
Buying time while losing our minds.
Insanity led me to insist this was the shortest cut to a state of perpetual eutrophic times
Heart attack — Jack missed his usual target in sundry extrapolation.
Too much — too much — afraid to not have enough-
once choice I have to have an abortion
…..or an abortion.
The value of life against a three digit number
is not worth the risk of another loosing sanity – Look at that temper!
Fuelled by selfish, ridiculous acts in percussive persuasion.
Sick of hurting the good ones in the pursuit for a place in time where we are not struck down by our own damnation.
Heightened emotions — rouged the face of her grace .
Head rendered poisoned by the one with the latex face
Queer sighs — teary eyed.
Worth all this anvil chorus shrieking out implacable aural instigation
The fear if a god had its grip on me – I would take the whip out on my vice with attempts of self flagellation.
my soul betrays all sense of balance –
5 years of drudgery for something that has less weight than a heart.
Lost in that maze of procrastination — buying time — throwing out another seasonal line.
Fear – it will run out-plans mystify my usual organised self — maturate until all evidence of ejaculation is collected by its DNA component to outsmart.
Happiness leads to an oasis dried up well —
See that camel over there?
she’s my final hope for a sip of redemption
Unusual for a vegan to murder an animal for a quench of innocence-how far I’ve fallen —
two points away from extinction
Madness runs forever in a contortion
Fucked if I know how to talk sense into a cross eyed mass of exhaustion.
Pillage me for I am running low.
All thought out plans left in the bloodied soulless bodies of Russia’s war in winter snow
Front line-I cower-there is no courage in the how I dished out my packable blow
Left in a quiver — screamed by the knock of confrontation at my door
I do. I do I do..
If not for myself but for the one who I look to
I observe it as one would in a zoo
Meaning to be dutiful
This reflection is the antithesis of beautiful.
How long can love last?
when the tokoloshe is cross examined for its denied attempt at buying its time
or trying to convince that biding echoes are indeed in the indefinite past.