Blog Archives

Phantasmagoria

These spoken words infect the brain

‘Till it rot and fester.

 

Dare deny thoughtless utterances

Be it in mind maps or in clusters.

Gathering speed from maimed parts

Propel bodily functions into a catatonic state.

Summon steel nerves climb barbed wired fences caught its rags.

Wear with affray.

Chaos  stilled by lighting a hermits way.

Bedazzle

shades of noir surrender  when dark displaced emotions

unhemmed  the layers of Times embroidered

by frail.

If the secret of mortal man escapes

A part

These lips could loosen.

The winds could drown out  familiar chants

Beholden sacred

 

Will it have been all in vain?

 

To keep sight of the lighthouse

Hope

Propose a love affair upon reaching shores

Traverse the tides of the ocean’s girth.

Reveal La luna’s silhouette

in a phantasmagoric naked form.

 

 

Out on a whim

Do or die –

live fast , party hard –

be an honorific rebel.

Spank me, 

Shake me up, 

Colour me bold! 

Don’t wind me down – use a font that sounds like Bevel. 

 

If I could jump in that diamond-encrusted box with you, would you promise that when the children come by we could uncoil, spring up, put on the frighteners  – bob up and down on a wire?

I don’t mind you playing the feral monkey but those cymbals screech: overtrained!

we need a  new theatrical,

a mind-body infused,hell-raising gospel choir.

It’s a happening, baby – right over here. Club Fifty-Four.

Andy Warhol is in New York –  a shimmering and a  shammering with his latest regurgitated muse,  lapping up the froth off his candy-coloured eye-popping corps.

It’s all the craze.

It deserves a mention.

Yo, budding journalists get your jots and pens out,  pay attention to the latest and greatest.

News knew how to mark us – with the blackest of plagues.

Fish and chips to go, in ink -lined, soggy wrapping?

Spill out your guts with this slick new verse, congenial wordsmith.

Toxic misty breath continues to reign -centuries later, none of us is the wiser to what we are all truly cursed with.

Need a blood test or has Fate told you to put up your feet and take a light rest?

 Rest is of the idle boned –  the ones whose gums recede in a world of a decade ago of old, gravelly  deflated pillows, grimy duvets sprayed with remnants of last night’s perhaps last months  dalliance.

Life is to be played.

Hard and fast.

No one wants to party with some skittle who loses the colour  of his  new shades – when the beat kicks in and he is meant to advance without a second glance.

Rookies, pawns, knights and queens. 

Who should we really be saving?  

Strategy demands the benefits calculated tested means.

Decrease or increase the stakes of getting a hit.

Marked.

Snipers above you – numb shoulder – stay still, Mr unfit.

If I could be the monkey, I want to play the trumpet. 

Souls are more likely to come my way if they can see few notes breezing over the Mississippi – 

Maple syrup to go with that sultry strumpet?

Hard cold cash – transmute people into formidable magpies.

Shiny, wind-up trinkets send these entities up a spiral of canonised lies.

Dance with me – take flight to this notion. All you have to do is follow the lead – go with the flow just don’t step on my toes. 

Look me in the eye – don’t worry what the other Ravers are shaking their glowsticks at.

They are revelling in a moment caught up in ecstasy- let go of your own methodical woes.

One night to play – shirt off  -loosen that fusty tie – let’s make a play for the dairy queen – The rocky road ahead but it leads to confectionary.

Extra! 

Extra!

read all about it.

We have a new sweetheart in town – all scarlet glittering lips- she hums the notes of a person who invented this spin.

I will call her whig mal eerie-

non-believers look it up in the dictionary.

Lynx Fur coat

My awful confession.

My topic -Animals

It’s the last post of the a-z challenge. I’m on  the final letter- Z.

My French Grandmother, who has the last stages of vascular Dementia lived in a different time to me.

Before my exsistence ,  couple of generations  before mine, my Grandpa, bought a gift for my Grandma. I was told she had the coat made for her  in Vienna.

  I have a confession to make ,  I am so (so) ashamed.

It’s no ordinary coat,it has her initials engraved on the inside (lynx fur.I’ve seen Kate Moss wear  something similar).

For my 27th Birthday my Grandma gave me her coat. It didn’t fit her any more (& she loved me –of course).

I ignored my guilt,played the  ignorant person  when I wore it  ( in hypothernic tempertures in the U.K.) with  hesitiant pride. It kept out the cold off my bones,it was soft and beautiful.

I own a lynx fur coat. (cue: Gasp, shock & horror).

Now before  you all judge me with sentiments such as:

“Burn it ,Daisy , burn it. Sell it or whatever.. Just get rid, girlfriend cos if you don’t,see this?  You and me? We are done. And I mean done .”

Try to  understand that this is something sentimental  (an heirloom) that my grandma gave me before she got ill and passed away from Vascualr Dementia & Alzeihemers.

I live with this secret. Erm, not any longer….

I don’t wear it these days.

It makes me  feel like a hypocrite.

My Mom has  kept it.

She didn’t  want me to get rid of it while my grandma was still alive.

So, this is my shameful secret.

Last time  I looked at it, I put it on, and I felt like Hannibal.

Images of torture came to the forefront of my mind  of what happened to this animal.

How to end this post?

It’s not easy (or even affordable) to just switch over your whole life style /ethics/family traditions etc.. to not eating or wearing anything that hasn’t had an animal involved in the process in some way.

The truth is

I frittered my wedding money away (a couple of years ago) working for a non animal tested and environmental friendly business that sold products from A-Z

I ended up buying most of the products (and it led to nada profit for me)

It was expensive.It cost me an income. It alleviated my conscious.

I stopped eating sweets  (Haribos)because I knew that they had gelatin in them, and that derives from animal fat.

Who needs a  motivation for going on a diet?

(You now have one )

We can’t get it right all the time. .

 We can  become  more aware about where our consumables  come from, who suffers & power ourselves up with knowledge (as shocking and awful as it is).

I’m not saying be   over zealous ‘,  however,the first step to fighting this massive topic of animal abuse in all its forms -is to become conscious & then to act.

Being conscious leads to decision making  and any action you do that comes from a good place in your heart or mind is a good start.

One final thought before I wrap this up.

I recall a time  I woke up to to the salacious smell of   grilling bacon – thanks husband for the tempation.

I nearly threw up. The smell was rank.  He thought I was going all ‘Johnny Drama’ (Entourage) on him but, honestly it made me feel sick to the point I ran out of that kitchen.

I DON’T WANT TO EAT SOMETHING OR SOMEBODY JUST LIKE ME

Thanks for the the support and new flowers I’ve made and met.

It has been a pleasure.