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LUCIDA

The need in me is to create. What?
Anything – it is all up for debate.
I’ve been away far too long from my usual stream of conscious ramblings.
Doing important, official work in the real world. I don’t mind but my urge to write ding dongs in my head like Big Ben , pinching at my nerves like little crablings.
Walk sideways, it’s fun .I don’t mind. To not feel able to put thought to paper is a pain that lunges at me with pincers.
Threatens to cut, alter my composite chemistry that aids my synapses to hop from one tufty cloud to the next .
I’ve fallen off this heady tuft of higher ground. Landed in a dank, damp, dark marshy bog – I look around me and I see my only flight back home is sinking in the mud.
Oh, see how much I have wept.
Humpty dumpty had a far easier break. I’m burning up – I’m spilling out my innards from every orifice. I’m burning up a fever, tactile sensations- uncomfortably scrambled.
If I could just sit up and inhale a breath. I’m tired.
Tired.
I am sick of heading for the routine spine bash.
Dreary Dystopic drones in uniform hedge all around me.
I know I am ambushed.
Spare this loaf. Save some for later . Don’t be Greedy.
We all need some form of energy to buzz us into a land of fantasy.
This existence is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Necessary to be a part of, I agree .
I need to chill-out. Don’t you see?
I have to have an outlet – that allows me to just, Let me be me!
I promise I won’t hide from my civic duty. You don’t need to contain me in a fryer with other slices of chips off the old block.
I am patriotic.
I understand my need to be part of the solution.
Eyes rise up to the skies- Pink tufts, hues colour me in , a chance for wizardry to occur. I promise I won’t become unwell again .
I won’t lose myself entirely that I become an invalid to humanities true cause. Resolve for my Absolution!
Before you take that roller pin to my head. I’m already malleable – ready to rise . See how blanched I am – covered in fine ,white, earthly grounded flour.
See, look! Pat me down.
Check my left pocket.
A quill.
Check my right pocket.
ink .
Together I can re write this story – or create a captivating ending for everyone – I can whisk you away from a life so dour and sour.
Temporarily of course. Just for a fleeting moment – I can change your wooden hearts and make them beat again.
Feel, breathe.
You can be Lucida.
Fetch me that parchment – just by that oak tree. Three combined ingredients are all that we need.
No dark spells. My intentions are pure.
My need is to make you see an alternative style of Living – a tiny bit clearer.
Imagination does get rusty when we don’t use it.
We can use some of that oil from the this-worldly fryer to lubricate , intoxicate.
Envision any place you want to go that feeds into your happiness
How do you want me to start?
Once upon a time, we abandoned our traditional milieu to head to a place, where we all could flex our buns in a manner of straight out wackiness.
I have my cure!

The gods must be crazy

When chaos has erupted ready to engulf all that we are ;
Death will raise a fury to sustain all mortals with life.
The scales must never meet
For then only foe succeeds it’s ally.

  • the God’s must be crazy or a lie.
    #justafewwords before I die.

Memories

If you could see the myriad memories that run across my eyes : you would be driven into a bedlam.Wishing for a forget me sods lot of wild flowers enraged with the promise of eeergh de parfume- dementia.

Travel apartheid

The darkest continent claims

Red card racism arrests flight of imaginary motion.

Air control. Trafficking sentient beings.

Venomous vendors plugging PC ( dis) respectful tests

Elevating inflation of people’s final destinations

Lost to incubation .

Ineffectual accusions of discrimation .

A part from hatred , what is the solution?

People are racist – black against a white supremist nation?

Apartheid of resources brought to a halt

Red light district with too many needles to purify our patriotic precious colts.

Threatening ethnic cleansing . A modern day global

HIV

no person can stereotype to one culture – bacteria spreads without copulation.

Endemic.

Pandemic.

A matriaxy of mistakes

Dividing the world to another war philosophy.

Peace stammers to another halt.

( word prompt ‘travel apartheid) Thank you to my good writer frirnd for being my muse just by a small conversation.

Master of my fate?

What makes you anxious? – the cocoon asked .

Immediate response ?
I want to run away .

The cotton wool opportunity of turning into some thing I’ve never been fills me a desire to run.

I’ve always wanted to fly!
Darwinite if it means i can feel fire
In my belly
Leave behind the sycophants of past.

Presented with the discomfort before the freedom installs a stony face

A medusa

Unjustified punishment.

I finally replied: I want to run from your question because the master of my own fate made me question why I didn’t say I’m the master of my destiny

I sat on the toilet waiting for an answer

A tinkle

A brainwave to collide with my why.

Annagram haiku

Who

is this deity of mine ?

Know no worries ,let each demon grieve earth

Privilges of wanton entities rivals?

Word prompt

  • wisdom

  • Knowledge

  • Power

Old school haiku

Water, wind and fire

Nature is spectacular

Gold hues are divine.

Tuesday Haiku 😉

‘Fire and Brimstone’

Social media haiku crash

Instagram refresh

WhatsApp denied me access

Facebooks heavy burden

The stars of clarity

3 second freestyle writing that needs to work on all the me’s 😂😂).

Starting with the sun.

If the sun began with me
If tomorrow starts without me
I’ll live or die

Who will know but me?

The dawn would surely see
Reverential potential

That if the stars began within  me
I’d allow them all rights to copy my vapid words.

Absolute in my vindication
The globe entirely could desecrate me.I don’t follow humans decree of mother nature’s rules

Usually..
A habitual sign of creative apathy

Nevertheless tomorrow will start- again
Infallibly

Where SOCS

Where were the people when I needed them

Were they where I left them?

Did the full moon transform them into werewolves

In a warehouse coveted to me?

Why wear the fur of the monstrosity of nature?

Or are humans wary that they need some creature to poach so they can reach the clouds ?

Were this a poem,

A parable of wear and tear

I’d gladly state my animosity wherever it would state:

I’m a human feral.

A token to the lost parade

Share the flag of those who ask where to care and when!