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Damsel called Distress

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.

P.S. I’d do it again in a heart beat

*Prompt FORBIDDEN LOVE*

Forbidden love shell-shock hearts with echoes of the gun shots .

Bang!

Fall to the floor .

Emotions mastery of us;

The puppets.

Universal soldiers we plea the heart must be acquiesce .

Ration it’s rational .

It’s bled blood red.

We walk — fine machines-

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Trivialise the flesh armour riddled with holes

Glimpsing sight of gleaming ivory bones.

Savage howls at  muscles contracting   into  contorted wounds.

Turn on the cannibals of Lust.

Devour us they must.

Tokoloshe monster

Neither height nor a warm bed will keep the heart away from

The obsessive frenzy of orchestrated, sexual slumber.

Denial of sacred sensory codes embedded within

 Mind will saunter in  Possessed —

Create a haunting soundscape of phantasmagoria.

Convince us that  forbidden love is worth the loss

Of Not only the Super Ego or the Ego but the Id —

That’s three parts of you or me.

Never regret times spent close to another body — chemistry is divine.

Aphrodite’s Divine presence

Unwraps our Im-pulses to climax to a primal rhythm .

Kindred spirits simultaneously reach the peak of a shared orgasm —

The body can’t hide from the  demon soul  inside .

Trumpet life

TRUMPET LIFE

Under pressure.

Breaking apart — splinting at a crucial fissure.

Until,

It  causes an eruptive displeasure.

Disquieted mind  brushes strokes of  bad blood around these elemental  chambers.

Cordoned off.

This is my plea.

So, don’t arouse my anger.

Beaten hearts with a wooden spoon.

These wings will fly-

I’m a fledgling, not a buffoon.

Weep for the Teether’s – the naive doomed  creatures.

They grow into  adults

Dolly the sheep baa’ed down pilgrims resting on mothering Sunday.

Bloody miscarriages — that awoke the town from their  walking slumber.

Think 6 nonsense thoughts a day to keep you sane!

Perforate these gums.

We’re merely animals lacking in  humanity,

Evolved to maim the world for self depravity.

Governed by  social media surveyors  cohearsing   joined up conversation into cursive bubbles.

Uttering bullocks — unravel the mind to overcome the low ebb of the  tide.

Disquieted mind tumbles over.

Terribly tainted, it is prompted to conjure a pantomime.

San Francisco knights

Dangle buckle boots or  bare feet over the  bay.

The full  moon is reflective.

Learned that life will conquer them too  if it has its own way.

Make it a Wishing well.

Make it the  Stage!

Exist or live….

Hell is on earth  — uprise to increasing fees,

We’re bludgeoned to death

if we don’t  pay.

Over and over.

More and more.

Gluttonous gloaters   feed our souls community  with   skunk;

not from Bombay.

We walk around the streets in mobile  psychosis.

We are a society fabricated from bedlam , deserted   in these woods.

Wondering about other lands,

Running away from daggers armed by cloaks concealed behind hoods.

We dance around  the pink elephant cuffed behind its  cage — waiting for the  trumpet,

To spray all 7 dynasties  with glory seeds.

A trunk  with roots in disarray,

This is Life that I seek to portray.

*Inspired by writers block, panic attacks, mental illness, injustice, isolation, fear and the song ‘San Francisco Knights by People Under The Stairs’

*Inspired by writers block, panic attacks, mental illness, injustice, isolation, fear and the song ‘San Fransico Knights by People Under The Stairs’

The mirror

The mirror reflects the beast is inside it.

Inside the mirror the beast reflects,

On ideas inside reflective retrospection.

Reflect reflexive reflux.

Unburden the beast

From  the mirror on its side.

Beasted prisms

-open mouthed,

Cavernous cat calling, flea bags .

Black shades of night undeterred by the mirror at that angle.

Pages of bondage erotica famish the interior of the beast within.

This mirror shatters,

splinters shriek for a second too long to be assumed  as straight.

Queer in the way they lay askance humming for a low light to see inside the shade.

Hecklers shadier  than souls  of migrated slaves left behind in the mines.

Mine’s   more saintly that Mary Magdelean and her merry consorts.

Inside the mirror comes an ideology in pursuit,

In vain it pursues the ideal mirror come -ingly

Humming birds make cuckoos cower and tall trees suppress air ,sneering inwards.

Deforestation is a  reflection of the soul of the beast

This is our true form.

Humans are the beasts of nature.

A crystallized form of sin

A loss of the last glimmer of humanity.

*Inspired by reading  ‘Reading experiment’ by Hazel Smith. Chapter one- Introductory strategies

Shrouded Sun Screen

*photo credit Francesca Woodman, Space2, Providence, Rhode Island, 1977, © George and Betty Woodman*

‘Always wear sunscreen’ – comes from a song.

Wisest life advice I’ve ever heard?

‘Don’t read beauty magazines they will only make you feel ugly. ‘

Quoting like I’m toting.

Screens -Scenes. Teams. Streams.

Rhyme it out until I get an inspiration to scream.

I Love screens. What to watch?

 I never wore sunscreen.

I went under the artificial tan beams when I hit the isle of  Blighty.

Cancer, I probably have.

The world is full of it. Boasting in its insidious arrogant fashion.

We can’t slip away from this malady.

Life is a parody.

Stage screens. Projections. People hustling and bustling about in the form of shadows.

Cue: Audio – people chattering, laughing, Christmas jingles pop out like a pack of Pringles.

‘Once you pop you can’t stop’

Stream of consciousness interrupted by my very own human Bee.

How you doing ? – A total Joey from the series ‘friends’.

Beware of enemies posing as your bros and sisters. Cut out cardboard fake, one-dimensional pranksters

inanimate.

Politics have got me in the corner of a boxing ring, cutting teeth on my mouthguard.

Betray my thoughts and beliefs when I mention the pantomime that is crawling underneath the flesh of America’s skin.

I don’t want to share any posts on this farce. Spread more hate and give more time to something that makes me want to spew my guts out.

Angry on behalf of all that is left of humanity.

The stupidity line is growing longer than the start of the poverty sign.

One screen dividing the people and oh wait they are all in the same queue.

Branded – I can’t stand it.

Fuck Kim K and K west and all the KKK’s and the rest of the Hollywood bandit Muppet crew in folly land with extra zest.

All lives matter. Seriously?

I’m about ready to pack my bag with the bare necessities. Head out to the jungle and live life with my true fellow earthlings.

If I could grow fur, I wouldn’t need sunscreen.

What the hell are we humans even doing here when we can’t even adapt or evolve in our natural surroundings?

Destroy, conquer, divide- it’s a woeful stuttering thought.

Soon we will be paying for the air we breathe.

“Water is not a basic human right” Just a thought from Nestle.

Stop polluting what was given to us.

Stop changing the screen to the scenery you want the commoners to see.

We are dying.

Hairdresser fed up of listening to other people moan. She applies for a job to treat people in a morgue.

Silence.

Now you listen to me!

We all need to talk even if it is behind a screen – a mask.

I’d rather bleed from my eyes than cover my true feelings, opinions, and thoughts.

People can laugh. I don’t care.

Scan my soul  and I will pass every scripture criteria to go to anyone of your chosen heavens.

Arrogant?

Perhaps.

I reflect what I see in others. We are but mirrors of another.

Despise me?    Something inside me resonates with you. What are you hiding?

Drawn to me?    remove the smokescreen – brave soldier-admits and refuses to deny that we all share common dreams,

feel similar emotions.

Have days when it’s all commotion after commotion.

I scream – a throwback to the bairn I never intended to wean.

Heartless – that would mean I am aimless.

I’ve had my eye on a spot. That takes more heart and commitment than spouting out hateful, denounced rhetoric.

Chloridic.

Grief- ridden, sick chick.

She should have grabbed the knife.

She should have locked the door.

She should have put more clothes on.

She should have done the cha- cha- cha.

Would it have saved her?

Polo – life mint- raspy breath in need of sprightly death.

It’s fun to dream. It’s even better to live it.

Wear sunscreen?

Protection –  duty to our children- the ones who love us.

I say be reckless -not with others hearts- but be a part of the movement to dine with the  Ming dynasty, hovering somewhere above, a local art museum, in some loco town down in  Acapulco.

The song I was on about when my thoughts were rambling.

Do or Dye

Sitting on the roof top trying to tell myself I’ve not misbehaved.
Blush rose hues creep up my cheeks and I know my hearts desire is unexplained.
I look at the stars — one always stands out brighter than the rest.
I say to myself — there goes my next conquest.
With liberal wings and green peace in my heart ,
I know for the sake of inhabiting my skin-unconfortable feelings will always play a part.
Forgive me for being free spirited and seeking out a bon ami.
If I had testicles would my new gender let me walk free ?
to be me?
It’s a plea.
I love what I desire .
I desire what I love .
I hate it when my sanity decides to imitate a neat whisky on the rocks.
Truth be told – I know I’m getting old .
Disambiguous feelings about the path I tread.
May my daughter’s laugh always bring me round to the sound of present day clocks.
Murmurs of hesitation .
Live my life, have a voice, and sail away
Where else do you think I would choose for a holiday destination?
The one I never have to come back from.
It’s me inside me.
Dare to take a part of me — feel my anticipation.
The specials-the after math.
Told off for my impulsive reaction.
The fact I’m conscious I am typing these words-
I feel inauthentic in how they roll out my mind with a hesitant tense formation
Words rise up ,around me – Jab me and a jeer me to dare say whats on my mind.
I’m not a child and I’m not venerable just yet .
So I swim against the tide of the alphabet soup.
Clarity I seek.
One tidal wave from forcing myself to write these words down;
If only to reinforce I have my own sound.
Sound as a pound
Scared of clowns .
That’s better-Socs — that’s my deal.
My contraband.
How I get from a-z- without reaching out for the plan involving illegally, prescribed Ativan.
Banned from my perception of the elite.
Breached my licence to complete…
Should I hit delete?
This is my beat.
I won’t let me beat me down.
Self is the worst enemy-you know how it ages your reflection
scowling in a frown.
She’s back in business now . Wah da da da da — the song clearly has relevance in my sense of decline.
Fall 8 times — get up again.
Who am I to want merely blend in?
I was born to be a Bengal feline.
Character building — life coach ,I sense my patience won’t let me vote for your reality T.V. yoke.
It makes me sick.
Confession .
Watch one episode and I will mutate into just one more cockroach.
I’m on the down line with a mean upper hook.
Priorities in order.
House work infected by the pox — aren’t you glad you vaccinated your park life children?
Let my demon free to infiltrate the anti’s, confront them with the disease bitten book.
Have a say — what’s the worst that can happen?
Speak your mind — illegal aliens might just descend from that planet called Saturn.
Write to recover. Write to escape.
Shake up your mind , dare to continue —an inner ongoing live debate.
Not for hate — you make your own fate.
Feeling Anxiety. Too worried about what John Sax’s might reveal to his munchie queen.
Know thyself and be true to yourself.
I’m not going to change my character to fit in with society’s latest heart melt.
Superstitious mind – I earned it in walking my path — did you see my black belt?
Stand up for who you are and what you believe in.
Some may consider me strange but have you had a look at your inner heathen?
The entity is back — no wheel-dealing with a bad batch of sugar coated crack.
6 million ways to die — choose one
That came from a song – Who am I to sit around and hide?

Social media haiku crash

Instagram refresh

WhatsApp denied me access

Facebooks heavy burden

Titivate to titilate

When

She is in the mood to arouse you and She wants you to reciprocate.

She has a technique she uses to spruce up her petals.

inject a colour dye

No doctors needed to take an oath

No need to hang dry and desiccate.

All she desires is to tempt you with her words.

She looks upon them as her Fire stoked Lords.

Simple and overused is tedious when used as commoner slurs.

So titivate is something She does.

It doesn’t require a zazen mind state to create an immediate demand for 1950 style Fords.

Take a dust feather to your ear, tickling it ever so slightly, a murmured breathe escapes – to let you know she is quite eager and indeed keen.

Arouse you with whispers of sweet adjectives.

Use words that excite you to shudder instinctively.

Now She needs to make herself seen.

Fluttering eyelashes – butterfly kisses.

Sensual and cute -tempting yet blissfully innocent.

Pure and light and dreamy enough to set your imagination to seek out. Whatever is in that mind of yours…

She wants you to know She finds you alluring

magnificent.

Which of your senses does she wish to tease out the most?

The ones that arouse mental fuckability from an agile, graceful host.

Often she craves a tidy up just to try out something new.

Freshen the vibe up.

Create dribbles from your lush dew.

Bubbles have more of more a rambunctious appeal.

Invite a sense of pure, exquisite fun

Her mind seeks out to imbue.

So to titillate you, she has to titivate herself.

Seems rather rueful

Please be curious about what she has in her mind –

Truth is her middle name.

Look by all means.

Dare is the name she gave to herself when she was born.

Feel free to question her too.

She speaks in orgasms when someone can make her laugh with their wit or indeed see a sparkle of hers thrown our carefree and unconsciously.

successful relationships are a honed practised recipe inciting those who have an inkling or some fledgeling clue.

The colony

My faith was tested by the colony

The cross bore into my chest like multiple sessions of ECGS

I thought I had forgotten what it was to feel like an honest me!

The strength of survival of the fittest

Compelled hope to flee

Or save me

My choice

Brainwashed for a profit

A racquet

Insidious to true inequality

I’m here

I’m an insurgent

Indulgently

Indignant to all the two faced flags

Denying

denoting

Independent thought

For the books to be written

of/

Off

philosophy

Clouded the dogma that corrupts those who believe in their infallibility

Water – a drop

A drop.

A drop.

A drop

Do not judge me

For my sapling survival

a birth of a scape goat to inscribe the words of a free spirit

With no country

I claim as my own

I am who I choose as my identity

Borderless

No government

No political movement can discriminate against my spirit

For I denounce those who cannot see the truth

In front of them

even when they kneel

Before nature

The only divine death

With nothing to face.

Sincerely,

The unknown scripture of abandonment sans fear

Mo by

How many times can a man kill

With the swell of pride in his heart

The ocean stained with the sins

Of his foibles and ills?

A death wish

Mammoth moments sunken by the greed of this lot

Moby dick stood afloat

Whilst man’s morals were lost.

To the rise of egos

The wan of humanity.

The flag ships raised

A toast to a humans descent into insanity.

Without affirmative action these are mere words of profanity