Blog Archives

Hashtag All Words matter

(context for this pieceI’ve been thinking about the words we ( I) use, (perhaps flippantly) at times. Without really thinking about the meaning of what we say to describe a person.An example? Crazy.
My 8-year-old daughter uses this word to describe anything / any a person who seemingly comes across as alien or eccentric to what she doesn’t understand people’s behaviour & words.
When I found out about the All Words Matter campaign that started a few years ago over being conscious of using the words we use to label people, like refugees versus using the word asylum seeker, I became inspired to write, Inspiration for this piece was taken from the urban dictionary).
I also want to challenge my vocabulary to use words that have an influence on the way we treat people.It’s about being aware of what we say & this culture of using words that take the English/ other languages and filter it through hashtags, miscommunication thus preventing people from appreciating & understanding other cultures. 

Here she comes
Me-the late bloomer
I have a revelation words matter circa 2019.
ALL WORDS MATTER.
Let me try and type something with substance
Words have power.
We
Collectively should choose our words carefully.
Don’t stop talking.
Hashtag it’s still okay to talk.
Start a difficult conversation.
Mental health is here for as long as we humans are.
For real…
Stop with the sincerely Stan — suicidal fan stereotyping-
Passive-aggressive greeting-Hello me hunties
Yes, I have a cunt and I won’t let any manhunt me-unless he is prepared to be chased too.
How can we all be so woke when
We still choose to believe in fake news?
People love to give blow jobs on other peoples words.
Most people swallow and don’t spit.
Retweet it to keep it 100.
Can we put a value on integrity?
Words matter-when we stand up for our belief to break away from the mould.
Open mic night’s expressions should be honoured by doing our words-over and over.
Especially when people aren’t watching.
Show and tell how to walk the talk.
Match a wage bet — that another brother’s claims of little Miss trouble are too high key.
It’s okay to talk.
Tupac, once said
real eyes
realize
real lies.
People should see before they make a judgement.
express yourself — in the socially accepted way-
Aspire to appear lowkey?
All these quotes about
Keep your personal business to yourself.-
Then do a 180 and take the ” power back”.
A calculated performance.
Reveal you know how to manipulate words — with barely legal finesse.
Hashtag wars still matter.
Use language for positive change.
Talk.
Start a difficult conversation.
Think about your fellow patient in the opposite bed.
Why does she have resting bitch face syndrome?
Why does she stare at the back after you state
‘That feeling when you feel like Britney spears circa 2007?
Oh, you have problems — you slit your wrists — oh how savage — roll of the eyes.
Let’s get creative with our words.
Affected by mental illness.
infected…..
Lives with a mental illness?
Or suffers from a mental illness?
How savage (roll of eyes)
These labels — — schizophrenics. Bipolar, psychotic.
2019 is the year where Everyone wants to be insane
the reason to be a certain way is the new aesthetic
or an excuse,
To be lowkey about our true shame and high key about superficial hurt not to lure in the Stans.
Whose that?
It’s not relevant (as long as I get approval from my fam or
My Sis from another Miss).
We are more than a tick boxed list of criteria.
We are complex humans, with diverse traits and interests.
Who is that? Over there- making a statement.
Crazy
psycho
nuts
lunatic
Not relevant — That there is just some extra.
insignificant
to you;
Not part of the true fam-
Is this how we wish people to feel?
Insignificant!
For all the RT’er’s out there who love to share,
Share your own personal story.
The world will become a place where you are lit by your integrity.
Not everyone can relate to the G.O.A.T.’s
With swagger.
We probably are pretty for real when we embrace our bromances and our militant feminists.
True power is being woke enough to see the ethic in bringing out the G. O. A. T. in EVERYONE of us.
We can all be lowkey.
We are all fam.
I’m not going to say its cool to call my new ‘ship interest-Dad.
Words matter
And the lack of them.
What we don’t say … is a statement of power.
Spoken word — maybe we all have inner dictator waiting to stand up and be heard.
I don’t know how we can claim to so woke when everything we do is to death.
What am I going on about?
Apologies for this is the mix in slang-
I’m not pedantic … I am keeping my integrity — my code of ethics.
If we are going to talk and be true about our feelings — Remember that the words we use to connect on a level can out you as a hypocrite-
Words matter because they help us communicate and relate with a diverse bunch of people who may end up feeling like family more than your own Dad or sis.
Communication can cause dis-ease — challenge our own self-awareness;
Not because you the go-to p[person to get the latest scoop on someone else in life detention.
It’s cool to be high key about not fitting the mould-
Embrace the idea that to be holistic is not going to conform to your method of living-
For real.
WE don’t have to be conventionally spiritual to have faith.
Well-being of the mind and body is the G.O.A.T.
– the power-
The perfect ratio.
Sometimes we fall — human after all …
I guess
When we outcast others for assuming their make up
Judging every part of them based on an undemocratic vote of what a person’s true disposition is.
How fair and unbiased are our Hugh key views when we don’t have the whole picture?
That moonscape — that attitude is a predisposition to sus and ghost others because of their diversity.
We spit words, stand up for diversity and equality-
Express ourselves through didactic verse.
Congratulate our selves on our ethics-to embrace the variety of our culture.
The irony is what we say and do,
What we say we are going to do.
And what we do when confronted with someone who is different and not facile two understand.
How quick we are to turn into heartless bastards and turn away from our own race.
Everyone is quick to look at the other person.
I Don’t see colour! I’m not racist.
I don’t discriminate, I’m well up for equality.
“Look at those tits!”
“She looks well up for it.”
“Crazy, cheating man-hating bitch.”
“Disrespecting my bro..”
Consult the bro code.
This divine, esoteric oracle states that she was asking for it.
She’s trouble.
Aaah Aaah Aaah BAH!
True story — a woman lived under apartheid then came to live in the patriarchal society of English gentry. She’s spoken up for herself — acted like a dude-how dare she!
Embraced the spoken word and unashamedly campaigned for the right that it is truly ok to talk.
Segregated cos she is diverse and predisposition to speak her mind, she made as many fuck ups as the people she met and spent time with.
She decided to end her borderline poetics with
these words
I don’t give a fuck, I know the world is bigger than a few small-minded , feeble gossips who use their words to bond
I “died” to be reborn.
I answer to nature, not people.

Athena

 

Infamous conquest of the human race to expose life’s epiphany.

de harmonisation fails to uphold Athena’s liturgy.

 

Poorly managed Pomodoro method

Metis grant Deep Thought access to the mind of the thunderstruck.

Search engine optimised  –  the ultimate article   42 disinhibits a libertarian’s reclaimed autonomy to debate life’s purpose for freedom.

hypophysectomise the moody matriarchy with

Pheromonal replacement therapy

 

Single seeded sire declares she made it up -it’s all in her head

Shamed  for  her  bloody lunar cycle – men stand Erectus repulsed yet horny

 cautioned to never mirror  the gorgon with  serpent  hair

live a life  barren or

Welcome the stones for a martyr’s death.

 

(I’m seriously stuck with this one writer’s block &  in writer’s self-doubt in full force. It needs a lot of work. )

Inksters Milking it

Dedicated to the gangsters inksters of the writing world.
A lifetime member of sudden death writer collective.
Butter them up to increase traffic
 then render them defective.
Noble people not saying what they do. It’s a performance of sorts.
It screams out – this scene has been played out far too many times.
Fucking over a person should be seen in the outdated queue.
What people do to advance their station.
Dishonest injustice.
I hold a person to their words – hence this unforeseen faction.
Beware of compliments paid by rubber silicone lips.
Not everyone understands that stars like Mick jagger don’t screw over those just for kicks.
I’m out of your game.
I am sharper and know your words scream dissident whore.
Sell yourself out to whoever seems to make more of a racket.
What happened to good ole fashioned honesty?
You fit well into the conglomeration Trump bracket.
Direct devices – mouthpiece – save your screams for another.
Fraudsters and clear ass wipers.
Bleached out.
 your ink will never see the light of day. Offended is the weed who loathes the fickleness of the collective of neigh
Sayers
sleuth
Take your numbers and deduce the ifs and the buts,
when all will recognize your true form.
The traitors to writers –  don’t teach our youth this  malpractice – unethical abuse
Power does not come in numbers -it comes from your convictions.
Surround yourself with rats jumping ship as soon as a comet brightens  Haley’s rights.
I say raise your words. This is just what I have done.
I am not a springboard to increase you, smite tribe.
I leave you to  unravel  your cohorts when you have  exhausted their  ink and deemed them a humdrum
I am not yours to use.
 

 

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.

Esther Roe

Charlie met Esther on abortionist row.

Hedges neatly trimmed – enough to dishevel a bearded vagabond to weep after his latest woe.

No coat hangers to gut the newborn sac.
Charlie stood for hours until her number came up.

Raging
rouge screams with a tremulous beep.

Surreal
Conceal
Unable
to strike the star lead role in a Bollywood film deal.

Unsullied arrived in a cumulus cloud stricken by a thunderous compulsion to wail.

Esther didn’t hear the bond lust, lilted scream.
Memory hazed -by two fat ladies at gate number 8.
Efforts disarmed – the inability to count down to the primal odd.

Nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth. Envy immobilised to an unrecalled dream.

 

Innocents smile swinging on tyres.

Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumberless nightmare  loses credibility to a sterile clinic

Action paralysing every unconscious scene.

Stratham, London. the  Knight defends to keep watch.

Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defibrillator harmonizing jolts to the melody of

‘ Staying alive ‘

Old granny hoovers up flowers choking on an ivy patterned carpet.

Mist of lavender lingers.

This bitch knows how to spray.

Don’t mess with this O.G.

Peppered, seasoned hair, non-linear lines carve out a facial narrative.

Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.

Inebriated illiterate desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel Cluedo.

It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know…..

 

Scissors aimed

ready

to

stab

a beating heart

 

Positioned in foetal

Sucked out the uterus.

 

Pro-choice.

Pro voice.

Pro-life.

Pro midwife.

Tall walls

Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.

Fiercely scrutinized is the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideas can afford her.

Quality control.
The NHS paid for a private eye.

Two signatures deemed sufficient to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.

Shameless in her deflowered disguise.

Ginger nuts, unsavoury tufts.

No, this wasn’t her nine month due – no ice cubes for killing in the name of freedom to govern her own vessel.

No need for pro-life Stepford wives lies.

Sins anoint.
Sins accumulate.

Where would our saints stand without a dissident at hand?

Society sits down, protest proudly.
Part the veil of clouds
Peer piously downwards,

ready to strike thunderbolts of judgement.

 

Rain down booming terror tactics.
Esther cares not for their gospel band.
Society sips, exhaling wafts of fair trade Ivory coast coffee beans.
Privilege smells of a modern holocaust of starving babies in bony mothers arms.

Who said any of these women consented to consummate?
Penetrative obedience to the phallic statues erected in morning glory psalms.

Civilized society!

What if God was one of us?

a scripture in the making.-

Touch and kiss the sky.

Would he become the true reflection we see, when we catch ourselves about to exhale the final breathe before we die?

Fantasies always signed off with a silver lining and promises of a rainbow.

Reality is cold,

winter serves a plateau of ice.
Frigid flowers are frozen in angst
Shatter like glass.
Rebel against their reproductive nature.
Air.
breathe.
One full gasp.

If only a mere raspy rant leaves on its depart.
It’s either them or an urban jungle of homo sapiens collecting another free day ride.

Ready to infect ignorance on every global ocean that has shows we all go out at low tide.

Rebirth!

JUST

ICE.

Everybody’s got to hear the shit on FM willows call!

Stumped hand makes it arduous to know what to write about.

Spindrift

A true union of hearts was joined one summer in late  June.

The birds chirruped, the sun shone – the two became one -reflected for all to see by La  Luna- the moon

Air and Water – shouldn’t cross paths. These two elements casually ignore each other in nature’s form-its innate core.

He of Air –

She of Water.

The energy that caused the spindrift was something not even these elements could ignore.

Le Mistral caught up in a steamy, heady mood.

Strode across the sky scowling, blowing curses – chaos surely ensued .

La Mer

– she was winding down for the day.

The tide had come in, and she was ready to listen to a  mermaid wax lyrical her classic tale of Babe Ruth.

The wind so vexed was he – he deafened her with one strike of his herculean hair -clouded by his inability to self- soothe.

La Mer reacted in bad form. He struck her so hard, – her mind swelled up with great licks of waves – crashing and thrashing her mental whereabouts.

Never interrupt an element so passionate about listening to her favorite composer.

Le Mistral and La Mer could ignore one another no more. She would make him feel the repercussions of his foolish, senseless,not-so-well thought out Strop.

Now he would have to face his conjurer.

A tidal wave of thoughts arose inside her. He would pay dearly for interrupting her meditative state of mind.

He had no clue what feud he had started. Fire and Earth were shrewd not to intervene. They knew when to stay out of the way of a combination of this kind.

They witnessed how the passion of this great unforeseen union came to be.

The product of this affront was simply not even what the conflicted two could continue to deplore.

Witnessed by two friends .

 Wind and Water created the very first image of love .

Spindrift -a physical  feeling of exhilaration consolidated the two .

They were now ready for a new adventure – together -ready to  explore each other, become the couple -who looked to the other with eyes that said ‘j’t‘adore.

Definitions for spindrift

  1. spray swept by a violent wind along the surface of the sea.

Spindrift is a variant of the Scots spoondrift, with the nautical verb spoon orspoom meaning “to run or scud before the wind.” It entered English around 1600.

DICTIONARY.COM

badge1.png