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archetype life-Septet

freedom to climb
ethos -act first worry later
indulge all cravings at any expense
fainting goat syndrome can occur
a phenomena
a goats life

be creative -Quinzaine

sounds words, pictures are a start
enough to express oneself`?
should I try?

 

Bloody red tressed army

 

The red army draws collective breath whistles it out in a  howling gust of wind snarling.

She stands tall – her long  tresses raised to the heavens

A subtle message from Hell’s dwellers:  it was back to attack.

Every month,  they stalk her just as night follows day, full-mooned. Hairy palms, yellow slit eyes – she would rather die of an internal haemorrhage than be demeaned.

They see the blood trickling down her legs.

Draw in closer –  metallic scented pack.

Pro-choice in an era where science can make the dead come to life – yet still she must bleed whether she carries life inside her or expels the botanist’s seed.

Condemn her to a life in pro.  Micheal Jordan had space jam. A notorious – well-received flow. She blushes every time her breasts swells – nature twists in a  smile. Nipples point straight at the mouths of the hungry -ready for their feed.

To be Anonymous in a WikiLeaks world. Memes, social media information convulsing out  statements of change:

 Did you know?

 Think about how brainwashed – your mind is!

She knows she still rolls in her own shit.

Unfit for a carry one movie with Benny hill and the league of justice.

Dead pool eyes.

She knows this world is too abrasive

Her skin smooth

Her passion unhinged

One straight jacket away from having the whole collection of brand unfit.

‘It’s a happening, baby ‘-throwback to Allan Kaprow.

Everyone is crazy. Everyone has issues.

Everyone stand and link arms at the toll bridge

show solidarity for your fallen foes.

The ones who fell 20 feet from the building or overdosed on legal high drugs brought from some hoodie called  Jack Wills.

How to be seen and have her privacy in a cyberbully surveillance world?

Charity matters.

Throwdown your sticks allow overgrowth to infect the anti-stigma hedges trimmed neatly in a row.

She screams out in shrill

Ears sharp enough to raise the dead.

How is it possible no one sees or hears of her ills.

Despicable matters in the eyes of the living dead.

An out or an in.

A place that stirs broth from her blood flow  waits until her insulin levels drop to an all-time grave

So shallow.

Sugar-coated words nauseate her.

Her duty to be human and keep her heart on the ticker – inside she knows the hurricane won’t stop swaying the palm trees until she is torn from her roots

From below.

Mr Big has an acute perspective unable to see she is drowning with every weapon she draws.

It doesn’t take a hostage negotiation expert to know that eventually, even the savviest terrorist can be worn down to drop its ammunition.

Stockholm! Place of the cordial juiced up paedophiles.

Intensive herbal essence conditioning treatment is their only hope of showing her how to be free.

A Jesus embellished slice of toast to honour her first Butter valley communion.

She thinks she is free.

She knows it’s part of her syndrome.

 To admit her state of inferiority to herself would mean she ‘s dubious about her declaimed existence.

Her mind is her prison. She has the padlock and the pin number. She sits up to 24 hours a day punching in the password, unlocking the clunk of metal chains – on a loop.

An exercise in futile persistence.

The ending is found in her very beginnings  born out of blood, stained, crying

Pulled out with forceps the white coats defined her form from the moment they beat her into breathy life.

Smiling jokester with  broad shoulders fighting all corners of the globe

Her last breath will be when she lets go-

Stops giving.

In her state of   cocoon  expose her true misery to the world – look at her in  her strife

Don’t worry, folks

Blood will flow.

You will get your show.

Just know that she put up one hell of a fight

In order to finally see her vision of light.

Capital gains for an elite aura

Random fandom

Venerable vulnerable

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.

 

Animus archetype

Character sparks a debate seeking clarity.

More insight.

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.

Inner Iago

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

in contempt

inscriptions fail to authenticate our brand

Our tag

Our blueprint.

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.