Cicadas & Purity

Outside
the cicada lift their seminal skirt of song
Like a soprano choir in C
High pitched, rising and falling - a screaming sea
Assassination of the ears
and mind
It’s a pretty cacophony though
If you let it
Be
Try not to erase or inject it with your own sound cortisone
But waking in this February beach heat
Is just like Ultra Violet

Miss Treatment

What was mistreatment doing? 

Now The labels and alarms are cut out 

The cause celebres gone

The enter-gain-meant lost

Isolation

I will not negate here, my dear little selfie. 

All whilst battling a co-dependent gawd + society 

Quarantined, So a New round table's to be placed 

Like I work the opposite way

of everyone else

run/run fast

Hansel + Gretel

All Lives Matter/?

45 NOT 33

I learnt to fly @ 45 I flew WAY Past You

My plumes were then surreptitiously pulled to the ground

so I got up and back again,

flew,

pulled back,

flew again pulled back,

flew again pulled back flew again,

Cognitive dissonance.

I'm an Independent so what did I expect really.

Ain't you kids just the bees knees. 

Liquid Love. 

Liquid Glass. 

With Memory 

Membrane Gone. 

Very Convenient

Fermented Words N Wine While Stockholm Effect Slides By and By

giving and not receiving floored in lundia years useless peers & carrying a broken tank on less than empty The Raven drops a gift of pearl-words from untouched scales The golden light in my Winter's eye, just to the right of me. My new delish gold is a white Pristine Place In a Clear frame. Untouchable - but scratched. The New Dawn - just glistening in the cold background of Ugly Blue - calming or poisonous? The latter. And my midnight chatter which turns to medicinal sauerkraut through fermented words n wine 

Smashed Chameleons, & Chandeliers

Here’s to souls that are lassoed and hatched down,

The ones piqued with bricks of

concrete pain – inside their bellies; to be spent in

(most days like Winter) – limping
around. Dumbfounded.
Kneeling over the ink, while a Purple
Rose is thrown. On the stage of some
Dirty folk singer talking
about slaves; and muddy feet.

Mostly, the poet is a vagabond;
vagrant, furious, frivolous, nostrils
flaring – hair wild like fire and displaying
the screaming heart of a banshee –
then subdued & percolated for commercial purposes

Fossilised in wanderlust

In The Womb of New Bohemia

Didn’t choose it
but, A black chandelier
SMASHED
All gems broken and spun on the wood floor,
Marking a new type of personal
COSMOS
Drum n Bass belting out nicely
My own channel of course, Pinked at the Time
Is Winter finally Here? LAST Winter.
My Winter. Yours, Winter-less
Winter. Despicable Winter –
Would Martha Graham dance with me in
A tepee (if she were here)
While the wasps get caught in the
Spiders’ web – on the side of the black
House, with timber wood trimmings &
Electric pink screens.

The Old Guard to die. Patriarchy against its will.
Or else this transition into the Daughter Life, founded buy (bought by their souls) the true Mages, Sorceresses, Sailors, Magic Shepherds and Pretty Hags will be stilted and things will
Forget commerce and get greedy with Art. prepare your authentic self, use yourself
Increasingly as you wish, not as others’ petri dish

White Goddess

Pinkcolt – The Tweaked White Goddess  (Robert Grave)


All Saints revile her, and all sober men
All witches and drunkards, come tarot readers gawke
Ruled by the God Apollo's golden mean –
[The WHAT Apollio?] Initiated by the righteous, transfer-tattoed band-aid isis braids
In scorn of which we sailed to find her
Like a scone, a breast & some merry basil braised
In distant regions likeliest to hold her
In religions sold to men among men homo-style
Whom we desired above all things to know,
& fame the new religion the opiate to the masses – no smile
Sister of the mirage and echo.
Stranger to the ‘singers of sleuth’ – Lililth in a Shawl unseen, uncouth
It was a virtue not to stay,
Straining for attention, Killing for a day
To go our headstrong and heroic way,
Without pain or stress - Watch your head, Source @ Bay
Seeking her out at the volcano's head,
Streaming now Screaming NEAR you, he and she
Among pack ice, or where the track had faded

Full of seething hate, but fear: no decree
Beyond the cavern of the seven sleepers.
Up the Rock of a brazen mind
Whose broad high brow was white as any leper's,
Climb back DOWN and nevermind
Whose eyes were blue, with rowan-berry lips,
Black eyes, black lips like nettles clasped
With hair curled honey-coloured to white hips.
Fingertips, mistral and tenderloin tasks
The sap of spring in the young wood a-stir
Talking and chiming like time is the end
Will celebrate with green the Mother,
Not brother, not Sister not even a friend
And every song-bird shout awhile for her;
Salvation for all but none in her chatter
But we are gifted, even in November,
Hidden and tortured for some biblical banter
Rainiest of seasons, with so huge a sense
Mouth gauzed shut but open she does
Of her nakedly worn magnificence
Spittal falls, much to discuss
We forget cruelty and past betrayal,
Watch dear brother the one who maimes
Soon She will rise and SEE who will gains
Heedless of where the next bright bolt may fall.
Soon She will rise and SEE who will gains
Soon She will rise and SEE who will gains

Virginia's Cousin & Neptune's Wife

I am Virginia’s Cousin
An Neptune's Wife
I am Venus's Sister
And Venus herself.

I cry when I have to and make up with myself often.
I sit on a lantern and pierce the moon with my pink frown
What else can one spindly stick girl do
But wag her legs whilst dangled over the lip of The Gap here @ Piha

Nothing but remorse in her sleeps but really joyous occasions do titillate and come around
Into the white also – her real past surname
Into the White Fuschia Tunnel Into The White