Bits and Pieces

I’m going to use this journal space to add bits and pieces, half thought ideas, ideas that go some place but not always all the way…thoughts, I might return to in time to expand on.

If life is sliced into memorable portions

Then, I’m sure I’ve had my fair share

I don’t want to be greedy

I could easily be a vagabond

Nights and days of Diamonds & Rust



It is in the blame

Life hangs


A hanger on, of shame

I blame

The game



Will always



Into a beautiful mind
A new presence squished and rooted
Comfortable to sit in a lotus position
Watching through her eyes

Unable to look behind
To a million trials
Waiting to grow old
Buffered by her wicker warmth

An Afternoon and Much more

An afternoon repartee was spread across a finely dressed table. I’d dressed the part and paid attention to my make up. Though in truth and they would not have guessed; I had shed goodbye tears. My mirror reflection caught lines and pallid skin of a trespasser. I looked several times in hope I was mistaken. So I sipped on wine before my ride arrived; like Cinderella’s pumpkin carriage I was swept away. I arrived looking down at my boots, they were in place. No glass slippers, just boots that need a polish. We engaged in banter that had my head heady; the topic was addiction. We concluded we are all addicted, the saving grace is variations and degrees. Perhaps only obsession and habits, I could not tell the difference at this stage; my head drifted between truth and rhetoric; then did a summersault and I’m a trapeze artist swinging and catching. I spoke riddles not on purpose, not to confuse. I spoke to be understood. I even puffed out my chest and sat straight, taking on a posture to be heard. I should have raised my voice or clucked my tongue. I’m not chalked cheese, would you listen to me? Instead of speaking louder, I fixed another round of drinks. And continued an internal dialogue that had footnotes, thinking that will teach them. Laughing they’ll never know, but I will, and that is all that is really important.


I knew it was not right.

I asked for a moment to speak my thoughts and views, if you please. It is not convoluted it is simple; really. Firstly, let me stress that if you speak over me then of course my ideas will have no carriage. Secondly, this is new ground so my thoughts may require honing, but please let me get something out. Thirdly, did you know I’ve a lot to say?

They listened…..


Undoing the doing in theory seems tasty. Alas it can be a salty recipe.



The sun invited a respite from the never-ending-repeating-every-five-days slog.

I determined as I pushed the chair out from beneath me; I had more than enough time to enjoy the air, sun and city slashings. I left my coat swinging on the back of the chair. It was possible that if someone passed by with an urgent request, they would see my coat and think she is not far away. I was. Even when I’d been seated at my swinging chair, I’d been eons away. It was a secret.

Stealthily, I walked the left side of the office wall; all important notices hang on the left. If anyone approached they’d not interrupt the important business of reading important business. It was a plan. I was a fugitive on the run to the sun.

I’d only walked half a block and it struck me; a sickening garbage stench. Had it discovered my escape? It followed.
I looked for obvious signs, a rubbish bin; none. The stench pugnaciously permeated my thoughts. Jibes scolded my every move. I even considered I might have a rare tumour that produces nonexistent odours. I am bad.

Reason shook my shoulders roughly, ‘you’re only going for a walk’. Is anything straight forward and simple, I sarcastically spat back. Am I wrong to want my time in the sun, a softly spoken breeze, the grass tickling my legs?

I won the battle or the stench must have taken pity on me; it disappeared.

It was short lived.


Autowrite – Not finished.

I heard the beating drums and marched after them
I was wild and crazy
My knees reached the harlequin balloon that bopped up and down
I held the hand of a pirouetting ballerina
Her key was wound by a caped crusader
Gold fingers strummed the strings of my chords
A cowgirl blinked her fake eyelashes
Blowing the crusader right out of his cape

Fricassee of pheasant was served with a bone


You only know what you see
You only see what you know….


Her nuances are noticeable
Playing a mental symphony
To a crescendo; of
always on my mind


if you want to know about me


When I’m hurting the most


It was my fault; I’d swept my hair from my neck leaving it bare and inviting. He swooped from the sky. Sunk his teeth in deeply; drawing away my life energy. Leaving me deflated.


I was a teenager and this is what I thought love was all about.

don’t laugh


I’ve been told often
cease using too many words
just spit it out

What if I said
I want to use more?

What if I said
I am bleeding a trail of words and my mind vultures are following?

That is hardly decorum

I should think twice and play nice


I’ll dance
Will you come visit my mind and stay for life?

High hopes
Interesting anecdotes
Beautiful memories
Some shattered experiences

I’ve said too much



The heat
The sweet
The incomplete
My attempted feat


Done for now.


Living Altruism

Many a kindness has been spoken to me
without thought of recompense

Some have softly touched my forearm
without the desire of a touch in return

Few have looked into my eyes with depth of understanding
without thinking to be looked at in kind

One fights to convince me of their loving acceptance
without expectation of waving the victory flag in this lifetime


A jig

The banter boomed to the beat of an invisible hand
rumbling beneath the surface of the table
to patient hands in laps
that twiddled beautiful body parts
Raising to chant hallelujah

Skipping mindful stones
dazzled a party of meeting minds
on this ordinary eve
there were voices still and vocal
doing a community jig

I’m merely here to recount
to you
this joyful encounter
so you too can rejoice
this special eve; that weaved banter and harmony.


If loyalty lasted to the end of a promise given
Hearts would still hurt


I want to scream so hard my throat rips; bleeding out the poison it harbours.


I tempt fate
each time
I see her face
her persistence
is her crime
I plunge
with words
never spoken
and a
stop sign
in my hand
I circle
my heart
pulling it
back into
never spoken words
her karma
my karma
will eternally
haunt us both
I want to
smack her face
with a glove


Mr Whippy

Her voice sounded like the Mr Whippy tune
singing down the telephone line
her tenor excited the little girl living dizzily inside of me
she will visit very soon and I shall time it perfectly
waiting with a Cheshire grin for her melodious arrival

I’ll dash outside, no need for a pocket of coins
only wide open heart to heart longing arms
she will rush into them; I see it unfold on my minds beauty screen
her eyes will speak before her rosebud lips form the words
I’ve missed you Mum


she hurt me
to take a handful for herself
I shall not forgive her
nor ask for the handful to be returned


It was the early hours of the morning.
The front door was being madly banged.
I panicked.
Who could be banging on the door?
I felt like counting my fingers and toes.
Before I’d even jumped out of bed, I thought a thousand possibilities; all hideous.
Please let the children be safe.
What if the banger has a gun and wants to kill me?
Have I knowingly caused another pain?
Fuck, I’m dead
I deserve to be.
That is too easy.


If I lure you with the twill of my heart

and you are in agreement

sewing your heart into mine

with your like intent

I solemnly pledge

I shall never unpick our thread

come what may

this is my intention.


kiss chasey


Please stealer of my clarity key
return it to me
I have bumped every square inch of skin
locked inside this confusing room
if there was a window
to smash
I would have broken free
don’t you get it
you are not protecting me
I want my clarity back
even if
my clarity is wrong
leaving me
to sit alone
my trespass
down the wrong path
I will befriend the hermit
living inside of me
and together we will
venture outside
to breathe the open air
if I must be alone
trap me inside
please stealer of my clarity key
return it to me
don’t you see
there could be more
for me to do
to feel

I am so angry with you,
I am so hurt by you,
I so wish you have the decency to go away,

You are a parasite
You take
and leave


Today I spluttered and nearly choked. There was a lump in my life straw.

I sucked
and chucked
a spindly spider
it flurried across my breasts
weaving a web parachute
preparing to duck dive
between my open legs
it all happened in a blink of an eye
I reacted
sending a message to my patent boot
lift your toe


How sad.


I opened my time capsule
And found only one thing
A Joker Card


Dolly and Me

I am not fit social company. I open my mouth and immediately I’m chewing on all my limbs. Forget a mere foot. Believe me I try, I smile, I maintain for a short period of time fine discourse. Unbeknown to me until I get a hit in the ribs or scowl dagger eyes, I’ve an insatiable limb fetish. It is not me. It is Dolly on the shelf.

Once upon a time Dolly was dressed in a bright red and white gingham dress; with sleek hair, crystal clear blue eyes and long silky black lashes. The cord winding through her insides when pulled worked fine. She spoke eloquent sentences. Some even made you laugh. Dolly is no longer her brand new self.

I take Dolly out with me. I like to give her chances. Poor Dolly, when I pull her cord, garbed nonsensical rhetoric explodes from her mouth. I start chewing. We are quite the vision. But I love Dolly. And I am going to take her everywhere with me.


In the game of hints
You run the risk of being misinterpreted
And instead of climbing the ladder
You will find yourself slithering down the snake

Why not saturate?


If we do not know what we do, are we innocent?

If we believe what we are doing is because we can’t do anything other. Can we be responsible for the aftermath?

Do you believe you are responsible for your actions and if so are your actions without fault?

If we can rationalise we were driven to certain actions are we excused?

If we hurt others in the process should our punishment be greater?

If we rely on Karma to take care of us and others are we satisfied?

Who is ever faultless?

Do you ever place yourself in a position of being faultless?

Those that maintain they do not lie – lie?

Forgiveness is something we aim for but never truly attain?

Why are we selfish?

Wanting for our self…. using all sorts of justification, knowing deep down the cost will be our own personal suicide and potentially another’s.


She followed in his footsteps
Incapable of finding her footing
Desperate for a knight
Hopeful to make and steal his night
She found excuses in her mind
The heart feels what the heart feels
I am sorry for causing pain

I wish I could tell her
His forever girl
Is wrapped tightly in him
His hand you will attain
For the shortest of time

I wish I could tell her
He talks to me nightly
And cries in my arms
He is glad for a moment
In your arms
And sad for eternity
In mine


Once upon a time there was a Knight. He spent his time riding around saving damsels in distress. He loved and fixed the damsel. Then he’d leave her and ride off into the sunset in search of another damsel. The damsel was never an ordinary damsel; she had to have certain qualities. Eye colour. Intelligent. Caring. Creative. Adventurous. Sexually alive. Oh but need saving. He did this until he died.


I wrote this years ago and recently found it

I feel eyes upon my soul, why are they boring into my being what could those eyes hope to achieve. Has paranoia come to roost within the confines of my mind, or is it possible those eyes I feel drilling my depth….are real?
Certainly, stimulus can induce a feeling of surveillance; in the instance of sober awareness the rational is in charge…or is it?
If one feels sane and rational and uses their cognitive skills to navigate life, is it safe to form the conclusion of sanity…or could insanity leave you believing sanity…
A unique individual though of the collective human species can and does view and experience life subjectively…you can’t feel what I do…
What of empathy and simpatico, I have been fortunate to share simpatico with a few people in my life to date, a sense of…I get this person his/her way of thought, the reason behind why he/she says/does something…is it possible there is a cosmic connection for some? Or is it possible that connection is for all humanity yet to be recognised?
Why do I feel crowded by an unknown force…perhaps it is true, I think too much…perhaps we are part of the “matrix” and all we feel and experience is factored into a bigger picture….I want to know the bigger picture…

(35) another old piece

I burn

Come see me fry
“sticks and stones
broke my bones”
I want
Drives a soul insane
“brain meltdown
slow death clown”
I crave
See me flip flop
“scallywag dancing
believing your fancy”
I yearn
Matching many before
“hark the voices demand
seeking love not reprimand”

Journal Comments

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