counting needles / ode to NT

Unreal this is wild ride reading n writes 💛🐝💛✨


dying spider
half crushed
as it crawled
across my face
a little voice
it’s not too late”
a little voice
too late

the sound of clattering
on the trolley
a stumbling
of hands
/    was I sure
she was sure   /

“oh you’re skinny
this will be easy”
still rang in my ears
as two
stood by my bed
my trust
in their hands

and three
so quickly
“can you feel this”
too quickly
/    passed    /
then on
with counting

four, a twitch
five, a start
six, the air
now thick
with swears




a plea
to at least
take a break

but nine

not possible
we’ll continue
just count
to 16
til the sobs
and gasps
bring one
kind face
to enquire
and make
the second

“I can’t…

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Once Upon a Time Poem Imagine A Birds Song


once upon a time I fell from the nest
I landed on a street with brilliant neon winks
of crocodile eyes n smiles
there were beautiful n exoctic birds of the most unusual rise
that got caged by the Plovers
vicious species masks of blue
These lapwings of policing would try to make the beautiful birds talk
n then let them go again
these beautiful birds
of different names
Honey n Sky to name but a few
all of them brilliant
all of them different
never flew
their wings had been clipped
It’s true
they were the saddest lil birdies
but you’d never knew
they never spoke of this act
n always laughed n sang through time
just went about seeking what they could get
to survive
n only cried in a silence no one could hear

Many died
Injected with poison
Mainly from the crocodiles
their given names were all the same
A family named Pimps
Another kinda bird
the scavenger of types
like Vulture’s they flew around the streets
Looking for the naive the very young
pretending to be Love
they didn’t tell the birds
the street was really a cage
A Giant cage within the systems cage
where all the wing clipped beautiful genteel n fragile of birds
were beaten n mistreated to engage
in acts of brutality upon them

I miss them all
those birds who were my friends
only a very few got away

n I now sing a song
my friend from this street
who saved me
before she died
sang to me each night
when I thought I would die n never learn to sing


Dream I Am



Touched by the misty mornings light
kisses whispered across my blue eyes
with surprise I am looking out of myself
looking down at me in my dream

I am the sky
looking now into my eyes
white clouds drift on by
An extraordinary view of me lays below
so vast am I now spreading out of myself
I become the sea that is mirrored
in my blue blue eyes

I look deep within
and see I am now
but a mere speck of myself
I close my eyes
as white soft tides of surf
brings me ~ back in



sparse not white
hollow no echo
the soundless hum of air
with no bars
a hostage
of denial
less than
two feet from reach
I could have been on the moon
how many distances
have passed between us
and I like an ant
and they above in a plane perhaps
look down
and see a multitude of specks
Im so small
inside and out
smaller than an ant
and time is enormous
in the abandonment
distance and time
can be as close
as you and I

Full Moon Rising


Against your night
my skin so pale
this cold wind
bitter spiteful
jealous wind
finds its way
inside me

Between the spaces
of my cage
my heart
a fallen moon
only the dark side
of me knows you
my night
and begs you now

Swallow me whole
into your darkness
let me feel
your velvet heart
against my cage

Break this spell
that stole my heart
and froze it
for eternity
let the dark syrup of your eyes
fill my veins

You are my blood line
my first breath
my first taste
my velvet night

As I reach out
into your darkness
I feel your pulse
charging my heart
You fill me with life
So that I am
Full Moon
once again
to turn the tides
for lovers hearts
will be mine tonight

Origami I am I


There are two I’s in Origami

the origami Of I
written on paper
I fold myself
inside out
till i am no more a muse
a poem
or haiku
I am picked up
a one night stand
by the wind
and just as I cling
Im let go
curled like a leaf
I am
from the tree
that once held me
made no promises
to keep me
I am origami
I am paper thin
I cut sharp
and you bleed
my words out
like there is
no tomorrow
I am me
a piece of poetry
that neither rhymes
or for some
has rind
but I am amused
by all my origami art
made without paper
but folded
none the less
with words

i am i

Room 128

Something about the rooms speaks of our minds house n the way outside affects the within The rooms facinate n scare me all at the same time I don’t want to enter but I cant refuse to not …..check out other postings n beware :))) or entertained by these writings either you can’t escape 💛🐝✨

999 rooms

The room is fluorescent. A blue fluorescence that seems to emanate from the very objects, which are two chairs, empty bookshelves on all the four walls, a pot with a plastic plant – kentia, Howea forsteriana, type – and a thin, modern table with a ceramic figurine, representing a man with a hat. Objects that without the fluorescence, and with the exception of the plastic plant, one would suppose to be white (yet without the fluorescence the room would be pitch black, making everything black, as it has no openings nor light sources and not even an entrance through which a delver could bring inside a portable light, in the entirely hypotetical case of a stop in the fluorescence). One day, some say, the fluorescence will get red and the room suddenly full with monkeys. Baboon-type monkeys, frantic & hysterical. Violent, aroused and aggressive. Six, seven, eight of them…

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