November 5, 2024

Where is my tribe?

Cold Calling

Taken out by a wave of sarcasm as she mocked the pending flare
The glass caved in and melted walls she never knew were there
If only shed have jumped up then and ran to buddha’s tree
Shed have dropped her sorry tone of voice and dropped down on one knee
But instead she cursed the feather lites that failed to stop her conception
Forced her to see it through and face a life of introspection
A sorry lamb on humours grass grazing on the mint
A light bulb breathing dark and light and spitting out the splint

Flashing before her eyes was a future of malt and cava
Bubbling up like wax dripping on a 70s arger
She should have read the small print
When it dries you pick it off
instead she created limestone flint and induced a raspy cough
Wondering why life picks on her “the weak and feeble cry”
She forgot she was a warrior as she beat her bruising thigh

She looked down at the nails and lashes that had fallen into her hands
Her lipstick had smudged and her weaves were coming out in strands
Her heels were stuck in the shag pile rug
And her vision cascaded from casanova to thug
She remembered the woman she once had for brunch
and how night turned to day and back around to lunch
She then caught sight of the tribe she came from
Who honour their women and the bare feet they stand on
Where beauty was nature not a pea cocking clown
Who feels under pressure to perform in the round

From tv to laptop and laptop to phones
We’re drowning out like robotic clones
So many layers we’re almost unrecognisable
From the girl that stood for more than sexy and desirable
The sad thing is I know the pressure is looming
When we’re drip fed our weak spots its all too consuming
But its not a great excuse if you have a brain that works
And feel distraught when you lose it to struts and perks
That strip down your ambitions leaving you less than fulfilled
As every stretch of your canvas gets relentlessly drilled
I know you want connection and to see past all that’s painted
But look at what your enrolling you’re beckoning the tainted
Infact your living it and trapping it and owning what you hated
Conjuring up a persona that cant be penetrated
By anything less than mockery of the soul
You sign up for falsehood you expect that in the goal

But such is life and life is such
If you’re putting your eggs in vice and crotch
Smoking up the threads of what you scatter
Thinking that all of this will eventually matter
Freaking out that your miraculously getting fatter
As your all squashed in from identity clatter
Its ok though just stop
Re-group and take stock
You’re not lost you’re just cruising
If you think about it its quite amusing

So she ends where she starts with a satire jibe
Holding on to the remnants of tribe
Then she remembers what she thought had been poetic
Shed duped herself and felt quite pathetic
Her eyes opened wide as truth sauntered in
Sobering up from a lifetime of gin
Slurring about injustice whilst cradling its shin
Condemning the hands that scratched her skin
That boasted of urges so primal they’re barbarian
And even with one bollock could be totalitarian
Threatening human connection with a blinding glare
That previously had her pulling out hair
She saw it so clearly and wanted to shout!
She wont be silenced by one eye and doubt
Even with the illusion of pending drought
She knew what was inside and it was coming out
Dropping her identity then and there she threw the retching back online
Keeping only what she knew was real and never altered by time

Born from a flare that emotionally hit at ten
Giving rise to aversions that started in the den
Seeing clarity through a tourettical pen
peace…love….f*#k  it……..Zen

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