19/7/09
Shes like a lioness with cubs,
fearless and bold.
Hunting her prey,
With the stealth of a Timex watch.
As natural as spa water,
As refreshing as the fiercest forests,
Courageous as orchids, snowbells and,
crocus in spring.
Life comes to test you,
to draw you back in.
The rose early morning dew on petals,
smells so pure.
A sweet incandescent scent to all.
the tides may come and go til dawn.
all is a midsummer garden,
Alive and full.
Shes the knight in shining armour,
conquest is her battalion,
ahead of her game.
jousting her opponent
riding for victory.
Where the high mountain ranges,
meet the clouds from above,
lift off and let go.
above space-
below earth,
you follow the curvature
of the stars, the moon.
Before disappering,
into a supernova-
a shooting star.
Sunday 19 July 2009
Wednesday 8 July 2009
.But I'm sick of seeing, sad women, who are stuck and hate themselves. There must be a way out for them God, if you're listening, show the world that these women are't inferior. Give them hope, joy, a new outlook on life. don't let them down.They have lived, they have dignity, they have talents to share, 'why aren't you looking after them ? Why don't you care for age ?'.
The woman is your perogative now. She sees denial in the face of the young, the young girls so eager to give their innocence, beauty and time and worth to men who treat them disrespectively and leave them empty ghosts.
Theres women who help themselves, work in supermarkets, offices and courts. They are able to fend for themselves. Only the strong shall survive; the motto goes. They look after no 1. They are the cogs that drive the machine, the backbone, the bullion.
Young women, may feel attractive and smart quick and clever but their bodies show no mercy. They like watching TV commercials, for beauty products. They're used to make you feel inferior and have no soul. What you see is what you get wit them
They're like walking mannequins.
So deadly, they control through beauty, the power, the status. They made the most of themselves in a langusge that the media knows; they're cool.
So where is the line of distinction between the woman of sorrow and the woman of gladness? I see the two sides, and all inbetween, kindness is just a weakness to be exploited, and liberty ; to take action or work a commodity.
Women don't see each other as a whole. A team or players in a game of sport, jostling about.
they don't play the games men do, they're far from home or what men call civilization. As men treat each other with 'brotherly love' commeradeship or partners in a game where women can only compete on a sexual basis.
Women are'nt the centre of mens universes, men are and women can come close to that centre, that world, if the're strong enough or intelligent enough or resilient enough, but even then women have made little impact on men as a whole. By men I mean mankind, man's territory, history.and truth or worth, pride.
I, myself am mute. I've seen life, played the game, lost it, and I'm a sponge; soaking up all the hardluck stories I come across.
I'm stuck without a voice, I want to speak out against the injustices, but I'm afraid of rocking the boat. I don't know where to start, I can only comment.
Chattle and feminists, who draws the line ? Can you really see the differance ? I've been both so where is the middleground ?
Maybe shes there but knowone can see her., a reflection, a mirage, a mummy, a tomb. She the one that knows you best, like your friend, pop idil, role model, teacher, Doctor, solicitor or Queen. Shes supreme and shes loved by all her generations.
So women, don't let yourselves down and be supreme, because your not cast-offs, you're needed by women like me !
The woman is your perogative now. She sees denial in the face of the young, the young girls so eager to give their innocence, beauty and time and worth to men who treat them disrespectively and leave them empty ghosts.
Theres women who help themselves, work in supermarkets, offices and courts. They are able to fend for themselves. Only the strong shall survive; the motto goes. They look after no 1. They are the cogs that drive the machine, the backbone, the bullion.
Young women, may feel attractive and smart quick and clever but their bodies show no mercy. They like watching TV commercials, for beauty products. They're used to make you feel inferior and have no soul. What you see is what you get wit them
They're like walking mannequins.
So deadly, they control through beauty, the power, the status. They made the most of themselves in a langusge that the media knows; they're cool.
So where is the line of distinction between the woman of sorrow and the woman of gladness? I see the two sides, and all inbetween, kindness is just a weakness to be exploited, and liberty ; to take action or work a commodity.
Women don't see each other as a whole. A team or players in a game of sport, jostling about.
they don't play the games men do, they're far from home or what men call civilization. As men treat each other with 'brotherly love' commeradeship or partners in a game where women can only compete on a sexual basis.
Women are'nt the centre of mens universes, men are and women can come close to that centre, that world, if the're strong enough or intelligent enough or resilient enough, but even then women have made little impact on men as a whole. By men I mean mankind, man's territory, history.and truth or worth, pride.
I, myself am mute. I've seen life, played the game, lost it, and I'm a sponge; soaking up all the hardluck stories I come across.
I'm stuck without a voice, I want to speak out against the injustices, but I'm afraid of rocking the boat. I don't know where to start, I can only comment.
Chattle and feminists, who draws the line ? Can you really see the differance ? I've been both so where is the middleground ?
Maybe shes there but knowone can see her., a reflection, a mirage, a mummy, a tomb. She the one that knows you best, like your friend, pop idil, role model, teacher, Doctor, solicitor or Queen. Shes supreme and shes loved by all her generations.
So women, don't let yourselves down and be supreme, because your not cast-offs, you're needed by women like me !
8/7/09
The flower of a British womans garden, the gladioli, in bloom, in Summer has more dominion on earth than me.At least its outside.
I saw a woman today, who reminded me of my mother, and another who reminded me of my Grandmother. my mother had brown curly hair, small and petite, her face so sad. She wasn't ugly, far from it, but her soul was.
the pain, the bitterness, the rejection was illuminated in her face.
and as our eyes met. a long pool of blue sorrow, I averted my gaze, i did't want to see, her loss, her defeat, her lonliness.
my Grandmother was blond, she walked on heels, with stooped shoulders, blindly, bumping into passers-by, saying 'watch out punk or I'll kick you in'.
she'd seen life, been beaten and was into physical violence. her weapon of defence.
I saw there two women, as I carried the bags og shopping out of the supermarket. I could have been carrying their souls home. i felt so vulnerable, or my gain, their loss.
The flower of a British womans garden, the gladioli, in bloom, in Summer has more dominion on earth than me.At least its outside.
I saw a woman today, who reminded me of my mother, and another who reminded me of my Grandmother. my mother had brown curly hair, small and petite, her face so sad. She wasn't ugly, far from it, but her soul was.
the pain, the bitterness, the rejection was illuminated in her face.
and as our eyes met. a long pool of blue sorrow, I averted my gaze, i did't want to see, her loss, her defeat, her lonliness.
my Grandmother was blond, she walked on heels, with stooped shoulders, blindly, bumping into passers-by, saying 'watch out punk or I'll kick you in'.
she'd seen life, been beaten and was into physical violence. her weapon of defence.
I saw there two women, as I carried the bags og shopping out of the supermarket. I could have been carrying their souls home. i felt so vulnerable, or my gain, their loss.
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