Control Or Flow

The need for control. I naively thought I could keep pain and worries away by looking ahead… how can you see, when there is a bright light at the end of the tunnel, blinding your next step? We all walk this unknown path, which is life, unaware of what is to come next, but some of us think they have walked this path before, thus, they think they know the way. Others, fear the dangers lurking and utilise planning as protection. Rather than planning your trip, just let the path take you and trust it is a safe and happy place. Release the illusion you are in control and enjoy the journey.



It is hunting season.
Cover your ear
If you don’t want to hear
The loud bang around the city.
Oh, do you think I am out to catch deer?
Not really.
I am after the dirtiest beats and
awkwardest queers.

I’ll chain them with my legs…
They will enjoy it
And then I will crack their necks,
I’ll make them extinct
That is my venomous instinct:
Ephemeral flings.

The seams in the skin conceal
An inner burning flame
Only the eyes can reveal.
The predator moves with lustful temptation.
There is nothing more pungent
Than the power of intention.

A scent rests on the nose:
The target is found.
I set my eyes on the prize now.
I shoot and get up close,
I bite him from behind.
He never saw what hit him
There was no time to realise.

Cheering Sylvia

img_20171103_1956191834653617.jpgpicture credit:

Oh pretty misunderstood soul, the Mother of Torment.
I look at those murky eyes, that carry so much intent.
Those grey piercing balls, that see nothing, but feel it all .
Come here, let me cradle you and swing you in my arms.
I live the pain you’ve lived, I want to rip it from our hearts.
Today I celebrate the joy of your existence,
Although you chose to leave us with stubborn insistence.
I’ll sing your name out loud, invite you to inhabit me.
We’ll jot down our lament, so we can set ourselves free.
I’ll care for you, my dear, I will plait Plath’s hair
Stay away from the kitchen, place your head on my lap.
Be my twisted guardian angel, be my best friend.
No one hears my tortured howl, only you can understand.
Sylvia Plath u were wrong,

You are loved… decades then.

Jekyll and Hyde’s Abode

I am not one, but many beings.
I morph, adapt and fit to the scene.
Jekyll and Hyde are cramped inside
And they come out
Depending on who you inv(c) ite.


Jekyll and Hyde can’t help but fight.
A constant pull and a push of forces
Quite like reining Plato’s horses,
Drives the vessel to lose sight
Of what is wrong and what is right.


One half impatiently waits to see
What lies ahead of me
(This is the part that writes this).
Another side cannot believe
Beyond this tortuous road
There is nothing more than grief.


Today, I don’t want Hyde to be
I’ll drink that potion to cover it
I will shade my shadow from daylight
while concealing this plight:
In my dark well of sorrow
is where Hyde hides.

Gypsy Curse

Shush bitter baby don’t you cry

One day we are all going to die

Turn into flesh and bone and ash

Food for worms, we turn (in) to mash.


Look in the mirror, what do you see?

You littleblood, come sing with me!

Rotten, putrid, callous, fake

The skeletons in my closet don’t eat cake.


I sit under the oracle tree

Asking the gypsies for a plea:

Bring my Munnin back to me!

I caw, I flap, I warble, I shed

Despair is what is summoned instead.


Movement is absent, time elapses

Paralysis is lifestyle (while) the world collapses

The wind blows away memories and dreams.

Pain is what stays to accompany me

Turning my heart into ice cold

Useless piece of meat, filled with mold.