Why should I hold myself back ?

Why should I talk less ?

Why not colour my life like a flower,

Why not  move on like moving water in the shower,

Why not I dye myself like scattered leaves, 

Why not I leave behind all my grieves.

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You are a woman,

beautiful,

      black,

   God’s masterpiece,

    created with

    majestic power

       and divinity—

   The type of woman

   who could never

          be tamed

                           or possessed.

   One deserving of

 love, respect,

and civility.

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Women, girls
Little ladies with bouncy curls
We are brought to Mother earth with names of angels, princesses and fairies
But all too soon, the world we grow in turns unsafe, hideous, and scary
These flowers - as buds they never remain
For before 'tis the time to bloom, they learn to battle with the flames

Every day, every moment, a battle she fights
That little lady, that angel, with all ...

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Turning Mirrors

Roll up, Roll Up

For the job swap circus

Where the occupations

Of minor celebrities

Drawn to the power

Of politics

Are filled by the learned

Men they depose

Hanz Folckhart the physicist

Walks on a tightrope

Whilst juggling the balls

Of the theory of gravity

Bernard Bochelli a notable chemist

Throws great custard pies

At the blo...

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Willpower and discipline,
have long been two of the 
most despised words in the 
english language to me.

What character flaw prevents  
the willpower and discipline
necessary to be the person
I imagine myself capable of being?

A half-lived life is heartbreaking.
There is no acceptable excuse, 
not age or disability.

Even people with no limbs 
live empowered lives 
built on willp...

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Don't try to stop me

You can't and I won't

Stopping at nothing

I'll get what I want

Failure is not an option 

That I choose to accept

You cannot deter me 

While I still have breath

My vision is clear

My desires are true

Unwavering passion

Will guide me through

Stopping at nothing

I'll get what I want

Don't try to stop me

You can't and I won't

I will ...

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I am not the fat girl

I am not the skinny girl.

I am both.

I am both the bingeing in the night

And the starving from pure fright.

I am both

In the mirror I am both.

I am the always too thin pile of bones

And the body too big to call home.

I am both.

In the shops I am both.

I am the girl who is too curvy to wear cute clothes

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My hands are patterned by ambitions,

these lines on my skin are wishes,

palms marked like the sky after a shooting star

and shining when they interlace with your fingers,

your skin's wrinkles and crinkles.

The crevices of our skin do not match or meet

the way coloured paths on a map synchronise and intercross,

reaching destinations.

We are separate pieces of meat

but

...

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Call me the doormat,

The infestation of rats,

The ‘oh she ain’t all that’,

Call the kettle black!

Call me the diva, the princess, the moan bag,

The emotional one, oh isn’t it sad?

The hot head who can only nag nag nag,

That period trainwreck – a handful for a lad.

Call me whatever deflects most from what reflects

When you stand by the mirror and boast,

When ...

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Tall Mums, short Mums

Fat Mums, thin Mums

Sporty Mums, stressy Mums

Glammy Mums, slummy Mums

All shapes and

All guises

Gauging the sizes

Of our bums Mums

Mums can cook and read books

(mostly at the same time)

Mums can sing about silly things

Just to keep in rhyme

Mums can nurse and give a cuddle

Mums can run at speed

To trouble

Mums can wipe up sic...

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