Black girls don’t get eating disorders -
And yet we do,
You may not see it but we do,
We live it, we breathe it - we are it
You say ‘a black girl can’t struggle’
I say ‘unlike you eating disorders don’t discriminate’
Our bodies are scrutinised - so what did you expect,
When you made a comment, and i followed through -
With results that you ignore,
Results that you score,
Results you caused - from your poor choice of words
Black girls struggle too,
Our bodies are the proof -
The truth,
That you deny,
But the numbers don’t lie,
And our bodies still cry -
For help,
Help that we don’t receive -
Because the world can’t believe,
That black girls get eating disorders too,
And how do i know this - it’s because i am living proof -
That black girls get eating disorders too
That gear to move forward
is often reverse
The best choice of words
fortune hides in a curse
Our holiest blessing
an omen that warns
And friendship most sacred
in traitor’s reborn
Today frees tomorrow
once yesterday’s gone
Each phrase that escapes us
new words to a song
The time of the season
Fall Winter and Spring
A Summer of angels
— new devils will bring
(Dreamsleep: June, 2025)
Well written poetry should have a rhyme
Be pleasing to the eye and to the ear.
With words that then flow down the page in line
When read out loud the rhythm should be clear.
The subject matter must not be too hard
To work out what the writer's words convey.
A 'jumble sale' of words will just retard
The essence that the prose was mean't to say.
Therefore, before one settles down to write
Be mindful that the style you do select
When read, will bring the reader much delight
Because your choice of words to them connect.
We are the scribe when all is said and done
So let your rhythm be the perfect one.
You broken my heart
Before we could even start.
You seen my feelings
As objects, pieces of art.
Your choice of words are so tart.
DEEP INSIDE A SHELL
With lyrics that do not connect
And no shiny surface to reflect
Odd choices one doesn’t expect
To get the meaning of that song
Perhaps you faked it far too long
All when living deep inside a shell
There’s no entitlement to respect
In messages that one can’t detect
It must be earned, albeit indirect
Can it be time to bang that gong
But just maybe I’ve got it wrong
All when living deep inside a shell
Talent that can be hard to detect
More a crouch than standing erect
Just the choice of words, in effect
Some of which just do not belong
Like one taking tricks in Mahjong
All when living deep inside a shell
dentist has a plethora of sedation devices and techniques
Or so she thinks, not realizing I am a dental PTSD survivor.
I am in a twilight state, until I hear and smell the DD – dreaded drill.
I refuse to go lightly, because I have been hurt by many dentists.
This dentist spends two or three days in my cake cave.
I begin choking, spitting and gagging the second I hear him say,
“I am putting this bone from a cadaver into your mouth.”
A dead person’s bone? What? I am trying to wake up but can’t.
Then he adds this gem “Probably the bone from a pig.”
Also not a great choice of words.
What are these words that rage with hate and war
That scream with bullets’ searing, lethal roar
That slash with livid flames the midnight sky
And with a tongue that lubricates the lie
Despoil the words of men worth living for –
What bloody god, or gods, in truth exist
That suffer men with words for this, for this –
What prophet false with rabid tongue betrays
The son of peace the son of man portrays
By choosing words of fury, words of fist
And worshipping the power they enlist –
A choice of words some men cannot resist –
O friend! O foe! Why still these words of war
That make the living word worth killing for –
Do words
whether spoken or written
have the power
the beauty
the enchantment
the mystery
to convey meaning
to evoke emotion
to paint pictures
to uplift
to crush
to bring joy
to cause pain
to enthral
or
is it our choice of words
and their sequence
our presentation
our delivery
that gives words their heft
their magic
their ability to enthral
to cause harm
are we just a jumble of feelings
thoughts and images
without meaning or structure
lacking identity
needing words
to comprehend our complexities
to give us meaning and purpose
to convey to others
what we feel in our hearts
what we perceive in our minds
do words need us to fulfil their potential
do we need words to enable us to be who we are
the dependence must surely be mutual
for each without the other
would surely be left wanting.
This is an obvious thing to say
well of course this is always the case
you are alive till the day you die
so certain for all the human race
Now let us ponder this for awhile
behind these words lies a mystery
because there's more than meets the eye
looking back on all of their history
For many live lives seem dead
their actions amount to such nothings
in their life never amounting to be
little knots instead of something
At one time show such promise
expecting to hit such dizzy heights
but disappointment was their cue
as dimmed down because sad lights
Trust in God and you really live
resurrection life brings true reward
live eternally in God's presence
holding on for the Lord's heavenly cord
(" He lived till he died"
I came across this quote on a park bench seat on holiday recently in the English lakes and it made me think about this choice of words is so profound that I have written this piece bringing out my own thoughts about it. )
Mrs Wordsworth had a new baby
William was his name
She was so proud of her little son
Not expecting his rise to fame
He was a famous poet
I think Poet Laureate of his time
His beautiful choice of words
And the way he made them rhyme
This made him very wealthy
And he knew what his words were worth
I do not think his family name
Was an accident of birth
William Wordsworth!
There is this dichotomous relationship within the alphabet…
for the letters therein contained
can be used to create words of joy…of love…of happiness…
as well as words of hatefulness…and pain.
From the same 26 letters come
words of wonder…
words of beauty
words that fill a heart with joy
as well as
words of anger
words of spite
words that can…a soul destroy.
Which means it’s up to us
as we create and express our thoughts
from within their alphabetical array…
to think about the words we write
and the words we’re going to say.
It’s up to us to create words
of love
and tenderness
and never to abuse them….
not only in our choice of words…
but how we choose to use them.
When running for office,
You might as well lie
For nobody cares about truth,
And if you are caught
And reporters ask Why?
You can blame it on errors from youth.
A lie isn’t merely
“A poor choice of words,”
Which reminds me of “alternate facts.”
The political climate,
With tweets like the birds,
Doesn’t worry how someone reacts.
So a twist of a phrase,
Using “Jew-ish” instead
Of denying your claim as a Jew
May assuage any guilt
Over things that you said,
But no job should be given to you!
*George Santos, Republican U.S. Representative-elect,
has admitted to fabricating key details of his biography.
"Species Nova"
A letter from Horace
today, I read,
he sends his ample
split dichotomy
he’s a writer with
novel ambitions
to shake the world
of reality up a little
make his mark
he will be read
poets are extraordinary
creatures, when extracting
charms and chimaeras
out from their heads
but isn’t that life?
my over self said
sic vita est
sine loco
ars poetica
species nova
from the place of
nothingness emerges
fromless evolution
in laureate nature
stet ante bellum
sine loco
ars poetica
sic vita est
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"He can be lofty sometimes,
yet he is also full of ...
charm and grace,
versatile in his figures,
and felicitously daring
in his choice of words..."
Magic Of Words
How easy it becomes,
a word of love,
when uttered.
A word of peace,
when fluttered .
The magic of word “please”,
and the fracas ceases to leave.
We may keep it plain,
before our skin gets to wane.
To let frown be a smile,
to let walk together for miles.
How simple becomes the life ,
when choice of words are right.
The magic of word ” thank you “,
for all that has been done for you.
Without counting your own,
done, dusted and thrown.
Just one thing keep in mind !
It’s the words that keep us bind.
Life isn’t that serious,
until the effect of words are furious.
It’s the magic of the word “sorry “
The gloomy set up, modifies to glory.
To the tragic,
It’s the magic.
When the words are pure,
they do work, for sure.
A young girl who never knew love
Prayed Heavenly Father Above
But just like cancer
There was no answer
Her blood marks where push came to shove
* "Suffer" (Mark 10:14) was a very poor
choice of words as another little
girl was allegedly found locked in
a pet carrier with duct tape over
her mouth and nose after being
abused and starved to death by
her obese foster parents.
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