Fuck Barriers – Flight or Fight

barbed wire

Cold Fence by Thomas & Dianne Jones CC BY 2.0

the other side of barbed

holds new horizons

but tangled undergrowth

and fenceposts bar the way

stout boots, stout hearts,

a motorcycle

no fucker’s gonna block us

come what may

Written for Mindlovemiserysmenagerie Photo Challenge #94


Fledgling In Hand



…and in all dreams

I soar

and risk

and shelter

alien to life

awake demands

be there, do this, 

must do better,

in dreams

another life

in different hands

gentler hands than mine own

more forgiving

big and soft and strong enough

to hold my all

fledgling am I

not yet born to living

in dreams

I’m free

to risk

and fly

and never fall

Reading a poem by Paul this morning and immediately agreeing with its sense of other worldness. I recall a lot of dreams. Not sure why. But I love them. It’s a whole other world where I’m almost a different me. The essence of self perhaps rather than the shell-encased. Or not. But most enjoyable.


It’s beginning to look like I’ve given up writing poetry but, hey, what are lyrics but poetry set to music?

That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it as I’m thoroughly enjoying this foray into writing and singing the lyrics to accompany Johnny’s fabulous music.

He and his lovely wife, Lisa, both put an incredible amount of work into compiling the video.

Where you go I’ll never know,

it’s a dream,

cast alone as a stone

into a stream.

I am void when you’re gone,

just a shell of myself,

you leave me there,

I don’t know where,

when or if I’ll be reborn,

recover soon, without you, my other self.


Why you leave I can’t conceive,

where you go I’ll never know,

into night you have flown

while I lie here all alone,

tie me to you,

take me on the voyage,

where you fly

as I lay here to die,

without you.


Where you go I’ll never know,

it’s a dream,

left alone while you roam

in the realms of a world

that is your home

from waking days,

each night I pray

you will return to me,

I’ll never see what you’ve seen

as I lie here lost to dreams,

beyond the night you have flown

as I die a death alone,

tie me to you,

take me on your voyage,

into night, where you fly,

do not leave me here to die

bring life back to my dreams,

take me with you when you go,

where you fly,

I cannot bear to die alone

on my own, just a shell of myself.

You leave me bare,

I don’t know where, when or if

I’ll be reborn, recover soon,

my death to self.



dust of seemed swallow secured on grey slate

risen dessication its fate

forever entranced, disabled by time

flightless now ever in state

dust of arced angel arrested alone

ached by stillness in stone

nary the one nor other may move

struck in time, brief and long gone

impressions imprinted, immobilised

impossible gifts to new eyes

cast by creation then clefted to wait

separated from life ‘mid soft sighs

Silent Screech

Sheltered in shadows till light disappeared,

Urged into night with a screech,

Hung by my feet till wings found release,

Shackled by lack of sight, leeched

Into the gloaming, soft darknes held dear,

Strident but silent my speech,

Seeking an echo to steer my path clear,

All vision just out of my reach.

Flitted and flirted with posturing objects,

Clamoured in darkness with sound,

Wilderness wild in every aspect,

Not a whisper of you to be found,

Back to my haven, my roost for the day,

Hoisted by end to my flight,

Each night that encroaches I have my say,

Hidden but hellbent on fight.

Bats in the belfry, bats in the barn,

Bats that seek out your source,

Pipistrelles, vampires, creatures with fangs,

Bloodthirsty for want of discourse.

I’ve tasted your scent and it soars my desire,

Nothing but you will suffice,

Starved I will be till I find you again,

Ambition cannot think twice.

Waiting in wings, in towers, your roof,

Scratching till day turns to night,

Champing at bit till one found aloof,

Neck raised to the stars, what a sight! 

Bounty is mine when wings find their tips,

When fangs in my face thirst, it’s true,

Seeping through blackness, I’m whetting my lips

Lusting for sacrifice. You.

The Thrill

Bird in the sky

It’s a wide sky to fly out on your own here,

Kinda lonesome in a lovely sort of languid, lithesome way,

Like distance is no object on a clear day

And wings are happy just to flap away.

It’s a long time I’ve travelled on this journey,

Kinda ages since I roosted for a rest,

Like someone’s moved the landmarks without warning

But I’m happy doing what I do the best.

It’s the flight, you see, that really is the main part,

Kinda shooting breeze and riding currents fair,

Like flying without falling is my skill set

And nothing in this world can quite compare.

It’s the way I am, you know, I’m off the wire,

Kinda restless when I have to stay too still,

Like motion is my purpose and my meaning,

It’s a gift of wings and head for heights that thrill.

On The Wing

Freedom’s just another word for floating on the breeze,

A flightless bird that’s found its song and wings,

A carousel suspended in current’s twirling ease,

Carousing, fulsome-throated as it sings.

Flight, another fantasy, for rising in the air,

Above the noise and fracking far below,

Penchant of the pensive and all dreamers everywhere,

New direction for a world that spins too slow.

Upwards is a preference as onwards to the wind,

Uninhibited, unleashed, euphoric verve,

Harmonious high in helium’d mind,

Flight of visions distant, sought by nerve.

Flight Lessons

I soared there

for a second

in time,

hovered briefly

in the millenia

of consciousness,

eagle-eye internal

to the words

found wanting,

glided on an updraft,

invisible to view,

felt in the breeze,

spiralled to gravity’s

reckless abandonment,

pulled up


before the crash




I  flew then

for a while,

lost to reason’s


bathed in light

sharp against

my retina,

colours faded

to acute contrast,

rods only,

no cones.

A blink in time,

a truth eternal,

flight lessons


regeneration of


May Music, Day 9 – Wings of Hope…..and mercy

OK. NOT he who shall be obeyed, but the pussycat with ‘the helmet that scares the bejaysus out of me’ is asking, for question 9  of the 25 day music challenge, which song I associate with hope. Oops, hold on. Need to insert a little image here. Every other bugger has it.

25-days And I will figure out how to put this fecker in my side bar. Makes life so much easier when things are organised. I aspire to organisation. Aspirations. Got to have them.

I thought about this all day.

I did.

Back and forth. In between other bits of things like work and weans.

And, at first, I thought of ‘I Will Survive’, because most hope is a wish for something in the face of adversity. And that particular song is a kind of ‘get-it-up-you’, sort of finger to the north wind type of song. Well, it is if you live where the north wind raises your kilt and blows round your nethers, irking every part of you that should be warm and cosy.

Then I came home from work and had a rethink.

And do you know what? I changed my mind. Woman. Prerogative.

Now, I’ve posted here before about my wish that if I could be any sort of creature I wanted (apart from a woman which, obviously, would be everyone’s choice) I’d want to be an eagle. Mainly because it can fly. And it’s gorgeous. And it is master/mistress in its own world. Why would anyone not want that?

Then. I had another thought. I’m not really worthy of being an eagle. Eagles are powerful, magnificent wing-beaters of immense proportions in their world. They are majestic. They demand and command the skies. They are the pinnacle of birds. And answer to no one.

I do. I answer to life. To responsibilities. To commitments. To so much. An eagle is therefore my metaphor for escape when I can’t cope. It’s my mercy bird. Please don’t eat me. Save me.

Then I got to thinking that I don’t want majesty. I want mercy. For all the times I’ve been a shit. An unhopeful, desperate, fall to my knees, gawd-somebody-help-me sort of shit.

Then I thought I’d have a wee nap cos I was up to all hours last night planning a lottery win with TD. (They’re on, btw, TD! Two nights worth!)

Then my brain went, ‘Aye! You think so?!’ Give me all this gear to work on then think you’ll wake up to a wee poem, ready made? No sleep for you, china. Have it now or not at all.’

This came to be.

shale shifts beneath my tread,

i flail and stumble,

a rumble from beneath, within,

i feel.

this mountain that i scale

pours forth its scarlet

and bleeds its heat through soles.

I fall. I kneel.

raising eyes, i spy a distant image,

nearing, circling, searching for its prey,

its majesty knows mercy

and i mumble, then cry unto its

eye to make its way

to where i’ve risen, on this journey upwards,

on shaky legs, with stoic heart and hope,

and, just when all seems lost to fear and reason,

it dives and lifts,

i’m airborne and i cope.

the wings beneath my essence

are much stronger

than the wind beneath my own

when all seems bleak,

heavenwards i raise my heart

and mind and spirit.

Inner core is known. No need to speak.

So, ‘Wind Beneath My Wings’ it is. Only, most days, I fly without wings. Depending instead on the wings of others, in whatever form, to raise me up.

And, on a slight aside here, TD. One of your other contributors commented in a post that it was becoming more difficult.

I know where she’s coming from. Unlike my self-imposed A-Z mythology challenge, music permeates everything.

It’s in every part of our lives, from the first arse-rocking rhythm that a babe sways along to, to every piece ever heard in the course of our lives that ever meant anything to us. That’s a lot of music. Tons of the stuff to try and filter to something that encapsulates your questions.

But, do you know what? It rocks.

From the moment of thinking, ‘This is the one’ to the realisation that, ‘No. This speaks better for me.’ Quite a feat.

And I do so like a challenge that seeks to condense.

How many days left? Apologies to all the bloggers I’m not reading as frequently as I would. Blame the guy in the mask. And my own need to rise to a challenge. Aspirations. Got to have them. 😉