Spitting tassels of flaming fun

Damn, some days are borne
from the bottled essence
of a dying rose, wilted petals
and the blunt edge toxic thorns.

Fuck, some moments
are the captured seconds
of caring less than the
virgin slut as she repents

Shit, such joyous bells
as the victims, victim
pouts and shouts,
Idiocy they swear and yell.

Holy crap! That tickled me pink,
No white flag, no ivory twig
not a moment to think
before drinking down that bitter drink!

Damn some days are dawned
for the Dame to give rise from pawn
of silent revenue to fierce Knight
setting straight the shit you left askew in the devils bullshit night.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

…and they were wrong.

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In the dark shadows of existence they say,

such as yourself does not exist.

An urban legend,

a myth of days gone by,

pipe dreams and innocent nativity.

Oh but they were wrong.

In the tainted world of lost hope

I searched in complete belief

faces without features,

bodies without souls,

hearts without love,

‘hopeless’, they declared

my belief, so rarely shared.

Oh but they were wrong…

a singular moment in time

space shared, I saw it

there, right there.

The moment I gazed upon your

eyes, the moment we shared laughter,

I saw the celestial

essence of an angel

looking back and I knew,

they were wrong,

the pure of heart do walk upon

this earth.

xxxx

Karen Hayward

 

To fuse.

Baby, sweety, honey pie…what’s your name?
Come with me let’s play a game.
It seems to me you haven’t a clue
Of a world that exists outside of you.
A little turn, a little twist
A little flick of my delicate wrist.
I like to screw
with you.
Especially when you haven’t clue.
So baby, sweety…come and see…
either get off your arse and fucking help me,
Or this little fuse that rattles in my pocket,
that belongs in the TV socket
will remain just there.
I know it isn’t fair, I’m a really horrible girl,
great, welcome to my fucking world.
Here i will leave you a screw driver…
but I might have swapped a wire.
My bad.
Please don’t be sad.

Karen Hayward ©2016

I am the blank canvas.

 

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I never said you could take my page,

dampen down my internal rage.

I never asked for this haunting silence

a metaphorical pain that’s worse than violence.

I never said you could have my words

or make my page a fucked up blur.

I never asked for your opinion

so I tell you now you have no dominion.

Drop a silent atom bomb upon my soul

and gather up the thoughts you think you stole.

Steal away the edges of my sanity

and try your hardest to install some vanity.

Pull at the essence of my being

and blind me from feeling what i’m seeing.

Sink me into the abyss of darkness

beneath an emerald sky so starless.

Try your hardest.

Know what it is to fail as I rise again from the ashes

a seasoned traveler I’ve mastered the crashes.

I am not your blank canvas

a tired mind empty and planless.

I am the thoughts that spill to my page

that slip between the bars of the iron cage.

I am the essence of touch in the darkness of night

devouring with passion my every sight.

So go ahead do your best,

create the silence that I detest.

Erase the markings leave only the spaces

where actually you’ll find crimson red laces.

I am more than the words, the thoughts or the gestures,

I am the blank canvas just waiting for treasure.

 

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

 

 

Swallowed defeat.

Devour me,
swallow me whole and spit me into the depths of the abyss.
As if nothingness could scare me anyway.
Let his immortal flames burn at my soles lapping at my soul.
His warmth will be a welcomed token.
So let his flames take me.
I will rise from the ashes reborn,
transformed.
So go ahead devour me.
Swallow me whole and spit me into those hissing flames
But then stand back, watch me as I rise again.

Karen Hayward ©2016

Childhood cancer.

This is my beautiful and amazingly strong baby niece Delilah, she is 9 months old and fighting (with all her strength) a rare and aggressive form of cancer (stage 4) that is ravaging her tiny little body.

Delilah is the daughter of my youngest sister Dannielle, she has a big sister herself called Isabella. Delilah’s mum and dad (Dannielle and Antony) have set this fundraising page up because they are desperate to be able to spend as much time as they can with their daugher, as a family. Right now, more than ever Delilah needs her family at her side, they are her strength. She is currently undergoing regular chemotherapy which involves spending time at Great Ormond Street (an absolutely amazing hospital) Money raised through this fundraising will be used to ensure Delilah has her mum and dad at her side when she needs them most, it will ensure that Isabella has the chance to get to know her little sister, it will give Delilah days out int he sunshine to see things that make her smile, to see anything that is not a hospital environment, it will be used to buy Delilah toys, to fill Delilah’s days with happy thoughts, with happiness. Thank you for reading, please donate, if you cannot donate then please share this post. xx

http://fnd.us/c/8veD1

Dancing in the pouring rain.

I choose,
To feel the pouring rain against my skin,
To dance as the heavens open,
And the storm pauses above.
I choose,
I choose to step bare foot into the torrential down pour,
To jump into the muddoest puddles.
I choose,
To stand arms out stretched with the wind at my back,
To ride the gusterous storm,
And its hateful fury.
I choose.
As I lay crumpled on the floor broken,
I choose, I choose the pouring rain,
I choose the storm.
I choose to stand again,
And again,
I choose victory,
I choose dancing in the pouring rain.