False Flag


This may not fit in

this may not sit well

with the order of things

with the man-made, dull hell

of the nine to the five

of the being eaten alive

by the overtime is king

by the work to survive

I’m not so conforming

I’m not so law-abiding

as my outward appearance

might lead you to believe

I might talk a good game

I might look meek and tame

I might primp, paint and preen

I might smile, might act keen

seem eager to please

seem happy to tease

and honour your superiority

bow down to your authority

but it’s all in your mind

but it’s not for you to decide

but look ‘round you’re behind me

I’m way out in front

my charm is the offensive

don’t get all defensive

It’s too late for that now

you know it’s the truth

Echo – VisDare


Photo source

Mirrors are for the young. I even avoid those streets flanked by high-end stores enshrined in vast sheets of plate glass. Who needs to have their insipid reflection hurled back at them so remorselessly? Who needs to feel like an impostor amongst the throngs of the young and the beautiful?

I was one of them once, you know. I had legs up to there, a cleavage to die for and such grace, like a swan. Oh yes, the boys all wanted me.

The trouble is, in my mind I am still ‘that girl’. I still have ebony curls kissing my shoulders, rosebud lips, alabaster skin and flashing green eyes. I am still devastating. My hips still undulate and I still walk as if the pencil skirt was invented for me.

We all have to grow old, darling, on the outside. Inside, well that’s an entirely different matter…


Here’s my latest entry to the lovely Angela’s VisDare.

I hope you enjoy this week’s entry- and please do visit VisDare for amazing poetry and prose!


Submarine – VisDare


Photo source

I am used to going unnoticed.

I can’t recall all the different streets that I have walked down, the shops, the bars, the hotels that I have passed through where my presence has barely warranted even the tiniest flicker of interest.

It is as if I don’t exist.

Some days, I prefer it that way. Those days are the ones when I desperately want it to remain so, I want anonymity so much I can feel it in the sweaty grip of my palms, the constant turn, turn, turn of the lighter in my trouser pocket, the slight shake of my hands as I light yet another cigarette.

Other times, I have to fight the urge to scream, to roar lion-like, to rip the air in two with my hunger for attention.

There is no easy middle ground. With me, it is all, or nothing.


Here’s my latest entry to the lovely Angela’s VisDare. What an inspiring photo! I’m not sure where my imagination unearthed this story from, but hey, at least writer’s block isn’t hauting me!

I hope you enjoy this week’s entry- and please do visit VisDare for amazing poetry and prose!