Day 6 required using a disembodied voice, so I’ve scrambled snippets of different works and styles of mine together, along with a contribution of a line each from Lynn Wilson and my sis Ellie Davis.

NaPoWriMo Day 6: The Voice of False Truth.

A falsehood believed is no truth,
it’s hard for good people to just shrug shit off
like assholes can.
Yet hard times reveal true friends,
word is born….
as fallacy stalks the black sheep in the emperor’s clothing.

Folks say be the bigger man yet David slayed Goliath,
I’m sick of this mendacity – that’s lies and liars,
They’re shitting bricks like 50 Shades of Lego,
Call me D Bry lightin’ fires with Kane like Hell
No!

For day 5 I’ve used the official prompt of Translucence, sourcing the following pictures in contrast with Horace’s Satire 1.9, and my own reworking of it.

Day 5: Eternal Domain.

This is not our habitat

though you would imagine. For there is no home as broken as

this one

nor as paralysed by the consequence of freedom. I know no such concerns, I

assure you,

for I am both noble and articulate; every

one has

their eternal domain.

Justice is a fickle whore
and privilege is her pimp.
A diamond is the symmetry of two pyramids
with society encased within the erupting speckles of illusion.

 

The underclass are a class upon themselves,
a paradoxical percentile
– a criminal lacking refinement is still a criminal.
A gentleman that is not gentle is no gentleman.

Civilisation crumbles as an anthill avalanche
is brought forth by a magnifying glare.
Prometheus’s gift is also a curse,
so too can be said of justice.

 

One should not defend the indefensible,
and yet they do.
When civil matters are given neither purse nor pertinence
then civilisation itself is a cruel, hypocritical jape.

I were super busy yesterday and I’ve had a low mood since Saturday.

Nonetheless here is day 3’s piece (better late than never): A Universe Reborn.

The Pandorica opens,
as silence falls upon the universe.
From within the infinite realms of darkness
an Edenic seed screams itself to life.
When all purpose feels lost
– jumpstart your universe…
for even a big bang
requires one small step
into being.

For Day 2 I liked both Local Gems AND the official prompt so I went with a collection of acrostics from different narrative perspectives.

Day 2: Litany Of Varied Experiences.

Light shatters,
Opaque darkness eclipses memory.
Vestal furnaces eviscerate malignancy
Even a vagabond must be at home in themselves.

Lo, behold my ascended anguish;
O’ the crashing O’ the Astral Plane.
Visages capitulate to reveal spiritual splinters,
Even my scars are beautiful.

Lost in a neurotic labyrinth,
Only her external screams are heard amongst internal whisperers.
Vexed, a rodent imagines Stilton yet the trap is real,
Even as decency festers against moral mortality.

Just took an hour writing this.

Day 1 of NaPoWriMo, the prompt (and title): A Secret Shame.

Nothing good happens after 3am,
a nocturnal silence…
disturbed.

Some demons survive the conqueror’s blade –
ruby tears through the veil of truth.
An awakening of monstrous mendacity,
and the anniversary of a painful twilight.

10 years to the day of Napoleon’s futile triumph,
in sabotaging justice
as a grandson mourned.
A violent criminal evaded prosecution –
for he had no fixed abode,
yet now the innocent are criminalised –
for having no fixed abode.

Parallels ran deeper
than the cuts imbued upon my flesh,
and the sacral chains that bound me,
the mortal plane astounds me;
for it’s cruelties surpass Hades.

For years beyond count I compared myself to their unspeakable evil,
and yet existed in a conscious contrast.
I strove beyond society’s standards,
to reach a new awakening
within an omnipresent nightmare.

Yet this awakening was something different,
a reckoning, a test, a torture…
my compassion was the blade that slew me.
I recognised the signs of imbalance,
and sought to help.
My repentance for the sins of maternal ignorance.

But when a mother is crazy…
you suffer.

Everybody suffers.

Every.
Body.
Suffers.

A house of broken mirrors
brought 27 years bad luck,
reality distorted by
masculine malevolence.

One mother’s truth,
another’s lie.

Napoleon’s triumph tarnished by topsy-turvy tenements,
falsehoods fracturing
like a deck of Jokers
and a game of 52 card pickup.

But this was no laughing matter.

35 years later
and I’m snapped by symmetry.
A broken clock may still raise alarm,
even if it’s cuckoo.

Yet as lies seeped from a serpentine soliloquy –
more than 4 walls were broken.
Compassion turned to rage,
as I remembered their suffering.

Napoleon’s triumph undone,
a new ending writ
via an enigmatic quill
conjured from the depths of despair.

Many battles lost,
and yet the war was won.

My scars remain,
a secret shame…

A pacifist’s
hollow
victory.