NaPoWriMo Day 10: Tainted Gifts

NaPoWriMo Day 10: Tainted Gifts.

You swore on the flag of red and black,

that a bulldog always has your back. 

But your nation is crumbling

just like your promises…

and once fraught friendships 

are now rotting with the putrid stench

of moral decay.

Your gifts now tainted by your association 

and the bitter fragrance of treachery,

I gave them away to charity. 

You see, even a rose can grow from horseshit,

but the thorns will remind you… 

… of the pain, 

behind the beauty.

NaPoWriMo Day 9: The Chapter Named Britain.

Today’s prompt was a eulogy for yourself, so I did my own take on it. 

NaPoWriMo Day 9: The Chapter Named Britain.

Suffered a lot, 

loved a lot more. 

Heart on his sleeves

but the shirt was torn. 

Betrayed by many, 

yet kindness continued,

for maliciousness wasn’t in his retinue. 

That’s not to say that he’d just roll over, 

He’d bark and he’d bite like his name was Rover.

But only for just cause, only defence, 

spoke his mind yet meant no offence. 

Called the world his home 

yet caged in four walls.

Had 4 families, only liked two

– yet loved so strongly

with all they were due. 

His friends were another,

so I guess that makes 5…

yet with so much loneliness 

how did he survive? …

… For so long, what was his secret? 

He shared his soul with the globe

yet despised his own weakness. 

He needs this, 

to just know he was valued.

Thin skin, thick heart –

heavy with troubles:

Vesuvius valves can’t burst his bubble.

An eruption of love

was his life’s ambition,

and helping others

an oft repeated decision.

He took his pain, and he added a T,

to blend a cup of truth for humanity. 

Sometimes short fused,

but never shortsighted 

with culture in his eyes

found cooperation delightful. 

But his story ain’t over, 

there’s much more to be written,

this is just the tombstone

of the Chapter named Britain.

NaPoWriMo Day 8: Back from the Dead.

Been awhile since I wrote a diss track but this one has been a year in the making. Done with bottling up. Litany of Varied Experiences is about ownership of a shitty situation one mentalist put me in, and a fake friend made worse by putting the knife in. What made that all the more difficult still is that my former best friend was friends with a Grade A scumbag, perverted addict that put my life in danger with his reckless behaviour. Well it didn’t kill me boy, and now I’ve got a free knife 😄

NaPoWriMo Day 8: Back from the Dead.

Back from the dead one year later, 

I’m ‘Taker,

24 and 2 many days hateful. 

Judged for a crime I’d never commit, 

meanwhile your Wolf boy ain’t howling at shit…

hard to do that when you’re pushing up daisies, 

my burns be hotter than the flames in Hades:

Drink driving,

drug driving,

acting rapey. 

Add to that narcissistically crazy,

a connection with a lesbian of the mind’s own making. 

But then again, 

that’s ok to you.

Cos you’re the kind of prick who’d say the same too. 

Said my lesbian friend “just hadn’t met you”,

boy, sit down and reckon with

how easy gals forget you. 

No Betsy, Supergirl – nah none of that shite,

Cos son you just met your own living Kryptonite. 

Ripped into me for missing a woman that’s an ocean away,

Yet woke me 3 times in the night 

cos no text from bae. 

Nothing to read so I guess you can weep, 

Turd is born

with the oaths that you speak. 

A handshake solves nothing but then I guess you are a wanker, 

But now you gon and got me charged like Blanka. 

I ain’t gonna bow down to your low behaviour, 

When I whooped your ass even the Lord couldn’t save ya. 

So bring your best shot, 

Indigo’s back from the dead, 

I swapped my amethyst wings for a scythe so now I’m coming for your head. 

You weak, you a sucka, barking mad like your Georgia Puppers.

What do I want? 


… I just want you to suffer.

NaPoWriMo Day 6: The Voice of False Truth

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

NaPoWriMo Day 5: Eternal Domain.


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.


NaPoWriMo Day 4: Justice.

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.

NaPoWriMo Day 3: A Universe Reborn


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.

NaPoWriMo Day 2: Litany Of Varied Experiences.

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.

NaPoWriMo Day 1: A Secret Shame.

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…

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.


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