Poetry: These Shoes Were Made for Walking

These shoes were made for walking… The hilly streets of Lisbon.The Palace Gardens of Sintra.The Tipsy stairs up to Delirium. The Hitchhiking road from Le Pallet to Hellfest.The stupidly happy Zombie mode walk back to Clisson station post watching my fav bands.The quiet road back to the hotel while holding hands singing drunken Irish songs….

Poetry: I choose

I am a woman I chose to not have children this does not make me less than this does not make me greater than I am responsible I am accountable to be happy to be free in my thoughts, my thinking and in the depths of my being I am a woman I chose not…

Poetry: Look Up

Look up. Stop staring down. You will notice the beauty, and maybe a bit of sadness. But it will be raw and real Unfiltered, unscripted. A couple sharing lunch time laughs A girl with her brand new running shoes, unable to hide her smile. A busker, playing his music with his eyes closed. An older…

In 2017, I Quit.

In 2017, I quit… Two Jobs. Round one to break bad habits Round two to break ties, before it broke me. People pleasing. Being a push over. Sacrificing family time. Compromising beliefs. Toxic Relationships. Time spent on hurt. High Expectations. Ostracised Crying. Negative Self-Talk. The Number on the Scale. Striving for Perfection. Eating too little….

Damned in the Deep South

These lyrics were inspired by American Horror Story: Coven Painted face with slaves’ blood Sickening skin-care routine Seeping through her aged pores While servants work to death Holier than thou, skin as fair as snow Evil rot growing inside No mercy for those below Off with her head, curse her supremacist soul No longer will…