jessicakimx

[jessicakimx]

SeaGirl String

So what if my style is saturated with omnisity?

It's only because my brain works in waves with no simplicity.

Its torrential upturns, downturns, spirals recline

(They take a backseat)

Otherwise these words would never last the test of time.

Frivolous japes of course are my common plan

It's just there's so much happening up here

I'm live and fucking kicking man!

Always questioning and naturally, always wanting more.

Finding acceptance through hippy embelishments

Sometimes feels to me like a chore.

I just am, and will be, this me.

A tad pessimistic but still striving towards all the best things to see.

In this crazy hubbub that we call Earth

And even without New Age cliches I feel Worth.

The greatest worth; the power of freedom,

It's within us all it's just some choose to heed them.

Teachings, beliefs, stories explaining the Big Ones

Like when, why, how and what happens when we're gone?

Into that next place, the space, so unknown

The taste-test throne. Will we be alone?

Nothing of this is known.

Our endings are already sewn.

So why even bother to cover the tone

Of this most natural happening.

A beautiful circle of this thing that we must lose ourselves in.

And accept what we have because

Everything is finger knitted together by seagulls with string.

[jessicakimx]

New Age Druid

They've called me a New Age Druid

My style's remaining fluid

So you can't categorise me,

I'm just flying high and free.

Toking all the biggest zoots

And clad in blinging tracksuits

But raising awareness far beyond

The council estate's duck pond.

Skipping in forests, foraging food,

Diving in bins with payments spewed

With Finery, Fine Dinery,

By the sheep's spines, that's where you'll find me.

Collecting bones, for the children's homes.

Sometimes in groups, but mostly alone.

Taking chances and losing it all

For all of the Mightiest ones get there from a fall.

The number 27, blessed are those in Heaven,

My birthday's powerful alongside number 11.

27, 11 but where is 23?

We live in chaos but truly, that sets us free.

So this is my numerology;

Rules that I have created and with synchronicity related

To theories more commonly dredged,

Extracted libraries' banal knowledge

And anally I pledge to accept my OCD

And love this, chaotic ME.

[jessicakimx]

Two Rights

And so, in wrong I can find right.

In the reflections of fractured light

Diffracted from the books once read,

I choose instead to write.

The teachings were violently learnt

Now there's roles reversed and tables turned:

I teach in reach of everything I've learned

Dualities of wrong and right, writes and wrongs.

The impact of attempting acceptance

And NO expectance, sings my songs.

[jessicakimx]

IAMNOTYOURPRISONER

Tani’s smoke whisked from the tips of her fingers as she flicked the fag to the ground floor.  Seven stories up and still not high enough?  4:13am.  The deep blue shone its atomic blacks casting shadows in open doorways.  Why were the doors open anyway?

‘Pffftt stupid twats, wasting their lives on that shit’, Tani murmured to herself as she rolled another one.  ‘Better off smoking me herb than poking fucking chems!’ she snorted.

Deep down Tani felt alone.  She felt tired and scared.  She wondered if she should, you know, open that door way.  Her morals had always been tough, and despite temptations, she’d never given in.  But things were different now.  Now she was alone.  Now they’d left her - the city was deserted - all that was left were rats.

‘Rats and Addicts. Addicted Rats, NO! Rat Addict, THAT’s what I’ll call them’, she joked.  The thing was, Tani wasn’t a Rat.  She was more of a cat.  Her tenacity flared through quick movements and razor claws.  No one would dare fuck with her.  So here she sat.  On the 7th floor up, in this empty 1970s council flat - it was her mansion, her home, it was her freedom.

It hadn’t always been this way - the apartments were once filled with families, young couples and co-workers all living out their own petty lives.  Petty to whom you may ask?  Petty to Those People.  Those People in Power.  You see, as rent rose, prices of food increased, fuel rocketed and very quickly the previously perfect lives of every day people - the pawns.  The pieces that moved around the chess board sliding square to square, social occasion to shop, keeping the facade going.  The Kings and Queens (Those People), had some pretty dirty tactics when it came to playing games and sent an onslaught of doomed Knights - inflating darkness to the brink of destruction.  There simply was nothing left.

And then guess what Those People fed those poor sods: ‘The chance of your lifetime - to live on Mars!’ What the fuck!  Why weren’t they fixing their problems created here first?  Before the excessive removal of any and every willing ‘petty’ person to move to fucking Mars!  For the simple reason and obvious answer; they had no respect, no dignity and no clue about how to own their shit.  Their honesty lay somewhere at the bottom of a pit of starved children and blood-stained bank notes.

Ever since Tani was little, they’d always known something was severely wrong.  They felt outcast and unfairly judged for their muscular biceps and rugged stubble.  They were tired of pretending, so one day, they did the hardest yet best thing they ever did, becoming Tani.  All of those lines, those boundaries and rhythms were broken.  For once Tani wrote her own song, and it went something like this:

‘Fuck your walls

Cuz I’ve seen it all,

And if you try to Call

I won’t every fall

I AM NOT YOUR PRISONER’.

She even had that last line tattooed in capital Gothic calligraphy across her forehead.  It was almost as if she’d been born ready for this dilapidation of society.  A muse to the anarchic Rats struggling in the pits of addiction.  For Tani had already fought her way from the bottom - she was a survivor.  Survivors don’t need to move planets to escape their problems.

[jessicakimx]

NeverFUCKaTORY

They can take away our freedoms from day to day

But they can’t censor our writing, nor what we say.

Or how we say it, more to the point,

Inhale, slowly, before you splutter your joint.

They can take away our jobs, leaving us with no money

But the plants can still grow

And bees can continue cooking up the honey.

So do your bit and speak your truth

(Kick out any Tory hiding under your own roof).

If they can’t learn, cast them aside;

The idiotic, thieving greedy tides

Of BULLSHIT.

Now we can go back to a Thatcher,

Preferably a Haze, not bloody Maggy -

Why are we even here again, now I feel aggy!

FUCK THE TORIES 

AND THEIR CORRUPT SYSTEM.

WHEN THEY ARE GONE

NO ONE WILL MISS THEM.

They’ll be outcast; uprise and revolt.

Remember kids, “never fuck a Tory”

And you won’t go (too) wrong.

[jessicakimx]

BlinkersOff

What are we doing here?

I thought it was clear,

My eyes are masked, 

Limbs bound.

And I’m enjoying this Stillness

That I’ve found.

Within You, it’s in you. 

It was right there it was the Whole time.

Years spent in cyclical rhyme.

Now, snapped out of routine,

And living a real-life, real-time dream.

What are we doing here?

I feel like it’s becoming clear,

Now my eyes are becoming un-masked,

Limbs becoming un-bound.

And I’m enjoying this Stillness

That I’ve found (With You).

I kept running. I kept fighting.

I kept Hope in my writing.

Keep believing, Keep seeing

That true Love is ultimately being

Free In Wandering.

What are we doing here?

I know now, it’s oh so clear,

Now my eyes are un-masked,

Limbs un-bound.

And I’m enjoying this Stillness

That I’ve found being with you.

[jessicakimx]

Ode to 2022

It’s 2022 and we’re supposed to feel new...

Still we sit on this pew

At some church we’ve never signed up to.

They’re taking our freedom,

We’re not supposed to see them

And they’re having parties in public view.

Whilst even paid word for us, falls few.

No money. No jobs. No protests. No rights.

No back-up, no get-up from unjust fights.

It’s 2022 and we’re supposed to feel new,

Still we sit on this pew...

At some church we’ve never signed up to.

If this isn’t indoctrination, this must be a Cult following;

Of racist bigots, discrimination for dinner, with paedophilic-porn-pudding.

Plus most of the affordable stuff is stuck over There.

Brexit and cuts make imports of goods bare.

It’s 2022 and we’re supposed to feel new,

Still we sit on this pew

At some church we’ve never signed up to!

[jessicakimx]

Scottish roads, take me Home

The wind that woke me carried me through an awesome gorge erupting sweet flavours of the late summer fruits that flower, for us.

***

Betwixt the faces of the mountains the fairy pools cascade

Fountains of bountiful pure water.

Lilac heathers and dragon flies parade

Droplets of water that hold such power.

As the winds sweep new air into a bedazzled shower,

Swirling, whirling, the way I always dreamt.

Deep gorge-ous views that I grasp onto

Showing what’s Real and what’s meant.

To be kept sanctified, 

Ceremonious forces of Nature.

Feel Gaia in her elements in the way she intended yer’,

Bonnie Isle of Skye, I can feel ye’ within me.

You’ve opened my eyes: there’s always more to beauty to see

Not just Now

But in the future too

A new dawn is rising on 2022.

***

From the Isle of Skye: a perfect composition where the clouds mirror the mountains and waters’ edges.

A piece of Stillness nestled in the North West of a wild, old land.

Though no seas need be crossed, the border that divides creates a line

Of contrast between raw, jagged rock edges and soft, curvaceous cliffs.

Aqua-marine waters with Peace from shadows, breed fauna; from dolphins to

Eagles that rise above our heads.

To feel alone, though practically simple, becomes impossible as you breathe the same air as millions of microcosms.

True meditation after relentless let-downs both of my petri-colony and the entire globe’s day to day occurrences.

This trip was special to me for more reasons than possible to explain.

Allowing the souls that have flown to pass through my memories, leaving their silhouettes laughing with my core.

Feeling truly at One with the Greatness of the world again, and the stamp of approval that I could never be a bore.

Scotland, the land of Lochs, bogs, mountains and Sky.

Here I feel a natural connection to my own rhythms.

A meter that’s continuously ticking and that I will never deny.

***

Get lost, get stuck in a bog.

‘Cause one day everything will be lost in a fog.

[jessicakimx]

Battle 4 1

Heavy as the armour that shields me from open blows

I carry your weight in battle because this is what I chose.

Each clink and the clamour of sweat drips

Underneath steel which easily rips

Through flesh and bone as razor blades to skin

Remind me of the truths that lie within.

The honour that I remain set to serve,

Paths lead me forwards away from a curve

Of self pity, self denial and misunderstanding.

The traits which you’ve been demanding.

Instead, I lay my sword down and step back.

Finishing this blow would be my final attack

And this is not my story or my happy ending

There’s more knights out there that deserve my befriending

As night draws in and retreat opens up

I raise my glass to this half filled cup

50/50 promises were never my intent.

Yet undeniably, I for one, was not Heaven-sent.

[jessicakimx]

Murder of Crows

Now in this spot I can feel the stillness

Taste, smell it and touch its likeness.

To the beginning of Time; that one blast of chance

Giving life a space to laugh, to cry, romance.

The heart’s its own entity, with rhythmic blood

That can make everything bad, or everything good.

Feeling that link between its force and the brain

Sometimes helps to ground and sometimes you feel insane.

But stopping and listening to ultimately, that nothing, 

Brings you back to your self, the Self that you’re centring,

Noticing the sunlight as it shines through the trees

The butterflies dancing, birds singing, a branch falls, with no breeze.

It’s a sign, they’re all signs, of the spirits watching.

One with their world with Mother Gaia highly cotching.

Holding Us all with strength, we always know...

It’s just sometimes we’re weak, we can bounce back though.

Stronger from each blow.  Take time to sew.

There’s always more ways to grow.

Sit back in this flow.

Sometimes we’ll feel low.

Life’s crazy:

“A murder of crows”.

[jessicakimx]

ConTroll

In times like these it’s hard not to get lost in a dark pit of negativity.

Snakes slithering, as beasts with bulging eyes become the protectors of your reality.

Pupils dilated with no brain functioning behind them, an army of drones

Who’ve forgotten that they too were raised by fathers and mothers in different class homes.

The Peace is shattered, as shields and batons swing - cutting skin, as pieces of chess.

The realisation that we’re all pawns to these unjust knights on high horses and nothing less.

This battle must continue and somehow, the patriarchy broken, allowing another set up.

Where the people stand for the female, see black lives matter, wearing a liberal get-up.

The ware and tear on skin, purpling, cut as red drips drops of blood: the current watercolour. 

This presents the vulgarity of the now: no one involved even cares about the weather.

The main question is whether the media will be able to justly portray the pain

That is real, that is shared, we need apologies!  Not an update on the sun or rain!

The police are nothing more than pigs to the slaughter.

I wonder if the actions they’ve inflicted are how they’d treat their daughter?

[jessicakimx]

Sh!t Poetry

You’ve met me before, so I shouldn’t have to tell you again

Why and how much better I am than your girlfriend.

See there’s the ones that you can have and hold onto easily

Then there’s the ones that are harder to hold down, like me.

I’m worth all that you have, and then a bit more on top

You can’t win me over with shit poetry or gifts from the shop.

‘Cuz i’ve got all I need right here within my very self

All i’m looking for is someone to act out the top shelf..

Filthy fantasies that I can’t quite quench whilst alone

Are you coming, or wot?! I’m home on my own.

I won’t wait.  I won’t date.  Unless you are the best.

I’ve built my standards high, not every Jess

Could make yo feel as comfortable as I can, I know,

You’ll be kicking yourself, bricking yourself, as you watch me go.

[jessicakimx]

Unfinished..

I’ve got snails slithering up my spine

And I realise I want to make time

To watch.

To feel the feelings that I felt, 

To know this is really real.

To cotch.

[jessicakimx]

FeminIne

Amongst the gasps unearthly residue drips

Cascading waterfalls of desire.

(Full power, until collapse.)

Heavenly shakes rupture

Into manic animation, never to tire.

Naturally, no.

Only with structural form.

Manmade, oppositional to when born.

As feminine takes rule and supplies

The All I need until this life dies.

Into my bosom, soft pillows, For You

To feel safe, and for me to feel safe, knowing that too;

You hold a space for me, open on your chest,

To lay my head and then I’ll feel rest.

[jessicakimx]

OurMen/AMen

Why do the good men die?

It's been happening since I was a kid;

I grew up with a tear in my eye

(Which never fell).

Now grown I wonder if this is why 

I don't let men into a position which upon them I rely.

(I can't tell)...

But I know that one day I'll fly

Alongside the lost boys and men of high

Frequencies; the ones who were never to tell a lie.

Virtuous figures of the patriarchal pie,

That cut their slice and in saying goodbye

Left glimmers of hope in everyone's eyes.

[jessicakimx]

Go Gently into that Dark Night

In all that is earthly another dimension is held

Not many sense it but you can taste it in the sweet saliva of the morning dew.

Embrace those that make you know what life is:

To give and to take.

To birth and to kill.

To fill your purest nature with real destiny.

Not of this world, but of the Universe.

The stars that send light throughout vacuums of space

As order is set by those who know their place.

And know that the microscopic atoms are in fact the same as thyself.

For the true glory of life comes int he knowledge, the study and acceptance of the deepest deaths.

Wealth is not superficial, then.

It is the bones that are left - meticulous sculptures of what was.

So do go gently into that dark night.

Old age should not burn and rave at close of day;

Rise, Rise with the dying of the light.

[jessicakimx]

Forewings + Hindwings

Thin like the wings of butterflies

First emerging from dark cocoons,

Delicate yet holding a strength 

That can be seen during flight, and soon...

Won’t be questioned and won’t dared be poked.

In attempts to mar the fragility

Of the sacred veil that not only masks

But protects absolute true beauty.

This awakening was never scheduled

It certainly could not be dated

Almost as if all points lead

Dot to dot, drawn in showing fate with

The essence of life as it transposes,

The cleansing of death again reposes

New questions with answers already known;

The realisation that supposes the ways

In which I’ve really grown.

See it, feel it, breathe it and create

With it every new sensation which was never late.

Perfectly in synchronicity with all I’ve worked to

Become and continue to enhance my me, striving to

Be free. Be me. And most ultimately,

Truly See.

It was never you.

It was always me.