Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Music, Personal, Writing

Keep Singing, Keep Writing

Hola amigos reflexivos,

It’s been a little while. I hope you’ve been well. I’ve been thinking of switching up some of the things I post about on my blog, so if you had any ideas, or things you’d like to see my perspective on, please leave a comment below, and I’ll see what I can shake up for you. I’ve got some new poems uploaded, that you may be interested in, so do let me know what you think.

For those that don’t follow me on twitter, I recently went to see one of my childhood crushes, and someone I genuinely consider an outstanding musician, Rick Astley, on Friday. I know that Rick gained immense amounts of popularity after the craze of Rick Rolling, but I loved him before that. I don’t mean that to sound hipstery, but I really, genuinely did. When I was little (not that little though, I’ve always been tall!), I would stay at my grandparents, who had a record player in their spare room. It was there that I discovered all of my family’s old records, including my mum’s old Rick Astley collection, along with The Beach Boys, The Kinks and Secret Affair. My playlists may be old as hell, but they are built on youthful discovery.

On Friday, the two of us, along with my grandmother, danced, and sang along to Rick’s hits, old and new (His new single Keep Singing is incredible, by the way). Three generations of women, brought together, by the music of a meme. I don’t know if that was what he was going for when he stepped in to the studio to record “Never Gonna Give You Up” or my personal favourite “Together Forever”, but I’m thankful for it.

Anyway, enough about my fangirling, below are the new poems I mentioned. I hope you enjoy them. Rick will keep singing, and I will keep writing (as well as singing in the shower).


J x


Siren Songs To The Sugar Bowl
Bigger Than Satan
Casa Azul


image1 (1)


Five second pose,
turns into hours.
Preen, pout, pose.
Preen, pout, pose.
I’m old Hollywood glamour,
minus dust and drugs.
I take myself out on the town.
Run my dainty digits through tempting tresses,
I tremble as my eye catches the mirror.
Have to get home.
The excitement of a sordid night,
not just one, my love’s forever.
I feel tremors, on my favourite skin.
Keys in all the locks,
all at once, I wait no more.
My soul squirms out my eyes,
collapsing with me, on the jealous carpet.
Catch the mirror again,
my moans become cries.
I tell myself I’m beautiful,
because nobody else will.

Days Out

Sing song sea gulls,
learned a new song for us.
The sand, apprehensive,
flies on the wind.

The world, neon.
It stings my open eyes,
we crouch by nervous waves.
Ice cream, and plans of forever.

Sand lead the way,
even through our denial.
Our love, apprehensive,
flies on each kiss.

Razzle Dazzle

Lean over the precipice,
to collect another spotlight.
No danger, no drama,
until I fail to fall.

Expected bad habit,
you gather, placing losing bets.
I let you down, each time,
by never doing so.

This stage was always my own,
when it crumbles, I’ll be long gone.
I built your very seat,
and then slipped out, to my own applause.

Just Because I Can

You saw me, silk all over,
pouting at your garden,
and wishing I could tend it.
You asked me not to take your man.
I’m asking you to look again.
That dress you envied,
was made to fall between us.
What’s better than this?
Gals being pals,
all over your husband’s bed?
I’m begging of you,
don’t beg of me, no more.

Sinless Serial Killer

Croc tears could rip a warrior apart.
My kitty cat back pack, is full of bodies,
and I’ll flutter my way to another.
There’s power in my baby voice,
long lashes, matched with pastel.
Shhhh, here he comes.

Same Old You

You tried to live on notebooks and coffee,
but you can’t starve out same old you.
You keep on running,
but back you go, down familiar paths.
New start, new plans, new girl!
That’s exactly what same old you would do.

Thank Heavens For Old Men

It’s so easy when he’s easy,
I’ve got the world, and his will, but he can’t see why I stay,
because he misses the old, young face that he was born with.
I’ll kiss his ego, and anywhere else he is sensitive,
because I know where he is, every night,
when that face gives me those lips to toy with.
We both feel twenty one, in some way.
Me, on my ID. Him, on my body.
I hope he knows, there’s no one else, I’d rather be with.

Feminism, With Conditions

Darker discourse is deflecting?
You’d never say it,
but I speak your language.
If not for you, then who?
Do the springs of other struggles,
that you slept on, to build your bed,
keep you from sleeping?
Goodnight, princess.


“He left.”

My fridge filled and emptied,
and my wine glass too.
Vinyl span, like my mind,
as I measured the span between us.
The dim lights of your return,
transformed my sorrow into a dance floor.

I must keep dancing,
songs of contesting contradictions.
I must keep dancing,
I won’t hear my heart admit.

“He isn’t coming back, this time.”

High School

She switched, at seventeen.
Dependent became determined,
play date to dating.
She grew up so fast,
at least, so she thought.
I waited, lonesome library,
our books and memories were little comfort,
when she was done learning.
My little girl was all grown up,
too old for her high school sweetheart.

Bright Lights, Big Ego

“You don’t have to do this!”
What’s more dangerous?
My hard working? Your saviour complex?
You lace my palm, with lack of understanding,
and the money the world allows you to earn.
You beg with eyes that haven’t seen enough.
I’m not one of your pin up posters.

We Got Tired

“Let’s get together for drinks.”
he said.
“And death.”
I added in my head,
He didn’t see his shades had slipped,
and I was seeing his soul seething.
He thought God reached out,
through those angry, open eyes,
but he was drinking his own

Siren Songs To The Sugar Bowl

I’m on the roof,
our city dancing, while we jam.
I don’t care, when I’m singing siren songs to the sugar bowl.
I don’t care, when those boys think I’m a mean girl.
Baby, you can’t have me, without parties and Sephora-ah-ah, papi, that’s sick.
I run my world, from day to day,
but I answer to suits and shivers,
from downstairs.


My love for you is rain.
Unwelcome outburst,
that washes over,
but well meaning.
The thunder of your name,
and the lightning in your touch.
I fall down, at your command,
as you put up your umbrella,
and send me home.

I Loved That Rat

We both saw the movie,
that George McFly warning.
The pressurised sweetness,
the hopeful soundtrack, made me forget.
Your Chanel humanised your scuttles,
I didn’t even keep you caged.
We shared those dreams,
we shared those boys.
You sucked the life from Socrates,
then tried to come for me.
I’ve got some soda flavoured arsenic,
labelled with your many names.
Drink up.


Don’t get freaked out.
The pool isn’t that deep,
so jump, jump, jump,
if you want to.

Hold the edge,
if you’re afraid, like me.
You always were,
just come closer,

I’d like to say,
I’ll swim over to you,
but I struggle,
and I’m screaming.

I’ve lost floating.
It’s swim or stay pretty.
Lifeguard went home.
Step up, save us.

If I’m your babe,
you’ve got to be brave, babe.
Both in water,
but you won’t say you’re wet,

3 thoughts on “Keep Singing, Keep Writing

  1. I’d love some writing tips, or some blogs about your writing process? Maybe something on how to get the courage to share your work, because that is something I have a lot of trouble with, haha. I would love to, but it makes me so nervous.

    I love the new poems, “We Got Tired” and “Swimming” are absolutely gorgeous.


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