Death to the gods of the arbitrary

Photo by Moritz Kindler on Unsplash

The numbers have weight,
Represented in the roll of the dice.
And I in the their grasp,
Am simply freight,
Shedding my past.
Always willing to pay the price.

They call me Hurricane,
Though my name be Gail.
And I can’t retain
The wind in my sails,
As life’s vagaries contend
To upend and send
Me spiralling to extremes.
Then becalmed but seldom calm.

I’m Chance’s bitch,
And she is mine.
By turns we switch,
Ruling the other’s time.
I ride her, she rides me.
No reason, no rhyme.
Destination? We’ll see.

Sweet darling Caprice, Whose name I took, Showed…

Photo by Eduardo Goody on Unsplash

Forty minutes.

That was all it had taken for Sixsmith to go from stepping out the shower and feeding her cat, The Larrikin Agamemnon, to getting her face smashed in.

Some days were like that.

Her head went back and up with the first punch. The one that always came gratis. The rest you paid for and Tabby operated a sliding scale.

As her head sprang back from the hit (Laceration and acute inflammation in mandibular labia. Right mandibular central incisor loosened. Select 'Pay Now' to upgrade to Telos repair mite package) she was already dipping and spinning on one…

Getting some strange when you’re queer

Photo by Brian Kyed on Unsplash

Me: It was really nice to get to know you.

Dublin Girl: Yeah you too. It’s been fun.

Me: There is one thing though…

Dublin Girl: Oh?

Me: I’m married.

Dublin Girl:

Gay marriage is a thing in a lot of places these days, but we didn’t need to wait for that to start cheating, did we? Cheating though has a different dynamic for gay folk, I reckon. For a start it seems a little less of a problem than among the straights.

No, I’m not gonna cite that shit; call it a hunch. Why would I think that…

Image copyright - Smith & Capricious

The Cascade always wins

A reaction

Photo by Henrik Hansen on Unsplash

Audio version:

Shallow presidents and kings
Flee like fright birds on the wing,
When this proud queen steps down
Passes right judgement round.

I’d watch the tide, my time I’d bide.
But over time my rage wouldn’t hide.
Seems some people are simply too thick
To grasp the first rule, don’t be a prick.

Petty badults be told, time for bed.
Done biting my tongue, I’ll bite yours instead.
And my tongue is sharp, full of barbs.
Shout alarum, go call the guards!

For here I come, you be ready or not, With my sword in hand, take your shot…

Push, push, gone

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

Audio version:

I'm oscar mike.
You're wrong, not right.
I'm sick of your shite.

I'm leaving, clown.
Ditching this town.
Don’t drag me down.

Try to stop my stamping feet.
Ha you can't still this primal beat.

Beads of blood dotting my cheek,
To escape further wounds my feet become fleet.

I'm not a saint nor a sinner, neither loser nor winner.
But I've been around the block, for sure I'm no beginner.

I won't be pushed. I won't be bossed.
If you think that, girl you're lost…

I'm a sick and twisted whore,
But goddammit I deserve more.


Mrs. Capricious

Capricious by name, steadfast by nature. Trans femme dyke. Smutsmith. Provocateur. Poet. Idiot. Kicking names and taking ass.

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