Author: upsidedownfairy_

When that connector flips

And that unknown

Battery hidden in your brain

Turns on:

Blood becomes charged

And a rush of energy runs through

Voltiac veins that lace your body.

A new kind of electrolyte

Floods the brain.

.

.

You feel a rush of delicious

Passion. Lust. Rage. Ego.

Intoxicated by the vibrations

of static rhythm

Dancing to a tempo that

Only you can hear.

You’re too dazzled and

Blinded by your own brilliance

To notice the damage done

With your sparks:

The painful shocks you give to

Those around you.

.

.

Suddenly the energy becomes too much

Your wiring becomes faulty

And you’re spreading fires

Leaving destruction at your wake.

Sensory overload burning

Blinding rationale

Rupturing coherency,

Erasing the necessary darkness

That cloaks the thoughts

That shouldn’t be thought,

Let alone believed.

.

.

The fuse eventually

Is burnt to a crisp

And your brain,

Like a magnet

Switches to the negative.

Like a flash of Lightening

That precedes the storm.

The power of three

appears many ways

a sequence that

is impossible to

go unnoticed, its

glaring  glowing

strikingly or softly

salient in sight

.

.

It is immortalised

by historical icons,

the trailblazing minds

that canonised this

sequence of three;

but is felt 

by the everyday

ever present people

.

.

There is a

fictional mastery of

the three witches

casting a curse

on the antihero

the unlucky Macbeth

.

.

Beware the bewitching

temptress of the

feminised number three,

walking wombs who

can cast a

spell to bewitch

or grant triple

strokes of luck

.

.

Interlinked by mysticism,

that supernatural is

Rooted female three.

Don’t forget the

Salem witches villains

indelible, formidable in

the crucial crucible

a poetic mastery

.

.

But three goes

Deeper than that:

proving the power

of the numerical

motifs and codes

that colours our

our subjective perception

of relative reality

.

.

Watch out people,

Men and women

can be hit by

this threesome tragedy

or metaphysical miracle

.

.

Still it’s been

interpreted to be

So inherently female;

a feminine mystique.

It is indiscriminate

of gendered duality

no identified gender

is exempt, safe

.

.

The number three

treats men and

women the same.

If metaphorical patterns

respects gendered equality

Why can’t we?

.

.

By Emma G

When that surge of emotion

Rolling around in the commotion

The turmoil of Emma G’s mind

How does one reject that chemical

Traffic and hormonal anxieties

Sacrifice nature, turn on nature

Existing is a drain

An insidious pain

Felt I needed to disappear

For the benefits of people and posterity

Genetic malfunctions

Chronic fuck ups in chemical neurology

Genetic freaks like me

Where do u go now?

Who’s the Goose now

But the one thing I can tell you

Is no one flexes like BBK

To all those misfits out there

Like me

Let’s frolic in this life span

Like the poet Skepta

Let’s not create in certain seasons

Let’s create present myths

We’re the memorable creators

Malfunctions of culture

The abstract contortionists

Of art, beauty and tradegy

So I repeat, who’s the Goose now?

How do you become an night owl?

You might ask

Let me tell u one thing about owls

People who are being burnt from both ends

They’re the ones who need to keep moving :

The motion, emotional driven

Prolonging of the 24 hours

BANG

To break that routine of being good

Having that cuppa, powder and going back to the hood

A part of me craves depravity,, savagery

Enticing aspirational obscenity

For a different future

A different path

Of that 9-5 life animation

The opposite of that order

I gravitate to disorder

I want my own version of

Existence

Who’s the night owl?

I want to create a new genre of a community

Those who are allowed to be fiery and foxy

Let’s embrace neurodivergent

Create a new rhetoric

That can emancipate our kind of language

Who’s the fox now?

The upside down was born

Under the millennium dome

My people and I see bright lights

Blinding bright

Blinding some of the typical types

Our level of impulsive gratification

Led us to pontificate

Some silvery smooth sensations

We bring sensual

Synth, diversified sounds

Filthy beats

And a lyrical psychosis

It’s that time

For my creative flow

My ovaries are moaning

Crimson and bloody

For equality

A relentless cramp

But I take it all

Harvest that pain

Feel it bubble inside my mortal mind

Vent it out like a portal

Into some creative potion

A concoction of cataclysmic commotion

So to my fellow foxes family

The underdog psychosis comrades

Kill the Goose

Cage the night owl

Let’s be foxes roaming the night

Let me introduce Tommy P into the upside down:

Hes a brethren; but is bigger than that.

his brain makes a silky soulful sound to mine

Cycling up and down

An upsidedown chimp or bat

He makes me want to laugh and cry

at the same time.

I want to sing songs symbolising his sensual

Energy. A type of electric evocation

that has me intoxicated

He’s a star in the sky that only we can see

He wants the moon to be full

but anticipates it too soon

woo me

pursue me

cos i want you to catch me

Emma G and Tommy P has got a nice

tempo. Always tempting me for more;

a tease i can’t resist.

He has a subtle confidence

that can destroy or magnify magical moment of time.

We’ve been in an environment that stretches

the sexual speed to a standstill

stealing kisses in the shed

if we can’t orgasm: lets wargasm instead

we each gain a shared knowledge

then wanna destory it

we deconstruct the soud of riffs/synth/beats and tempo.

Jester jests us into a playground

only reserved for posterity:

We’re baby millenials that will knock the socks

off the digital gen z.

Watch this space, cos our collab will be

spectacular. A spectacle and shriek of delight

that will have the mandem going mad

Wait, Emma G is getting ahead of herself

cos whats hapenning is fragile; deliciously delicate, remember

wise mind Emma G.

Wait until you’re at a 5 and then graft.

But at least i have this jester Tommy P:

someone who makes me into a muse.

How lucky am I .

Fuck your opinion

Cos I got underdog psychosis that

Shits on your ideals and chit chat crap

Here let me spell it out

FYO

Fuck your Opinion

Your patriarchal purchasing power parity

Is running dry

Is diminishing

Here me out:

Running around listening to this

Boris bullshit

Makes my heart beat slowly, fading down

Nah here it comes….

Beat bop beep bop

Cos I’ve been listening and learning

So Fix Up Look Sharp

U murdoch fam is wank

My fam exudes golden rays

Yours exudes fake news

So let’s get real

Suffering from underdog psychosis

Trying to stay alive

But I keep on grooving.

I’ve got the love

You’ve got the trolls and hate

You jokers and clowns don’t know

How the youth shits on your ‘truths’

So stop pretending u do

Stop pretending u know how to rule

Cos my castle is the Taj Mahal

Yours is an 11th century stone fort

It’s time to understand that

If you don’t create change

Then me, my sis and brethren

Those other performative misfits

Will create the change ourselves

Upside Down Rascal