Battle Angel

"Life hasn't been an easy ride, but then whose is? Battle Angel: The Ultimate She Warrior has emerged from the pain in my life, and the strength I've had to find to get to where I am today.

 The decision to publish this book of poetry is to remind every woman of the 'She Warrior' living inside; to remind you of the strength, the courage, the pride, and the self-love you should honour within yourselves, recognising that it is because of your She Warrior that you have survived this thing we call life.

 Remember your personal strength, your courage, that you found when you needed it the most, and remind yourself that 'She' is there for you, whenever you feel the need to call on her.

 I hope I succeed in giving every woman that reads these words the belief they need to find their strength, even when life feels like it is impossible to beat.

 Call on your Battle Angel and push through with pride."

Excerpt from Battle Angel

She Puts Out The Call To The Wild

As she holds forth in the punishment of death

She wears the feathers of a peacock,

As she walks the valley of obstruction, with a whisky in her hand,

Fires to the left of her cuddle her like a cloak as she passes,

Knowing she's the secret ruler of this entire land.

🪽

Thunder ripples through the earth, stopping at her feet,

As she stands her ground, clicking her fingers to call the wild,

Lightening rains around her in a kaleidoscope of fireworks,

Until the giggling sound carries, that of her only child.

🪽

The fluttering of bird feathers carry her whispered commands,

Calling forth her sergeant in arms, the phoenix of yesterday,

When it lands in front of her and takes a bow,

Flames flickering it's feathers in a majestic display.

🪽

By her side walks her brother, the famous white wolf,

Teeth razor sharp, feasting on the bones of the vulture,

A delicacy it craves but rarely obtains,

As his mistress travels the airways in fortified culture.

🪽

The ocean waves sprint to face her head on,

A wall of protection at the very edges of her land,

Any foolish enough to brow beat those in her den,

Realise too late they've taken their final stand.

🪽

She rides the airwaves of the lightenings static,

Searching for the erotic scent of the blood of stones,

Every foot fall is calculated on a whimsical reef,

Scattered with the goriness of captured skull and crossbones.

🪽

Her head snaps to the left as the sound of drumbeats roll,

It's the rest of her pack, joining her in celebration,

Led forward by her famous wolf hound,

In its mouth that one who'll she castrate into damnation.

🪽

Before his demise, he'll plead for his life,

Asking for what is he being punished by death,

She responds in a whisper, for only his sordid ears,

"For nothing more than my amusement, so don't waste your breath."

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