Category Archives: STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS COLLECTION
I’m having a nervous breakdown
No tear gas needed to see my features frown.
Give up, let go.
It doesn’t matter.
Give in , give away the words
I write from my inner chatter.
Pride may come before a fall.
This writer is mad and frenetic enough to bawl.
Sleeping alone with a furry bengal.
Live and breathing, nightmares shedding one too many a ghoul.
I live in fear of letting myself fail.
It’s more innate stubbornness that leaves my face pale.
I’m sick of over achieving. I’m jaundiced from worry.
Projectile thoughts invade my space. illegal immigrants hide in my quarry.
Work so hard and see no results.
When I see the rainbows end -I may watch the blood seep from my wrists.
The mind won’t let me have a moment off.
Fatal escapism needed
a dose fit for a carcinoid cough.
Every moment – liquid drains my lungs.
when talcum powder is blown into organs.
Mop up creativities flow.
I can’t breathe in this dungeon.
Get out of my way ,don ‘t look at me – snarl and bite a portion out of your flesh.
Vegan turn rotten, core bound up with an unnerved bile uprise.
Human machine venting for my inability to refresh.
Hold up my dignity
keep me in stents;
make sure I don’t end up in a coffin embellished with the last person buried alive.
A scene far too surreal and intense.
I’m a lunatic.
You scare me but dammed if I will roll over and play dead.
Like sand through the hour glass
blink once and the deadline is almost head over arse.
I’m scared of failure
I want to be the man to pull out exacaliber.
Merit and knighted.
how shallow glory is,
I’m far too short sighted.
Immobilized in a zombie fashion
Micheal Jackson thriller
Nearly forgot to yell ‘action’.
Take me to a planet fermenting in sushi.
I need a trip to find my very own mighty booshy.
Writing is my hoochie. 😁
So, I’ve been doing a few courses to keep me going with the pandemic and to keep my mental health in check. I’ve just completed a 6 week drama course and for the final week we had to perform a monologue that started out as a few questions about our favourite scripts, actors, the masks we wear in real life. The course is an online one and its free to enrol – it is called ‘Being Different Together. Last week we had to read out our drafted monologues. I was so inspired by my fellow peers work that I decided to push myself -creatively and have my character speak more colloquial. I found my character from my initial draft spoke too eloquent. This monologue is based on true events. It has helped me come to terms with an experience I had in May 2020.
Thanks for reading, take care.
CAST MO – Maya’s husband and daughter to MIA
MAYA – mid 30/40’s mother and wife to Mo
MIA -young child-daughter
(MO lying on what could be a sunbed /hospital bed. Spotlight -Bright lights -glaring down on her. Darkness all around her)
MO: There’re so many ways I could start what happened that day, so many ways… Sometimes, I think the best way to start is at the end -the tubes down my throat, the experiments, the torture (beat) or at the middle: You’re mad in the head, you are. Summit wrong ya. We filmed it. Caught ya red-handed, silly bint. (beat)
What happened? She didn’t! I’m calling the coppers. Then I think to start at the beginning but my mind -it struggles- it’s addled -it struggles to find an entry point that can start linearly if ya know what I mean. … A beginning that will justify, lend a decorum of (hesitates) credibility for all those who was involved in a moment that changed me Mo and Mia’s lives for… at least a few weeks.
I’ve never claimed I was perfect or do I wanna be. Always say..Well- not always, Its not summit I say. Its a motto -like something I’ve adopted as my own. Who doesn’t know the lyrics to Bob Marley’s Tune? (sings) I shot the sheriff but I didn’t shoot no deputy -ooooh ooooh ooooh. To get back to what I was on about. I’m not perfect, yeah. Mo mask ever is. I stick my hand up whenever I (have gone) wrong in my life. And I sure as hell will say when I’m not.
Them lot. Them next door- Neighbours supposed to friendly like – not mine. They refused to take responsibility for the barrage of abuse on their part. Harassing me like I was the only one in the estate doing cuckoo shit, man.
They didn’t see me get abducted by them aliens -Truth: Illegal aliens. They weren’t imprisoned by our laws. These lot they didn’t want me to come to this world even when I begged them. Well, I could only blink. They could hear my thoughts. They knew I had been tossing a coin over the worth of my own life for many a year. The day it all kicked I was trying to be on my best behaviour- not screw things like I usually do. It was a proper sunny day, I had my bikini on, Mo blew up the pool. We sitting in the garden. I had a few drinks and summit snapped in my head. I thought right I’m gonna get on the phone to my regular geezer and score me a hit. Mo comes into the kitchen knowing full well summin was up, so I just said my usual spiel and before he could answer I flew out the door and ran over to his car. I turned around to go back to my house and there she was. Number 1 -Miss neighbourhood watch or should I say miss curtain twitcher filming me. Things had been building up in my head for a while, the pressure, my mind felt full of cottonwool most days.
I wasn’t happy. I didn’t think about it and before I knew it: boom, the glass window -her glass window shattered and…I was holding this great big hunk of Yorkshire stone in my hand. It took both hands to hold it. Shit hit the fan and police sirens were whirring, Mo said summit about getting Mia up to my mom’s house. They arrest me in front of her. She was crying. I was begging them to give Mo a chance to take her around the corner. Cos of Corona like we had to wait for 5 hours to get me booked in. My brain snapped in that cell. The police thought I had ADHD. I screamed for 4 hours. I was restrained by 5 police officers. I screamed until blood was coming out of my mouth.
The crisis team was called and they said it wasn’t there are. I’m well known to them -my social worker said -Well, I can’t remember but everyone was passing the buck from one Flippin pole to the next. I got cautioned and was told by the copper to come back in a week. The next day Mo went to work on the day shift, Mia well. she was staying with my mom and I knew I had enough to do it. Do it properly. I had read the manual, it might as well have been titled ‘How to escapy Plent Earth’. It was informative. I bought it online.
I bought myself a one-way ticket to another realm. that was it for me. I followed t every step of the manual and then I blacked. Found myself strapped to a bed with aliens looking down on me wearing spacesuits. It didn’t stop. The torture didn’t stop. I even started to pray to a God I don’t even believe in. It was hell.
I thought to myself. This is it. I screwed up again. Its never going to end. The strangest thing was I kept on seeing this image of my mom. I tried hard to keep the image of Mia and Mo in view but it was my Mom’s face that I could focus on.
One minute I was trapped in this spaceship and the next I opened my eyes and I saw all white, even the people and no they weren’t aliens with big eyes and scary faces, they were smiling and perfectly human just like you and me. I tried to move my head to the left and there on a table, I saw a picture of Mo, Mia and.. my mom. 11 days later Mo was allowed to check me back into a familiar place: Earth.
He was mad at me for disappearing like I did but soon after he hugged me and we had a right giggle about me trying to convince him I’d been abducted by Aliens. Cos of Corona it turns out that the aliens with their headgear and silver suits on were people. They weren’t aliens, I mean they were strangers to me but… they weren’t trying to suck out my brain: my thoughts, my feelings, you know? They weren’t trying to take my life
They were trying to save me.
It’s a funny life, innit?
Pancakes share a growling affair
To boost the morale of the monster with
inside a despairing mind of an almost self redundant writer
groans unable to fit into an unremarkable, once favoured racy red garter.
This poem is quite silly
I could throw a goat in here and call him
Because he had a penchant for consuming plenty pancakes with half fat cream cheese
Sell them on the hillside,
Not far from
With a spring in his hooves,
a dapper smile,
a shimmy in his groove.
Singing through a mouthful of home made shove
This isn’t a poem!
These are words to be damned to the books of ,’oh, Crikey’!
There are no rainbows without rain.
RISE ABOVE THE SMALL MENTALITY.
These folk have not experienced my darkest hours nor walked in my shoes.
Jealousy is a heinous crime to a person’s soul because it doesn’t take into account what the other person has and has yet to go through in life.
RISE ABOVE THE HATE of those who will never know & if they do hear a whisper of truth have no clue.
Judgements have no place in my world for those who don’t have a clue.
They tried to hit me where it could have hurt not me but my family
Gentrify their neighbourhood watch
cos I fly without further a due
I am not who/what they think I am ..
Oh, wait.. they made my case to succeed stronger.
THANK YOU, to my foes
You have made my goal closer.
I see that now.
I find it replenished
I am not down
THANK YOU for fueling my desire to start afresh better now than when I thought I was due
to give life to a new beginning.
these are my words. Simple words yet… meaningful to the author.
Jotting my thoughts. I’m prompted to make a complaint.
Little four-eyes when you were half your current size -why did you doubt yourself so?
Looking back to a densely plotted past – hazy.
What would you have done knowing all people doubt themselves even if it means you becoming the foe?
‘Have no regrets’ – the tagline of the present.
When you are looking at granny in a catatonic state, unable to walk or talk.
Fragmented images of people now gone by, tell me you won’t wonder how life would have played out by not taking assertive bets.
See the sizeable queue
What can we do to answer people’s feuds?
Create a passage for people to commit to taking responsibility for themselves,
sign that in ink and wrangle with their moods.
The list unfolds until it reaches the flaws of flooring.
Finger-pointing in every direction.
prepare to look within
Glimpse how far you can go before you understand only you can change your state of deploring.
Control comes not from puppeteering others.
Cut loose – let the strings fall.
Let people walk.
Hell, let them figure it out- leave them to crawl!
Worry about how you are going to make it.
What you need to do to advance in the dance – motions to elevate and bypass the savage instinct to maul.
How many complaints is your God of choice dealing with?
Her brassic attempt to fulfil everyone’s wish…
Did it ever occur to you to get off your indignant knees tPpppp] ppl check out the employment vacancies for extras needed to help your God succeed in appetizing your particular dish?
Ma petit fripon. Je t’aims toujours
First appearances people see the peak of an iceberg
I’m frosty, aloof and alas, on occasion I am mean.
If a person wishes to explore more of my make up they’ll find layered depths of frenetic intensity.
I have secrets of a history spanning over decades often feeling I’ve lived for centuries.
Am I immortal?
I’m merely human, don’t you see?
Occasionally, my demeanour melts at the sight of past enemies.
I’ve learned to be durable
Have the strength to endure a life span of over three decades.
An incredible feat, don’t you agree?
When poorly I’m cold
Under the sunshine, I bask in the glory
Honoured to feel;
Honoured to acknowledge I too have victories.
Oft I catch people off guard with bursting shouts, Look at my glee!
Inner confidence harks, Don’t underestimate me!
Many moon cycles left behind in the dark.
Startled by spring to be reborn
Nature is cruel
Thoughts of how can I summon up the will to carry on?
Life drags on a lit cigarette hope rapidly distinguishes
The light I can barely see.
Life stamp me out,
a frazzled repressive voice alien to the world.
This is how I feel!
A weedy, nondescript Daisy,
If it turns a head to the sunshine I bloom into a true flower
Wild and untameable.
I was born to be free
I wasn’t born to conform to the expectations of some society.
Never give up!
Nina sang it well: it’s a new dawn, a new day….
When you look at yourself straight on in the mirror – chant his name three times.
The Grim Reaper is more likely to pay a visit and say ‘wassup?
Thinking about all those folk who want to live. Don’t have a cat’s chance or a lucky clover to pray over.
Last night, life became mission impossible. If you read it – I’m free flowing this to say
Don’t give up.
Don’t give in.
When it feels like you are at the end of Hangman’s noose about to kick the bucket from under your feet
that’s the moment we’ve the opportunity to reveal our true soul’s pathos.
Don’t you think the cloaked hooded figure has a lot of soul collecting to get on with?
I’m not saying that what we feel at the time is an illusion.
I pointing out -change is the only constant
That can lead to desperate ,devastating confusion.
Inside – I’m trembling worrying , wondering. What am I gonna do? Can I do this?
Question after question more questions fogging up my third eye- it’s enough to make any mind spin.
Stop. Hammer time.
Warped sense of humour.
Enough to keep all the rattling bones and bolts inside me cast a glow over my demeanour.
Look around. You see a flower wilt or bloom inspite of his brethren humming out sad tunes.
That’s Life continuing in spite of all that strife.
One Seed.Of.Hope. Get through this second,hour, this evening.
Take the seed, germinate it, nurture it, feed it, love it , talk to it.
Take the time – make it thine.
Watch it grow into a mighty oak – proud and on display.
Seems impossible to define.
Plant it. Don’t throw it away.
Keep a hold of it. It may be the one thing that carries you over the struggle D-day line.
On the surface – flowers, trees, icebergs – all look fantastical – magical even.
Look below the surface. There is a formula – you can build on that too –
No magic. No miracles.
Approach thyself with an examining eye.
Make it your number one priority to get to know what makes you tick.
If heart’s Hope stops make it your priority to know where to go to get a battery replacement. Get it resuscitated.
Know what makes you well
Reach out to that alien.
Get out of that comfort zone.
Scream ,yell, type, don’t bottle it up .
We have the technology – make a call -pick the phone up.
We have a voice – use it. Listen..
Sweet melodic freedom – we’re the only ones with the unlock and escape from our own self made prison key.
Never give up.
Life gets difficult
Life gets complicated.
There is more to this space than a one-dimensional prism.
I know it’s scary – to feel caught up in that schism.
Pieces of the mind caving in -thoughts toppling over like being a Chilean miner being held hostage underground.
Two months of no light . A sorrowful plight.
It’s dark but you are still breathing. You may be the only one but time is not about to start giving in.
Chin up. Keep looking for a strategy.
An exit route.
Use that sombre time to recollect . Hell, soak up the dramaturgy.
We come into this world kicking, screaming, wondering, possibly even believing. We mustn’t give up unless time says ‘okay enough’.
So, I say go the way you came in . If it is not our time – fight with every muscle. All the nerve you can summon up.
Truth or dare?
I have truth spilling out of my aura like pennies falling into the slot machine- the one in working order.
Dare to have. slip on your shades if you have to – things might just get a little brighter.
You might levitate – feel lithe even a little lighter.
Don’t be afraid to succeed.
Don’t afraid to be happy.
You don’t need to go to the dentist to get your two front teeth divided so you can look like some Go Lucky Gappy.
Photo credit Francesca Woodman – White Socks, Providence, Rhode Island, 1976.
She didn’t know it then
she knew now.
Woken up with on a loop blasting around her mind in surreal sound-
the Russian bass choir chanting in all surround.
An apt app unconsciousness knew her well.
A year ago, life had been different.
Mirthful, optimistic playful
Now, rooted to the spot with foliage, branches, lush leaves taking in the vagabonds seeking shelter.
Lost souls in need hidden by darkness
these nomadic souls plotting their next move.
Time for souls to gather there their thoughts
the continued search of their dreams and pursuits.
Forlorn found herself lost in her own shades of solitude.
She was alone. Tucked up in her double bed -a pattern of flowers – all Huey reds and purples.
Forlorn – wrapped up in a ditzy forlorn pattern matched her current mental state.
She could feel the bubbling creeping up to death by poison ivy- curling it’s away from the roots of her feet upwards.
It would not stop until she was mummified into silence.
She knew it wanted to make sure her mouth, eyes & nose covered in bondage to the soil solidly planted her roots.
One day she had an epiphany.
Moments of clarity were few.
A possibility to be something purposeful meaningful for her.
She had given life sustained it for those souls.
Yet she was weary, ageing.
Before she was forced to put down roots in an abode that spoke in foreign serpentine tongues;
Forlorn had forgotten she used to be a road runner girl.
A girl was taken by flights of fancy on a whim.
Ready to outrun her nemesis wanting to keep her hostage in a place she knew she didn’t belong.
An elder had kept her close to her.
Fearful to let her be free
To be whatever She wanted to be.
She begged her ancestors to rouse the beasts of deforestation to seize her keeper.
she could get a clean break – start over.
Feel movement not in height but in fluidity.
Nostalgic fragments of past it feelings -fragments
a pair of wings
A pair of arms
Even a pair of legs again.
Seasons passed still, she lay rooted to this spot. Full and plumaged as ever.
Ready to entice wanderers to seek shelter for without telling her a reason.
She fidgeted, yawned, stretched willing pine bristles to deter these unwanted vagrants.
Her heart had almost given up. She had succumbed to what she supposed was her last winter.
One eve she looked at the bees collecting sweet nectar for the unseen Gods.
Forlorn conceived a sapling of hope
Mental Rummaging a sense of Deja Vu.
I know it’s here’- impatient, sighing.
A piece of technology from the world she was once a part of.
A means of magic.
A way to communicate her distress.
Tangled hands finally caught the pointed end of a carved, wooden wand.
Slim, compact light.
Her true form to be again.
Stretching open her eyeballs could be made simpler if she had the eyelashes to wipe away the moss interfering with her vision to flee..
Diminished another sense
She would forget who she was
what she wanted to be
She drifted into a frightful sleep.
A woodpecker hammered a hole of her bleak existence.
The start of her new life was in a gestation period of fewer than 12 hours!
How did I sleep for so long? Christ! berating her herself under the twilight
Suddenly a swarm, around her were a fleet of fireflies.
One eyeball strained
and out into focus confirmed her impending anxiousness starting to emit it’s familiar disparate gas into her trunk form.
The final place she held on to her liberty – her mind.
Thoughts ploughed at her – like a farmer attacking a poorly harvested crop.
Not fit for tendering
Nor the soft touch of her keeper.