Category Archives: THOUGHTS
When chaos has erupted ready to engulf all that we are ;
Death will raise a fury to sustain all mortals with life.
The scales must never meet
For then only foe succeeds it’s ally.
- the God’s must be crazy or a lie.
#justafewwords before I die.
This is a surreal piece I wrote about the cruelty of life and how the elderly are treated in Britain. It was inspired by the time I spent with my grandmother in her care home when she had Dementia and Alzeihmers. It’s a stream of consciousness borderline script.
MRS BRUISED : “I’m tired”
CARD SHUFFLER: (throws his voice from a table on the left)
MRS BRUISED: (Sitting upright like a majestic, beaten up old queen)
CARD SHUFFLER: “Aye? Go to sleep then”
The room fans out into a full house of insidious laughter.
MISS CARDIGAN: excuse me Dear, can you tell me where the toilets I’ve only just popped by
THE WEED: ( Looks around for sign of a staffed house)
Of course just follow me….
(The weed walks back from the toilets and goes to crouch down to hold Mrs Thought Bubble’s hand).
THE WEED: She has pissed herself. Can someone change her?
THE ROSE: No- she hasn’t.
GINGER: Here you go. Open your mouth?
(Shovels a hefty spoonful of what looks like boiled bagged food)
Lost in thought……
(The smell of piss can’t be worse than death’s kiss…)
GINGER: Here- wah la! open your mouth.
Listen to thoughts of an animated Mrs Thought Bubble.
THE WEED: Tu es Pleine?
Like an old coffin opening for the first time in a century;
MRS THOUGHT BUBBLE: ( creeks out slowly)
THE ROSE: ( Comes back from the kitchen with another full beaker of red diluted kids juice)
You are thirsty today.
So so thirsty.
Three empty beakers all lined up in a row – My eyes rest and are ready to aim – trigger happy and ready to blow.
THE WEED: She has pissed herself, look!
THE ROSE: Oh you have made a pee pee Mamie- a pee pee!
BABIES ARE SO CUTE. LISTEN TO HOW REGRESSION SOUNDS
A skeleton- face grinning .
Bright light beams from Mrs Thought Bubbles eyes.
A carved pumpkin with a toothy grin.
Burning away in a dark room: within.
More strained laughter churning out lactic acid.
MRS BRUISED : (on a loop)
Oh ,I am tired.
BRUNETTE: Fiddler! Stop putting your hands down your pants.
Maybe that is the only way she gets to feel something.
Legs splayed- FIDDLER’S fingers exploring her vagina hungrily.
MRS BRUISED: I’m tired
CARD SHUFFLER: Yeah me too! Shut up.
Eyes veer to the table on the left.
Dying flowers in a glass vase.
If I had to throw it would reality become what I once knew it to be?
Jeer me on, why don’t you?
Throw the fucking vase.
How long have those silver wrapped chocolates been standing there? This is not some fancy New York hotel.
If they are going to start leaving chocolates make sure you get Hershey’s kisses.
Brown as the shit underneath Mrs Thought bubble’s nails.
THE WEED: She has pissed herself!
GINGER: I will go get dessert.
Does it come in different sex positions?
One of the toughest spells to break.
No one dares look at the other.
Carers go a drift.
Congregate to conflate into gossip office politics.
THE ROSE: Go and tell them to change her.
The weed creeps along the floor until it has found the right door.
THE WEED: Can someone change Mrs Thought bubble! She is in her own piss.”
MRS HEGEMONY: Where’s nondescript and the other one too?
Great big sighs. A room full of eyes wondering if the pay they get is worth the time.
Time finally has a stroke and then another and another.
The hoist in all its bluesy hues comes for Mrs Thought-bubble .
GINGER: I’m sorry I got called into the office.
THE WEED: Look it’s not you. It’s just.. I am sitting watching Mrs Thought bubble over here, shout out…. and “she is wading in her own piss!
THE ROSE: Let’s go outside
THE ROSE: ( turns to BRUNETTE)
Can we take her outside?
BRUNETTE: ( a voice rolls out like a plush red carpet)
( BRUNETTE rolls out the wheelchair – )
She hasn’t been outside in over a year.
She shouts and protests.
Vintage sunglasses are placed on her to help process her eyes.
More shouts and protests.
MAINTENANCE: Do you want me to take a picture?
(THE WEED and THE ROSE in unison) Oh yes please.
Mature cheddar smiles captured against the vines.
THE WEED: I love you Mrs Thought-bubble.
I’ll settle for that as an good enough au revoir.
Taxi take us very fucking far away from here ,please.
THE WEED: Did you notice that nobody came to clean the chair?
THE ROSE: DON’T TELL ME THAT?
EVERY NIGHT I CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP!
IF WE MOVE HER AGAIN(pause) SHE WILL DIE.
PLEASE LET HER DIE
IT IS BEYOND MY UNDERSTANDING.
Petals start to turn inwards – it’s a crying shame to see a rose start to wilt.
RED CAP: There was a sticker attached saying ‘TO CLEAN’
THE WEED: Oh.
I love you , Rose.
I can’t imagine what you are going through.
THE ROSE: (Wilts that tiny bit more)
She doesn’t even know who I am anymore.
THE WEED: I know who you are.
You know who I am.
It doesn’t matter if the sun is shining- water will always ignore the air around it. If it wants to pour, it shall.
The weed reaches and creeps until it has a secure grip around The Roses stem.
The Weed .
Both look out their own private window.
Bee would have loved to see that cow…..
THE ROSE: ( watered and ready to pose)
So tomorrow is a busy day. We have to sort out the cake
THE WEED: The cake?
THE ROSE: Daisy, the wedding cake? And We need to find Mr. Thought bubble an outfit for the wedding.
THE WEED: (grapples for breath)
Is she actually allowed to come?
THE ROSE: Madam Hegemony, says it is fine.
THE WEED: (flat)
Oh,Cool. I wonder did we tell the cake makers that we have changed the theme from sun flowers to yellow roses?
THE ROSE: (exasperated)
YES! We are just having yellow icing on normal flowers..
THE WEED: Oh… like the colour on our invitations?
THE ROSE: See you tomorrow.
THE WEED: (as an afterthought)
THE ROSE: 10:30, Don’t be late. We are getting threaded first.
Have you got The Bees shoes?
THE WEED: Yes Mam.
THE ROSE: I swear if you had loads of money in this town you still wouldn’t be able to spend it.
It’s all bullshit
From the horse’s mouth – let him narrate for this bit.
And so the earth continues to travel around the sun.
The sun goes down.
The moon is full faced and all fluttering eyelashes.
And I still have a long face.
Nothing but everything changes.
Horses don’t talk.
Neither do flowers
Jut another day in ‘I wonder what the fuck next land?
Just an average day in an average Care home.
RIP KEITH from the Prodigy.
I planned another attempt on my knees
Spoke to a God
Daisy is no more.
A body emptied walking on egg shells.
Cause me to break out in blisters.
Words fail to recover my obsolete pose
stream of wrong chosen floaters in crimson blood rivers.
white foam is my diffident
Angry cross dressers
hung by confusion
bungee jump without rope into a quagmire.
Prayed to a cloud God in an attempt to die
Lost, scared, dreading my loss of locks
inside I’m already dead.
Queen bee keeps me in fear
droplets of pollen
my rival is life
Alone decorated in red confetti
Enraged at my syphilistic minded inability to write even borderline literate.
Fits and spirits
rummy body popping misfit.
Failure to perish
shelf life insignificant.
A failure at talking transparent.
A thief of integrity.
A coward rumpled into a once upon a time melody
No solace — out grown to suffer from eternal colic.
Stubborn push me over
‘cos it’s a waste of oxygen.
Recovery is overrated.
Trust when I say
I lied and I planned
My prison is this world.
Let me go!
I’m not strong enough to serve the bee revolution cos I’m different.
Scared to never feel my bones.
Scared to lose my only love
My minds my terminal to Cancer.
Purpose – 37 years wasted in ignorance.
I’m not writer
I’m a fighter.
An enemy of my Self.
Uncomfortable with peoples apparent confidence in my ability to not give up.
Strength is not telling
Can’t keep a secret — I’m a fraud — I lost my soul to the devil 3 decades ago.
A ritual given freely to a demon I couldn’t please.
Why did I tell of my plans?
Damn do gooders orchestrating my life.
Suicide is the answer.
I’m dead inside
I’m a joke-I’m aimless — shameless
Engaged – remember to pretend to be engaged.
Life is a sham — there is no plan.
Fear makes me who I am.
A writer died on that table.
I shrink my words-
I am not who I say I am.
Don’t tease me;
People — I don’t get you — assist me — talking in skipped beats
Daisy in the willows
I’m not a fan.
Help me disappear
not in another room with four walls
you hold me rooted
Why do I love you ?
You’re my child
I am A mother on mute.
Lost to a cause
Petrol bombed mind.
A lost cause to
These four walls.
Life is a shore ditch with no applause.
alive — so very sudden.
Cheated out of death
I don’t want to live
Stop saving me
Screaming to a society blinded
Samaritan I’m your even,
selfish? , yeah
welling up in self pity.
Take my Queen — kill me — a paperless tree.
these words are not free
I cannot be
Fuck the world
Listen to my plea.
Let me die
damn you all
I have Cancer in my mind.
You live behind fake smiles and superficial styles.
The only time i ever felt free was when I wrote without thinking
I’ve lost my creativity
I’m done thinking
My rights taken from me.
Death embrace me
Why can’t you fall in love with me?
Damn you all.
I am my biggest flaw.
Live for yourselves.
let me disappear into a shallow grave carved out of skin
Scarred by the welts of time.
A master of self distortion
Fuck the life-it serves no function.
All I had were my words.
Now I have nothing but a habit of crawling on hands and knees hiding from life’s sores.
I don’t want to be famous.
i want another chance to die — Fuck you
Hospital and doctors orders
I’m not an animal!
I’m a ghost of the cult of the morbid.
These are my words
Damn you, Bee!
Manipulate me into loving you
If only I didn’t care.
Maybe I don’t…
These words are simple.
Not good enough.
I’m the fucker with the guardian angel who won’t let me go.
Fuck you, you test me, then arrest me.
I’m perpetually unhappy.
Let me go.
Let me finally be free.
I was born into the wrong world,
The wrong time.
fuck you all – I don’t want to be
I’m too damningly kind.
Survival of the fittest — I’m a rumpled coward-a retard — a misfit.
Damn you,host — you saved me — when you should have save your breath for another.
I exist for others peace of mind.
*something self loathing in Rage -is (?) I wrote post -suicide attempt*
Write to recover. I don’t always feel so much self loathing. There is always a silver lining…….
“I think that the only reason people hold onto memories so tight for so long is because memories are the only things that don’t change, even when people change..” Unknown
This is a post that I have wanted to write for some time but my heart is still raw with pain. I’m comfortably numb as the song goes . No words I write can do justice to what this illness does to people we love.
We have had the plague
Aids and HIV
The new cowboy in town in Dementia.
He has all the traits of the best cowboy in town
A steady hand
A look that says so much but not something you can be sure what it is thinking
It is true to it’s word
It takes Pride in his work
A true perfectionist
It doesn’t mind who it consumes and takes out it the process.
This year DEMENTIA AWARENESS WEEK May 15-21 focuses on confronting your fears about Dementia.
The Alzheimers society is reaching out to give you support and information. You don’t have to fight this alone. REACH OUT
I found this – it captures how I feel whenever I see my Gran and how helpless I feel.
I’m going to show you some pictures of someone who has loved me for a long time.
I must close my eyes
AGE : 15.
LOCATION : Kitchen ( Gran’s home ) South Africa
Gran comes shuffling in to the kitchen
“Que ce qui pas?“
“I will make you a camomile tea” in her French accent .
She spent a lot of time and money putting me in rehabs and looking after me when I was growing up.
I am possibly the first and only person to have seen my Gran cry that I know of — I’m not proud but honoured she trusted in me.
STATE: possibly drunk or hung over
LOCATION: Gran’s Bedroom France
Grandpa was not doing well. My Gran broke down.
All I could do was hold her.
She knew Cancer and Chemo was going to be the un-doing of him.
He still tried to look after his ‘Trois filles’ ( me, Mom and Gran) until his last breath.
The greatest love affair ever! ❤
What a pair they made.
Grandpa got a massive contract with Loreal in the 1950′ -1960’s . He was the main sales rep for promoting the Loreal brand in Africa.
They travelled everywhere
to name a few.
Gran had spent most of her life travelling. Her father was a general in the army. Her step father some sort of captain and she spent a few years in the cote de ivory and other places.
They had 6 children together
And two other sons who I don’t have pictures of. She was and still is the queen of the family.
So much elegance ,grace and charm. She suffered a lot of heart ache in her life. Lost love, her mother was jealous of her as were her two step sisters.
She was kicked out of her home when she was 16 years old and pregnant. She went on to become a femme de menage and a beautician to survive the streets of Paris..
When she met my grandfather she never had to worry about love or money again. Even when he passed on from Cancer. Her twin sons and my own mother still after her.
The relationship she had with my mother was unbreakable- even now. My Gran still demands my mothers time and is happier when she has her to herself.
This last picture was taken in 2012 -four years ago. My Gran’s 79 th birthday
She loves to laugh and is still a social butterfly just like my Bella Bee-
Alzheimers and Dementia does not discriminate.
A cold and bitter night in the U.K..
The Wind screeched out a name
A lady manages to fumble with the keys to a door and lets herself out.
Where is she going?
a flash of car lights,
Great big BULGING eyes
a night gown whips around the lady’s ankles
She couldn’t live on her own any more. She was find walking the streets in her night clothes, by her carer ,at the time on the coldest night the U.K. had in 2013.
This was a place with bells and whistles on. It was like a 5 ***** hotel.
In the few months she stayed here.
She was found sat in bed drowning in her own piss.
She had spread faeces all over the walls and under her nails.
The home said she was too much trouble.
Funny, they didn’t have a problem with taking our families money for the few months she was there.
New home – two days until Gran’s 80th. Her twin sons came out to surprise her
The day my Aunt died of lung cancer . My Mom got a call from her care home to say Granhad broken her hip. She spent 12 days in a normal hospital ward.. Always calling out. Neglected.
We thought we were going to lose her.
A grand daughter,
2 -3 hours
TEETH EXPOSED – FERAL
THIS SOUND – my idea of Dementia raging in audio.
She couldn’t speak but she could scream and lash out.
I don’t think I slept for 2 days after that event.
Gran in hospital . The last time she would ever walk
Gran loved to walk
Gran will never walk again.
She had to be moved to another home that could meet her needs. No fancy hotel .
Gran’s 81st birthday
I go see my Gran every week with my Mom. I take my daughter. I don’t want her to forget my Gran.
She went from speaking two languages, walking, laughing, taking pride in her appearance to this person.
To being a person who would blanche if she knew what she was like now.
Maybe she does and that is what makes her so angry still.
Yes, she screams and she can’t talk and she scares me sometimes because I don’t know what to do to help her; but she is still my Gran and she has a mental illness.
IT IS NOT HER FAULT!
Her home she lives in now have really put quality over quantity. It;s not a show home -it is a home -home -check out ROBERTS TOWN CARE HOME FB PAGE .
The only people who have got my Gran to a place in her illness where she is probably going to be able to come to my wedding ceremony in June.
May is# MAKE MAY PURPLE month.
Across the world May is the month for creating mental health awareness.
Why do we close our eyes when we sleep?
When we cry?
If we imagine?
Who we kiss?
This is because the most beautiful things in
the world are unseen.
If you could see the myriad memories that run across my eyes : you would be driven into a bedlam.Wishing for a forget me sods lot of wild flowers enraged with the promise of eeergh de parfume- dementia.
Ghosts floating through the mansion of my mind. It may sound like a great thing to own a mansion as a mind.
I can tell you. It is a place that never sees sunshine, there is dust everywhere, the piano remains out of tune. Every room has something magnificent to find
Dresses in one, jewels in the other, mothers little helpers pills scattered everywhere.
There is always a ghost on standby ready to haunt me.. It’s like an old familiar melody.
I find no pleasure in any of these rooms. There are too many rooms, not enough signs and I am always losing myself in it.
Instead of running from my mind. I sit in the creaking rocking chair. Legs splayed,opening myself up to become possessed by anything .
They sit down on my favourite grey chaise longue and puff cigars that smell of lavender and twirl full bodied wine glasses filled with a deep maroon Beaujolais or a chateux neuf de pap.
I seem unable to move. I can’t move. If I could just ask them to leave .
One places a daisy chain on my head and tops up my glass of southern comfort. I’m sure I have stopped drinking. They know this as well as I do.
The irony is they are trying to make me live again. Drink if you must- anything to live, they urge….
This is their home. How can I cast them out?
They drain me, yes it is true, but they have been a part of my life, guarding me when I was still growing in my mothers womb.
I let them stay,
“SIT DOWN”., I say
Foreplay remnants stain the sheets on the various four poster beds. There is a new guy in town.
Has a bit of a opium habit. He hides away from everyone ,including me.
I have become desperate in my misery,
I seek him out .He won’t show himself.
I beg him to show me how. He can write the directions on a paper……
I think he cares. He doesn’t want me to go that far down.
I think if I am so far down the dragon’s pit;chasing ,what is a few more inches to the bottom?
Isn’t the bottom or top better than half way neither up or down?
I think he hid the ouija board too. He doesn’t want to be summoned because my will will break his……
In all honesty I think they all want the best for me. Oh of course they have their own agenda’s too.
They know how down I am but they need to go on outings too. They get bored so I get to be their cruise liner- my eyes are their oval windows ,to peer outof, their mode of transport, that shows them life still carries on even if they can’t be an active part of it.. ..
They called me a party pooper today. Sounds a bit lame.
They held a special party pooper party for me.
My least favourite party of all times- they all congregated in my drawing room whistling and pulling crackers and the incessant chatter nearly drove me out of the house.
Usually, the louder they are the quicker I try to escape – This time they lucked out. They will not help me find Opium boy.
I only want to escape with him.
I will continue to follow his musky scent until another scent sends my pulse quickening.
Another ghost starts to ask:
“Why do you want to be dead when your heart still beats?”
“Oh fuck off and cross over – you can live in my mansion of a mind but I will not be questioned – my mind my rules.” I reply
If I had gone would I have lost the scent of Opium boy?
Would I have cared?
Usually when I chase a boy that needs saving , I get into trouble….
What makes you anxious? – the cocoon asked .
Immediate response ?
I want to run away .
The cotton wool opportunity of turning into some thing I’ve never been fills me a desire to run.
I’ve always wanted to fly!
Darwinite if it means i can feel fire
In my belly
Leave behind the sycophants of past.
Presented with the discomfort before the freedom installs a stony face
I finally replied: I want to run from your question because the master of my own fate made me question why I didn’t say I’m the master of my destiny
I sat on the toilet waiting for an answer
A brainwave to collide with my why.
Loss of control
Increased numerical equation
Detract from the value of self-worth.
Aspirations snipped loose by an unearthly, scale driven puppet master
Reduces an entire psyche to a chemical embarrassment.
Good mood desires nourishment
the live to eat philosophy
A heavy burden the beast bears herded in.
restricted to forage on cashing out a societal life policy.
A one manned island
to its hunger
Be authentic 👏and keep writing , expressing yourself, pushing out of your comfort zone, getting back on the wagon , dealing with regrets with advocates/friends.
No person’s life is perfect. Many days a tough and unbearable however there are days when we can push ourselves to places we never imagined seeing or experiencing.
Challenges make us stronger even when they feel like they are destroying us at the time; albeit second, moment, hour, weeks, months…
Recovery has no limits-
if you have hope or can find a match or a flint or even be thrown a lifeline of light to help you guide yourself back to shore.
Don’t be ashamed to use the lighthouse. A metaphor 😉
I’ve leant on many people – strangers and family alike. People who were there short-term or long-term.
Not everyone is 100 percent helpful. Learn what you can from your experiences- good and bad . Set your boundaries. It takes a life time of changing them and setting them.
Don’t knock yourself for having to hit your head against a wall trying to learn the same lesson multiple times –
The aim is to keep your eye on the long goal.
Be as educated as you can on yourself
Use others to lean on without abusing their time
Learn to take accountability for your life
Fall if you you must..
Just get back up and remember to look after yourself. Basics – hair , teeth , bath , clean clothes.
Open the curtains, make your bed even if you get back into it 5 mins later, get out walking even for 5 mins.
Feel whatever you feel and notice it and listen to others even if you want to hurt in & disagree…
That’s it from me.
Prompt the order of the dog