Grace full of distate

I’m not always distasteful

Some bluds might call me graceful

No more graceful than dying hair red

Taking a bath

thinks

A pic of fake Menstruation on social media seems needed as its relatable.

Those who don’t know how it feels when your daughter whispers sweet nothings in your ear

Until you can’t deny she is you blood.

Veins pumping genetics down to her very veneers.

Unlike a gangster with a knife

She can disarm me with one word.

Fallen tears
More tears to fall.

She is my life and I feel shame to be told I am a failure according to ‘the perfect mothers’ bible.

Secret whispers in the night with my Bee and our cat

I’m elated by delight of their sight.

Clandestine

I pretend I’m tired

all I want to do is listen to an 8-year old tell me about her life

Virual is alright.

Her self made granny

The architect homes she designed

The way she does things back to front

Kisses her cat before wiping her face

Is it so bad

she has character?

She is a person with grace revelling in her precious nature.

I love her

Forget the love me not.

She heard me say that her dad needs a shaggy cut.

She screamed out in jest that his Mario sweater is replaceble.

Cut and dry

Wife with a belly full of fire.

She lived with an advisor

Who clouted her with words

She holds herself like a raw diamond.

Blonde

Blue-eyed eyes

Diane

Shy girl.

With all my strength I wish I could embrace her with my words

Take away the miscommunication.

She is my blood

She gave birth to me

How could I truly hate her?

She gives advice and tips

Tells me: I’m wiser I’m wiser I’m wiser!

Tell her: I know I know I know!

Indulge her fear to check her memory

Alzheimer’s runs in the family it may not happen to my maternal

Mom and I disconnect because she thinks I’ve misplaced her mind with my mind chasing speedballs

With out thought

Impulse

Nor thoughts of a future.

Denounced my victories
Declared I should be recovered nor heeded her advise

Disrespected her pain

Her growth

Her pain

Know

Her life

She pays

She laughs.

I wish she could put her life onto paper

For now, I see she wants recondition me to remember where I come from.

I hadn’t forgotten.

Save my daughter who will never forget her cumbersome roots

No respect

No Respect for a mothers love

When the child has not lived an age of daughter & mom with 38 years and odd some

Living apart.

Not for the grace of any God did we want the same for outcome for my child of surprise.

She is the one who has become our saviour.

Breaking up the pieces of our past.

How can I tell her to choose between mother or grandmother?

Who’s life is already unstable

20 years from now perhaps she will be a disorderly

Drunk or solicitor with letters after her name.

I’ve has enough of her being held at ransom by the past, ifs and buts

all the songs screeched from

The rabid rats

The stray cats

We once loved them.

I live in a place that’s to become my home again.

Ive sinned in mothers eyes

Because neither being clean off coke, weed & MDMA nor alcohol is enough to placate her that I’m enjoying recovery after waking up from a 5-day coma.

I believe I’m trying my damn hardest to get better.

She doesn’t care when I explain the recovery process.

You have too many issues.
Time to find a semi used snot filled tissue

We powwow with our words

Resulting in bad art titled ‘the splatter’.

I’m not trying to berate her.

My heart breaks.

She falls apart into pieces of bloody flotsam

Salty droplets of water flick her face at high tide.

In another room

A child washes her hair
Cuts out the words she doesn’t think she wants to hear.

She doesn’t understand the possible dynamics of life that awaits.

I hope life and fate won’t degrade her.

My child’s soul is pure.

Please, higher power embalm the one I call my graceful dancer

For I do I love her.

My mom too.
I love her

More than the blank stares and words that are hidden in my mind riddled with bedlam made cancer.

Bloody red tressed army

 

The red army draws collective breath whistles it out in a  howling gust of wind snarling.

She stands tall – her long  tresses raised to the heavens

A subtle message from Hell’s dwellers:  it was back to attack.

Every month,  they stalk her just as night follows day, full-mooned. Hairy palms, yellow slit eyes – she would rather die of an internal haemorrhage than be demeaned.

They see the blood trickling down her legs.

Draw in closer –  metallic scented pack.

Pro-choice in an era where science can make the dead come to life – yet still she must bleed whether she carries life inside her or expels the botanist’s seed.

Condemn her to a life in pro.  Micheal Jordan had space jam. A notorious – well-received flow. She blushes every time her breasts swells – nature twists in a  smile. Nipples point straight at the mouths of the hungry -ready for their feed.

To be Anonymous in a WikiLeaks world. Memes, social media information convulsing out  statements of change:

 Did you know?

 Think about how brainwashed – your mind is!

She knows she still rolls in her own shit.

Unfit for a carry one movie with Benny hill and the league of justice.

Dead pool eyes.

She knows this world is too abrasive

Her skin smooth

Her passion unhinged

One straight jacket away from having the whole collection of brand unfit.

‘It’s a happening, baby ‘-throwback to Allan Kaprow.

Everyone is crazy. Everyone has issues.

Everyone stand and link arms at the toll bridge

show solidarity for your fallen foes.

The ones who fell 20 feet from the building or overdosed on legal high drugs brought from some hoodie called  Jack Wills.

How to be seen and have her privacy in a cyberbully surveillance world?

Charity matters.

Throwdown your sticks allow overgrowth to infect the anti-stigma hedges trimmed neatly in a row.

She screams out in shrill

Ears sharp enough to raise the dead.

How is it possible no one sees or hears of her ills.

Despicable matters in the eyes of the living dead.

An out or an in.

A place that stirs broth from her blood flow  waits until her insulin levels drop to an all-time grave

So shallow.

Sugar-coated words nauseate her.

Her duty to be human and keep her heart on the ticker – inside she knows the hurricane won’t stop swaying the palm trees until she is torn from her roots

From below.

Mr Big has an acute perspective unable to see she is drowning with every weapon she draws.

It doesn’t take a hostage negotiation expert to know that eventually, even the savviest terrorist can be worn down to drop its ammunition.

Stockholm! Place of the cordial juiced up paedophiles.

Intensive herbal essence conditioning treatment is their only hope of showing her how to be free.

A Jesus embellished slice of toast to honour her first Butter valley communion.

She thinks she is free.

She knows it’s part of her syndrome.

 To admit her state of inferiority to herself would mean she ‘s dubious about her declaimed existence.

Her mind is her prison. She has the padlock and the pin number. She sits up to 24 hours a day punching in the password, unlocking the clunk of metal chains – on a loop.

An exercise in futile persistence.

The ending is found in her very beginnings  born out of blood, stained, crying

Pulled out with forceps the white coats defined her form from the moment they beat her into breathy life.

Smiling jokester with  broad shoulders fighting all corners of the globe

Her last breath will be when she lets go-

Stops giving.

In her state of   cocoon  expose her true misery to the world – look at her in  her strife

Don’t worry, folks

Blood will flow.

You will get your show.

Just know that she put up one hell of a fight

In order to finally see her vision of light.

Baco Rhythm &Steel band

I seem to be drawn to the chilled out vibes in music this week. The cha cha cha chang  (?) of this song is soulful, laced with moments of winding funk beats which lend it a cool, fleshed out tune. Sometimes, I enjoy listening to a bit of instrumental hiphop/triphop/ soul /funk. Instrumental music is cool to chill out to.

The saxophone gives the A-side a G-funk delight.

Is that even a music term?

I guess it is now.  😀

This is the first song I’ve heard of the BACO RHYTHM & STEEL BAND.

So it’s great they’ve got a B-side to sample.

On the B side, they have done a rework of Mobb Deep’s hit with the same name. In fact, the B-side has gone straight into my playlist. I adore sounds that immerse cultures and flaunt a multitude of sounds. This has a real Bhangra, anime, Bolly wood espionage feel. It’s playful and seriously cool. Bangerz delight.

For those of you who want to hear Mobb Deep’s ordinal song ‘Burn’ – yeah, they’ve done the song justice. It’s sweet!

Finally, to round up this post, if I may… I wish to impart and depart (lol)with a few words

.I always want to be successful in whatever I’m doing just like everyone else. I want to get it right. I want to see my “5-year GOAL/PLAN” results from the day I have an idea to do something different with my blog or with my Life.

It is cool to not have everything figured from the initial conception. Be cool with that and enjoy the process.

Every day is not going to be a day where we feel we have hit our creative goals.

Great or small.

Sometimes it’s cool to break down a big dream in to smaller chunks. Count all your achievements -great and small

Hit play!

Have a great day!

My confessions being a crazy pycho b*tch*

“if she is willing to screw you, like you or date you -He can’t handle the truth and question’s why- so is She crazy or is He just being a dickhead for calling her crazy ( for seeing something in him -he is obviously having a hard time coming to terms with ?

DAISY WILLOWS

SOMETHING TO LISTEN TO WHILE YOU READ

When like me, you are a second generation-er (in my family) of hooking up with men that tend to leave me

Thus leave me wanting more “love”.

I’ve always thought that the more love I crave equates to more unkindness , more abuse & more words spewed at on how crazy I am.

When I was working on drafting a script- ( at uni),The main themes that cropped up were Betrayal & Love – just to name two.

I used to think a Solid foundation like a tent is good enough to build up on a secure relationship . Upon relfection a stone house is probably a better choice of material.

In 2012 I went on date (and eventually marry the first man, who treated me as his queen.

HOW?

  • Honours me

  • respects me

  • loves me

  • accepts me

  • empowers me

  • Dominates me ( when I let him)

I couldn’t get my head around it. I still struggle to understand this love he has for me without the abuse, belittling & selflessness he has for me. Even after 9 years together & I’ve done a few things that nearly destoyed our marriage.

Slowly,I am starting to understand his unwaivering love.It is hard to accept his love at times. I immiedtely cower away from him. I second guess him, I look for a way out from experiencing true love and respect.

I mean ,I married the man who treats me so different from all the others.

I wonder if he is normal!

The thoughts come & go.

When is he going to start treating me in a way that I have been conditioned to respond to?

Why is it that even now, a part of me is sad that I don’t get the respect from those who have never shown me any respect?

All Genders are included in this question.

Take. Take .Take.

I Give Give give.

I don’t know if this a guy thing but it seems like ‘crazy’ is the buzzword to try and put a woman in her place -if she expresses feelings and does things that any “normal” person would do if that person was in her shoes.

I read up about this culture of slut shaming and I came up with the ones I think resonate with me the most. Here are the ones that actually helped me see myself as a person.

Here is a huge middle finger to those( not all ) men who think throwing out the crazy word to try and cop out or put me or any one of my sisters in our place.

She’s so emotional! F-ing psycho!

If I cry often or during difficult conversations, it doesn’t mean that I’m a crazy emotional mess, it means that I am a human being with emotions that I have invested into that particular conversation. Crying isn’t a sign of weakness, craziness, or hormonal imbalances… so please in God’s name do not ask me if I’m getting my period!

I can so relate to this. If I have invested more of my emotional energy into a friendship , relationship, acquaintance, career even, and I get upset when I have fulfilled my purpose to an individual and not got what I was expecting. What does a person expect?

If I don’t cry when we are having a difficult conversation. I may be trying to take in what has been said and let my heart catch up with my mind.

We all internalise and externalise our shit in different ways. One guy I gave my body and mind too, in the hope of gaining his friendship, made out like I was off my chuffing head because I asked for certain drugs to block the pain and guilt of what I had done ,after his ‘I have just fucked you. Here is why it can’t work’speech.

“If you can’t chill out with Valium then you are seriously fucked up.” said He.

This was said as a follow up to his

” I only smoke weed day in and day out and have Ketamine/MDMA/insert drug of choice here every couple of weeks or so.”

Heads up this guy has/had serious Addiction and relationship issues himself. I’m not finger pointing -I’m stating fact.

Another guy said

“I don’t really drink anymore” – I look around the house- it is a tip , empty alcohol cans ,bottles and remnants of ‘a party I had two days ago’, said He.

DOUBLE STANDARDS ALERT .

She flipped out when I left my dishes in the sink…she’s nuts!

If I get angry at you for feeling taken advantage of, it doesn’t mean I’m uptight and crazy, it means that sometimes I don’t want to be treated like an indentured servant or a sex slave. You’ve had a long day? So have I, and looking cute or being sexy while cleaning up your mess isn’t exactly on the top of my priority list. Anger is fine for men, yet when women express it, we are donned crazy.

This one doesn’t just have to be about dishes. It does seem true that Anger in men is fine, encouraged even. I have been an instigator of this myself.

“MAN UP” says I.

A woman gets Angry and lashes out !

Why is that crazy or anything less validating than a man expressing his emotions?

Some Men just don’t understand women at all.

It is easy to run away and point a finger and say ‘it is her- me I have my shit together. PLEASE LOOK AT YOUR FUCKING LIFE

She’s left me like 10 messages demanding that I call her back!! She’s not understanding the brush off!!

If I continue to call or text after no response from you, It doesn’t make me crazy for not getting the “hint”, it makes you a child who refuses to take accountability or responsibility for your feelings/lack of feelings. I know you don’t want to talk to me. I deserve to have that conversation even if it’s difficult for you. And at this point I’m desperately hoping you pick up the phone just so I can hear the terror in your voice. What exactly are you afraid of? Honesty? Grow up!

This is one, when I read it – A light switched on for me . Yes, I may have sent ineligible texts, nursing my heart with benzos and alcohol at the time, decided it was a great idea to text a person/s who I needed answers from. When I was picking up the pieces.It was a hard for me to be objective about because of where my mindstate was. It wasn’t a side I like to see in me. I looked pathetic. I got over it.

Until I read the above. I think me wanting answers is not unfair and this is when I finally realised just who I had invested so much time into –

Some Boys think life is a game.

Men know when it’s time to get honest and talk without their dicks.

You’re a crazy bitch but ya F—- so good I’m on top of it!

If I enjoy sex and I know what I like it doesn’t make me a crazy slut, or just plain crazy. An important part of being a woman is knowing your body, knowing your limits, and not being afraid to ask for what you want. People have kinks and preferences. Adages like “crazy in bed means crazy in the head” is just another way to make women feel badly for being exactly who they are.

We are constantly told not to be ordinary, normal, or boring, so when we embrace our not so boring side we shouldn’t be feared and shamed. Grow up and embrace the sexual revolution boys! A real woman should be confident in bed, no matter what her preferences.

Yeah, what I have to add to this as a woman is, I’ve grown into a woman -one way is I’ve gained sexual confidence in myself. I don’t not needing alcohol or drugs to fuck/shag a guy.

OUCH!

But true.

Men have rarely make any apologies for wanting to fuck me. Oh, hang on- I always get ‘you are so sexy that is why I want to….’

When I’ve show I can take control and say this is what I want and no I don’t like to be treated mean.

Some guy’s seem to love that, until………………..

they cum.

Then it dawned on me that if the man didn’t make his bed the first time – he sure as hell is not going to start now.

So he starts back pedalling. His spine goes as limp as his previous most erect penis .

That is a bit cruel. Maybe I indulge a man’s ego because I don’t want to say.

I can’t feel a thing. Are you actually in yet?

Maybe, I have had a child and slept with many or a few dudes or maybe I am just used to bigger cocks.

STOP THE SLUT SHAMING!

She says she’s in love with me…she must be crazy!

Lastly, If I tell you that I love you chances are I do…or at least I think I do. Falling in love with someone is difficult. Admitting to it, is even more difficult. Don’t belittle my feelings. Don’t give me reasons not to love you.

And don’t, by any means, stick around if the feelings aren’t mutual. I love you..there I said it…so either be a man and dive into this thing with me, or be a man and walk away. And remember, if after you’ve made your choice, (to stay and love me or to walk away) I am a crying mess, I’m not crazy. I’m just human.

Even if this is said by a drunk women texting. She may not love you – she may just have ” complicated” feelings for you. She may say she hates you in the next text.

Rejection sucks. Ever been there?

The biggest cop out is ‘it is not going to work but of course we can be friends’ two days later -unfriended with no answers.

Finally, be fucking specific. CRAZY is such an umbrella term. Its lacks imagination.

She’s constantly drunk. ( daisy adds when she is around him)

“She got hammered last night and was completely crazy.”

Do you mean to say, “She has an issue with alcohol abuse?”

That’s very different from being crazy.

If she’s constantly drinking that much and losing her sh*t, you might have some more serious problems to deal with other than her “craziness.”

Going back to the draft I wrote (2016/7)

I tend to write what I know. I  dramatised scenes.I like to get more creative and make it original, when I put pen to paper and got my draft down, then the editing process starts. Characters grew the more I wrote, and what they  had to say to each othe, the more the plot develops.

I started reading these articles because I was looking for motives for who at the time of writing the draft  I wodnered how  -the Antagonist –  could change & when or why.

Characters and real people all have light and dark in them. No person is wholly good or wholly bad.

My thoughts on escaping the past

Bahtuhkid · my thoughts about the past

When I think I’ve escaped the past

I know my Ma doesn’t drink alcohol and she Sort of kicked me out without kicking my ass.

My daughter cried

Tatiana didn’t meow

I came back to the place where I thought I would relapse

I went to buy cat food

shop was closed

memories of that drug dealer who shine bright with implanted teeth

£4000 inclusive holiday

I could have gnashed

Instead, I congratulated him for his holly wood smile with panache.

Using my money to fulfill another dream — one more ticked off his bucket list

It’s so sad

I’m back in the house

haunted by ghosts of the past.

Mother wouldn’t let me in

steam off on a legal poison

Get Sleep with Prosecco & a gin with a 60 pence glass.

Daughter cried I packed my bags

I saw her cry for our cat

I packed up all my bags

And walked out like an immature twocker

with a dirty rash.

DIDI WANT TO SCORE THE GREATEST OF THE GREATEST OF SNIFF?

Nah, all I wanted was freedom & to sleep without alcohol and illegal grass or bash.

Here I sit in darkness not happy to be back.

I have a packet of lamberts and Prosecco I’m NOT interested in drinking until I’m befokkered.

I won’t sleep

Forever forgotten all thoughts that made me  high

Making drug dealers run for corruption, greed, and bite so compared to ash Wednesday like sinners driving by.

My bee she cried for my Tatiana

I left

 Guilt came flooding for sleep in a bed

where my inner whore rode the men who treat me like trash

Except for my soul mate …

He told me to fuck off and I gladly said

Fuck you

Went to the shop

Closed

no

cat food.

Found spring water tuna-I

Felt Less guilty

felt less crass.

Went against the momma bears rule.

I’m a wildflower with an instinct to rebel from life rules.

THE FALLEN ANGEL WITH INVISIBLE WINGS

If chickens could fly  higher I’d fly higher than the dragon from the land of sniff  ready to rape

& Chase

fOr an extra taste.

In coma 5 days x another  5

In a coma, I remembered the alien abduction

Their torture made me atone to live life differently

I’d even believe in mom’s anointment of Jesus Christ.

Thorns of roses

Thorns of self-destruction.

Alone with my cat — my husband won’t come back-

My child is probably still crying.

I’m alone again

I can’t complain

This was my choice.

I want to sleep

Dream of  our family home

help those who shouldn’t live a history worse than orphans blurred vision live on the African continent

Not their decision.

*written on 13 June at 11 pm.  2020 ( today is 29th June and still wanting to Live)

I didn’t relapse. I didn’t want to get high. I had a drink because I needed to sleep and I’m on sleeping medication 5 days a week out of 7. I’ve asked my doctor to take me off 15 mg of Nitrazepam that I had been since 2007.

It three weeks since I tried to take my life and nearly succeeded, maybe Life is not finished with me yet because my family were told to prepare  for my death, brain damage or me being paralyzed*

My confessions on a secret

Shhhhh…

Can you keep a secret?

‘If I told you I care, I still do. A person can only be told ‘to go away’ so many times before they must act on a person’s wishes. It is called respect. It doesn’t mean that person doesn’t care or has changed their mind.

It does mean that person is doing what they need to do.
It doesn’t mean the heart does not suffer- the mind must navigate a lost heart back to a place where some sense can be found.
To leave an ungoverned heart loose, in a world, that professes to and propagates reason over emotion- would be to condemn the heart, to a lifetime of insanity: a world of no sense’.

 

The untamed heart 

 

 

 

Capital gains for an elite aura

Random fandom

Venerable vulnerable

Society disappoints my inner light.

It screeches out a backdraft

 Quell the passion at the lack of incompetence.

 

Respect our traditions and values

Society came and went.

Flew over a universal credit faux pas.

 

Capital gains for an elite aura

Chakra karma paid & displays a tramp with an earnest title.

 

Sir Display Equinox Sonic fox

Sly enough to out weevil the equestrian retriever.

 

Animus archetype

Character sparks a debate seeking clarity.

More insight.

Live for the day (they say)

seize the Monet.

 

Be true to our nature?

Humanities’ fatal flaw.

The world is our stage.

only in hindsight

do we engage in our higher self.

 

It comes with the cycle of age.

Respect to our elders living in a world blinded by ignorance.

Dictating  Hyacinth Bouquets ‘ keeping up appearances’.

 

Failing to honor our  stories

Altering texts to appease the Ego.

Inner Iago

Escapism found in pictures of the anonymous

framed around wisteria fantasies

It screams autonomous

cantering  on beaches in a dark continent

Memories are all we have to keep us on the right side of sanity.

The acquisition of wealth is useless

Where did the mummies end up?

 

Eyes dazzled by coins.

The mystery of life lies in a pyramid.

Inverted by the shape of   our expectations

We let ourselves down.

We became Sellouts

Conforming  to Huxley’s  dystopia

conforming to live out Pret a porter lies

Covet  our true  label

hanged man squints

in contempt

inscriptions fail to authenticate our brand

Our tag

Our blueprint.

Acrostic poetry -Daisy

 

D utifully fights death with hope

A ccepts pain will help shed its old purpose

I n light it seeks for a rebirth – instincts prevail

S adness embrace – for loss will lead to freedom

Y esterday is a forget me not – a death sentence.

Spindrift Nouveau depart

A true union of hearts was joined one summer in late June.

The birds chirruped, the sun shone – the two became one -reflected for all to see by La Luna- the moon
Air and Water – shouldn’t cross paths.
These two elements casually ignore each other in nature’s form-its innate core.
He of Air –
She of Water.

The energy that caused the spindrift was something not even these elements could ignore.

Le Mistral caught up in a steamy, heady mood.
Strode across the sky scowling, blowing curses – chaos surely ensued .

La Mer
– she was winding down for the day.

The tide had come in, and she was ready to listen to a mermaid wax lyrical her classic tale of Babe Ruth.

The wind so vexed was he – he deafened her with one strike of his herculean hair -clouded by his inability to self- soothe.

La Mer reacted in bad form. He struck her so hard, – her mind swelled up with great licks of waves – crashing and thrashing her mental whereabouts.

Never interrupt an element so passionate about listening to her favorite composer.

Le Mistral and La Mer could ignore one another no more. She would make him feel the repercussions of his foolish, senseless,not-so-well thought out Strop.

Now he would have to face his conjurer.
A tidal wave of thoughts arose inside her.

He would pay dearly for interrupting her meditative state of mind.

He had no clue what feud he had started.

Fire and Earth were shrewd not to intervene. They knew when to stay out of the way of a combination of this kind.

They witnessed how the passion of this great unforeseen union came to be.

The product of this affront was simply not even what the conflicted two could continue to deplore.

Witnessed by two friends .
Wind and Water created the very first image of love .

Spindrift -a physical feeling of exhilaration consolidated the two .
They were now ready for a new adventure – together -ready to explore each other, become the couple -who looked to the other with eyes that said ‘j’t‘adore.’

Definitions for spindrift
spray swept by a violent wind along the surface of the sea.

( written two months after I got married to my husband – Gaz. He is as Mercurial as Air and I more of a deep waters run still lass. Air & water are two elements that ignore each other. I used to read up all my family, friends, and boyfriends astrology signs when i was younger. I used to read the Aquarius sign and think that is the kind of man I want to be with . Trust us to be incompatible according to our zodiac). 😀 then I went to marry an Aquarius man & it turns out he is my soul mate. Nouveau depart)

Phantasmagoria

These spoken words infect the brain

‘Till it rot and fester.

 

Dare deny thoughtless utterances

Be it in mind maps or in clusters.

Gathering speed from maimed parts

Propel bodily functions into a catatonic state.

Summon steel nerves climb barbed wired fences caught its rags.

Wear with affray.

Chaos  stilled by lighting a hermits way.

Bedazzle

shades of noir surrender  when dark displaced emotions

unhemmed  the layers of Times embroidered

by frail.

If the secret of mortal man escapes

A part

These lips could loosen.

The winds could drown out  familiar chants

Beholden sacred

 

Will it have been all in vain?

 

To keep sight of the lighthouse

Hope

Propose a love affair upon reaching shores

Traverse the tides of the ocean’s girth.

Reveal La luna’s silhouette

in a phantasmagoric naked form.

 

 

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