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Sad but true

May 16

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SAD BUT TRUE

Just let go – what have you got to lose?
eyes veer from every inch of the walls surrounding her, desperately imploring, pleading for an answer.
Gain, gain – You have everything to gain.
Let yourself be loved, adored; laugh.
Gain some weight. Give Life a heartbeat that doesn’t stutter out cacophonously.

Passing by incongruent signs.
Lose what exactly?
Sentiment?
That last chance to see that person or experience that moment again.

Move on. Time escapes no one.
Yes, move on but isn’t that like quitting?
You are too stubborn. You will be the tower that gets struck by lightning. catches fire and burns to the ground.

You would have been at your highest yet still trying to glimmer amongst stars you imagine are on top of the true hierarchy.

‘It wasn’t a solid foundation, to begin with,’ she says. This time, I get to start again,’ she says.
We all deserve a second chance -even a third – not all of us are so pleasantly aligned with the heavens to be given such a gift – another chance to explore.

Malignant.
Maleficiated.
Morose.
Fantasies played out over and over in her mind.
Could that be the allure?
She is aware her thinking is not based in reality but in a place where everything works out just fine.
Let go, that part of your mind. That dream. Free up space for new ideas, true goals to achieve and be who you are meant to be.
Sometimes, that is why she chooses to escape. She can’t handle feeling the tug. Sitting, looking at lines on the palms of her hands Feeling trapped.
To make contact -one last time. her heart sighs….
Sounds like a recording from the denial addiction hotline.

One last time will never be enough.
It isn’t physical. It’s emotional. It’s deep – it’s raw. It’s irrational. Bordering on obsessiveness.
If she could frolic with ignorance – it would make this sentence- seem less like walking the green mile.
Fighting emotions with reason – battery, assault, bruised, cutting remarks.
Too much time has passed. She has experienced the same mistakes all too often.

She can’t run to her nearest anchor be it – drugs, alcohol, eating, not eating,
Her will has been made. She signed on the dotted line. Willingly.
She has chosen Life .

To feel is a double-edged sword. No matter how many times you practise and try to form it into a skill ,a talent even.
The blunt edge is the one that gets sharper.

Equality is a simple equation.
Look at Algebra!
when you know the rules it all becomes a little simpler to understand.
Life is not one and one makes two.
It is all an illusion. We are everywhere, everyone, every feeling, every planet, every language, every song.
Stop counting.
When any species is under attack it will either choose immortality or fight and evolve- transcend – would you believe she learnt that from a sci-fi film?
Life is short. bittersweet. Is that why she won’t let go?

She wants to make sure that whatever happens to someone she has ever had the privilege of meeting to make amends and not feel grief.
Selfish, yes – at least she will be at peace.

Posted in STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS COLLECTION

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Heads up

May 16

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A coin has two sides.
Heads or Tails – it’s crazy how we let fate decide how our life will transpire.
Fate. Mate. It’s all overrated – celebrity ,drug addicted ,dead skateboarder – cremated ashes arise from the livings tears-earths most selfish empire.
Hawks is a brand name. I find his business methods something left to be desired.
Underhanded- an opportunist.
Monotone. All alone.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
If we don’t speak we will never have our say.
Seems obvious right? Don’t hold it all inside – don’t delay – make a good go at it and relay.
Play the violin, a piano. Instrumental sounds. Rap beats- car sounds reverberating – runners paving the tarmac with their well-trained feet.
Musical – emotional .
I ‘m touched by what I hear. It moves my soul quicker than all the gold or silver in the world.
My words serve to validate all that I seek when I am feeling somewhat unworthy.
Why do we undervalue ourselves ?
the ones who should sign a cheque to get a re-evaluation – go up in our own self-estimation.
Destination.
Uncurl your fingers – point in whatever direction the wind blows, just walk wherever your finger lands, you can always change your mind if you hear the squawking of black crows.
It’s all there – in our head.
our heart.
We are a work of seraphic art.
Goals achieved ?Celebrate them . Flaunt them -don’t sit there with your head in your hands full- tearfully grieving. You must not be deceived.
Keeper.
Sweeper.
Chimney poison ivy creeper.
Santa has decided to go for the crimson look for yet another year – What a heathen!
Life is a miracle . Look at your child – turning five , thirteen ,sixteen , eighteen.
I don’t care if she decides to run with the LGBT team or swap cuticle tips with the latest Hollywood cream queen.
Happiness. Her individuality. Her style. Her choice.
Role model. Demonstrate .Affection. Reciprocate.
Infectious . Laughter – stars above – sit, wide-mouthed, in awe . Blessed to have sight. I’m not Stevie wonder.
True, some say he was talented but he was not me.
I too am Original .
I too am visional.
Create.
Debate.
Open your mind to the possibility that money is nothing but worthless of your valuable time, scavenging around under the bed mattress, in hope of clocking an epic find.
It’s all relative.
That’s what the judge said.
In proportion to Age.
The solicitor offended his honour in his own chambers, pulling the ageist card to a venerable man .
His honourable threatened the organisation to pay out – headless chickens running around, not enough eggs or battery farms. Overfed already underfunded.
Hegemony -sums in deficit- terminally defunct.
send them back to the Flinstones era .
Exile – a yabba dabba doo ban.
Regret nothing.
Embrace every compliment, every kindness , every soft touch.
For you don’t have a clue just how much you have to offer,
just how much you give to so and so and such and such.
Disorganise?
Reorganise .
Make a treasure map – Find a weather app.
What do you value? Does it make you happy?
Elevator music- always smells of corporate candy -a chihuahua at your ankles, constantly snapping.
Don’t blend in. Stand out. Be fierce, Be proud. You’ve come far.
The underdog title has got a new replacement.
Now, don’t hesitate. Don’t fear. Take that hair-raising step . Success is attracted to you like static – you don’t need a lint roller to wipe away all of you. You’ve worked – you have put in the time.
Look at your face! amazement.
I know we all battle. Not every day is full of sunshine.
Colours change. People fade away. Some people stay the same. Dismal,but that’s not your problem.
You are here to honour your rightful place next to your fellow man , women – indeed even that sodding goblin.
Two sides of the coin. No, you don’t have to flip it like a burger. You have a choice. You always have a choice.
To give power – to give your free will away to chance – heads or tails .
It’s unbalanced , unnatural . Shed away the archaic scales.
You are in control even when you are on automatic.
let’s wrap this soCs up and affirm how hard you’ve worked -you have every right to celebrate your achievements. Stare people in the eyes – make sure that they are on your level.
Tell them -Let them all know.
Yes. I am.
Yes. I did.
Yes. I will.
When you do decide where it is that you are headed for next on the chessboard . Sing, dance ,shout -do a jig – do it your way.
Make sure you are emphatic, Charlie Chaplin style or simply be over dramatic.

Posted in STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS COLLECTION

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Kalinda

Kalinda

May 4

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When my Kalinda sees her reflection  she flinches over jagged, ragged parts of a body

discombobulated

Staggered &  separate. -body parts sewn together haphazardly.

The truth is stranger than fiction.

How can it be?

His soul mate doesn’t mirror the effort in his deeds.

fingernails claw

pierce fleshy skin -protruding  hanging  agape

flesh separates from the bo.ne

My Kalinda

she is more than a  blow-up doll  wearing a t-shirt that says ‘corruption feeds on  poison  egos.’

The Skullbones cross over .

Point at marks left from a  flirtation with suicide.

 

Maidenhead Hymen annuls her delusional animas.

Make her believe she breathes!

i

What is wrong with all that is her?

doesn’t my Klaineda get that life weith me can be whatever she will her self to dream .

Yes, a bargain plea?

instead of radiating from true love’s scribbled scribes in blank verse.

The stonewalled chamber gathers ipapalbe silence  born from these disjointed words

Talk. You have time to make my life right.

Perform this pantomime on Las Ramblas knowing the days will turn bright.

Perhaps I cup over & caress her excess mounds.

Compliments ‘damn you look good, healthier, you’ve  put some weight on’

Must she hear this now? Does it matter?

It’s too avant-garde even for Gaudi

Face swollen from a sting with an arbitrary drone.

Monthly luna flickers up sheds of decrepit blood

clots

compound that to a portrait that makes her face plump–fits of

disease

– please,

Hands hesitate over arms once scrawny, cheek bones sliced inwards.,

She’s rather own her shame and reach every gaze at her in a state of lean chronic thigh gap syndrome

spongy Food floats

expands

-drowns all sign of hope.

enough self loathing to remedy it with a calibre of a gun.

Date with Russian roulette –

6 chance distractions from this body, this mind , every part called forward into existence.

five rounds until she lands in the seat of a crash test dummy.

Grief , guilt ,

unpleasant to the taste.

fret bursts in beads of sweat – her few will revolt into petulant demonstrations of

why?

again?

how?

and when?

Get by on hope and luck and a fine mother hen

A good sized egg , pair of irises that delude her into feeling all her sins have been revoked.

Posted in STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS COLLECTION

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I don’t want to be in your soul tribe

I don’t want to be in your soul tribe

Apr 27

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Here she comes

Me -the late bloomer

I have a revelation words matter circa 2015.

ALL WORDS MATTER.

Let me try and type something with substance

Words have power.

We

collectively should choose our words carefully.

Don’t stop talking.

hashtag it’s still okay to talk.

start a difficult conversation.

Mental health is here for as long as we humans are.

For real…

Stop with the sincerely Stan – suicidal fan stereotyping –

Passive aggressive greeting -Hello hunties

Yes I have a cunt and I won’t let any man hunt me -unless he is prepared to be chased too.

How can we all be so woke when

we stilll choose to believe in fake news?

People love to give blow jobs on other peoples words.

Most people swallow and don’t spit.

Retweet it to keep it 100.

can we put a value on integrity?

Words matter -when we stand up for our belief to break away from the mould.

Open mic night’s expressions should be honoured by doing our words -over and over.

Especially when people aren’t watching.

Show and tell how to walk the talk.

Match a wage bet — that another brother’s claims of little Miss trouble are too high key.

It’s okay to talk.

Tupac once said

real eyes

realize

real lies

People should see before they make a judgement.

express yourself – in the social accepted way –

Aspire to appear lowkey?

All these quotes about

Keep your personal business to yourself. –

then do a 180 and take the ” power back”.

A calculated performance

reveal you know how to manipulate words – with barely legal finesse.

Hashtag wars still matter.

Use language for positive change.

Talk.

Start a difficult conversation.

Think about your fellow patient in the opposite bed.

Why does she haveresting bitch face syndrome ?

Why does she stare at back after you state

‘That feeling when you feel like Briney spears circa 2007?

oh you have problems – you slit your wrists – oh how savage – roll of the eyes.

Let’s get creative with our words.

affected by a mental illness.

infected…..

Lives with a mental illness ?

or suffers from a mental illness?

How savage (roll of eyes)

These labels – – schizophrenics. Bipolar , psychotic

2018 is the year where Everyone wants to be insane 😉

the reason to be a certain way is the new aesthetic

or an excuse

to be lowkey about our true shame and high key about superficial hurt not to lure in the Stans.

Whose that?

It’s not relevent as long as I get approval from my fam or

my Sis from another Miss.

We are more than a tick boxed list of criteria.

We are complex humans , with diverse traits and interests.

Who is that? Over there- making a statement.

Crazy

psycho

nuts

lunatic

Not relevant – That there is just some extra.

insignificant

to you;

Not part of the true fam –

Is this how we wish people to feel?

Insignificant!

For all the RT’ers out there who love to share,

Share your own personal story.

The world will become a place where you are lit by your integrity.

Not everyone can relate to the G.O.A.T.’s

with swagger.

We probably are pretty for real when we embrace our bromances and our militant feminists.

True power is being woke enough to see the ethic in bringing out the G.O.A.T. in EVERYONE of us.

We can all be be lowkey.

we are all fam.

I’m not going to say its cool to call my new ‘ship interest- Dad.

Words matter

and the lack of them.

What we don’t say .. is a statement of power.

Spoken word – maybe we all have inner dictator waiting to stand up and be heard.

I don’t know how we can claim to be so woke when everything we do is to death.

What am I going on about?

Apologies for this is the mix in slang –

I’m not pedantic … I am keeping my integrity – my code of of ethics.

If we are going to talk and be true about our feelings – Remember that the words we use to connect on a level can out you as a hypocrite –

Words matter because they help us communicate and relate with a diverse bunch of people who may end up feeling like family more than your own Dad or sis.

Communication can cause dis -ease – challenge our own self awareness;

Not because you the go to p[person to get the latest scoop on someone else in life detention.

Its cool to be high key about not fitting the mould –

Embrace the idea that to be holistic is not going to conform to your method of living –

for real.

WE don’t have to be conventionally spiritual to have faith.

Well-being of the mind and body is the G.O.A.T.

– the power –

the perfect ratio.

Sometimes we fall – human after all ..

I guess

When we outcast others for assuming their make up

judging every part of them based on an undemocratic vote of what a person’s true disposition is.

How fair and unbiased are our Hugh key views when we don’t have the whole picture?

That moonscape – that attitude is a predisposition to sus and ghost others because of their diversity.

We spit words , stand up for diversity and equality –

Express ourselves through didactic verse.

Congratulate our selves on our ethics- to embrace the variety of our culture.

The irony is what we say and do,

What we day we are going to do.

And what we do when confronted with someone who is different and not facile two understand.

How quick we are to turn into heartless bastards and turn away from our own race.

Everyone is quick to look at the other person.

I Don’t see colour .. I’m not racist

I don’t discriminate, I’m well up for equality.

“Look at those tits!”

“She looks well up for it.”

“crazy, cheating man hating bitch.”

“disrespecting my bro..”

Consult the bro code.

This divine, esoteric oracle states that she was asking for it.

She’s trouble.

Aaah aaah aaah baah

True story – a woman lived under apartheid then came to live in the patriarchal society of English gentry. Shes spoke up for herself – acted like a dude -how dare she!

Embraced the spoken word and unashamedly campaigned for the right that it is truly ok to talk.

Segreted cos she is diverse and predispositioned to speak her mind, she made as many fuck ups as the people she met and spent time with.

She decided to end her life with

these words

I don’t don’t give a fuck, I know the world is bigger than a few small minded ,feeble gossips who use their words to bond

I died to reborn .

I answer to nature not people.

Posted in STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS COLLECTION, WRITE TO RECOVER

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Exist for others peace of mind

Exist for others peace of mind

Apr 26

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RIP KEITH from the Prodigy.

I planned another attempt on my knees

Spoke to a God

Pathetic

Uninspired

Extraterristial

Daisy is no more.

A body emptied walking on egg shells.

Shocked mind

No purpose

too unkind.

Secret whispers

Willful whiskers

Silent sisters

Cause me to break out in blisters.

Words fail to recover my obsolete pose

Hesitant

Defunct

Maleficent

stream of wrong chosen floaters in crimson blood rivers.

white foam is my diffident

Illiterate

A hypocrite.

Angry cross dressers

hung by confusion

bungee jump without rope into a quagmire.

Prayed to a cloud God in an attempt to die

magnificent.

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

sincerely solemn.

A fraud

illiterate.

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.

Non academic.

A failure at talking transparent.

A liar

A thief of integrity.

A coward rumpled into a once upon a time melody

No solace — out grown to suffer from eternal colic.

Insignificant.

Stubborn push me over

‘cos it’s a waste of oxygen.

Recovery is overrated.

Trust when I say

I’m insignificant.

Footloose –

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.

Lonely.

Scared to never feel my bones.

Lonely.

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.

I’m insignificant

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.

Leave me

Don’t tease me;

Hated

underrated.

People — I don’t get you — assist me — talking in skipped beats

a sham.

Daisy in the willows

I’m not a fan.

Help me disappear

not in another room with four walls

Damm you,Bee

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.

Inherently stubborn

alive — so very sudden.

Cheated out of death

I don’t want to live

Stop saving me

Screaming to a society blinded

deaf.

Samaritan I’m your even,

my

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

Comfort 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

I’m possessed

I’m shameless.

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

Yet still

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…….

Posted in MENTAL HEALTH, STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS COLLECTION, WRITE TO RECOVER

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Esther Roe

Charlie met Esther on abortionist row.

Hedges neatly trimmed – enough to dishevel a bearded vagabond to weep after his latest woe.

No coat hangers to gut the newborn sac.
Charlie stood for hours until her number came up.

Raging
rouge screams with a tremulous beep.

Surreal
Conceal
Unable
to strike the star lead role in a Bollywood film deal.

Unsullied arrived in a cumulus cloud stricken by a thunderous compulsion to wail.

Esther didn’t hear the bond lust, lilted scream.
Memory hazed -by two fat ladies at gate number 8.
Efforts disarmed – the inability to count down to the primal odd.

Nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth. Envy immobilised to an unrecalled dream.

 

Innocents smile swinging on tyres.

Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumberless nightmare  loses credibility to a sterile clinic

Action paralysing every unconscious scene.

Stratham, London. the  Knight defends to keep watch.

Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defibrillator harmonizing jolts to the melody of

‘ Staying alive ‘

Old granny hoovers up flowers choking on an ivy patterned carpet.

Mist of lavender lingers.

This bitch knows how to spray.

Don’t mess with this O.G.

Peppered, seasoned hair, non-linear lines carve out a facial narrative.

Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.

Inebriated illiterate desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel Cluedo.

It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know…..

 

Scissors aimed

ready

to

stab

a beating heart

 

Positioned in foetal

Sucked out the uterus.

 

Pro-choice.

Pro voice.

Pro-life.

Pro midwife.

Tall walls

Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.

Fiercely scrutinized is the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideas can afford her.

Quality control.
The NHS paid for a private eye.

Two signatures deemed sufficient to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.

Shameless in her deflowered disguise.

Ginger nuts, unsavoury tufts.

No, this wasn’t her nine month due – no ice cubes for killing in the name of freedom to govern her own vessel.

No need for pro-life Stepford wives lies.

Sins anoint.
Sins accumulate.

Where would our saints stand without a dissident at hand?

Society sits down, protest proudly.
Part the veil of clouds
Peer piously downwards,

ready to strike thunderbolts of judgement.

 

Rain down booming terror tactics.
Esther cares not for their gospel band.
Society sips, exhaling wafts of fair trade Ivory coast coffee beans.
Privilege smells of a modern holocaust of starving babies in bony mothers arms.

Who said any of these women consented to consummate?
Penetrative obedience to the phallic statues erected in morning glory psalms.

Civilized society!

What if God was one of us?

a scripture in the making.-

Touch and kiss the sky.

Would he become the true reflection we see, when we catch ourselves about to exhale the final breathe before we die?

Fantasies always signed off with a silver lining and promises of a rainbow.

Reality is cold,

winter serves a plateau of ice.
Frigid flowers are frozen in angst
Shatter like glass.
Rebel against their reproductive nature.
Air.
breathe.
One full gasp.

If only a mere raspy rant leaves on its depart.
It’s either them or an urban jungle of homo sapiens collecting another free day ride.

Ready to infect ignorance on every global ocean that has shows we all go out at low tide.

Rebirth!

JUST

ICE.

Everybody’s got to hear the shit on FM willows call!

Stumped hand makes it arduous to know what to write about.

Posted on | Aside

These are my words

Apr 6

Posted by

She’s must be  a fraud. Disconnected to this world

a caricature of a  human.

 

An imposter  civilian of society – a living entity to her dismay incapacited  to disappear

permanently.

 

always chased  back in this race -the rush

It’s  marathon pace she detests 

 

Ravenous

Cream crackered

Loafin about

 

The  First in line to devour   the  despo’s discarded crusts.

Her washed out  hat mirrors

Her bottom lip

waxen

Scrutinizing the clouds wafting by.

 

Human puppets strung up

Wooden  ideals

Generic.

Stereo types

 

 

A

Mother

A woman

A lover

A thinker

A doe-or,

A reason to  carry on the charade?

 

 

Compelled by the  hypnotic pull pulsating with a love song  serenading  the humanity of  heart.

Posted in POETRY

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Dementia -merely human.

Apr 5

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“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

Chicken pox

Aids and HIV

Cancer.

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.

giphy.gif

I’m going to show you some pictures of someone who has loved me for a long time.

But first

I must close my eyes

close-your-eyes-711.jpg

AGE : 15.

STATE: awake

LOCATION : Kitchen ( Gran’s home ) South Africa

Gran comes shuffling in to the kitchen

“Que ce qui pas?“

“Can’t sleep”

“I will make you a camomile tea” in her French accent .

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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.

AGE:18 years

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.

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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

Madagascar

Zimbabwe

South Africa

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

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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.

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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-

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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?

No shoes,

a  flash of car lights, 

 Great big BULGING eyes

FLAP ,FLAP

 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.

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Gran in her new home – the first of three new care homes she would move to until the present.

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

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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.

WAS THIS WHAT SHE SAW?

We thought we were going to lose her.

Three nurses,

A grand daughter,

A daughter.

a sedative

2 -3 hours

a struggle

Another sedative

FEAR

SCREAMS

SWEAT

PORES

TEETH EXPOSED – FERAL

EARS POUNDING

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.

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Christmas 2009.

Gran  in hospital . The last time she would ever walk

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Gran loved to walk

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Gran will never walk again.

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She had to be moved to another  home that could meet her needs. No fancy hotel .

Gran’s 81st birthday

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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. 12728922_10206394372312168_9205953428105637055_n

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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.

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Posted in MY WORLD, THOUGHTS

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Naive Rider

Dec 29

Posted by

Who am I ?

Designated driver left with that old Mad hatter.

The old mercurial adage

Question

Savage

Silence

Slithering

pereptual.

If I don’t write, talk or express myself

My beliefs mean nothing

My mind is a personality of multiples

Forgotten words

The story of my life.

Seems obvious

Desonate or disconnect from past traumatic strife.

Moving on automatic

No sense , inebriated , toxic , sober my God has left the pall bearer in charge of my destination.

Music is my only salvation

No! Just my words are the above without hesitation.

Motivation ?

Print ink on my soul

Cast a shadow

A casket made of ornate gold.

Maybe I’m not the oldest of souls

The palm reader knew when my rings didn’t make it up to my elbows

Oh well…

Fate ? destiny?

What does it matter when life is a choice whether you die or break the glass between the two worlds

It may shatter

I’m into cats.

Does it matter.

I’m a riddle of my own inertia.

Posted in POETRY

2 Comments

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Moon Go Viril phase

Dec 29

Posted by

Though the light may fade.
Dark shades heighten the Euphoric daze
Forgotten words wasted on ill-gotten behaviors.
In that quagmire
Still driven to send out a vigil of hope.
Buried within me.
Buried under a myriad haunted ghost.

What keeps disarming me
Whose charm beckons me to this world?
When I open my eyes
Betrayed by curiosity in gazing outwards.
Look back at the words you have’ written.
Be inspired that you wrote them!
Sweep those sneaky snide comments out through the back door
How dare they Prevent this form of self-expression.
words made up of simple dimples are all we need

Self-respect
He cautiously peers out
perched a top
the Jonnies rotting,
woodlice.
Infected tears confidently descend
To the basement days
when his best foot turned all the bedheads.

Don’t worry.
Don’t over -care
Don’t overthink.
Don’t Glare without an ending for sentence as to what grows out from your mind.

Hauled up in dusty webbed rags of self-doubt.
Can you catch the Shadows doth change according to light.
Mere reflection and perception of how you do intimidate me
shadows can’t exist without a living
body
soul
And mind.
Take the power back.
At least from behind the scenes
Don’t hide from those
Impervious sighs
disproportionate contortions of their own path.

Happy lights-faeries delight.
Blissful smiles stipple out faces.

There can be no ulterior motive.
Unless we retrace for an Agenda?
confused about life twists mysterious Genders.
Tender

Guilt sprouts up-GMO crops
Pesticidal casual all matter starts to hoe out my mind
Crucify my time?
Fraternized with Flowers more sentient than humans taken up by nocturnal spaces
Unevolved sight is having an identity crisis.
Army of words
A halo of benign bravado.
To those monsters of Carpathian.
Here is my audacity & Gumption.
Try
Shout me down.

Mere echoes with no home.

Threaten me or one of my own,
I will stand up and defend my home.
Bats of fear — Clots of blood
Circulate above in a murmuration

So much I want to put down.
Not in the stream of consciousness

No more ashamed of how far down I free-fall into the squid ink mouth of the abyss.
I gripped onto nature’s own boulderous
A safety net of
Silver linings
I have.
I seek out another taste

https://youtu.be/Q04ILDXe3QE

Posted in POETRY, STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS COLLECTION

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