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A semi colon saves the day

On the 11 of May 2020 I attempted my final suicide -or so I thought.
I had read the suicide manual.

I chose death by overdose this time. I crushed the tablets into a gooey mixture -(added small drops of liquid)-with a morsel and pestle.

Measured a small dose of alcohal to 3/4’s apple juice then chugged the paste down without any hesitation.


Fear entered my brain a cloud saturated in grey -I let it sail past
Its size was irrelevant

I had to achieve death. One thing I was good at. Finding a way to cease to be

My other attempts were slow suicides. Sectioned multiple times -an inpatient stay -12 months at a time starving my body hadn’t worked
A suicidal coward -I couldn’t live with an ego wounded with a false hubris made shirt.

I waited until I was alone – my calculations of jumping off suicide bridge again seemed ill prepared for what I had in store.

Quetiapine -antipsychotic medication was a miscalculation too
The symptoms agitated my unconscious state


Stairs lead me to the front door
This is an account from my husband-yellow flowers in his hand
he found me regurgitating on my vomit on the kitchen floor.

In 2018 I ended up in ICU 9 hours -my mother prayed -I raged from her selfish wants.
She had no understanding of living day to day in a body half sawed from an asylum hijacked from myriad peacocks relentless
until I escaped -there sounds crawled up my spine
Lit upmy human barbaric side -quelled the blaze could not be subdued.

2020 -Inhaling my vomit
husband pushed open the back door with yellow roses to cheer me up
He knew I was running off the cliff – he thought let me cheer my missus up.

Many hours, days I was tortured by Aliens
Abducted. I pleaded for the fire to cease
for water to replenishes my thirst.
World War 2 Masks leering over me
cold showers
Christians say I was in purgatory.

Mother on her knees
The daughter wrote to me in my sleeping castle.
I fought against the tube pipe minutes from a trachae-I begged for freedom -a place filled with light.
Hell what would I know?
Aliens abducted me -I know that cold water
Sticks prodded

Probing up my nose

Mind tricks disregarded my pleas to change
let me leave
I knew no prayer or god would release me
A face painted up as my mother caught my eye –

my daughter couldn’t hold my attention.

Guilt fit to burst out tears .

Gassed for my lack of integrity

I found out how many days my dear mother prayed for me to come out of my coma.

The family started reconciling I was on a life support machine-close to brain damage, paralysed- death would be the prayer for my destiny.

Once again -her rosary beads anointed her
Happy birthday mum, where am I ?-

the aliens bid me farefill after a 5 day probing
An experiment not worthy of their intelligence
It was all for nothing


10 days later I was high on life.

A hug doesn’t help, nor did talking, self-medicating, reaching out to my tribe.
Suicide is not the answer unless you are sure you know why you want to say goodbye.
Do your research & even then you might not die.
Months go by
I’m still here -my body & thoughts to collude with troubles from 3months
Gone by– I thought I had dealt with my trauma by attempting to stage my greater suicide attempt.


Life toys with my perception -some days I laugh – other days I scream at the injustice of the helpful folk who saved my life without my consent
I’m present – I’m still here.
This is my journey. I’m seeking help. I hope to find peace before death shrouds all philosophical thought.

SUICIDE ATTEMPT 25?
I’m still alive
SURPRISE! -no mask

Oh, wait the mirror betrayed me when I stopped seeing myself without a glare.

https://www.samaritans.org/support-us/campaign/world-suicide-prevention-day/http://WORLD SUICIDE PREVENTION DAY

https://www.samaritans.org/support-us/campaign/world-suicide-prevention-day/http://WORLD SUICIDE PREVENTION DAY

Thoughts about Kacimi

I spent hours listening to this song over and over gain

writing this word

that word

Until I come out with this statement

This song portrays a horrific and tragic reality of how many people control how they perceive themsleves in life( including myself).

I refused to loook up the google french to English translation until I was able to write up my transaltion and my own understanding of these lyrics.

The song unfolds in a folk campfire style of nrrating a story within a song-This style lent it a stream of consciousness narrative trail that I often respond well too.

Once I grasped what and possibly why this song has a strong hold of my emotions, I decided to watch the Avante Garde esque animation video

Before I watched and listened to the the lyrics I had this image of a man.

A surly , brooding Serge Gainesbourg character swaggering confidently in a world he clearly has no control over.

His response to being held back by a natural depression in the centre of his universe. He never appears in awe of his world nor being distracted by all the world has to offer.

It becomes apparent he never truly gets out of this depression because it hascarved a groove deep into the centre of his own universe.

There is always an invitation to listen or to watch or take action.

That is what people do in life.

We can be nonchalant spectators.

we listen ,

we watch ,

we sing ,

we live,

We cry

We forget

We love

We remeber

We lose

We die

I cried when I heard the this verse

I’ve never felt so alone not since I was a child.

I felt my heart wrench for that lonely child -every moment that I felt like that lonely child.

I think too much -over analyse

Always thinking

thinking without end or taking nor taking action in this existence.

The song has a positve message to impart. If we feel alone we will remain alone in our solitude. We can find a way tp be strong & embrace our inner selves. Unaware as we may be to the inbetween moments of life through to death.

The french words are a reminder of the voices I don’t hear speaking speak to me any longer.

I made a decision to teach my daughter a few phrases.

The song & the video shows the many you can go on the journey of life -come across many places and meet people, but there is only one person wh can put one foot ahead and carry on with life’s :seemingly childsh sick imagination

No matter how it appears to toy with us -we can’t ever give up on the beautiful.ideal of life.

No matter how many times we are kicked in the teeth or refuse to partake or play natures rules.

In the end( like at the end of the song) a creature lets out a sqwark .

reminding we can never take our eyes off life for long when we have no choice but to face it.

Life with it’s ability to grow wings , beat and fly away from us -yet we still admire it.

To be a bird -is it freedom? Life is simple it requires that we live.

That is it.

Breathe, and live our life and become aquainted with all parts of our characters.

la vie ce’st une grand ville – life is a big place.

It will shake us in side out until we beg it to let us leave this place.

This song makes me feel like I i have loved and lost and should have no regrets yet i still do.

Well, that is my take on the song..

I looked up the english translation becuse my transaltion will be a bit different.

It is a triste song filled with a tiny grain of hope.

Don’t die looking for hope because hope –it is already inside us.

Life is in us and it is bigger than us.

To die living within oursleves and never experienceing the external joy of life must be a horrible regret to have as a ladt moment before death intoxicates us

I love this song because it makes me cry and it reminds me that I’m not the only Depressed muppet living in the world.

Life is a choice and a blessing.

We are not wired to let go of life no matter how hard and lonely and barren it is.

One hug will leave us intoxiated in love with the idea of life. It may turn out to be our last breathe.

He had just turned twenty
Far away in the atoll lay asleep
The hopes of a being; he searched in vain
The lost sacred fire of the great shiver

Under the fiery rays of a black sun
His hope was packed
While morality watched him.

And he had never felt so alone
In this bottomless pit
Where tangible reveries
Meet gloomy gray columns.
He had just turned twenty,
And life was spread out before him.

In a house, flanked by the hearth
A blackened fireplace in the living room
Sprawled injustice, languid.
And in its pale orbits shone
The two (soft?) Reflections of a world which sheltered
A madness as possessed.

 

And he had never felt so alone
In this bottomless pit
Where tangible reveries
Meet gloomy gray columns.
He had just turned twenty,
And life was spread out before him.
The haggard eye, the wet mouth and forehead,
The contemplative mind, the empty gaze
He thought he held the night in his hands.


And while he thought he was finally touching
The mysteries, his anguish with his fingers,
The beauty preferred to dissipate.

 

And he had never felt so alone
In this bottomless pit
Where tangible reveries
Meet gloomy gray columns.
He had just turned twenty,
And life was spread out before him.
Loneliness, he knew her;
Always lurking in every nook and cranny,
To mope and twist into strips.
He found in her arms a comfort
That never ceased to intoxicate him;
A bittersweet pleasure that put him to sleep.

Whale music

And when I believe that everything that I feel is real,

I set myself up.

Grasp the short straw to hear whale music

oxygenised-

Death becomes her

Another attempt on her life

Variety is indeed her spice.

She marked it out as hers with a tank girl knife.

Neathanderals and the world are conspiring against her.

Look at the hand she’s been dealt.

Loftily she made her own choices

Xenophobic outbursts desire the harmonious pursuit of happiness.

Fear to live in the joyous moments.

Living in a future-waiting to fall from grace.

We wait for hecklers with distinctive voices

Inspired by healthy eating-

You deduce you are a moral sound person.

Just because you swerved the cake at the party

It still won’t cleanse you.

You won’t have your sins dabbed away by a whore called magdalene.

The diet of integrity lies in listening to rumbles of those living in poverty

Starving.

Death rattle

* This a poem that I wrote whilst waiting and comforting my mom and my gran before she passed over in March 2018, from vascular Dementia and Alzheimers. I wrote it while waiting for her to let go of Life. It’s a Morbid (and possibly strange) thing to do when someone you love is dying in front of you. This was one way of expressing my powerlessness, over a period 3 days watching someone cling on to this Life).*

Death rattle

Reminiscent of an uprising of crickets ready to battle.
Stare at a puffed updiamond heart
Drumming inside an empty cage.
Birds ripped apart.
Gargoyle stares ignored.
Folk bumble about unaware of what’s in store for us all,
eventually.
The breathe of Hades lingers
then makes a dash for scant flesh and bones.
Meat is not this gods instrument
Lust causes the call for more drones.
Sponge, moisten parched parted lips
Raven signals the ire of its whips.
The ones who don’t loose it in bedlam excite
Death,
Invites all loved ones to rally around
Stands by door.
Stands back a while
Admires its own power.
A moment to savour
Every door closed,
Each breath cloys,
Begs for enough fare to cross the distance to embrace Elysium air.
Today everyone shall know how close we are to parting from brown soil.
Lambs,
Hatched chickens,
Babies born in Cumbersome air.
The cycle must complete before we can emerge reborn.
Death is inevitable as necessary as life is to the Cumbaya of springs first show of petal.
When you look at the beginning of this new dawn,
Know that when you stand back in awe
Its because you have felt the chill of winters soul depart.
Shed a tear for the snowman who brought our youth so much joy.
Appreciate death.
Stare it in the face.
The sun chants
counting his rosary beads.
Tomorrow never dies.
Trying to type something while listening and watching my grandmother dying.
Rasp
Gasp
I support the assisted dying law.
This is inhumane!
A selfish farce.
Happy mothers day,
Wherever you go
Wherever you roam
I hope that it is a place as magnificent as earths revellers make it out to be.

Ma petit fripon. Je t’aims toujours

 

Mad Russian afterlife​

 Good Morning old man, and greetings on this day when at last you dare to look at the mirror of your past, with the eyes of the real world.

What have you achieved old man in the course of tumultuous existence, and who are you? The real you and not the extrapolation of your wanted desires and unfulfilled dreams?

Open your mind, old man, and taste the result of your self inflicted iniquities.

Your soul may cry without shame because you may believe that you have remained as proud as your own bloodline.

However, could your genetic heritage be only a figment of your imagination of your own chromosomes?

You see old man: You still do not know who you are yet.

It is a fact that you have been a factor in creating life…

What was a pleasure became a string of destinies…. children… grandchildren…

And the usual follow up of renewed dynasties.

You believe of course that you will be able to watch, through another dimension, the survival tribulations of all your descendants and attempt to guide their steps towards wisdom and love.

Your inquisitive and caring nature will probably resist the call of the master of the universe to join his own renewal through the absorption of your soul. Once it has left your flesh, blood and bones.

I know, old man, as I searched deep inside your mind, that you are not afraid of death. The only fear you may have could be an inner sentiment that you have not yet fulfilled some of your more attainable, and realistic goals.

Wasted or unexploded gifts, which we all possess and often ignore…

These could be the regrets of an afterlife, and it could also be through the line of some genetic heritage that one of your ancestors is attempting to reach you, and guide you.

Look again old man and listen to the real voices.

* written by my grandfather Nicholas Szynkarski- an eccentric, legend, philosopher, opportunist, a man ahead of his time. This is the introduction to one of his many mini-memoirs & fantasies mixed with nostalgia. He used to type it up on a dinosaur computer. In the days when we had to dial up to get a connection to access the internet.  I’ve kept hold of one of his books. This is the intro.