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Great mate expectations

*A silly 5 minute poem I wrote for a long time mate of mine.

I know a lass called Tri

We’ve sold enough holidays and car hires to start our own biz in the travel industry.

We moved to Tenerife for a life by the sea

7 days of mad filled drunkness I got scared to work at a pub without my  best mate beside me.

we fell out as all good friendships do

and three days later we found ourselves  re entering  Yorkshire-

We didn’t speak for a year or two.

Memories of bussing it to cover a short staffed branch.

Eating boiled sweets ,laughing at our quirky granny attitude — tummy in stitches.

The next moment we could be screaming at each other-people scarpered before they got covered by under our verbal avalanche.

Opposite in twice as  many ways

Young and careless-we had our confused days.

Hit the clubs  straight from work.

Uniforms still on for an early start  shift

 the next morning.

We knew how to work hard and play hard — we  could separate the two/

We made a great team — always ready with a coffee from Merry England  and a cig

-work life was never boring.

Navigating our friendship we sometimes got it wrong

If only we could see how much we wished we could swop bodies-oh to see then that we were wrong to think that would make us feel we belong.

The truth is we drifted apart and life carried on

Until one day we found each other again

we had grown from life’s lessons

More chilled, less judgmental, less temperamental and both married

Me with my child-

My little mate is about to become a first time mum.

I’m so  glad we found each other again-both in our dirty thirties-This time round I see my mate and I count my blessings

LOVE YA LOADS.

 

 

Summer Daze

When I  first saw you , in Sitges , across from the bay- To say I was struck by your display of non-attire   is hardly an understatement.

My eyes darted in every direction . Phallic erections were all I could see in my embarrassed array- it was all so blatant.

There was simply nothing else I could do  but hold eye contact with you – those emerald-flecked  eyes is when I felt true mesmerism.

It was only then I realised how naked I felt fully dressed on this hidden beach -it projected the true souls that contain all thing auriferous.

My hands easily untied my tie-dyed blue sarong. I didn’t stop there . I may only have a hand full but I whipped off my white bikini top and wriggled out of my bottoms. All I could sense was an aura emanating off of  you

(sigh)  simply so… chivalrous.

The sun shone starkly – but being the  mightiest of knights you picked up my clothes, placed them next to yours. You took my hand and guided me -running , gold spun,free – to the turquoise , fish enchanted ocean.

Legs entwined around your torso – skin on skin  contact – salty, wet, tongue licks of devouring  devotion.

Lavishing one  other, two became one. The ripples, the bubbles- our heady  infusion, blasted open my eyes to the skies- – tufted clouds – summoned up  an old tune-

Puff the magic dragon.

Magic is always possible when you believe in you.  I  swear it had nothing to do with  that extravagant  elixir  of a  cocktail – I  imbibed a  couple of hours before, at that quaint restaurant – the one that I drank out of a craggan.

Composure – time to depart, float on my back -contemplate this dilemma of how quick I was to abandon my clothes.

 I may have come into the world as naked as I am right now but I know what is waiting on the coastline is a far cry  from my fantasised hardened  cocks.

 In fact quite the opposite. I know no shadow can camouflage    the   pruned skin of a   60-year-old Grandad  with a   wrinkled ,flaccid   penis.

Christ,  I am 21 years old- apologies for the sudden heaving up of  old man smell that a young me loathes.

It was meant to be a bit of fun – find the secret nudist beach – have a laugh – take a few sneaky pics ,make them go viral- anything for a cheap high.

It’s gone viral alright – my mates couldn’t resist -filmed it all!

pardon me – if I gather  my clothes and seek legal advice to prove to you all – this act is one steeped in a state of  stultify?

Park Life- look who found me!

Un done

Let it go

just go with the flow.

My mind comprehends all that I   need to let it go.

I change my physiological state to shock my brain into a newly formed hedgerow.

What about the heart?

My heart , specifically?

We all make mistakes and some fail despicably.

To assume, that one actually cares as much as I do,

was possibly the most arrogant act and now,

I  am that potato, left forgotten in the stew.

All heart – open to vulnerability.

I better change and put on a long-sleeved T-shirt

to wipe my snivelling tears and rejected mucus and hurt.

Heart sore.

I’m so naive

I do believe.

Let it go.

Just go with the flow.

I write because I know that it eases some of this rejection blow.

Stuck in a vortex with stale, carbon monoxide breathe.

How can a feeling of rejection make ME want to feel nothing- even death?

This is not me.

My emotions are struggling against the tide,

underneath,

 crustal plates continue to move at the bottom of the sea.

Climate change – is the world ready to blow?

Careless.

My nature is one who hates to be struck through the heart by a clueless arrow.

Why does it matter so much to me?

Why does it matter?

Why?

Full rejection would probably make it final.

Give me peace, answer me or just snap the cord – every vertebra of my spine – break me until……

Stillness;

is all I want in my heart.

I fight these thoughts but my heart drives me into some dark quagmire with loud noises from creatures that bark.

They snap too -not just at my ankles- but plunge their fisted paws, right inside the most fragile part of me- the part of me that is more like natures own bark.

Trees, flowers, love and hugs.

All worthy drugs from my from an undying lover;

 from someone who loves me even though I am crying out to be hung.

Cut me loose.

If you care – or at least answer me – I’ve given my all not just to be flung like Apollo’s impulsive son.

* what is better ? to be partly rejected or fully rejected? friendships, relationships, acquaintances?  *

What’s that saying about rather hearing ‘I don’t like you’ than being ignored.

I can deal with  ‘I don’t like you’.

 

Will dance for Life.

“To become a spectator of one’s own life is too escape the suffering of life” OSCAR WILDE

My G found an awesome Oscar Wilde Quotation Book for me in a charity shop.

Last night, I came across this quote and I began to ponder on  it. I went to bed with it in my head. It is obvious to me that I have been a spectator when I was taking drugs or drinking too much.  Yet, I was still suffering.

I think the way I dealt with social services when I was proving myself as a worthy mother  was a time when I should have suffered the most.

I didn’t cry every night. Hardly ever.

I didn’t go drinking and getting high and over dosing every night or even every 6 months.

I began to watch my life unfold.

I was actively participating in it but for a while  my mind needed breaks- binge watching horror  movies, stand up comedy and other series .Learning to eat properly  again and not party.Take my medication even though it makes me put on weight.  I couldn’t be a Brecht- like spectator 24/07

I learned to live an almost hermetic existence. I  DID became closer to my Mom and my hubby to be  and I found out a lot about who I really am.

I couldn’t throw myself in the whole emotional vortex,  that was my life 24/7  because I think I  would still be in it.

I had to take it day by day.

Moment by moment.

I had to become an active spectator because I had a  choice to make. We always have a choice to make.

Of course on some level I must have suffered not being able to see my daughter for more than 10 hours a week for 16 months.

But the more I stopped looking at social services presence in my life as an invasion. I began to observe them as they did with me and the relationship dynamics began to change.

It’s a most surreal idea to say I never suffered when I was fighting for my daughter.

When the control of how I governed my life needed a full 360  degree turn. The control became about governing myself.

I did have moments where like a spectator I cringed and was brought to tears and “oohed” and “aaahed” .

 It was like listening to a song that disarms you for however many moments.

All songs end eventually.

Then, I was free to spectate again.

Sometimes not knowing what to do and just doing what I felt was right is what I think  saved me.

I called social services – MY UNWANTED ENTOURAGE.

It was our very public  joke .

Because let’s face it -if I  am ever going to need an entourage -I am going to pick a  P.A., a hair dresser, make up artist, editor, child minder,accountant etc…

But on the other side of the coin if you remain a mere spectator in your own life –

yeah sure you  won’t suffer,but

you might just  forget to feel.

If I can’t feel then what is the point of getting married?

Having children?

Having friends?

If I can’t participate in life because I am scared I am going to be let down then that is just a cop out.

When I risk the chance of suffering or potentially being let down or hurt…

If I participate, I have  half a good chance to make things right.

I get to fight for who and what I want in my life.

So suffer we must but the rewards, on the upside ,are the people we have around us and the experiences we get to feel that makes suffering worthwhile.

There is a saying – it goes something like this:

“How can we be so sure to ever know  and appreciate true happiness if we have never experiences disappointment and unhappiness?” 

I have learnt to take more risks with my heart and I have become a more open and aware person.

Yes, when we love others – friends,family – our partners…

There are going to be rough times.

Just be there.

You don’t have to give advice.

Just listen and check in every now and then.

If you want some one in your life.

Ask that person  to to be there.

They can only say Yes or No.

More to gain than lose if your heart’s intentions are good.

These are my thoughts on this stunning, sunny ,Spring Bank Holiday Monday.