Charlie met Esther on abortionist roe.
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.
rouge screen screams with a tremulous beep.
to strike the star lead role in a Bolly wood film deal.
Unsullied arrived in a cumulous 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 – inability to count down to the primal odd.
nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth.
Envy immobilised to an unrecalled dream.
swinging on tyres.
Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumber loses nightmare credibility to a sterile clinic;
Action paralysing every unconscious scene.
Stratham, London-night defends to keep watch.
Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defiblerater harmonizing jolts to the beat of
‘ Staying alive ‘
Old granny hoovered up flowers chocked in ivy a patterned carpet,
Mist of lavender lingers. This bitch knows how to spray.
Don’t mess with the O.G.
Peppered, seasoned hair, non-linear lines carve out a facial narrative.
Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.
desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel cluedo.
It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know.
Scissors ready to stab a beating heart,
Positioned in foetal
Sucked out the uterus.
Tall walled wars.
Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.
Nobody is scrutinized so fiercely as the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideas can afford her.
The NHS paid for a private eye.
Two signatures deemed sufficient to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.
Shameless in her flowered 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.
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.
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,
Rebel against their reproductive nature.
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 shores that go out at low tide.
I’m always going on about how resourceful people can be but I am so high fiving the Tikopians. The original true opportunists.
In the Pacific island live a small number of people who have dwindled away since the 1950’s, when Christians were on their Jehovah like mission to convert all people to their religion. Sadly these people didn’t have a
‘We don’t open doors to Christian people’ .sign and doors are are lot sturdier these days.
These people would originally do two -week rituals a year which they called undertaking ‘ the work of the Gods’
These Gods don’t ask for much of our human time, do they?
The idea behind the rituals was that it was kind of like a currency exchange in the form of:
I indulge you and work for you and you provide us with what we need to survive.
A great system of trade – fair and legit enough, don’t you think?
Okay, Daisy, What is so awesome about these people that make you want to high five them?
This is genius! Okay here is how this religion was structured:
Let’s pretend I am a Tikopian. I check my watch /sundial and I’m thinking –oh boy, time to do some work for the Gods to please them.
So, I think to myself –I’m not shy of work. I see a canoe. That looks like it needs fixing and I fix it.
I look at my soil and think –Aaah yes, what a good time to plant those vegetable seeds I bought a while back….
I do a bit of gardening.
I’m sweating, I wipe my brow. I look up to the heavens. Crying out
“Look at all this work I am doing for you”. I get a few treats and a potent drink of kava and offer it to the Gods.
I know that they are not as consistent as say , Santa Clause. Unlike Santa Clause these Gods don’t take a sip of their drink or nibble at the food left out for them. I could interpret this as being highly ungrateful, or
I go to the place where I placed my offerings and I say
” Gods! I see very clearly now. You must eat only ‘in essence’. I know what I shall do,I will eat and drink your offerings in the presence of your grace”
I’m feeling a bit tipsy but I have worked hard and the Gods are happy.
Some time passes, I’m seen out having a leisurely canoe ride, my plants are harvesting and my people can’t understand how I can prosper so much when I consume the god’s offerings and work for my own gain under the guise of working for the Gods.
My people shout my name and want answers. They have been self-flagellating or praying or chanting or whatever during their two week ritual of working for the gods.
I steer my canoe back to the shores and jump out of it and walk towards my people. They form a circle around me. I say:
” I was asked to take part in some work on this work for the Gods ritual, was I not? I fixed my canoe and tended to my harvest. Is this not work?”
No one can really argue with me.
My people ( the ones who catch on quickly) start to look at me differently. The look is one that makes me feel like I have elevated my status. I’ve been rewarded by the Gods not punished. I am now seen as someone with great privilege.
So why am I high fiving these people?
Well, they used these rituals with the Gods to create a social and economic structure within their community. They saw an opportunity to help their community to thrive and stick together in the name of their Gods.
These rituals and how they approached them held the Tikopian society together.
Now you have got to applaud such cunning and resourcefulness from so-called primitive people.
Life is not fucking easy. Can just put that out there and state the obvious. One minute you are up and on a high and then you hear a tiny whisper of news and it brings you crashing down.
Not trying to get cryptic and poetic. It’s not my style.
My thoughts are all over the place.
First day down of facilitator support group training. -I can tell you it is not easy to facilitate a peer led support group.
I’m not going t give up.
six hours of intense training -what did Daisy learn ?
The only thing I can think of at this moment is what my ma has just told me My uncle has a tumour – in his colon – cancerous- 6 cm big .
Oh and I remember this quote
“In the silence of listening, you can know yourself in everyone, the unseen singing softly to itself and to you.”
Read more at: http://www.azquotes.com/quote/824105
I think it sums up what a facilitators role is and the need to be self aware all the time.
I lost an aunt to cancer last February and another uncle not many weeks after that to Cancer. My Gran’s dementia is in the final stages. I’m trying to carve out a new life for myself, my daughter. I am terrified of losing my own mother.
Mental illness sucks balls
. I really don’t need it to start causing shit when I have so many important things I need to get on with.
Like what ?
Well my life.
I’m not going to let this beat me. No matter how many panic attacks I get, how many times I weigh myself or how complexed everything gets. I’m going to get through this. I will be there for my family. I will succeed in my goals with volunteering.
Went to the dentist and his assistant says to me
“you are one tough cookie.”
So did the tattoo dude when I got my new tattoo 2 weeks ago .
Yes, It’s a good job I have lived the life I have.
I can honestly say thank fuck for every experience that has led me up to this moment.
I am holding up pretty good.
I’ve done a gym session, had a bath and read my daughter a story. I’m not going to go into what I learned today.
I need time to process it.
I’m not going into my uncles condition.
I need time to process.
I am going to try and distract myself and read your lovely blogs and posts. I want to write but I feel numb. I feel like if I carry on writing like this – no emotion will come across in these words..
In a way I’m honouring what I always profess to be. I am honest to a fault. Transparent.
I am the first person to mock religion but the first thing I thought about when I heard the news about my uncle was :
I am willing to believe in a God if it makes my uncle better. I’m willing to believe that there s still hope,the operation will be a success .I’m willing to pray to something I have never laid eyes on if it will heal the suffering of a person I love.
My heads all over the place.
Day two of POETRY JO’S THREE DAY CHALLENGE
So, here is the challenge,
For this challenge you need to really explore your grandest dreams for your future. We are talking wild, big, bigger and biggest. Money is no obstacle and we live in a perfect world. What is your wildest dream?
Okay wow! This is tough. The first thing that goes running through my mind, is I want power and to be a success. In fact I want to be one the most successful woman ever. How would I achieve this? I would be able to engage with different types of people. I would learn and study about anything I stumble across that interests me. I have the scene from the movie ‘ Gorilla’s in the mist’ in my head for some reason
I want that kind of power and freedom to experience the world in all it’s wonder. I want to make a positive impact on the world. I do. I’m sick of messing up. I’ve done that for over 15 years of my life and it is time to change.
I want to be happy. Truly happy. Happiness that comes from within. Apparently that is the only way to find it. How? I’m getting there. Society demands me to look externally for happiness.
So yeah. I may travel the world. In fact in my perfect world ;me, my daughter, my husband to be and my cat Tatiana and my Mum would all come on an amazing journey travelling the world.
I like to look good. So, I guess it would be cool to have the opportunity to buy what I wanted:
I can see this getting boring rather quickly. The holiday bit I don’t. I believe there is so much quality and positivity and happiness to be found when you are in a place outside your comfort zone. I would still want to work hard and enjoy my holidays.
I thought about life and death. I don’t know. Would it be my perfect world to see my loved ones who have passed?
Would knowing what happens to me when I die make me happy?
If I truly want happiness and I do! then I might not like what I find out and that would make me sad. I like a bit of mystery. I like kind of hoping that unicorns and fairies and goblins could exist. I want to know that when people die -young and old that they are happy.
In my perfect world I want everyone to be happy, no wars – none of that. The thing is there is no perfect. How can I understand and feel happiness if I have never known sadness. This goes for all emotions. My experiences as hard and difficult and amazing as they have been have led me to this point in my life where I am creating my own happiness. I have character because of my experiences. A perfect world would not fit with who I am. Who I am becoming.
I may have gone off topic here. I don’t have all the answers to end war. It would be interesting to have the power to create peace among people and see how that plays out. I am kind of playing some God then. I don’t think I want the kind of power that inhibits others freedom.
I want freedom and power to be the happiest and most successful person I can be. I want to protect my family and pets.
I want to write more, read more, do more. Live more. In my perfect world there is one thing that I can guarantee : nobody would know what an animal tastes like except for animals. People would not need the taste for beef, eggs chicken. leather bags, snake skin, fur coats, ivory.. I’m not perfect but I’ve educated myself with what people- what humanity does to animals. There is a documentary I implore anyone who ever reads this to watch.It will change your views forever. here is the link EARTHLINGS
My wildest dreams and my perfect world are located in the real world.
Does that make me a too much of a realist?
The fantasy of want is usually much better than the reality version in my experience.
That’s it. Day two down. Take on the challenge. It is very enlightening . Roll on day three. POETRYJO’S THREE DAY CHALLENGE DAY TWO LINK,