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Annagram haiku

Who

is this deity of mine ?

Know no worries ,let each demon grieve earth

Privilges of wanton entities rivals?

Word prompt

  • wisdom

  • Knowledge

  • Power

The authentic order

Be authentic 👏and keep writing , expressing yourself, pushing out of your comfort zone, getting back on the wagon , dealing with regrets with advocates/friends.

No person’s life is perfect. Many days a tough and unbearable however there are days when we can push ourselves to places we never imagined seeing or experiencing.

Challenges make us stronger even when they feel like they are destroying us at the time; albeit second, moment, hour, weeks, months…

Recovery has no limits-

if you have hope or can find a match or a flint or even be thrown a lifeline of light to help you guide yourself back to shore.
Don’t be ashamed to use the lighthouse. A metaphor 😉

I’ve leant on many people – strangers and family alike. People who were there short-term or long-term.

Not everyone is 100 percent helpful. Learn what you can from your experiences- good and bad . Set your boundaries. It takes a life time of changing them and setting them.

Don’t knock yourself for having to hit your head against a wall trying to learn the same lesson multiple times –
The aim is to keep your eye on the long goal.
👏👏👏
Have hope.
Be as educated as you can on yourself
Use others to lean on without abusing their time
Learn to take accountability for your life
And live.
Live.
Live
Drop down,
Stumble,
Fall if you you must..
Sleep

Just get back up and remember to look after yourself. Basics – hair , teeth , bath , clean clothes.
Open the curtains, make your bed even if you get back into it 5 mins later, get out walking even for 5 mins.
Feel whatever you feel and notice it and listen to others even if you want to hurt in & disagree…
That’s it from me.

Prompt the order of the dog

Tatiana – an ode

Today ,I wasn’t prepared though my gut knew better than to be not blase but scared.

A fleeting hope that the healers could give you a boost

The hardest decision was to accept that your time was up & I had to cut you loose.

I’m numb, guilty, wished I had you for a few more nights.

Allowing your sorrowful suffocating soul seconds more would add to this punishing plight & dreams of death – faeces, dead babies, deer, filthy flies and discarded driftwood souls drunk on flotsam

Waivered inner stengh; sight to ignite a courageous carcass of hope

Never mind , my Tatiana. You breathe free , unleashed from the God’s who wouldn’t let you rest.

You were too remarkable to ignore.

Your status has soared

A wing span of your choice.

These words don’t do justice

I love you

This is your eulogy

An ode to your life with no apology.

So cold,

so sweet ,

so fair…

Life and death
The mortal twins

The janus of the past , the future
You the triplet was my greatest present.

Family matters

The globe is always spinning and today we stop off in India.
SECRET TO HAPPINESS:  Appreciate the gift of family
TRADITION: Raksha Bandhan 
DATE : Full moon day in the Hindu month of Shraven ( mid July- August)
CELEBRATED: in India
This might sound like a bit of a contradictory post  on how to find happiness but happiness is not  about throwing yourself onto a bed of roses,  as aesthetically pleasing an image that that conjures.
Family is a bit of a broad topic.
I should know! I have two large families on both sides. I have a half-sister and step sister who I don’t have a strong relationship with. They both lives in South Africa, I live in the U.K. and well so much time has gone by.
My Dad and his wife and, my two nieces whom I don’t know, live there too. My Dad turned his back on me a long time ago.
 No pity.
From the age of 7, I knew that I did not take  any priority in his life. It was the same for my step sister.  When my Dad remarried to my stepmother -30 odd years ago  – they made some pact that the past is the past and for their own happiness; they would forget about everyone and everything to start  afresh ,build a new family and be happy.
I get this.
 There is is that old saying : ‘we can’t choose our family’.
 My Nan on my Dad’s side promptly reminded me of this yesterday.
I’ve always thought no matter how much my Dad’s side of the family, in all their numbers, hate my Mom’s side,(now than I am an adult they  have stopped pretending to like me and actively shun me too) in all of this: I  learned that the bond I have with my Nan could never be broken.
She looked after me from the age of 8-15 years . My Mom was ill and in hospital for many years. My Dad and Nan (mainly when she drank) and my step mother always put my mother down. It has taken a long time but me and my Mom have dealt with the past and  have a remarkable relationship now.
Yes, we all have strong personalties in  our families that clash. That is a given. Who else knows us so well than the people from past? the people we grew up with?
The thing is that not all of us were our real selves when in our past. Drugs and illness may have hid our personalities.
Neglect -physical and emotional can also make a person very confused.
I don’t blame my upbringing for my decisions in the past but I do think it influenced my actions to a degree.
Ultimately, we choose our own path. There are laws that decide 18, 21 or 25 years is the time span long enough to learn and be accountable for our actions. Morally, this may not be something I agree with completely.
I do feel that the adults in our lives (usually family)are our teachers. I’ve been taught good and bad things (in a variety of contexts) from the role models in my life or lack of them. Their absence can also make an impact on how we decipher our way into the world.
Where we decide is our place in the world.
In India, an annual celebration takes place to honour the relationship of brothers and sister- I quite like the English translation of ‘Raksha Bandhan’- ‘ the bond of protection’.
On this day, brothers and sisters come together and celebrate their blood connection and take the time to appreciate one another. The tradition is: that each brother is made  what is called a ‘rhaki’- a bracelet made out of cotton or silk which is tied on the right wrist of every brother- a symbol -of ‘affection’, love’ and ‘protection of love’.
Sisters a given beautiful gifts and  brothers  bless their sisters and promise  to protect their sisters fro the up coming year ahead.
This tradition starts from childhood.
Not everyone has a brother or sister,so other family come from all four globes of the world to unite and keep the tradition up and honour it.
‘Friends come and go’ -we say, but family is always connected to us by blood.
Family
Here’s the the contradictory part of the post.
For most of my life I know that my Nan has always had my back. I know that she is the person who taught me to keep in contact with my own sister and family. I learnt by experience, if we fought, nothing would break the love and bond we have.
I had to make a tough decision yesterday.
A lesson I  possibly learnt from my own fathers absence.
I’m having struggles with my own illness. I am constantly having to fight to have time to be with my Nan
 Her family get jealous by  any time we spend together.  They don’t understand why or how my Mom and Nan  can still have a strong bond and relationship because my Mom is the the ex-wife.
They don’t understand.
In all truth, they may be called ignorant.
My Mom and I have been ill for many years and have been ostracised for this.
We are in a better place these days.
My Nan went on holiday to see my Dad and sister and my nieces in November for three months in 2015. In that time,my Mom,my partner and I have worked together in harmony to make sure our wedding day will be unforgettable.
My Nan has a strong personality. This usually reveals the trait of one who needs to control. Control, unfortunately,  brings out the worst in people.
 I know this from my own past experiences in trying to orchestrate everything and everybody in my life.
I was manipulative – I had to be to get what I wanted!
 My Nan is no different from others who seek to control – in her tactics- to get her way.
My Nan is a good woman- with flaws. The biggest is making me feel guilty for everything.
Yes, she looked after my daughter for 16 months while social services were in my life. I got rid of the toxic people in my life, I bucked up my ideas and fought and I proved that I am a good a enough  mother (to social services, family, judges – and the whole unwanted entourage that came with socials services)
I have done my time.
I don’t know how many times I can say I am thankful to my Nan, how many gifts I can buy her.
I do know that I won’t make to feel indebted to her for the rest of my life.
She looked after me too. She has looked after many of her families children over the years.
Always feeling used, under-appreciated by every parent of whichever child she was caring for. Be it a few hours or a few years.
This doesn’t come across as a happy post but it is. I know it is a long post. Please try to bear with me.
 My Nan has been back from South Africa  for less than two weeks and harmony has gone out the window. I don’t think she can get her head around the fact that we have managed to sort our wedding with my ‘weak’ ‘fragile minded’ mothers help. It feels like, to me and my partner, that all we have received is little digs. Small, but enough to make an impact.
I  had to make the decision to leave her with her family.
I deserve happiness.
We all do.
I’m not willing to be drawn into parlour games:
Comparisons of how well off and how much better my Dad’s side of the family is.
Or,
how she has to go on another holiday to get over the time she had in South Africa.
A lot of negatives were said.
No positives.
 I love her. No buts.
I do also have to put my happiness and my daughters and my partner and my Mom’s happiness before hers.
She has a lot of support from her family. Well, she does until she has had a fight with them. Sound familiar?
 Thing is I’m fed up of it.
DRAMA!
 Last night I was so upset and drained, I couldn’t do anything I enjoy doing like  being with my family, reading, blogging, reading blogs
I want a peaceful life as possible.
I will not allow the past to repeat itself with certain ways in how certain family members made an impression on me. I will gladly take responsibility for anything good and bad that happens while I parent my child and any children we have.
There will be no playing one of the other.
“DAISY! (you cry) WHERE IS ALL THE HAPPINESS IN THIS POST?”
Good question.
Please bear with me, I have a message and a task – one I need to challenge myself to do too.
 Can you think of something special you used to do with someone in your family?
My Nan and I devour books and love literature and writing. She inspired me to write and pushed me to develop any hidden talent. This post wouldn’t be here- crystallised, if it weren’t for her rooting for me over the years.
Is there some kind of meaningful ritual you could create to celebrate and strengthen your unique bond?
I would love to make it a regular occasion to got to the theatre with my Nan or  join a book /writing club together with her.
“HOW ARE YOU GOING TO DO THIS DAISY? YOU HAVE REJECTED YOUR NAN IN FAVOUR OF YOUR OWN HAPPINESS?”
True, for the next 12 weeks I need peace and harmony.
Like I said before, friends may come and go, our family are always connected to us.
Time to put my big boots on.
MESSAGE: Never forget the safe haven your family members created – no matter how flimsy and dysfunctional. They were doing what they could with the best resources they had to navigate their own path.
Some of my happiest memories are those with my Nan.
Never forget that family can be the source of some of life’s happiest moments. Relationships do break down but I have a strong bond with my Nan and in time I hope we can reconnect.
I was going to attempt to make amends after the wedding.
No, today. I will make amends. She will take my daughter to ballet and tap as she does most weeks and we will all meet up afterwards  and go and sort out the wedding cake as planned,
 I need peace and harmony for the next 12 weeks. It doesn’t mean I love her any less.  Last nights decision was made because I only know what is best for that moment. I have not closed the door on any of my family for good.
Today I make amends. Life is too short.  Always try and keep a small space reserved in your heart for wiser times in your life and you will find peace and happiness.

The stars of clarity

3 second freestyle writing that needs to work on all the me’s 😂😂).

Starting with the sun.

If the sun began with me
If tomorrow starts without me
I’ll live or die

Who will know but me?

The dawn would surely see
Reverential potential

That if the stars began within  me
I’d allow them all rights to copy my vapid words.

Absolute in my vindication
The globe entirely could desecrate me.I don’t follow humans decree of mother nature’s rules

Usually..
A habitual sign of creative apathy

Nevertheless tomorrow will start- again
Infallibly

Mad woman

Flying woman

No one knew of the flying woman

No one knew if she would fall

No one knew she hovered above

Watching those who stumbled on the cobbles after painting the town red hoping for a bloody breast to fill their stomache one night more.

Free range chickens -motherless

Hoping that no proud rooster would make an early morning call

For one night peace could be theirs thanks to the flying woman they found spread out

Life is mostly forlorn.

Second life -Mort tell et tea

* This Borderline poem was written a week before I attempted to take my life (again).I ended up in Critical Care in a coma for 5 days & in ICU for a further 6 days. I was discharged from hospital on the 21st of May 2020 *

Please, make sense of reality.

Use a stream of consciousness

words to vent,

rant,

rave,

A discovery in recovery

Fathom out sense because words are only as good as the interpreter.


Could add literary success to a Gravatar profile in an ebook

Add few drafts poured into that fulminate crunched up chaos.

This doesn’t invoke a feeling of literary success.

Trying

Struggling to convey all words .

Reciprocated words are often misinterpreted

Misheard

Another attempt to convey these words

Perhaps one person will see this array of affray spread its torment defecating the inner spiral case of the

Mind,

It swirls descends these steps in every way.

The moment to call it a day

This draws an outline forever have to have the last say.

Hear me proclaim

This

Is

My

Life.

Don’t want to carry on living this way

Shame lingers

It overstays — the bailiff texts for rent arrears

Read,

What is laid down?

Listen

I’m not done yet.

Hanging by a thread it’s tethered

Seen many days to identify as weathered

Hanging by a thread

This is my life purpose!

Final chance to meet my fate

Waited for this all my life

A mystery date with a severed soul mate.

Taught & tethered & weathered is this rope

To late

convinced

I’m no tight rope walker.

I’ve become my own word stalker

Shoulda, coulda, woulda arrested these rants before my digress

Covert corner

Wait in this hidden corner.

Evidently I’ve learned that survival is innate.

It ain’t easy to digest the days I’m not blessed to eat from a plate.

keep rising up despite a life times worth of trip-ups.

Until I die

One fine day

I’ll face the final exit of my mortality

I’ll know the truth

Either way it’s gonna end up with a body

Fatality.

Subconsciously know why I feel

It’s called humanity

What do I know about that damp dark corner entertaining souls I’ve yet to meEt?

Going to have to wait for a future promising chance we haven’t dreamt of taking yet.

If I lose all memory

Forget those words

soggy, wet, lost to another realm of the bereft

Lest I forget.

I write to recover.

Be happy or die trying.

Simultaneously a resilient species & inconveniently inept

Where SOCS

Where were the people when I needed them

Were they where I left them?

Did the full moon transform them into werewolves

In a warehouse coveted to me?

Why wear the fur of the monstrosity of nature?

Or are humans wary that they need some creature to poach so they can reach the clouds ?

Were this a poem,

A parable of wear and tear

I’d gladly state my animosity wherever it would state:

I’m a human feral.

A token to the lost parade

Share the flag of those who ask where to care and when!

The one’s left behind

  • a unique take on world suicide prevention day *

Who is this lady? She is elderly, yes.

A grandma,a mother a sister, an aunt, a great grandmother.

I don’t know. I have forgotten. Hang on a minute…

Aaah yes there was this one time that I was sat in her house -plush, ‘propre’ , stylish and I couldn’t sleep.

I kept on getting up to go to the cupboard on the far right of la cuisine that housed all the gigantic Cadbury’s chocolate.

I ate and I ate and I ate some more. I always seemed to be able to eat more.

I didn’t it like it when she bought the dark kind. So bitter. So classy, so not me.

But back to la cuisine.

Footsteps pander lightly behind me. I turn and look around and I look into the eyes of a lady with pure class-sans maquillage. This seems to counter my non- class evolved youthfulness. The lady asks me a question ‘Ca Va?

I’m expected to answer with the same ‘ca va.’ but it is something like 3 am in the morning. Obviously ‘ca va’ is not appropriate for this setting.

I don’t know why I can’t sleep, I confess. I’ve shoved a load of pills down my throat in an effort to be like the one whom I shall refer to as the Manic depressive. The lady sits me down and makes me a Sleepytime tisane – . Good herbal shit. We sit at the kitchen table with our ‘Sleepytime’ tea, I can’t remember what we talked about.

I have a habit of forgetting things, you see. It is so frustrating. I go back to bed feeling cared about. Why didn’t I feel grateful then?

No regrets. Have no regrets. Okay. I try not too. I wish I had paid more attention, then maybe I wouldn’t forget so much.

I can hear her laughter in that loud roomy part of my brain, it’s threatened me it will become a real auditory sound that knocks me sideways with fright turning me into a paranoid wreck.

I have to remember that laugh. She used to laugh at my jokes. She loved me. She told me she loved me all the time.

She also loved another – another woman-my mom. Angelic looking, graceful, naive and I don’t know – wonderful?

This lady helped me out with the angelic-looking lady. Yes, I remember, one poignant night, the angelic-looking manic depressive and I had a vicious fight. I took a braai fork to her neck.

I was fucking going out to drink and get strung out on drugs and Miss Manic Depressive could mope in her stupid illness and fuck right off.

Well, she took that big FU literally. We had this stock of prescription pills that could take our local pharmacy out of business – bad joke- that’s why I rely on comedians for such amusements (Omid Djalili and Gabriel Iglesias being two of my favourites ). Nothing like a next-day hangover and a shrill ringing phone to make me grab a handful of downers.

I’m not ready for the sunshine just yet- maybe not ever. The lady on the other end of the phone wants to know if the manic depressive is okay. Of course, she is ok……

I turn over

…but she isn’t.

She is one tunnel turn away from death. I need some Rohypnol and valium and I need t

hat lady on the end of the phone.

She says she is going to get the next one hour flight from JHB airport to Durban and I need to get the manic depressive to a hospital. I don’t have health insurance. I’m 15 years old.

A cocky shit who obviously knows it all but nevertheless in my narked upstate I somehow manage to get the angelic Manic Depressive a space in a run-down public hospital in Africa – in a- I kid you not – broom closet. Sick people were lying on the floors, covered in congealed blood, in the corridors of this hospital. So I count my blessings that we had some type of room and a bed.

The lady meets me at the hospital. It’s touch and go. We are rooting for survival on this one. Black tar leaks down out through a tube from some part of the manic depressive’s body.

Hours pass.

She is okay- stable.

She is in a coma.

The Lady transfers her to a more upmarket private hospital. She has the master card. We spend the night next few days at the Oyster Box hotel – in a chalet. She takes on me and my two cats. Lilac and Mocha- and we all sleep in the same bed united by our love for the angelic manic depressive one.

We don’t know if she is ever going to walk again. I mean it was an overdose with powerful intent. No, pithy cry for help as some believes a suicide attempt is. The angelic manic depressive has a new name angelic, rapid cycler Bipolar.lady in The other lady is my grandma- as you probably have figured out. We go and see her every week. She broke her hip back in Feb 2015 and can’t walk anymore.

Okay… so that happens with a lot of old people. Yeah, but this lady, my grandma has been stripped of her dignity, identity, memories, and she can’t remember she can’t walk. She is stuck on a loop – every few moments she tries to get up and screams in frustration when she can’t. This lady sitting in the middle is my relationship with someone I love who has Dementia and Alzheimer’s.

I know I’m not writing something fucking profound but she means something to me and her family. She is living a world with no faces, no colour and the world speaks another language to her. How is she meant to interpret all this shit?! People talking.

Loudly?

Other elderly people not moving- crying, shouting, fondling themselves to remember that they too can feel.

My Chronic Anorexia 10 stone self could envy my grandma’s current weight. 5 stone if that. She forgets how to eat. Imagine that?

What type of existence is this?

This is where I get political. Let people die with dignity.

I signed up for the campaign years ago. Who is this lady? She is so much more than she looks. She has had a life people probably can’t even dream up and a life where people would also be horrified how she survived such heartache, ( love is the answer here, folks) but for today we can’t go back into the past too much without forgetting. I don’t want to forget, not today. Those two memories I can hang and frame in the gallery of my mind.

They are mine. No one can take them away from me but Alzheimer’s can. Dementia too.

You know what really makes me sick about all this? When a person with these illnesses die, Alzheimer’s and Dementia don’t take the credit. The diagnosis of death is usually a secondary symptom. How twisted and messed up is that?

Does she remember her husband? Where does she go?

I should have been a Neuroscientist or something. I want to know what is going on in her head and fix it. All clichés but they are my clichés for today. Can you believe people are being diagnosed with these maladies at as young as 25 years of age?

I would rather choose to die than have everything taken from me. Would my Grandma say the same? I wish I had asked her.

Me: ‘So Gran, let’s talk about something so morbid as to how you would like to die.. ‘

I’m putting it out there. Me? I don’t want to suffer and I don’t want to feel pain and I don’t want to not be understood. That is not living that is stuck between two perverse worlds. I want my family to pay the ferryman and for him to take the money and take me along the river Styx to E

lysium and let me die with dignity.

Information on the dying dignity campaign http://www.dignityindying.org.uk