Blog Archives

What a Keeper

Once you’ve been knocked about and taken a couple of punches to the face DO NOT run after your partner and console him and say ‘We will work it out’

Do not have sympathy for his anger/ low self-confidence issues and his ‘justified’ reasons. Just because he got bullied in the army, it does not  give anyone the excuse to abuse someone.

Don’t kind of) move in weeks into knowing the guy/gal

Drinking may seem like fun at the time but if you wake up and you take a good look around you and see the house is a tip/ filth everywhere, and you are a neat freak. 

Don’t offer to stay and help sort out the house

don’t allow yourself to be manipulated into ‘liking’ his sexual fetishes. If you feel dead inside while you are screwing, then it may be a sign that you are not in a relationship with healthy sexual boundaries.

Don’t use all your money to keep him going

Don’t stop looking after yourself – if you love to wear makeup. Don’t stop. If he loves your hair up, don’t stop wearing it down sometimes

Don’t fall pregnant 5 weeks into the relationship.

Do not allow yourself to be coerced into taking your on/off partner with you to get an Abortion. He will make you feel like a murderer for the remainder of your days with him.

Don’t start drinking heavily after the Abortion and sleep with on/off ex days after the abortion -you may just fall pregnant again.

Do not feel you have to take the blame for the reason he can’t keep hold of a job/ house/ or pay the bills- this might lead you to taking him and his two son’s( who he sees on weekends) to set up bunk beds in the living room  and use your your one bedroom cottage as a ‘family home’.

If you take a serious overdose and your partner does not seek help in the 4/5 days you are unconscious -it is not a good enough excuse to say he knows ‘First aid’ and didn’t feel the need to ring A & E.

If he knows you have an eating disorder and he starts to call you ‘affectionate’ names such as ‘elephant feet’ – you will probably feel shit about yourself and rate yourself a zero.

If your cat won’t leave your side and growls and runs under the bed every time she senses your partner’s presence – Your cat/dog/pet might be onto something.

If you want to get married and your partner is already married but separated and has no money to afford a divorce– maybe you need to assess your priorities

Don’t drink and take drugs or benzos – you will probably black out and stories about you being violent may crop up.

If you want to move and get out of a room and your partner blocks the way, don’t cower away

Don’t let your partner threaten to make you homeless if you don’t buy him a new car, because you apparently lost the keys to the car. You then find the ‘lost’ car keys in his son’s drawers, after you have bought the car,with your student finance money.

If you need to have micro surgery on your arm after your partner smashes your arm into a double glazed window. Don’t allow him to stay with you at the hospital, especially when the doctor wants a private word with you and you only

If you suddenly start losing all your friends and ignore their advice then you are probably firmly  tangled into your partner’s web.The predator’s  rules rule. You are more likely to believe your friends are false and affirm you are not likeable.

If you have an argument on Christmas eve, when you are both drunk and you black out, and then find yourself in a cell on Christmas day. Don’t just believe your partner’s version of events and what he tells the police.

If your partner keeps on making you homeless. DO NOT  write emails back and forth begging him to let you come home and begging him/her to love you. It is a mind game. One of many that your partner chooses to control you. rendering you weak and inferior

If you are in a crowd with people socialising don’t look at your partner. He may give you looks like what you are saying is stupid,  it may make you stop talking because you think that his manner and expression is what every one else is thinking.

If your partner threatens that if you ever try to leave him he will make sure your child will be taken away from you – you need to do some serious thinking

If you are arguing and he punches you in the stomach when you are 3 months pregnant – think about the life inside you and what his motives are for punching you when your baby is growing.

If you go out and come back home and you get the silent treatment. Don’t fall into the trap of asking him what is up with him. He may use this as an excuse to throw you around and accuse you of flirting/ kissing another guy/s. It may also give him the excuse to ‘punish’ you sexually.

If your mother sees red every time his name is mentioned or when they meet up -maybe your Mom has a good reason. Ask her.

The first time you meet his mom and have a girlie natter over coffee and his own mother warns you not to give up your home and questions you about his drinking habits. She may be telling you something – In fact this is a BIG RED WARNING SIGN THAT THIS MAY NOT TURN OUT WELL.

If he sits in a corner rolling his eyes while you are in labour screaming and grunting and pushing your baby out of you -he is possibly the biggest dick ever.

Don’t tell him he has a small dick when you are drunk. You will probably pay for it somewhere down the line. Mental abuse is pretty potent.

If you have to stay in hospital for longer than necessary due to mental/ physical health issues and he won’t leave your side -not even to brush his teeth or take a shower- he may just be worried someone will want to talk with you.

If he has to leave your side to feed your cat and the midwife asks you questions about your relationship. Talk to her!

If you are afraid to leave him with your child,or even for him to hold your baby -trust your instincts. Something is probably seriously wrong with this relationship

If you are advised to put your surname on your child’s birth certificate -maybe ask why. Someone may be trying to tell you something

If you keep on overdosing regularly in the relationship. Perhaps you are not happy and need to think about your options.

If you find your partner talking to  other girls on-line and leaving the laptop wide open for anyone to see – you are been played and there is some serious mind fucking going one.

If you have given up your home and have had to find a new home, seven months pregnant, because you have been thrown out AGAIN – perhaps this partner doesn’t give a shit.

If your partner lets you do most of the painting in your new home  and carry most of the shopping bags in the latter stage of your pregnancy – this says a lot about his character and his views on how he sees females.

If you are watching the ‘X factor’ with him and Nicole Sherzinger comes on in dancing and singing a provocative dress and he slams his beer down and starts shouting, that she deserves to be raped, No child of his will be allowed to dress like that- RUN!

If he puts his other two sons before your child -this too says a lot about his character and possibly what he thinks about the female gender.

If you splurge out on loads of gifts for his birthday,. say you get him a watch with the names of his children and the date of  each of their birth dates engraved on the back. When you present him with his gifts, and if all he has to say is ‘you got S’s birth-date wrong’ -He is a cunt.

If you are in the worst place mentally and physically and are finding it hard to cope when he is around. You carry on drinking too much when you are around him and have another blackout. You may wake up in a cell again and be told you need a lawyer.

Why? Because your partner may have said you assaulted your child and shook her. Then he goes  to seek legal advice the next day to try and get full parental responsibility over your child-  due to your poor mental health:it is time to get your armour on and prepare for battle.

If social services become involved and it looks like he is losing the battle and he agrees with social services to have your child adopted at 12 weeks old. Try hard not to pay a sniper to take him out.

If you get your child back after 16 months of fighting social services and your ex-partner -and he then wants nothing to do with your child ever! THANK THE BASTARD  for finally doing something positive in the entire relationship.



Protection for the compassionate

” You’re not like me, Scott. You are not like any other agent,I’ve ever known, your weight is your heart”– the whisperer -‘I am pilgrim’ by Terry Hayes

What this quote means is, that a person whose weight is  in his/her heart, means they are compassionate.

Compassion in a world of hatred, greed and war is often looked at as a  weakness.

I relate to this quote not because I am some hard core mercenary, as “fun” a career path as it seems.

I wear my heart on my sleeve. I’ve been hurt -countless times because of my heart.

  • Some people are aces
  • Some people are clubs
  • some people  are diamonds

I can de program my mind and harden myself.  I won’t do that. Compassion is a gift. It is an art.

I’m sure all you compassionate people will agree.

Unfortunately, in order to safeguard ourselves so that people won’t exploit our compassion, we need to show it in less obvious ways.

Who would try and back stab you ?

Any one who sees something in you that they haven’t realised or found in themselves.

  • Friends
  • family
  • colleagues
  • partners

You are even more of a threat if your inner qualities are  expressed  and reflected on what people see on the outside. It’s a competitive world out there.

I have learnt to not take bullshit from people.

I have struggled for years questioning why certain people are hostile or go out of their way to lap up any compliments I dish out but when it comes to bigging me up or supporting me – all I can hear are the tumbleweeds.

I know that I am not alone in this feeling.

So how can we be compassionate and protect ourselves?

Be compassionate to yourself first. A lot of people will be

have  around you according to what they need and what they feel.

Be aware.

Your greatest threat can be dressed as your greatest allies.

Save your compassion for those who will truly appreciate it. I’ve only just started learning about how I can use my compassion without feeling left abused, drained and not acknowledged.

You will never be an equal with someone who sees you as a threat and who won’t treat you as their equal.

Their actions will reveal their agenda.

Life challenge on a soundtrack

 

I’m putting on my armour – mere mortal that I am and,

for the next week preparing for battle with all things to do with organising a funeral for next Wednesday.

I remember standing in  my gran’ s room for 9 hours -maybe more . My Ma is super religious and she was telling my Gran to go to the light- just walk to it. She was telling her that she was ready for her to leave.

‘Leave – I let you go’

I don’t know if I’m sick and twisted,I mean we all deal with grief in our own ways but, I had this occurring thought that-my Gran wanted to sit up and look at my Ma and in a demonic voice go:

” There is no fucking light. Give me water, feed me.   I’m in pain – at the very least give me a dose of morphine, you inhumane bastards”

My ma kept on asking where my ( dead) Grandpa and Aunt were. Why were they taking so much time to collect Gran to take her to heaven?

Sarcasm got the best of me – I was thinking ‘who in their right mind would come back to this shit hole?’

If I went to  a country and got food poisoning or a strange illness. I would not go back to that place because of my previous association with the place.

72 hours.

That is how long it took her to go.

Here is my biggest thought. It’s not pretty and it’s highly unsentimental.

I think; because my ma was ready to say goodbye that is why Gran is dead.

No, I’m not saying she killed her. There are many laws blurred with the assisted dying law. I am pro for it only, if it’s not dressed up as the blessing and will of a God.

I think if we had nursed her back to health -given her water, kept her in the hospital, fed her etc…

She would still be here.

She would still be the vacant shell of the woman she once was -living in a bed,24/7, surrounded by iconic pictures and statues of some white Jesus,who happened to be a shoddy carpenter but a damn good healer/shaman/ trickster – IDK figure that out.

The doctor wouldn’t give her pain relief because she didn’t look like she was in pain.

She had vascular dementia and Alzheimer  – her body couldn’t respond -neither could  her mind.

Just because she was wasn’t thrashing about -making a nuisance of herself;

Does that mean she wasn’t in pain?

If It took me 72 hours of

no food, water, people looking at me crying, and me with a rosary bead around my neck,  to hopefully, slip away

“peacefully”

I can assure you – I would be in severe pain – if not physically,  then most certainly mentally.

I choose the  battles to fight.

It doesn’t matter what I believe because the fact is: she is not here.

My  own beliefs or even my daughter’s theory that she is ‘ hopping from one aeroplane to the next travelling the world ‘ or whatever.

It’s a  comfort to me that I can’t see her in that care home -wasting away.

I don’t know what possessed me to do it!

I’m analytical and an observer -It was about 10 pm on Saturday night. We were all tired. Gran was awake- not dying …..   ( if this comes across as disrespectful – please bear in mind,I have my own beliefs about religion and dignity in dying)

My Ma had fallen asleep on the cushion part of the bed, my gran was lying in her bed and, hanging on the wall in the background, was a picture of his lord’s son  ,  most merciful saviour.

I have the picture  on my phone.

It’s a picture that shows that humans suffer.  God’s don’t move from their paintings and show mercy.

If that were true there would be NO suffering in the world.

The picture shows a dutiful daughter , exhausted and full of love, refusing to let her mother die alone and scared,

watching over them is some picture of the son of a God doing- fuck all.

I won’t put this picture on here out of respect for my family.

It is an image that clearly expresses my inner conflict about my love and duty towards my family and my own beliefs about life and beyond…..

I particularly like my daughter’s belief that my Gran is rocking it on Jupiter.

That is where I would go – screw heaven!

They’ve denied entry for this amount of time. Sure they can hang on for a bit longer.

I’m going travelling . I don’t need money.

Anyway,

The challenge is not only a blog challenge but it’s about challenging  m

yself to move forwards

Today is all about:

choosing  makeup for my gran to wear – she’s being cremated( she wanted to be buried),   choosing flowers, travelling around the countryside picking up various legal documents with my gran’s social security number and evidence that she is dead.

My gran has been treated by the government with more respect now she is dead,than when she was alive.

I sound angry and bitter.

I’m not. I’m glad she’s not suffering.

I hate hypocrisy and injustice and I speak my mind often, especially  when I  care about something or someone.

I fell out with my tutor about my TMA 1  script because of our different perspectives on the homelessness crisis.

Come on ,

This is my character.

I will be 40 years old in 4 years time. I’m set in my ways just like jelly.  :D😁😁😁😁🤔🤔

I can learn new tricks if tempted 😉

In my defence,

 I  know I speak my mind and heart.

It’s not always appropriate but I do mean well. I love fiercely. I am there for my mother until her last breath. I have her back. I will lay my life down for her.  Many times I’ve manned up and apologised (to people)if I went overboard  and said let’s agree to disagree.

That’s fucking dramatic – ha ha!…. let’s do this!

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 7 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 E-book

Add a 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 down these steps in every way.

The moment to call it a day

This draws an outline forever 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 tightrope 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 lifetime’s 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 promising future 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.

 

 


 

I don’t want to be in your soul tribe

I DON’T WANT TO BE A PART OF YOUR SOUL TRIBE

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 we 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.
Fer 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
Do we still choose to believe in fake news?
People love to give blow jobs on other people’s 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.
Especially when people aren’t watching.Open mic night’s expressions should be honoured by doing our words -over and over.
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
Realise
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 have Resting 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 relevant 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 lowkey.
we are all fam.
I’m not going to say it’s 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 an 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 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 go to person to get the latest scoop on someone else in life detention.
It’s 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 makeup
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 ourselves on our ethics- to embrace the variety of our culture.
The irony is what we say and do,
What day we are going to do.
And what we do when confronted with someone who is different and not facile to 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. She’s 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 be reborn .
I answer to nature not people.

Misfittingly beautiful

It’s always the unexpected people I’ve come across in my life who I often wonder about.
The ones who I can’t forget ..

If I described even one of these people to someone..
They may think-
Well, survival of the fittest.
Hindsight makes me see that we can’t all be saved .
We all have our own path to tread.
But what if we could have done..
More…
More !?
Where does less or more stop?

The ones who touched my life so briefly ;
Often
I imagine what happened to them or what where their journey led them to before their final destination.

The people who have had a
an impact on my views are usually those passing or perhaps “insignificant” people who’ve brought out the best in me & who taught me something about humanity .
The humanity I was born with.
It’s not taught .
Humanity is our first grasp with the lessons of life.
Our first test in grasping what it means to us to be human.

Dedicated to those who helped me realise that my core is good & helped me to develop my own humanity & reflect on my own savagery.

We are beautiful misfits.
We are misfittingly beautiful.

LUCIDA

The need in me is to create. What?
Anything – it is all up for debate.
I’ve been away far too long from my usual stream of conscious ramblings.
Doing important, official work in the real world. I don’t mind but my urge to write ding dongs in my head like Big Ben , pinching at my nerves like little crablings.
Walk sideways, it’s fun .I don’t mind. To not feel able to put thought to paper is a pain that lunges at me with pincers.
Threatens to cut, alter my composite chemistry that aids my synapses to hop from one tufty cloud to the next .
I’ve fallen off this heady tuft of higher ground. Landed in a dank, damp, dark marshy bog – I look around me and I see my only flight back home is sinking in the mud.
Oh, see how much I have wept.
Humpty dumpty had a far easier break. I’m burning up – I’m spilling out my innards from every orifice. I’m burning up a fever, tactile sensations- uncomfortably scrambled.
If I could just sit up and inhale a breath. I’m tired.
Tired.
I am sick of heading for the routine spine bash.
Dreary Dystopic drones in uniform hedge all around me.
I know I am ambushed.
Spare this loaf. Save some for later . Don’t be Greedy.
We all need some form of energy to buzz us into a land of fantasy.
This existence is not all it’s cracked up to be.
Necessary to be a part of, I agree .
I need to chill-out. Don’t you see?
I have to have an outlet – that allows me to just, Let me be me!
I promise I won’t hide from my civic duty. You don’t need to contain me in a fryer with other slices of chips off the old block.
I am patriotic.
I understand my need to be part of the solution.
Eyes rise up to the skies- Pink tufts, hues colour me in , a chance for wizardry to occur. I promise I won’t become unwell again .
I won’t lose myself entirely that I become an invalid to humanities true cause. Resolve for my Absolution!
Before you take that roller pin to my head. I’m already malleable – ready to rise . See how blanched I am – covered in fine ,white, earthly grounded flour.
See, look! Pat me down.
Check my left pocket.
A quill.
Check my right pocket.
ink .
Together I can re write this story – or create a captivating ending for everyone – I can whisk you away from a life so dour and sour.
Temporarily of course. Just for a fleeting moment – I can change your wooden hearts and make them beat again.
Feel, breathe.
You can be Lucida.
Fetch me that parchment – just by that oak tree. Three combined ingredients are all that we need.
No dark spells. My intentions are pure.
My need is to make you see an alternative style of Living – a tiny bit clearer.
Imagination does get rusty when we don’t use it.
We can use some of that oil from the this-worldly fryer to lubricate , intoxicate.
Envision any place you want to go that feeds into your happiness
How do you want me to start?
Once upon a time, we abandoned our traditional milieu to head to a place, where we all could flex our buns in a manner of straight out wackiness.
I have my cure!

Conscious heart

I just wanna be free from this heartache.
I don’t hardly know you and you bewitched me, yeah you bewitched me alright.

I know I can go acting all crazy – I have nothing but my insight.
Bliss bliss – just wanna feel this bliss.
I got scared I felt like I got bypassed – missed -dissed.
I covered my true emotions from you cos I was afraid you were gonna reject me .
See, I didn’t know…..
I didn’t know.

I don’t hardly know you and you bewitched me – yeah, you bewitched me alright.
Didn’t mean to cause no fright .
Connections were made when I felt your beat – it moved my feet.
You got me dancing – all I wanna do – all I wanna do –
is dance – feel these beats – merge , combine.
sublime – is that truly a crime?

I don’t hardly know you and you bewitched me – you bewitched me,alright.
I just wanna be free of this heartache.
Checked every lotion I got to remedy this potion.

Stuck in reverse.
My heart is not well versed.
All I wanna do is reach out – yeah, reach out.
I keep getting rejected.
Emotions are not my rationale.
I consume triple portions –
I am about to implode.

All I wanna do is reach out – yeah reach out to you.
I just wanna be free,
wanna be free,
free to dance and merge our beats.
Sensations to make me feel, something resembling a full pie chart -a work almost incomplete.
I know I can go acting all crazy. I have nothing but my insight.
This is my soul bared- naked as the day you undressed me.
I came to you.
Yeah, I came to you; bare, vulnerable.
I just wanted you to know – I wanted you to know .
I ……
I….
My heart can’t be reasoned with. I’m breathing.
It is real.
Not cognitive dissonance.
Laid myself naked and bare.
Rejected.
Rejected.
I just wanna be free from this heartache…

Sunny disposition’s shadow.

 

Harried. Hurried. Life pulls me into its vortex.
Tears drip, sealing up presents protected in pink wrapping paper.
She is growing too old, too quickly . Nauseating -left sickly.
Guilt erodes my cavernous mind -echoes dart all around.
So triste. If only I could plug in a pair of earphones so you can hear my heart’s melody- a melancholic cacophony of unequal distributed sound.
Courage,
bravery.
A new day and it’s time to celebrate.
Cake and food and balloons to check off the list.
Snacks, goats cheese quiche. They don’t do a version called hashish.
Khaleef.
Relief.
Slide my cell phone out, to check how many miles I’ve clocked on my fitness app. Gravity does an honourable job of conforming to what I’ve been told it should do when my phone disconnects from my hand.
Shattered glass. I scream:
No, not the screen!
Smoke ablaze, allow me to atone for my karmic debt. Soul let me be clean.
God theory – Spiritual . Analytical – my faith is still reciprocal.
Hope to make a punch in the fruit aisle. Grapes ,peaches, grab a sack of bananas.
The educated children won’t remember the birthday girl if we don’t get 22 packets of individually wrapped Haribo sweets for them to take home.
Sugar rush -sweeten the crush . No huge party – with a whole class invited to practice nurse and doctors with up to date human body scanners.
Time.
Pressure.
Stress.
Masters of writing .Deadlines.
Party time or Mommy will get stuck with the craziest fine.

Sunshine?
Rain – divine. Only when wrapped up in a duvet in my precious bed – liken it to someone’s favourite merlot wine.
Bus. Wind. Howling and scowling. A face – a perfect reflection of the weather.
Dentistry. High priority. Teeth fixed.
Smile and show off your invisible vulnerability.
Pictures dating back to the 1920’s – Man with 1000’s of vintage cameras has a hobby, he can unfreeze time and develop older pictures into negatives. It’s all about integrity.
Pass them down to your future generations – remember those who came before us. The ones we inherited our addictions, maledictions.
Nose catches a whiff- a sense of a DNA code .
Imagination.
Frozen Snapshot!
Talking to myself -creating characters in a place of puffed up, cloudy mindfulness. Not so sure that inherited genes fall under the category of serious afflictions.
Not crazy perhaps a mere case of unharnessed creativity.
What is so wrong with riding on an elated bull of mimicry?
Smokescreen – less hazy. £100 bill to fix my technological , grave -sadistic error in clumsiness.
PC world.
Would you rather pay £1000 for a new mac laptop or £49 ?
Ex-navy man, stop skirting around the gravy line, drop it on me like an anchor. In my world money is your pay packet. All I have is a sense of running out of time.
Rabbits are late. Missed the date , bounced cheque couldn’t secure my delivery bundle, all inclusive with the hottest corporate communication and logistics stork delivery enterprise.
Maybe next year I will miss the pill.
Phones for you.
For me?
For you!
Warranty does not cover intoxicated phones.
Why did you have to get giddy and go bonkers at the mention of a few smartie infused cocktails, for a party happening at 4pm ?
This is festive stuffing prepped for nightmares. 1000’s of drones willing to commit mass suicide – I don’t think bee heaven has parties streamed with foam slides and glow in the dark stick tones.
Deaf – no jam.
Talking in my ear. Three wise men chasing a star .
All I need is one competent man.
Pass me a fan. English turns into piggish.
Yes, the laptop is exactly what I need.
Writer? -one of the things I do.
Student debt. This mute starts to laugh .
Their bombastic moves to persuade me leaves me with the taste of lead. I’m tempted to walk out of here as a woman converted to the Amish.
My specs are more concerned with software.
Microsoft,
SoundCloud.
Insurance?
Don’t make me use my collateral.
Figures ruminating around my mind – 400 – 500.
Add-ons.
More fad songs.
Inside, Hurricane Matthew remnants rattle Mount cranium. Hurtling through the air – a cow passes by me in flight, with a courteous: moo.
This is my despair.
The carefree and serene look is the only bargain I am looking for.
Time is zig zagging up behind me in crocodile form. He has that tick-tocking swag -his tail -swish swashes-ear drums deafened.
Momentary paralysis.
Mentally confused.
Mindstate? Ready to light the cannon ball.
Scream: terrorist.
I am that bemused.
I will give you £60 worth of Morrisons grocery shopping if you stop selling to a seller – trying to service a servicer
Yadda yadda yadda. Green is grasser.
Too much fodder . Where’s the verbal shredder?
Noise pollution.
Recycle your position.
You can choose to not tick: employment occupation – Ass wiper.
Sit down. Take it all in. Funds ready to transfer. Card amped to stick it in and spread that green cum from within.
No protection.
Dirty laundering.
Hand wash only.
I’m thinking my accepted friend V has an addiction .
I satisfied him last night. Friends do that caring thing.

All week I have had him in and out. He doesn’t even remember most of his hits.
I spent most of Wednesday washing out bloody sheets, stained with a not so virginal hole.
Sinful statement – let’s sing a hymn for her cheery soul.
Disease seems not far from our midst.
I need to contain it and stop passing it on and encouraging sharing.
Vee – I don’t want to lose you to a pair of sharp tools.
Poodle-haired lady bitch behind me – tit tittering.
Leave empty-handed. Priorities in order.
Not High street fashionable but then again I have always been drawn to disorder.
Time to leave consumer society.
I’ve already taken a shot to the shoulder with over a hundred pound bill.
Narcotic.
Alcohol arises from its slumber. Coughing,cunning and conniving.
Remember next Thursday. All day Workshops on how to handle stress, delivered to four back to back classes of teens in year 10.
Safety zone. A place I have to call my own.
Rant. communicate.
SURPRISE!
Look at her face – full of delight. Illuminati – unbelievers.

The gods must be crazy

When chaos has erupted ready to engulf all that we are ;
Death will raise a fury to sustain all mortals with life.
The scales must never meet
For then only foe succeeds it’s ally.

  • the God’s must be crazy or a lie.
    #justafewwords before I die.