You’re still here to stay
You keep my smile a smitten simile
Whether it makes sense
From day to day
That goes by
Needless to say
We’ve had our moments
Better than nuances of the sane
Members of the ministry of love
Not circa 1984.
You’ve grown up
And become a mature man
I’m proud to have in my life
I’m proud to be your lioness
I’m proud you are my king .
Happy birthday, Gareth Edward Holliday.
You are the man who has seen past Every sin.
Sees beauty when others discard me as flotsam on a tide
Tired when my damp tearful matchstick
Yet the flame you ignite remains within
The diamond that bled for more than skin.
Noble , you are , I’ve learnt to trust you.
Happy birthday , Phillipe flop. Every day is a vacation when my eyes spot your baby eyelashes
Daring to look beyond
( encore ) HAPPY BIRYHDAY MON AMOUR!
Falling ( not fallin) books never lie).
It’s a metaphor not smut.
We did it in the kitchen
We did it on the sofa.
We stood like telescopes looking at opposite ends.
Me at the top He at the bottom of the stairs.
We did it to ‘its a wonderful world ’.
Dancing with our opinions Emotions diluted For we couldn’t stay away , solve our woes… Understand!
The geek and the 40 year old welded together by the elements who will die – another day
We did it on the bed. I made the first move
We went to bed intoxicated off lavender Back to back … Is this how intimacy flies ?
No discussion Diss the content Broken up by genres.
Falling books never Li
e A middle Age Crisis
Buy a car
Leave me alone
Good evening heartache
Alexis knew me well. Might as well get used to MisCommunication banging our sound.
snared by tension Bare trap
array causing a future wrinkled frown
. Tangled in an intricate web of love; An angel brightens up these gloomy days
down , heartache. Walking
the green mile
We’ve invested in this framework
To predict we’ll be an over halved statistic
One done day.. Heart ache A roof , Free fall.
Not to diss his holy heart but Wishing I’ll bypass Gods will.
His will Ignores my words anyway…
He can’t bear to look at me.
I hate your nose – it’s bulbous, broken
by his nemesis circa 2017.
It blows. It’s flat. It stinks. It’s fat.
It’s a face he doesn’t want to know.
If he knew how close I am to snubbing him
It will show up in a bloody knife responsible for cutting off his honker.
Noise pollution-snoring slovenly.
I should be asleep!
3am is a bit late for a distorted nose disfigured by his hatred for gluttony
If he hates this nose
If he detests to look at me with an impoverished plea , why won’t you up and leave me?
I need to change!
Don’t we all. Happiness resides in our very own core.
I love you , do what you need to do. Thank God it’s friday.
I’ve gone off fish -is he interested in this snivelly, snotty news?
No, he’s confused.
What do you want if money was unlimited?
There’s not limit to further your happiness
Depart from those dirty, tinted glasses
Depart from the lady you thought you once knew
You’ve outgrown her dance. Your silence is more than a clue
The confrontational snoring . I want to bludgeon him with out further ado
Who really blew it, God knows! to hell with his slumbered shout – the only form of commication he can muster or do.
The lack of reciprocation.
The lack of effort.
The lack of indecisiveness
Start again .
Change is a fearless beast for many rather than the few.
Guilty as charged.
Perceptive-on my guard.
Make a choice. Don’t sit on the unmade bed. Your freedom is self made. Doubt starts in the mind.
Who has the highest score?
Perhaps if I took my sleeping tablets I’d have drifted into my haze
Tonight I’m the monster awake with a the unsightly nose.
God only knows why his zen state lie soley with me changing my all.
He snores and snores doesn’t know what he wants. He’s his own boat with a chance to carve out oars.
Right, that’s it I’m going to get the carving knife
I’m going to cut off his nose then we’ll see if we indeed reap what we sew.
What a carry on.
Blow after blow
A mindless hedge untrimmed unkempt. Shut up I’m the one who knows.
A charlie chaplin lost in translation
He mimes in waking moments
Dictates his Hitler speech in the hours of slumber
Separate the whites from the yolk.
I’m out of here. He’s bleeding profusely.
You heard nothing but the snores of a sloth.
It’s up to me to disappear. The ugly nose is a no show.
Today I woke up from a pre empted nightmare-the impending doom & gloom of the end of half term and the start of the school run. Early mornings, pushing myself to get out,exit the house!
Bee is in the bath.
Ma, I need you for xyz
My thoughts of what to put down temporarily suspended. Going out. I love being out and active. I love to not have to worrry that I’m not doing enough, to keep the scales from dictating my mood, my day. I’ve come to realize I’m a lazy anorexic thinker. Ha! Fancy that.
There, I’ve admitted it. Perhaps, by making an effort to write down my general every day thoughts, feelings and emotions again, it will incite an inner part of me to be aware of my surroundings again. Pull off a decorum of intelligent self expression. Put that intelligence into a wider context in my conversations and interactions with humans.
Help improve my memory. Pull off a Brian Eno -esque diary. Try and live a more fulfilling life. I’m morose (sad) because Gee and Bee are going to be out most of the day living a productive life again. I want to do more too.
I’m sad that I have made Gee sad ( scratch that) ANGRY at me! At me- for not severing all contact with him. I’m disappointed in myself for disrespecting Gee and myself. Bee will never know. I’m disappointed in myself for disrespecting Gee, myself too. I suspect drinking too much doesn’t help with my impulsive and risk taking behaviour.
The Ego seeks out more attention. I’m lonely. I want more from friendship. I want my life and sense of worth to have more meaning outside of my family.
Today the weather is in a glorious mood. Rays beaming . The sun has a warm smile for all. A complete contrast to my own demeanour. I’m standing under that thunderous cloud waiting for the lightening to strike down more familar thunderbolts to keep me from blooming again.
I’m happy. I’m happy because I have been putting ink down again. Snippets of poetry, fragments of words that make me feel a validated member of society. I need kinship in my interests. The only person I’ve spent time with talking about our mutual interests, in my physical ( not online) world is him. He isn’t afraid to give honest feedback. Honest -sometimes constructive critique.
How sad am I? Sad enough to feel offended that the other him-that parasite who only takes money from me and happiness from my family ‘dissed’ me when I thought I wanted a distraction from my mind. Something that the reckless part of me craves. Ignored me and my ego has been hurt! That is the tragedy. ( shrugs), I know Bee is going to call me to bath her and on cue- oh hang on- she *actually* asked me to get her an empty bottle to play with. A stray from from the usual routine I’m too familiar with, I actively endorse like .. like… (I have no idea)…family life is a business that cannot be traded as a commodity no matter what price?
“There is only one great tragedy in a woman’s life. The fact that her past is always her lover,and her future invariably her husband” -AN IDEAL HUSBAND– By Oscar Wilde
My G had his detached retina surgery yesterday and has just come back from his post surgery consultation.
He is a Jammy buggger- so lucky. He gets away with being on bed rest. It couldn’t happen to the most deserving man.
It is no secret I have my own mental health issues. I didn’t know how I was going to cope. Here is how I coped.
I remembered my Mantra:
“I am successful in everything I do” (including being an epic nurse)
I remembered a quote on a trinket that my Gran gave me -along time a go. It says on it.
“Happiness is like a butterfly it settles on you when you least expect it “
Well that worked to our advantage as well as turning out TRUE.
I watched this a lot. I needed to keep my sense of humour going.
I read Oscar Wilde Quotes from a book G bought me and went straight to the quotes about women. These had me in ninja attack mode and in ‘ You damn right mode’ in no time.
“Women: Sphinxes of secrets” -A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE
“Every women is a Rebel, and usually in Wild revolt against her self” -A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE
“She looks like a woman with a past. Most pretty women do” AN IDEAL HUSBAND
“Every women does talk too much” -VERA
“I prefer women with a past. They are always more damn interesting to talk to” Lady Windermeres Fan
“It takes a thoroughly good women to do a thoroughly stupid thing” PICTURE OF DORIAN GREY
“I have met hundreds and hundreds off good women. I never seem to meet any but good women.The world is packed with thoroughly good women. To know them is a middle class education” -LADY WINDERMENRES FAN
The most therapeutic thing I did when I was waiting in the hospital was to take out my pen and paper and attempt to write out my anxiety and fear…
Here is what form it took…
NOT MASTER PIECES but tools to cope.
THE EARLY MORNING POEM -WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I WAIT AT A HOSPITAL
Dawn to Dusk
I wait in patience – the air lingers with a scent coated in musk.
Ashes to Ashes
Dust to Dust.
An eye for an eye,
What will the results be from this riske buy?
It is a case of an option- from one to another -of the same type of prison.
Will he see me with my full Maquillage .
I’m petrified he won’t recognise me to the point that I won’t even ever need to adjust my many vis(ee) age ( a bad poet pronouncing French very badly)
Does it matter if he is blind?
I swear to look after him because he is simply-
Waiting with the flock.
Patience wearing -thin.
Detached as retina.
Wearing from within.
TAP TAP TAP
My converse trainers make a huge commotion of one that refuses to take a nap.
I have it all.
Here,I complain almost insinuating I am all alone
How can I not pull this off like only the finest cologne.
If you are ever in doubt about your social life – I incur that you take a trip to you local hospital. The amount of people I knew in some form or another, whom I bumped into, confirmed:
I DO HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE.
I started reading about about Religions around the world from primitive to Modern times. Interesting choice of book to take to the hospital.
My number one support met me at the hospital. SUPER MOM!
I decided to get some lady things sorted so I wouldn’t need to leave the house today.
Dashed back to the hospital. Insisted on the nurse ringing the ward my G was in at least three times.
The only information I got was – wait…..
Second attempt at writing out my anxiety in poem form.
Please feel free to mock it .I do with great gaiety.
THE I HAVE BEEN IN WAITING IN THE HOSPITAL FOR OVER 8 HOURS POEM.
Love seems to come with a package of the finest rum.
Sometimes we must only keep it for times to celebrate when we have jousted out the scum.
Sometimes we have to hide it away.
Fear takes hold if we touch it
It will drown us and flick us like a flee into another day.
Lost and found.
Please, collect on the ground.
Lost wings .
Can’t another find another way to jolt my heart so it sings.
A painful division.
Comfort on the rocks.
Bur enough to secure a foot with temporary padlocks.
Emotions run high .
It’s a betrayal of the inconvenience of a lovers try.
For better or for worse.
In sickness and in health.
May I seduce like a Godless Goddess.
Unafraid to drop my mask and undress.
Is the outcome going to be fine?
Time is a great healer.
But, alas, it also encourages growth of demonic horns to gouge out the part who plays the feeler.
The outcome is in the future.
To what means can nurture’s success be seen?
Hope is what keeps me from debasing into an emotionless suitor.
I then remembered the movie we watched the night before the op. Dark comedy at its best.
The final 10 minutes of waiting took on the form of this.
THANKS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT, MY FRIENDS.
G IS ON THE MEND.
LIFE CARRIES ON.
Hopefully I will be able to catch up with some or all of you if not tonight then tomorrow.
It’s all happening, folks -49 days until I leave my single status behind.
I’m kind of sad. I have a valid reason.
I’ve had my name for 34 years and my wild reputation precedes me and all that – Ha ha.
Lots of haters (and lovers) made over the years..
All the crazy shit I did. I own up to it. I don’t want to people to forget what a punk I can be!
Ha ha. just got to shrug these things off.
Seriously, I am in two minds about changing my name. First off ,I only just got my French passport renewed in London last year.
My daughter has my name and well…. things didn’t end up – peachy with the ex.
All I want is for my Bella Bee not to feel like the odd one out. I won’t take my G’s name if I can’t have Bella’s changed.
G has offered to take mine. I’m like
“are you sure you can handle all the haters?”
“The crazy labels?”
This is no Haute couture designer label brand I am talking about.
He is going to get stuck with the wild , reckless, push the boundary,break the law, Anorexic, psycho , bipolar, druggie, binge drinker (who tells the birds to shut the fuck up at 4 am in the morning). The bastard child. The female version of John Snow.
Yeah he will get stuck with that baggage.
I think he likes the idea of looking at the shiny colourful suitcase, as it goes around and around and around the carousal.
I don’t think he realises he has to pick up the luggage and take it home with him!
Oh what have I done to him?
Back to the bastard child..
Ha! I’m sure somewhere deep down my Dad loves me. People say he is not much of a communicator . I must be his worst enemy.
I communicate all the time!
I’m always hounding him.
“Dad look check this out . I can jump through hoops -they is high too “
“Hey Dad did you see what I can do with my ears –wiggle wiggle “
“Dad hey ? read thisarticle. Let’s get this relationship on the go . I don’t want to not know you and have you die on me, cos that would suck”
Yeah, people say he is a quiet one. He hasn’t done anything to make me think any different. 😀
So with my Dad – living all the way in Africa- he won’t be walking me down the aisle.
My Ma will.
We have different surnames so I do know the insecurity and feelings of displacement that comes with not having the same name as my own mother.
I’ve only just recovered from the trauma.
I’m probably going to have at least half another child . If I can bear the thought of getting
fat pregnant again.
My Bella B needs some one closer to her age. I don’t want her to end up like me!
She may look like me but she is nothing like me.
Her personality is so cool.
She is frikking hilarious, beautiful, ,charming.
Everyone loves her.
Today she was went to go and play with some kid at school and the kid said
“I don’t wanna play with you”
My B – completely dead pan in the face:
anti social kid,
” Cos I don’t wanna”
B shrugs her shoulders and skips over to the next person. Totally unfazed.
She is awesome.
She went through a ‘Everything is about Cinderella’ moment not so long back.
One night after I had read the story for 1000000000000000000000000 th time she looked at me with those baby blues and said
“I love your Mommy. I love you with all my heart.” My heart swelled..
“Aaaw I love you with all my heart too baby,” – I replied.
Then she says,
“Mommy, I don’t want my heart to break- ever” that was it . I had got the haagen daz ice cream and two spoons out, tears streaming down my face, ready to let her cry over the heart break that may never come.
Where did she learn about hearts breaking ? She is not even 5 years old!
Yeah ,so the wedding dress fit went well.
I just fit into it. I want it taking out. I’ve had the dress since 2014.
I’ve worked my butt off to keep the weight off.
tired sick to death of daily exercise sessions. I want to do other things.
I don’t want to diet.
Finally found the perfect head piece 😀
My mommy should become a wedding planner. You will understand after the wedding. When I put a few pics up. Trust me on this.
I’m having my 3rd make up trial . I loved the whole feline look but I think it needs to be a bit more understated.
Seems like there are quite a few coming to the hen do. YAY! I am loved .:)
There is a great mixture of personalities and well I can’t wait.
I kind of accidentally bought myself two new pairs of jeans and a pair of shoes today.
Don’t know how it happened.
One minute I’ve got my bus fare ready to get home and the next I am in a clothing boutique (not a wedding themed one) for the first time in like over 4 years.
So now I have an hen do outfit.
Silver linings and all that.
I’m sure there was some discount on certain items – up to 30% off on some items of clothing which was a bargain
– for the lady in front of me
-and the one behind me 😀
I’m blaming it on the sun. Sunshine has hit the U.K. and brought in the feverish heat with it.
I’m hormonal , the sun is out.
The receipt accidentally flew out my hand – it was that little breeze that did it when I made the left turn, passed the fish shop.
Did you know that we now can have the option to have our receipts emailed to us?
How fucking thoughtful. (heavily laced sarcasm here)
I’m busy researching for our personal vows. We have less than a month to sort out the ceremony bit.
It is looking like there is a good chance my Gran with Vascular Dementia will be able to make the ceremony with her carer. We are going to bling up her wheelchair.
I don’t care if she shouts out and is who she is today. I just want her there.
so it is ALL happening ….
I’m just sat looking at that last half finished sentence nodding. letting it sink in……..
So as you may or may not know – you should know 😉 I go on about it enough. I’m getting married on 22/06.
Yesterday me and my better half went to have a look at wedding bands. Nothing fussy. There were sales on. We found the most simple ,nondescript looking band and thought that will do. Then seemingly at the same time our eyes veered to the price tag underneath £299. *SALE* WOW! DON’T MISS THIS OPPORTUNITY.
We both looked at one another.
Our eye connected. This sounds so romantic .
This is it.
We both looked at the entrance to the jewellers.
Smiles mirroring each others.
We both had the same thoughts.
True soul mates.
We backed away and I may have mumbled something about looking for a ring another day. Today was paying bills day.
I may have said to my better half
” Why don’t we get tattooed rings.”
My other half’s face said it all. How can you be so tacky,Daisy. I shrugged, it was just an idea. He is a bit of a dude- long hair,skater type.
So I kind of imagined this was running through his head
My other half is from the North of England. The cheaper the better or so I thought.
He was mumbling about how as soon as the word ‘wedding’ was put n front of anything consumable the price triples. He has a point. He is not cheap.
I merely jest. I jest…… 😀
So, it got me thinking. Why do we need a wedding band any way?
Let’s buck tradition.
Oh no– I get the same look again -this time the thoughts that seem to go thorough his mind are: Oh Daisy. Do you always have to be so otherwise, so ,so rebellious. He is already planning on invites to make me conform to how a traditional wife thinks.
So what does all this ring malarkey mean?
I get the whole ring /circle thing represents something eternal, something un breakable. A bond, a pact.
There must be more to it than just a symbol of our undying love towards one another.
Can’t we just seal the deal with a blood pact? I’m kidding. …
So the research begins and like a ring never ends, so does the shopping… I’m kidding.. .. I do get tired and I do need sleep.
Lets go back to Egypt and walk like an Egyptian for a moment. The brides used to wear a woven plant circle ring on their finger as a sign of I am not going to go off with that rather sexy slave of ours.
We humans are an indecisive bunch. The ring was worn on the right finger for a time. The Romans had to make up their own rules, of course and decide the ring will go on the left finger.
Do they need a reason?
It is actually quite romantic:
According to a tradition believed to have been derived from the Romans, the wedding ring is worn on the left hand ring finger because there was thought to be a vein in the finger, referred to as the ‘Vena Amoris’ or the ‘Vein of Love’ said to be directly connected to the heart.
Before you start swooning ladies they also were the first people to use iron to make a ring.
Not because it would last longer but it was a sign that women were owned. A bit like a mini dog chain.
Here’s me thinking the Romans redeemed themselves.
Another more reserved and practical reason for wearing the ring on the left hand and fourth finger comes from the Christians. Not a bone of romanticism in this reason:
Most people are right handed,and it was seen as the finger that would do the least amount of work.
*DISCRIMINATION ALERT* . (I take offence to that, I am a lefty) I think the fourth finger would like to point out he does as much work as the others….
Interestingly, in many countries, even today, including Norway, Russia, Greece, Ukraine, Bulgaria, Poland, Austria, Germany,Portugal and Spain, the wedding ring in worn on the ring finger of the right hand and not the left