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Why* if* when * who
Why do we close our eyes when we sleep?
When we cry?
If we imagine?
Who we kiss?
This is because the most beautiful things in
the world is unseen.
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.
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.
Silence
Is life just a formality to prepare us for death?
How many people have died in their God’s name in their moments of weakness and then died in those moments of weakness?
I don’t know where I’m going with this question but what does it say about faith and life and our different notions & preconceptions of death and our loved ones final resting place ?
My thoughts after watching Martin Scorsese film ‘Silence ‘
A film to make those who think think
👌👌👌
Just a thought…
Gris gris
If you know how to love you know how to live
If you know how to live you know how to love
Momentary
hyperbole
state
Meant –
This
ends badly
A stolen sign
whilst awoken waiting on directions for heaven’s gates
Titillating times
Run out of fuel
Exhausted
words condemned ?
Atoned
Alchemical
Skeletal
soul ( emaciated)
Wasted (fabricated)
Walking into
A fat
Fated
E Lated
Disorderly
slum bum
Arrested for
Apathy..
No
A
trophy
Padam
Padam
limited vocabulary…
Dispose these written words
To an insincere society.
Gris gris
A hex
Agon.
Gal
I glee.
The mardi gras lives within
Thanks Ray
Charleton
a breathe wren
Sightless strumpet life (insert your own GIF)
Daring
Demanding hymn for those
A genesis
Singing pslams to the prejudice
Justified :those folk who missed the nearest fire exit.
Grandmama who forgot
Death rattle
Reminiscent of an uprising of crickets ready to battle.
Stare at a puffed updiamond heart
Drumming inside an empty cage.
Birds ripped apart.
Gargoyle stares ignored.
Folk bumble about unaware of what’s in store for us all,
eventually.
The breathe of Hades lingers
then makes a dash for scant flesh and bones.
Meat is not this gods instrument
Lust causes the call for more drones.
Sponge, moisten parched parted lips
Raven signals the ire of its whips.
The ones who don’t loose it in bedlam excite
Death,
Invites all loved ones to rally around
Stands by door.
Stands back a while
Admires its own power.
A moment to savour
Every door closed,
Each breath cloys,
Begs for enough fare to cross the distance to embrace Elysium air.
Today everyone shall know how close we are to parting from brown soil.
Lambs,
Hatched chickens,
Babies born in Cumbersome air.
The cycle must complete before we can emerge reborn.
Death is inevitable as necessary as life is to the Cumbaya of springs first show of petal.
When you look at the beginning of this new dawn,
Know that when you stand back in awe
Its because you have felt the chill of winters soul depart.
Shed a tear for the snowman who brought our youth so much joy.
Appreciate death.
Stare it in the face.
The sun chants
counting his rosary beads.
Tomorrow never dies.
Trying to type something while listening and watching my grandmother dying.
Rasp
Gasp
I support the assisted dying law.
This is inhumane!
A selfish farce.
Happy mothers day,
Wherever you go
Wherever you roam
I hope that it is a place as magnificent as earths revellers make it out to be.
Ma petit fripon. Je t’aims toujours
This a poem that I wrote whilst waiting and comforting my mom and my gran before she passed over in March 2018, from vascular Dementia and Alzheimers. I wrote it while waiting for her to let go of Life. It’s a Morbid (and possibly strange) thing to do when someone you love is dying in front of you. This was one way of expressing my powerlessness, over a period 3 days watching someone cling on to this Life).*
A special girl
I know a special girl whose heart is full of sunshine .
She dances her way around the world to deliver her own special punchline
She laughs so distinctly that people cannot help but become infected
It is a sight to behold when this observation is detected She is gracious and kind and is delicately inclined the phrase ‘she is an angel’ are the only words that come to mind .
Her name means beautiful-that of body, mind and soul and to have her touch so many lives confirms her title role.
She is my modern day princess -so noble and full of grace I love her with all my being and she is a person that I cannot replace
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my sweet child. You are the true gift I found it in your innocent eyes and that was the day my world truly began to shift.
Thoughts about That woman who is me
I’m the woman who feels her mind unravel every single day. I’m that woman who will drop (almost ) anything to be loved, liked and to try and be there for people. I am that woman who thinks I am one step away from insanity. One meal away from sitting with others -in the cafeteria suffocating with all the beldam and discourse of those who have held all their pain and confusion inside for too long.
I am terrified I am losing my mind. I have panic attacks, social anxiety, Chronic Anorexia and Bipolar. I’m am that woman who sees every one I love (or now)know that I do love get sick or die around me. Drop-dead.
The black sheep. I forget what I want to say. I doubt my self. I think too much. My biggest secret is I want to be grounded. I do! I seem to be caught up in the cycle of escapism. Escapism not in the form of writing, dancing or talking or being cool with me, but I feel myself inching closer towards ‘the dark soul of the night’.
I want to be saved. I question my faith. Did I ever have faith in anything other than toxins that would take me away from my current emotions?
Yet… even though I am the girl shunned by family and friends, I seem to reel it back in. I wind my mind and wrap it into a neat little bow. Always a different colour. I survive. I don’t know how or why.
Well.. I do. I am a mother, woman, daughter, friend and I have a purpose to fulfil. In my most delirious moments, I find myself inching towards praying to my own mother’s version of God. That biblical character. It frightens me to conform. I don’t want to be brainwashed by society and religion and politics. I don’t want to fit in. I want to be accepted.
I find joy in music and dancing. I find sense in writing. I write to recover.
Did I do a Faustus? I did. A long time ago, in between going to a catholic nun run a school, having Jehovaha’s witness lessons after school and then going to get “drunk” in the Lord’s spirit with, my mates, in the evening. I sought out Satanism. I asked it to take me and I lost my way.
That sounds crazy. I’m running empty on spirituality. Mortality is harsh and fleeting. I cry every day for me, my family, even those who hate me so.
I have to move on and let go. Many say I’m too hard on myself. Do we all feel like a fraud?
Knocking on doors for help. What’s the worst that could happen? I end up alone? Forced to be content with this body, this mind, this personality.
I can’t go back. It’s easy to want to go back when the future is so uncertain. In the distance it reveals that is is not benign. It is a vast tumour. There is no way to stop time. It’s an entity independent of reality.
I’m told I need to look within. look after me. Find my place in this world. I’m still here.
I wanted to die. I nearly did.No bright lights.No memory of the ambulance, the police smashing down my door, the room in Intensive Care.
I’m still here. Every time I think I can’t get through with my day or be with myself, time passes and I’ve survived. I’m reminded of Alan Watts famous clip’ What do you desire?’
Be happy or die trying.
To be continued…
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
Daisy in the willows 