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Everyday churn

I’m having a nervous breakdown

No tear gas needed to see my features frown.

Give up, let go.

It doesn’t matter.

Give in , give away the words

I write from my inner chatter.

Pride may come before a fall.

This writer is mad and frenetic enough to bawl.

Sleeping alone with a furry bengal.

Live and breathing, nightmares shedding one too many a ghoul.

I live in fear of letting myself  fail.

It’s more innate stubbornness that leaves my face pale.

I’m sick of over achieving. I’m jaundiced from worry.

Projectile thoughts invade my space. illegal immigrants hide in my quarry.

Work so hard and see no results.

When I see the rainbows end -I may watch the blood seep from my wrists.

The mind won’t let me have a moment off.

Fatal escapism needed

a dose fit for a carcinoid cough.

Every moment – liquid drains  my lungs.

Torture

when talcum powder is  blown into organs.

Mop up creativities flow.

I can’t breathe in this dungeon.

Get out of my way ,don ‘t look at me – snarl and bite a portion out of your flesh.

Vegan turn rotten, core bound up with an unnerved bile uprise.

Human machine venting  for my inability to refresh.

Hold up my dignity

keep me in stents;

make sure I don’t end up in a coffin embellished with the last person buried alive.

A scene far too surreal and intense.

I’m spent.

I’m howling.

I’m a lunatic.

I’m prowling.

Injured.

You scare me but dammed if I will roll over and play dead.

Like sand through the hour glass

blink once and the deadline is almost head over arse.

I’m scared of failure

I want to be the man to pull out exacaliber.

Merit and knighted.

how shallow  glory is,

I’m far too short sighted.

Immobilized in a zombie fashion

Micheal Jackson thriller

Nearly forgot to yell ‘action’.

Take me to a planet fermenting in sushi.

I need a trip to find my very own mighty booshy.

Writing is my hoochie. 😁

It’s not dementia

Some folk say I speak too much

I say that’s rich.

 

I’m not even 40 years old & my bones are crumbling

Hind sights a bitch

Hell – a sight so unappealing

it brings me out in an itch

A rash of nervous eczema.

 

Today is my first adventure

with my partial denture

Like life, it’s only temporary

at least I’m not doing time in a state penitentiary

 

I can’t speak

this foreign object prevents me from talking

properly

 

The older I get I realise how naive I was to forget

that my mind is my greatest asset

 

Body, I love you

Looks? you’ll do

I’m yet to find perfection

I’ve almost given up on the pursuit of it

boohoo

 

What is beauty?

Judge we do under a unique hue.

 

Age has its wicked way with us all eventually

I’ll never let go of my character to laugh, be stubborn

go against all adversity

 

No, I  still won’t conform

The shy girl will not come out to perform

 

Inside my pride has been wrenched out of me

And I laugh at the old me

I laugh cos we are so beautiful

We just can’t see what others never fail to see.

You starring yourself

titled  ‘back in reality ‘.

 

These few words are my words

Write to recover

or die living the life of another

I disappoint your heart everyday.

I rape it copiously

Hope you  won’t wake up.

Its better to get fucked over if you are asleep or slightly disorderly .

I don’t know why I am this way

muster the audacity to pretend life is Gaye

I wonder why I’m still alive,

and the I look into the eyes do my cherub sent from the royal family of storks

She and my tabby are my family.

my heart beats-disorderly but it tangos  to their bars to be free.

 

DAISY UPDATE:

I’m trying to live with a bit of weight I have gained. I hate this medication – deposit injections in the ass are primitive. 

Still divorced -still fighting to have my voice heard and to live creatively 

Old soul

OTHER WORDLY .

Unfathomable to relate how a portrait of an unaffected cherub

mirrors

a forgotten dimension to

the paradigm LONER.

PENSIVE – angelic eyes

unfreeze momentarily — expressions animate the oil painted canvass.

Voice barely audible -mouths out to me

who is this new persona?

bBlood of my labour sworn to tell the gospal TRUTH.

Astonished -wrinkles crease — at time ‘s wilfulness to penetrate her innocence—

She’s not looking back at her youth.

BULLIED

The cycle continues-

Elders blame the outsider for a lack of faith in conventional —Spirituality.

ELDER peers down through a intoxicating incensed haze.

Measures me up.

squares me up.

On humble grounds

I stand a full head above her broad shoulders.

Closer to her divine maker

pious prayers hail down

the blame game

the name game.

Torured soul seeker

Scarpers for the licks of hell’s flames.

trips over underwood

poltergeists log a strategic placed guilt ambush

rotting the core of this circle of life’s CONTINUITY.

AUTHORITY ISSUES.

time will decide whether we are cosmic twins born 3 decades APART.

this is her descent  to destiny .

roughly sketched into this world-

pallid , charcoal smudged into silence.

An artist confronted with his frailty to conceive life.

Mourns the leftover clots of a being.

Miscariage – remnants of nurture -a mere puddle of blood outlining his corrosive flaw.

A splattering of colours, tears stained by remorse.

a howl of def toned melancholy

The artist sips a cup of penny total tea.

recomposed.

A sighed relief-

she has -AWAKENED.

ALONE – – is she fated too?

-The rebels never conforms

Transience

Stricken by the awareness of my own

MORTALITY.

 INQUISITIVE betrayed by her translucence

frown rouges her cheeks in introspection.

familiar strange words

Alienation effect prompts a impulsive turn around

the past

curses

damning this  loner to truly see.

An epiphany of divine INSIGHT

UNDER or OVER ACHIEVER perfection adorned with feathers of liberty –

don’t try please anyone!

A storm intervenes obscuring the BIGGER PICTURE-

Save that energy

for life

is a gift and

It’s your greatest fight.

RESPONSIBLE for so much — tempted by earths seasonal affective disorder

why does she have to be mortal?

Wings hook into shoulder blades

Reduced to a puppet attached by silver linings.

arial view-

panoramic

circular murmuration

obsessive.

Eyes strain ,blood shot.

Wind exhales mustard peppered vapours

orchestrating sight to follow a new PERSPECTIVE.

WISDOM revealed by the crooked halo’d questions

glitterer

shimmers her every inflection.

the yearn of experience — to keep heavens babe toothless , unaware of the survival evolution taking place

Within.

TENACIOUS – I overlook her every smile

from above

stitched up my heart

remains

the scape goat

the seeker.

until a moment forces me to find a burial ground

Unwillingly close my eyes –

the universe screeches –velocity erases all time.

Formless parts full up spaces amongst the dirt.

await for these settlers to wipe all memory from this life.

Old souls never alone for eternity.

We have one another to rise above our hurt.

knowledge is power, wisdom is happiness and truth is freedom

Life challenge on a soundtrack

The challenge continues.

Thanks Meg!  😉 

Today’s choice needs a hint of epicness.

Put on my poker face but I’m a current of emotions inside. ha ha!

Another reason I chose this is because,my uncle made a joke that my Gran looked like Don Corleone, at my wedding in June last year,in her wheelchair and wearing dark sunglasses.

Laugh, cry, live or die.

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 they were 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 disrepectful – 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 daughters 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  myself to move forwards

Today is all about:

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

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

I sound angry , 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 😉

 I tag the music  challenge to other characters (bloggers)

SUMMER 

Sheldon 

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 breathe. 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!