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Good people

These are my words. Mental health awareness week. Look after yourself & remember you are worth more than your mistakes.

Can’t Promise her a title

Lazily, a  tigeress snores into her paws . If only retiring was as simple to rule her inner world.

Curled up in warmth after a stroll  into the big wide world,then  settle for a quinquennium pause.

Her heart beats.

Nationalists- not even  patriots  are exempt.

All want to play in their own chord, tighten the strings ,she keeps  it together, to satisfy their crucified minds.

In a state of constant – motionless movement.

If not an act of physicality -drill cumbersomely inside her cranium and you will see chemicals and synapses – making up fresh bricks and mortar, to fit in with the latest homemade yeast infused hootchie.

Glance away now, for fear of pitying an evocative attempt to get a rise from it.

Secret plots to charge this queen with treason.

Where will she live?

Her throne burnt to the ground to make way for a newly elected dopamine and serotonin scrupulous , democratic union.

Flags of self-belief – burned infringed – protecting her staked land  was all this monarch tried to take into hand.

Defamation – character assassination.

Cloaked – in darkness- rat scuttles past – no pause – it already knows this violated prisoner is barren.

Scars and welts – a confession is sought after by the cardinal living east of the castle manor.

Employed only to instill courage when the  most powerful empire seized a chance to escape into heritic souls howling in the wind.

Faith and Hope – not draft an erratic, purple, incensed  dogmatic pope .

Dire retribution -execute the one who claims  this state is her very birthright.

Clubbed to her knees –  she will crawl  not humbly- you shall hear her plea.

She  wants to make them a better nation.

It’s her biggest exclamation.

Out plotted by her very own court –  bribed by cheap whores-given away by the roughness of their hands, dressed up as expert courtesans,  who clearly have seen at least one day of sun.

Intoxicated by some amorphous potion.

Formalyhde doused  in cleaveaged lace dresses – it was  not her initial notion.

A scented air  of burning flesh

A greek tragedy indeed.

Scorned by her very  owns subjects . She may be longitiduely  dimintitive  but she refuses to be bullied into showing them that wanted emotion.

Defeatist attitude does not a fit queen make.

Words in  a precise order do not  prize a piece of   art,

so clearly a fake.

Forgiveness is her only weapon. She won’t see her country  be overrun by zealous creachers.

It would appear her subjects wish to prove that she is illiterate.

Tortured, holding her breath under water to procure a confession – let her reiterate.

The crown is made to fit one head – It is symbolic and vaporizes with her when she  exhales all energy and   is varnished as  dead.

Look how you’ve turned on one another – in the pursuit of power. It is  a notorious illusion.

To master control over all subjects requires more than an iron-clad fist and an outraged dalliance to declare outright confusion.

Compassion,

nurture,

recognition and honor are what she   offers,

accept these as the wealthiest of gifts.

Only a fool would scream,

‘Off with her head‘ -a face full of sour lemons and a lust to frazzle the last tether.

The Noblest  of causes – so much bloodshed – look into her bloody, vein threaded eyes.

She hasn’t slept for weeks in her fight, to appease  all those in famine, hungry and underfed.

She  needs no  steering Regent to aid her  in her duty.

All she demands is loyalty and valor.

With you all at her side ready to conquer life’s copious battles,

we shall not go down .

your  hearts will not know the true grief  inflicted made up of another community of arrows.

we shall not waiver.

Trust in your queen to walk as a stout  cripple ,duty bound to protect and hold it all together.

My confessions of being a fraud

Sa Roc

I’d be letting myself down  if I didn’t post about my  Eating disorder or mental illness nor if I didn’t write about my body image issues.

I shouldn’t be alive. I’ve been in & out of hospitals sectioned, medicated, threatened with E.C.T. therapy, my Dad didn’t want to care for me  & asked social services to get involved in my life. I had other family members who loved me more & didn’t think that is what families do to their children.

I am still alive (obviously). I wish that kids could learn about body image & emotional intelligence at school.

Body Image is the mental picture you have of your body. It includes attitudes and feelings about how you look & how you think other people see you.

 

https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/types

Hosted by the Mental Health Foundation, Mental Health Awareness Week 2019 will take place from Monday 13 to Sunday 19 May 2019. The theme for 2019 is Body Image – how we think and feel about our bodies.

Body image issues can affect all of us at any age. During the week we will be publishing new research, considering some of the reasons why our body image can impact the way that we feel, campaigning for change and publishing practical tools.

https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/campaigns/mental-health-awareness-week

My stepfather used to tell me I was fat & would eat sweets & cake in front of me. He was a bastard for many more reasons than that….

People with HEALTHY Body Image…
▪ Accept bodies come in different shapes and sizes.  ( I accept that as long as it doesn’t affect me)
▪ Know there are good things about their bodies. ( sure- legs……….)
▪ Are comfortable with their bodies.  (Most of the time I wish I could swap heads with someone for peace of mind)
▪ Are critical of the ‘ideal’ body seen in the media. (Yes

People with UNHEALTHY Body Image…
▪ May think a lot about how they see themselves or how they think others see them
▪ Maybe uncomfortable with their bodies. (I’m not shy just aware of it).

I found  Sa Roc when I was going through another post-suicide blues.

I’m also inspired by her courage to talk about her own self harm & body issues

I dealt with feeling inadequate or less worthy because I didn’t fit conventional standards of what was considered beautiful,” Sa-Roc explains to HipHopDX. “There was also a lot of unexpressed anger and pain that I didn’t feel comfortable or courageous enough to share with my loved ones, so I took it out on myself.

I  identified with her honesty & her strength, and her vulnerabilities.

Why?

Because she emcees about how much trauma she went through & thinks that as an artist she needs to empower women especially in the one-dimensional world we live on social media. She has her own style &  doesn’t conform to any style but her own. She has a message. She wants other women to feel free & she wants to break the discrimination of men in the industry dismissing talented & credible female emcees.

People forget that women have been instrumental in Hip Hop since its inception,” she says. “Most of us are really familiar with the early male Hip Hop icons and pioneers, but women have been present and just as instrumental since the beginning. One of those women, who my name actually pays homage to, is Sha-Rock.

SA ROC

Her album is a personal inspection of how her experiences and childhood shaped her personal views.

Sa Roc is in a league of her own because she wants other women to feel empowered and to be self-defined on their terms.

I look to the past a lot.

And worry about the future.

I lived in other homes though I had a home.

I was lost.

I was dying.

I survived.

I’ve looked to others for approval to my detriment.

I’ve turned away from people who put me down.

I’ve been fighting an eating disorder-Anorexia since I was 5 years old. It is a chronic illness & I have a Bipolar & Emotionally unstable Personality disorder too.

But I think I just had a very mixed up childhood & responded to trauma by turning on myself. I had a lot of love and a lot of craziness.

I love my family.

I’ve erased /dissociated from my memories of the past. I have huge gaping holes of cosmic proportions. I have blacked out so much.

I’ve been in many hospitals for suicide attempts mine or watched family close to me harm themselves others, Sectioned many times, I’ve been drugged by doctors, men, myself.

It doesn’t make me a victim. I know how hard I fight with my thoughts every second of the day.

I too live with my guilt

I have moments when I Think I’m worth it. 😉

I can’t seem to confirm. Even when I try……

I always get back up after getting knocked down.

Sa Roc is proud of her African heritage &  she embraces it.

I am not a black African, I am a white South Africa. Lived there for many years.

I was from the pre &  post-apartheid era.  I mixed with as many cultures as I came across. There are many.

I’ve seen a lot of gun crime – had one pointed to my head, seen my mates owing money to drug dealers with guns, I’ve met diamond smugglers & nearly ended up dead. I almost lost my life to living with Niagarians. Attending to the bar & getting addicted very quickly. I’ve had Mandrax dealers set a dog on me.  I’ve just seen a lot of guns. South Africa, yaar?

I have regrets ( I’m working to not dwell on them)

I dig the chorus cos it lends the tune a bit of soul.

I’ve starved myself physically, emotionally & spiritually

The chorus is like a mantra I  sing to trick myself into believing a lot.

I love stars (even if they are dying)

I’ve self-harmed in so many ways -self-harm, knives, drugs,  toxic people…

I was advised by my doctor & professionals to have an abortion in 2010. I regret my actions though I know I did the right thing.

I went on to have my daughter who will be 8 in October.

I’ve had many break downs and I’m still here.

I’ve fought many people & gained strong allies too.

I’m on a spiritual journey not religious.

My eating disorder consumes me.

I too don’t know what I would do if I could reverse time?

I have experienced a  life that many people wouldn’t believe if I told them.

I’ve had gold teeth 😀

I love the drumming bit in 3.18 min ( What a #goatbah)

She’s got gumption.

Listen more………. 😀

Read in between the lines

A few years ago (when I was in college) I tried to make money & raise awareness of my eating disorder by sharing my story with a scrupulous magazine. ( many years ago) & all my words, my moms were distorted.

I was naive. Don’t buy into any one’s media hype if it makes you feel shit about yourself.

The article ended up pitting me & my Mom against one another.

I don’t believe my Mom made me anorexiC Be careful of what the media is doing and how it wants to portray people. Sensationalised bullshit.

First of all, I have never called my Mom – ‘mum’.

If they can twist words then they can make us want to look like people who don’t even exist.

I hate being skinny but I love the security it gives me.

I hate being hungry & I hate feeling full.

Mum made me an Anorexic.     

Nobody talks like this and these are not my written words!

I’m glad I wrote these words.

Words are my moonshine

When you  feel you’re hanging on the vine,

Remember- a seed push forth a mighty sign.

You must  take the sunbeams and treasure what’s thine

Wild Kansas City is but one destination on the sign.

Take hope, light and lose the animosity,

for inside  you, there is no monstrosity

Get caught speeding in high velocity.

It’s not a train smash —  nor a catastrophe.

When you’re stuck in the middle of time.

Jump off the fence ‘cos that’s doing yourself a crime.

Don’t you let commoners  think your words cannot define,

Your value, worth and dreams are not benign.

Take it from the apple tree

He allows fruit to aid in his victory.

Oh don’t, hide like a willow tree

Cry, but remember you have a destiny.

Everything will start to — lookup —  allow the clouds to throw some shapes.

Open  them wide , mind expand — understand the lessons from life’s true greats.

You’re already one them-slightly chipped — still most valuable of porcelain plates.

Never doubt  what you can do —   take a leaf from natures golden ratio

You radiate when you guide the fates.

Lets’ lasso this  up and keep your spirit wild

Grow tall — never lose your inner child.

A silly poem  to spread to the crowd

Accept her quirks  — light-hearted, silly sap —  never lose a day when she has smiled.

*I Iwas inspired by the song ‘This little light of mine’. live, love, don’t hold as grudge. Remain true to who you are and you won’t stand alone for long.

 

 

i

 

 

 

 

Cheerio escapee

Intense

Too much so dispense

Emotions ladled with cheerios

Not fun when rotund escapees flee from the nick.

Allow inner self respect to dictate your tone.

I digress,

I can write.

I can.

It’s a ‘happening’ .

I’m not doing this out of lust or hate.

Per chance,I did go to heaven or indeed another similar place-

that night

ICU

14 hours unconscious and not one recollection — not even my mother thumbing rosary beads

A doctor shakes his head

This patient is not good. prepare yourself, Madre

Rely on myself. Thanks fam for keeping me in Santa’s good books.

I’m already a well established drama telethon.

Damn I don’t need extra baggage-unless I can pay for it.

Even then should you allow me to?

Excess mass – Ovid thinks I’m Italian.

Rivaled Jesus

I fell off that mountain – Artemis mouthed out the word,

splat!

Yeah that is a fact.

12 Caesars rendered him an asylum seeker in religious scriptures.

Buck a wheat

mind your feet.

I’ve stopped caring.

Wait up!

I care enough to share my time, my belongings even..

I’ve stopped crying over boys sti growing into men

who provoke Life to ankle bite at 11th hour on the clock face

Solemn how it stare.

Routine attacks-skin rendered ready for a dose of reupholstery.

I do care.

I am kind.

I’m immune to people and places that hold me as a

syndronised Swedish ball,

slurpie, slush puppy.

Made in Stockholm.

Rhese are justwords,

it’s not about defining what this is or isn’t.

Conversations are a top way to parlez vous

You

Who?

Chapeaux -we have come to untether my very end.

If you don’t feel a vibe speak not in tongues or a form of verbose

Mutterings.

I’m not one for stuttering.

I guess I’m fickle too

I thought I fell harder way more than I have.

What does love for a soul mate feel like?

Two hands framed by a scarf around a neck?

Blue Smurfette isn’t down on my list of taboos to do.

One step

A few words…

Keep talking ,

keep laughing ,

keep crying.

Whatever you do — sweet heart — remember to stay true to you.

Me?

Yes, love — number one.

I’ve got you .

Even Lunatics must break fast

The calm before the storm.

I break my fast musing over my odds of being crazier than the norm.

Muttering,

stuttering

— Brain sensory overload — the cranium structure is deceiving in its form.

The third eye lazily flickers in a state of REM.

an attempt to channel my inner chakra.

I’ve resorted to stick-on Googly eyes to play the part of spiritualist guru, sipping on high tea, to awaken my inner rapture.

Dear Goddess Kali, can you save me from the howling winds?

The mooing cows spinning around me

  moaning gutturally for their new fateful flight as fledgelings?

My Glasshouse shatters into a myriad of snow flaked, razor-sharp, jagged pieces.

broken,

unable to repair the damage.

Take a searing hot iron to my face to smooth out the grimace in my features.

Sacerdotal screams interrupt the night — another man stolen from his lullaby.

Sleepless ideas

patrol,

brazen in their efforts to destroy,

 my favourite playlist titled: sweet dreams.

behind the thousands of words, I’ve ploughed through with oars

Where will  I be?

Will I have sailed?

Will I capsize?

Will I have the ability to walk?

Will I  be a cripple, dragging myself by the elbows under a storm pelted bleached , grainy beach?

The Temptations won’t knock

They will saunter in.

Oh, it’s to be expected.

I refuse to fall to my knees

swearing  my allegiance to make another man’s family richer

Than see mine indicted.

I’d sooner sit on a floor, covered in colours of paint and corners lit with the smiles of my loves.

I’d sooner watch paint dry or read a screenplay loosely based on what I know about when life comes to rouse me with rough pushes or shoves.

Fire,

water,

earth,

and air

Elements balance my kinetic,

dynamic,

complex feelings of despair.

Change comes with a promise.

Fear comes with very little solace.

Motion to a new position –

don’t cower from success

It might even suit your current attire and inner prowess.

 

My time to deliver.

Get my due.

Affection,

laughter,

love,

and living

For me and my few.

 

My kind words are still here and my support?

I have some to spare.

I won’t waste it on those who don’t reciprocate

The err is but their own.

Chosen to remain frozen-staring down a hall of, pale, mirrored self-reflection.

unable to see

they are not the only ones

in need of encouragement or care.

I swill down the remnants of this blessed day with a bitter tea.

 

I clamour to suppress my applause.

I  catch out the dawn  rising with a yawn  unashamed ,gloriously

naked.

I’m no longer afraid to be the lunatic.

I’ve seen the powers of nature.

Forces of rage.

still, waters run deep.

 This insanity is something I hold dear to me-

The great mother gave it to me-

I will set with the  sun

It’s my duty to consummate all that is sacred.

Revised stream of consciousness — borderline poetry.

The yo yo man

Girl bets he weren’t always  so plastic.

Fell deep into a pool of eyes that hinted at a heart full of fantastic .

The world is now a bit colder.

Sun shines even a little bolder .

Don’t know why son  pushed away the  great play to his heart when it only allowed   the   room temperature  to stagnate into a cancerous cadaver

now 30 years older.

Harsh cold facts .

Perspective  bound by smaller minds clouded in a haze of toxic, inner house attacks.

Girl weeps to know two doors down

son and mother abuse each other.

We  were all once innocent.

We all grow up  to the reality of life.

We all make mistakes .

Son hides  behind a pointed finger for a cover

to save face from only himself.

 No-one else

 not even the one he now calls his true blood brother.

Girl weeps

 walls whisper inferior

by the son 

 the pedantic,

semantic,

sexist,

passive aggressive

virus carrier.

Girl bets he wasn’t always so plastic.

How many more years is he gonna carry on sucking lemons?

sitting on  a pedestal of empty   cans

spitting out condescending  pips and belittled bits?

A hard,long way to fall

blaming.

Always taking the moral high  ground.

Amongst  the smudges of smugness

girl saw  a glimmer of  his original fantastic.

Lines crossed – militant gas -lighting to the ones on a lost path.

Characters don’t need to be shouted down at.

raise son’s ego so he can live amongst the Olympian Gods;

Temporarily.

Devastation – pride miseducation

can be the  only aftermath.

Girl weeps – reasoned  with her heart – trouble found her passing inappropriate affection.

Misdirected intention.

Hands up.

This time she won’t carry the  burden when she floundered  in son’s manipulation and rejection.

Players play a part.

Games lose all fun when the son only sees  people he can step on

Heighten an evoking,  abstract canvas.

  Draw out a new horizon.

Fickle foe.

A disappointed son

finds he has exhausted all misaligned souls of their energy.

Turns up the abuse and sticks a knife into a beating , drumming heart.

Blood trickles 

overflows the space with shades of reds and blue hues.

Trurh be told.

It’s better to have everything  to lose  and still walk tall with purpose

than to

 live an inebriated lie.

Hoaxing  folk with a demeanour of  nothing to lose.

Eventually,we all have to play our cards.

suffer the consequences of our  enacted desires.

Girl weeps  for the carbon copy spirits

consciously conscious of losing sense of all self .

Grab a hoe

dig for more dirt to throw on  misplaced bodies

 already buried vertically .

son’s light gets  dimmer.

The deities stole their fire back.

Girl  bets he weren’t always so plastic .

Spinning dog – hounding smaller animals with greater  spirits.

Poacher trophy show case

in a house of broken doors,overflowing ashtrays, side way glances.

Specks of dry spit spewed from another night screaming in an accusatory fit.

Close the curtains on the yo yo man – the son that once  shone  vivid, in the coat of arms,  bearing fantastic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Free cello flotsam

 

I followed a trail

To rock with scurvy emotions inside of me.

Don’t know what to expect.

All the rage, ignorance, silence

bleaches the promise of a future sapling tree.

Astrology says we have a Destiny, and there’s apart

inside

Who revels in the nostalgic quest within me.

Why do I shirk off those who encourage my rays to reflect outwards?

Why do I seek out on my impulses, toxins to detract from my light?

Keep me from growing into a burst of melody  I can shout out to the cowards.

Confidence issues get the best of me

it’s just all about

ME

ME

ME!

But….

It isn’t-it’s also about my husband , my Bella bee.

When I enunciated my vows last June-what a chirrupy day.

I didn’t have a clue what commitment to another meant

That I would be required to stop mid-flight and stay.

Stagnant breathe, I cry out for security

Inside it’s all I’ve needed to explode into full maturity.

I write aplenty about letting go

The rage, the ability to let it stop over analysing my creative flow.

Seeking out what exactly?

Roses thrown at my feet every hour?

In case I forget in my self and believe I am merely dour.

I crave a prism of  connection and escapism.

All I want is to answer my own question.

What is my purpose?

Ignored.

The birds murmur in their usual stanza of cursive.

Have I ever learnt the language of civility?

Emotions  have tripped me over

Countless times.

Surprised to appraise the sky admiringly

I’m chasing after the elusive high

Frequent in multiple forms.

molecules,

atoms

Sometimes a shape  in a human form of fungi 😉

sigh, me and my warped sense of humour

Desperately  trying to prover I need a holiday under my current demeanour.

the rage inside is never  quelled .

I write and I write yet the tears continue to overspill.

Reticent to see what is standing in front of me

I pause,

I look up

and despite the majestic scenery,

I feel the weight of my guilt-dissecting me into bits to use as flotsam at sea.

One small town to the next

Happiness is a state of mind

Not some hidden idealist.

A paradox of uncertainty

Love me.

Need me.

Crave me.

Believe in me-

The true person outside of my physicality.

I’m not stating I’m beautiful or full of grace.

I do believe I am unique .

This is more than a hope or a whim.

I don’t see absolute distaste when I glance at my face.

The simple moments, the words , the memories that won’t hold on.

I have a purpose-some path to walk without feeling triste

Emotional depths descend into an abyss — it ranks.

I adore the ocean , I hate that I need technology to breathe in, and gasp.

I’m not a shipwreck lying on the floor who gave up and sank.

I’ve learnt how to swim and fight,

For what its worth.

What do I want with this life-streaked , woven into nature’s tapestry?

Here, little bird, come closer unlock the coded language that will show this mystery is more than a pyscho spieling diatribe of empty soliloquised solecisms

Dead eyed,

Heart stammers .

 Side by side a pack of soulless zombies.

Found: Inner Panacea

*only you can decide which oddities are worth keeping or eliminating some most definitely are worth keeping- the ones that make you feel alive keep- the ones that make you feel ugly and insignificant -discard*

TIP  FOR  A SENSE OF EMPOWERMENT:

Expose

Detox

Eliminate

Cleanse

 repeat regularly. 

Bonjour tristesse, I leave you without a second glance.

6hours to go until a new dawn greets me with its fiery dance.

No amount of Moons ago,  could I  foresaw this trip to  such a  bodacious planet.

Lavender dreams interrupted by the need for a bubble bath to cleanse my soul,

enrich my palate.

How it  leaves me in stark clarity,

 other daisies grow wildly in meadows.

2 am cleanse off- eliminate others’ unwanted worries and troubles.

Herbal tea infusions – a meet up with friends who know about life’s true haggles.

Comments intended to cut to the core.

Manage to lick-up   one salty tear

begging for more.

A soul is awoken when it faces all directions.

Never blind yet always courageous to evoke dear affections.

Common goals shared by trolls made by the same finger pointing corporation

Pity those who continue to live not a decade but over half a century in miserable devastation.

Hot water filling a tub – a sauna to enlight.

Voices

You are “divorced”, a drama queen, I only wanted a  shag.

It tickled your delight to dangle carrots when I was newly married

you are most certifiably unbecoming the state of inner jihad.

I’m  having fun acting in a workshop.

That accent is dreadful I can sign you up for electrocution elocution lessons.

Don’t mind me having a gas- the whole purpose of improvisation is to get involved.

 Don’t use me as a pawn for fear of being put under your harsh self-imposed scrutiny.

You are ugly.

 the biggest topic under dissection in a house full of self-confessed millionaires.

All those beatings, and  Sangria holiday hangovers yet,

 still, no permanent fix for happiness to last longer than a child’s joy at the penultimate of funfairs.

Three perfect lessons in all that is wrong not  with me, but with others,

who can’t equate strength alongside vulnerability.

How can it be true that the two run side by side like rivers?

 merging into one ocean of clear waters.

Confucianism arise in accountability.

No one can possess opposing characteristics!

 She does not conform to why we hate her

so, now we must turn up the  gas lighter

 justify our vexes and vehemence to assure we are credible witnesses, to attest, this Red lettered calamity remains  hidden,

 In dead carcasses.

Oh, Shame!

we shall honor you and remain her loyal Foe.

A few written words, at an ungodly hour.

I’ve never been one to conform to another with power.

Time is up, my bath tub is run.

Imagine it freestanding.

careless in an era where it is encouraged to be eccentrically unique. cartwheeling in a  quest to not only live and work hard,

 remember to have fun.

*inspired by toxic people.

Daisy, how can you just assume it’s other people who are toxic and not you?

Well, I say it takes one to know one.

I know how to be toxic, I’ve been toxic and I know how it feels to live away from toxic vibes and people. *