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SHAON THGHILP

Is mortal love the true sin of the man opposed to the laudable man blinded by a paradise of perfection?

With  blood on our hands

 With  bare footed callousness

 We walk  over the corpses of our ancestors.

The biblical story of Noah is the parable of the modern day humanitarian plight.

We will return to the second day of creation fighting with sticks and stones

As prophesied by another mere mortal

As prophesied by another mere mortal sapian in well versed archaic rhetoric…

Musings of today



Dreams can come true

Dreams are a subject that always confuses me. Why? It frustrates me that sometimes I can go for months (even years) without remembering any dreams. Then all of sudden they renegade me with one or two per night.

What is the first dream I remember? When I was 5 years old I had this recurring dream that my Mom got eaten by a shark and I was trying to save her. I remember my Aunt lifting me out of the water telling me that she couldn’t be saved. This dream was on a loop for some time. At the time life was stressful for us -moving around a lot, So, I could put the dream down to stress

OR

I could blame my cousin. Why?

Well, one-night my mom went out and he was designated babysitter. He had some girl with him and the movie ‘Jaws’ had just come out on videotape. I didn’t want to watch it but he forced me to. He was a bit of a jerk.  He used to call me peanut head!  I do find that rather amusing.

I don’t know how successful he was with his date that night but I’m hoping Karma had her wicked way with him and left him with blue balls- sorry cuz!

So, back to dreams.  Dreams for me conjure up vivid emotions and feelings rather than rely on visual details. My feelings and how I react in the dreams are always the strongest part of my dream that I remember.  My latest dream I was torn between feeling secure and loved to being insecure and doubtful. In the dream, my hubby-to-be was having secret conversations with a woman he knew (in the context of the dream). I decided to confront the two – This girl was trying to convince me that my hubby was in fact in love with her and always would be. My other half was quiet when she spoke but in private he told me little except she was wrong and to trust him. The dream went back and forth between feeling betrayed and thinking the girl was telling some truth. My husband showed me a piece of torn paper and he said that she was trying to blackmail him but those feelings of insecurity would not pass.

The night before that I dreamt about my Mom. She was showing me her new wool jersey dress. she goaded me telling me to stop being so jealous and that she too was entitled to happiness. I wasn’t aware of my supposed jealous emotions until she changed tactics and told me she had that exact dress but a used one. Her dress was new and never been washed with the label intact. She invited me to try her new dress on. I kept on declining and then just to shut her up I conceded and tried on the dress. I put it on. Jiggled it on more like. I felt the tightness around my waist and then went into super panic mode when I couldn’t get it off. Mom was screaming at me to not stretch or ruin her dress.

How does this dream fit into the context of my everyday consciousness? I have been worried that I’ve put on weight around my middle and I have a wedding dress that I bought in 2014 for a knock off price that fits me like a glove. No room for breathing much. I need a straw to breathe out my nose  to be honest. That is why I have been killing myself with Jillian Michaels workouts. This lady is nuts=a beaster. Every time I finish doing her workout I swear to myself I will NOT  put myself through so much pain again. Today I’m contemplating doing another session. INSANITY! All this in an effort to look like a dream-like toned wedding bride belle for 22/06/2016.

The best dreams and most intense dreams were when I was a child. I loved flying dreams. It was so real. I could feel myself soaring through the sky – grazing over pine cone trees. I was energised, fast and it was like being on some crazy high with more than mild disappointment when I woke up. I still crave those dreams like a crack addict chasing that first hit of blood vessel dilation and a 47 second rush of blood brethren to the head . Falling dreams were intense, remember those?  I remember free falling unboundedly from a great height. With a seemingly frog-like croak,  I could feel my heart leap up into my throat. I was going to flounder and land and smudge the ground with a body made of lead.  It was going to happen. The only thing that stopped that dream was I woke up.

Did I hit the ground jolting me back to consciousness? I don’t know but it was intense and an adrenaline rush. Terrifying but one I would invite back.

The craziest dreams I’ve had are the ones I swear I have been awake. One dream was when I was about 10 years old – in my bedroom, we kept the washing machine there. One night I woke up to the washing machine churning furiously. It wanted my attention. It was spinning around so fast I thought it would take off. I was paralysed. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I’ve had a few of these kinds of dreams in my life and they do genuinely scare me because my eyes are open and I am awake!

Sex dreams are a bit embarrassing, right?  erm…. won’t 

go into that one unless asked – Hahaha.

Anothe

r dream I had aeons ago as I heard the phone ringing. I was too lazy to pick it up. It rang and rang and rang. Eventually, I picked up the receiver and I woke up with my hand stretched up and out as if to hold a phone.  Strange surreal shit.

So does anybody else have any dreams they want to share? I have an odd feeling that pouring my sub- unconscious self onto E-paper will start a cycle of more dreams. Wish me luck.

No more sex 

dream

s, please! I feel like converting to catholicism when I have one. Do you want to have a go analysing your dreams?





Vacant

I’m scared  because I don’t know how to comfort her anymore.

I’m scared because when I go and visit her ,

She  does this trick of making out like her eyes have glazed over into a  dark,shut, emerald door.

I can’t see inside. I try to peek through  the keyhole,  carefully.

There is  seemingly no one there.

Vacant. a word chastened in hyperbole.

The remnants of a body is  clearly  still  in front of me.

I only sit and stare.

I hear a sound – high pitched screams.

It sounds like there is a disturbing altercation   going on in there.

A neighbour  breathes and passes by , leaving  only a scented whisper of

” Feed her chocolate. It keeps her subdued”.

Fair trade Chocolate does not seem like the  ethical solution  to end  a deplorable mental feud.

The air is thick with  my punctuated  words.

WHY?

the neighbour screams,

Red, furious and right up in my face-

“BECAUSE THEN YOU WON’T HAVE TO KEEP UP YOUR NOBLE ATTEMPTS TO MAKE OUT SHE IS STILL A PART OF US HUMANS SPACE“

She is!

look,

Look at her .

I kiss her head and she flirts with that smile.

The neighbour shakes his head.

“All she does is mumble like a car spluttering ,trying to clock one last mile”.

“It would be kinder if they actually just stopped and kept her  underfed.”

Oh really, if she  doesn’t understand then why the hell did she lash  out to hit me ? 

She saw her ring on my finger .

If she is only a  shell then why do  such  emotions come out like she is  a venomous, angered Bee?

“I wish she would go. It has no existence”.

Yes, it is hard to see her exist like this but the only alternative you suggest is that me ,you and her have even more distance.

Maybe I am selfish,

but nobody really knows how much she  knows.

Just because she can’t speak or walk or do much anymore .

it doesn’t meant everyone can just talk  around her like a she is a retard.

 It doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel our ignorance  like fists pummelling  her heart in  fierce blows.

I see the image of her in bed , sleeping with her Teddy bear.

 I can’t take my eyes away from it and just pretend that this is what it is and carry on like I don’t care.

I don’t cry. I will try .

I don’t try . I cry.

Suffer.

Suffer.

Suffer.

If it was me in her place,

 I would make sure I had a will that specified I decided when I wanted to  dissipate into another state or  place.

(For my Gran. Dementia is ……. I am at a loss for words)



Happiness: How to Let Go

,

, yesterday. I was too busy posting about my cat’ Tatiana. I am just a tad happy at the moment. Right, this minute she is sleeping under the quilt with me. Epic moment -which will make more sense if you read the post about my Tatiana. Feel free to read and of course not read (I am merely updating my fellow cat lovers).  Owned 100%. Enough about me. Let’s get on with sharing how you can drum up some happiness of your own: in your own life.. 

 Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of posts and speaking to a few special people in my life. People who can’t seem to ‘sweat the small stuff’ out. Stop the ‘little thing’ thought’ critters from holding you back and moving on with your life. I’m guilty of it too.

SECRET TO HAPPINESS: Let go of your grudges/fears/doubt and heartache 

TRADITION: Loy Krathon ( Lantern festival)  – I  am aware in countries like the U.K. laws are trying to be passed in  regards to using  lanterns CLIMATE ACTIVISTS CLICK ON LINK HERE FOR SAFE WAYS TO USE LANTERNS

DATE: Usually November – whenever the 12th full moon is according to the Thai lunar calendar

CELEBRATED IN: Thailand

Many of us (me included) sometimes tend to speak before engaging the brain and really think about what we are saying to some-one. I’m learning that by being rather blunt at times. Hurts. There are other ways to tell the truth without leaving a person feeling a bit crap and thinking less of themselves and stop people thinking that others now think less of them.   Most of us mean well and do not go out of our way to be malicious. 

images

Shutting up and ruminating over unhelpful thoughts, creates so much pressure in your brain; that it can leave little room/space in our minds for anything else to help challenge these negative thoughts. Keeping everything inside means all these thoughts accumulate and have nowhere else to go. This can be a major trigger for off- setting Anxiety.

I’m sure that whoever is reading this will possibly know about the Thai tradition of symbolically letting go of all negativity (anxiety and worries)by lighting lanterns. Thousands of them drift up into the sky, creating a cosy golden glow effect. The simple act of doing and of seeing all these lanterns fly away and disappear-  can create a compelling and magnificent sight.

So, I am only assuming here, you have probably heard this way of getting out negative thoughts from your mind before. What is that? Well, how can you create this same kind of act of ‘letting go’ wherever you are in the world? You may not be in Thailand and it is only February.

Write every unwanted thought down on paper or whatever you wish ( in this example paper is a good medium) .

Make sure each irritating thought is on separate pieces of paper.

Allow yourself a moment to reflect on each written thought

Then scrunch up the paper into a ball 

Then throw it into you bin/ wastebasket -the point is wherever you throw your junk

The not so climate ethical  alternative is to go outside and for a few moments release your inner arsonist- that little ‘firebug’ comes out and burns each paper – one by one. This is a more gradual and meditative way to release all those burdensome worries and anxieties.  Make sure you lock away your inner pyromaniac, before entering the house and make sure the fire is out! 😀

I remember a person told me of a really powerful mind exercise to do : Put each thought in a cloud and watch it float away and then watch it fly away and imagine it bursting and dissipating into the atmosphere far away from your mind.

The message is simple: It is not how you do it- you may come up with your own epic way to let all the crap go. The most important part you need to take away with you from this post. DO IT! Don’t put it off. 

What is your big fat monster?

Write about what scares you the most. What is the big monster inside you that stops you from writing?

 

In order to answer this question, I need to explain how I feel. How do I feel? I feel that nauseating twisting cord in the pit of my stomach, that bit that hits the lungs and makes it hard for me to catch my breath. It is pure fear. I’m waiting for fear. I’m crying with rage thinking that I am going to fail. Going to fail? WHY  the hell have I put those words down? 

I’m 

fulfilling my own destiny if I continue to write, to think this way. So pessimistic.  I’m so sad. Who wants to know about sadness? There is too much of it already in our lives. I try my hardest to carry on and swallow down the lump of sadness and anxiety that keeps rising up trying to force me into regurgitation mode. I try to smile and distract myself by the cows and the horses and the sheep passing by. I make the animal sounds with my daughter. I never want her to know such sadness.

 

My big monster is a haunting sense of failure. As I type the cord pulls tighter. It is my very own Gordian knot but it pulls at me with such a force that I forget that I’m typing and it reminds me that I’m freestyling it. Winging it. Just getting it out.

 

 Letting it all hang out. Let’s face it, I’m not going to become a better writer if I don’t write.  A pause here. My partner doesn’t know how to help me. I glance at my daughter. She brushes her teeth and gives me a smile of pride. She turns around and I suddenly notice her honeyed hair has grown and she finally looks like the little lady she is. She is an only child. She has lots of imaginary friends and is always talking to her friends and singing.

 

 How can I be so sad and have this terrible sense of inauspicious dread pervading my insides? I should be happy! I’m getting married in 8 months. I am loved and I love.

Yet, here  I sit -twiddling my fingers – hesitant. expecting to be caught out.  I’m waiting for the tokoloshe or some other monster to come and turn me inside out and roll me out and shake me around like a big old cotton sheet. Hang me up and then beat the starch of uselessness out of me- for all  to see. I know it is there-somewhere – camouflaged chameleon-like  – waiting to expose its true face. I just don’t know when it will strike.

 

It will be quick like a scorpion attack – one quick whip and all my innards will be turned inside out.  Something has happened to my breathing.

The knot has gone away! Where the hell did it go? Did I imagine it? No, it is gone. I’ve typed myself out of a brooding sense of failure.

 

At least I hope this is what I have done. Has typing down just anything and everything cured my manic inflictions? The one thing I fear – is I can’t write and yet, when I write I feel more contained, a wholly vessel, worthy and strong enough for arduous  travels across the waves of  an ocean of enigmas.

 

Okay, so this post is no masterpiece but I know what cures me. The sadness has lifted somewhat. I can now pin down the real reason I feel sad today.  Before I continue, my partner has just come to tell me he loves me and to take a break from typing. I told him

“Oh I’m just typing some rubbish!”

 

Why the hell do I put myself down so much?  I’m currently holding the title of Atlas… I don’t want his burden, thanks. How do other people cope and stop that feeling of failure? Don’t answer that… or do if you wish to. In fact please do…

 

Sadness comes from an afternoon visit with my Gran with Dementia and Alzheimers. Why does this illness have to exist? Why does my Gran have to live like she does? How can there be a God when there is so much suffering behind those eyes-  her confusion staring back at me? Staring me down. A mischievous imp -goading me to carry on smiling with my eyes. It knows I’m faking it.  

 She stroked my face -touched it like a  blind person -feeling every bump, every contour. I’m sad because I can’t control time. I can’t control what is happening to her. We are all getting older and time is running out and I need to make a bigger contribution to my life and to the people around me before my time is up. I close my eyes and think : When was the last time I really laughed?

 

Oh yeah, two nights ago. I Skyped my mom and I said something and my uncles overheard what I said and started taking the piss about how direct I am. Family…. not going there but I need my family.



the You! fallacy

THE YOU! FALLACY 

Just jotting my thoughts. I’ve been prompted to make a complaint.

little four eyes when you were half your current size -why did you doubt yourself so?

Looking back to a densely plotted past – hazy.

What would you have done knowing all people doubt themselves even if it means you becoming the foe?

‘Have no regrets’ – the tagline of the present.

no regrets, no regrets, no regrets.

When you are looking at granny in a catatonic state, unable to walk or talk. Fragments of images of people now gone, tell me you won’t wonder how life would have played out by taking assertive bets.

Complaints department – sizable queue. 

What can we do to answer people’s feuds?

Create a passage for people to commit to taking responsibility for themselves, sign that in ink and wrangle with their own moods.

Blame everyone.

You!

You,

and you!

well…… the list unfolds until it reaches the flaws of flooring.

Fingers pointing in every direction. Buckle up, prepare to look within and see how far you can go when you begin to see only you can change your state of deploring.

Control comes not from puppeteering others. Cut loose – let the strings fall.Let people walk,

hell! let them figure it out-  leave them to crawl.

Worry about how you are going to make it. What you need to do to advance in the dance – motions to elevate and bypass the savage instinct to maul.

How many complaints is your God of choice dealing with?

in Her brassic attempt to fulfil everyone’s wish

Did it ever occur to you to get off your indignant knees to check out the employment vacancies for extras needed to help your  God succeed in appetising your particular dish?

Stop giving control to others to fix your problems. You have a brain, how much has been wasted?

Think of the energy and time used in a  futile attempt to get people to see your view,

the moment before the curtains go down you have become the finale unstitched,  obtusely basted.

What do you do to make this world a better place?

What do you do to help us people stay in the race with human grace?

Life is never going to get easy – you’re never going to be 100%  fulfilled. There will always be a doughnut sized whole to fill.

Do you even know what it is you need to fix yourself?   In monetary terms, you will have to pay for your own self- advocacy bill.

Money, time and energy well spent making you a person who can figure out how to make sense.

Dig deep and take a deep breath-  Don’t be afraid to be a master of your own success.

To run away from your potential achievement will be your greatest offence.


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!

The unsensational one dimensionals

 The pain inside me remains the real deal

It’s  a tragedy how I  only cruise on wordpress when I have tears dripping onto the steering wheel.

The journey that promotes me to tap away is always inspired by an ill gotten day.

Deal with the past. It’s too easy to blame.

I swear, I  look forward.

Stand up for where I  go wrong and who I  maim.

Revolving doors of asylum,  inpatient wannabe beauticians.

Incredulous  that  my  own mother

bipolar, institionalised,

beaten by her lovers and suffered her own ills.

Thinks its better to throw me behind the institution with E.C.T.  waves and the  barbed wire.

Jesus had a crown of thorns – aesthetically cruel in their Romanic decisions.

It’s  a loop on a loop.

more drama –

 Every.

Week.

It’s.

Something.

 New.

No.

every week its  the same song coming out in different shade of blue.

This won’t disappear by erasing my face from your mind.

My child is my glory.

You wonder why i can’t take this lying down?

 instead I give you the flamboyant, cussation  sign

 Call the crisis team.

We live in a Theresa May ,Tory sperm infested  government.

I’m not suicidal.

I’m not drinking

I’m not overdosing

 Not taking drugs.

Merely holding myself at a metaphorical  gunpoint.

I want to protect my family from the inner Iago in me.

Deceives and twists all the good my heart seeks to see.

A mighty herculean -blinded by rage.

Numbers  are his torment – he looks to  them like riches dripped in gold.

an obssesive compulsive disorder compells him to have less –

It  must be all light  and sage.

Alone , i wake up to the sound of silence.

No daughter to say good bye to ,

 no husband plodding about drinking coffee and watching QI on rinse.

In Africa I would be welcomed for my rise in weight.

I’m not in Africa.

I’m in a mind fed on media, with distorted ideas about what to look like.

Social media , I hate.

Insight is a curse -Ignorance is bliss.

Two weeks away from my deadline.

 Post graduate, Daisy willows , in the Humanities

I  should be riding out to the ocean to collect my sun’s kiss.

I feel like I’m there for everyone- I listen  to their woes.

I jump up and celebrate every time they make a success of their lives.

 They shine so bright – I call them my ‘little twinkle toes’.

I know I shouldn’t expect,

then I wouldn’t ‘t get disappointed.

I do,

 i do…

I do..

 life.

I keep up appearances until the night terrors pull me out of my bed, torture me under veiled sight.

 Days

 filled with  infected cuts and perceptions line up disjointed.

I’m not the only one who doesn’t have a family!

So, why do you get the hump when i have no other alternative but to call up the family intervention team?

I want my daughter to grow up without these bouts of fits & confusion.

the cycle of poorly managed mental health to skip a generation .

 Enough with another  ‘daughter following  in her mother’s  steps’ delusion.

There is more to the back lash of her tounge and callous remarks than plain  old wickedness.

We are a narrative of complex emotions bound up, in a body of flesh and bones.

look beyond your eye line fall.

Seek and you  will find a person who is not transparent -less.
Sick of seeking approval from social media one dimensional folk.

Cull the people who can’t see it for what it is.

 Fakery

 it’s  beyond a joke.

Cutting down on so called friends.

re catagorise my means to justify making  ethical ends.

 People see right through you

Unless your name is printed in black and white.

The best stars shine and go about unseen,

making wishes of hope seem bright.

Her rage tips over the sides – the current for those who get credit for being generico stereotype.

It’s all hype.

they barely even look alive.

I want justice.

I want the people who make a difference

 to get credit where its due.

I’ve had enough of this  fake bakery .

Diabetic shots brings out the bad assery in me.

I’m done with pretentious folk .

Emotional  vampires who expect.

Because they think they precribe the ideal look.

Its sad, a shame.

Don’t get caught up in the superficial.

Remember, reality goes way past the fantasy of this screen.

Cos we naturally wired to be a human being.

We need to communicate

 reciprocate.

Technology has purpose – it’s not for living life in a kumbaya state.

So many lies,

people all have ties

Issues-

That keep them  reaching out for 39p tissues.

I’m here for authenticity.

Denounce those who I see,

in all their duplicity.

I can’t be good and kind to all that seek attention.

selfish,

marred

 How tragic is this situation?

Goodbye to many of you.

who will never wake from your boggled  eyed fallacy.

I don’t do this out of spite or even maliciously .

I see clearly what and who holds me back.

My sole purpose is to stay on track.

So good bye to some of  those

I’ve met on my path

Good luck with your life and everything that comes with decisions aftermath.

I aint got no more energy for you.

My people, my life needs my attention. Arrears paid up –

Well overdue.

 Mini life update 14 days  until I  hand in my End Of Module assessment for year one of my Masters. 😛

I will have a post graduate certificate in the Humanities 😛🤓🤓

I have news….

A director (not name dropping) wants me  to send him my script about the homeless couple.

I don’t think Im going to……..

Or maybe I should …..

I don’t know.

I’ve never thought  I was a good enough writer to see my work brought to life.

It”s scary to think that success is possible.

Rejection is normal, but the more I distance myself from the people in my life who made/make me feel shit about myself, and my abilities, and my sense of belonging; the more I  meet  people who see the good in me .

 I don’t want to feel like shit around people.

So, I would rather be surrounded by a small number of those who are true and think I’m cool ish 😎😉.

Let the rest of world get their claws out in their need for attention, and to be heard.

 Be humble.

Life is a blessing already

One thing is for sure. I will never work for fame. I will always work for justice and what is right.

I’m struggling, but never will I give up or give in.

This heart beats.

These eyes have fire behind them

DAISY
Xxx

 

The lure of fascination 

 


Write to recover

Don’t underestimate the power of a few choice words from another.

Still the mind-frozen ice bar decline

Mountain conquest-The victory is in the scenic  songfest

Emotions sprayed in clouds of mist.

A place so far from  the abuse of the daily grit.

Fight to recover — remember hope thrives in another day

Feed and nurture this seed-give it an opportunity-don’t let another life sit and decay.

Losing time — people fragmented in a hazy rhyme.

Distance double flips somersaults. Impressive only till the sun dims less radiantly  clocking off to snooze-lay down with others in benign.

Can only write when thoughts form in  a Conga– order, progress-the dance in these words come from a heart who usually expresses mime.

Inflicted amoeba-exhaling indignant carbon monoxide. I despise seeking out for the ones cued up at destination  ‘one stop’,Integrity lost standing mid line.

Metamorphose into a grey lizard , eagle or indeed be reborn as the mighty phoenix.

Third degree  burns — death — ashes to ashes worth the pain to be reborn into the matrix.

The urge to sin imparts thoughts to defecate-all held sacred in the church of integrity.

Not enough to know the meaning-practice is what gives this value its credibility.

Walk the straight line — fight the inner hate crime.

Searching for a divine sign-reason dictates energy must endeavour with one’s moral  returning — to refine. 

Speak up for the light that waivers-clinging on to its last breath

Inspired by an element with the capacity to cause devastation or provide a clear path leading to expulsion ending in

 relief.

One wish to formulate all the intelligence into an honest medium of communication

History teaches-not all understand the world on multiple levels of perception of another situation.

Courage to flush  the contents highlighting the spiral of organic destruction.

One day at a time — one moment to lie. Craving for the mythical Elysium.

Compulsive tics  create a house of pain-exhaling tension-containing the nuclear fetus-nature’s own opium.

Losing track of the words that stumble — imbibed drunks-hungover searching for  a quench of delirium.

Evade – This is the time when courage fails to conquer

 life’s illusive temptations — the bell tolls-the seekers contort to fits of tingling.

Invisible to the faithful patrons in full  stasis cycle. A burden

a cross —

communication interrupted by Manic pleas to bear Atlas boulder with herculean madness lingering.

Cross eyed staring at the lit up pyres, 

The smell of human flesh disintegrates into a ritual released for those travelling the unknown path of death.

Reason can’t imprint enough ink — memories inclined to dementia bouts of forget.

Last night’s shallow breathing ,shadows taunt — loom over until the inner eye seeks regret.

Promises made in a plea of  chaotic desperation

Only to be forgotten the day after  the congestion lifts —   arise the sleeping urge to  compete with this  peculiar fascination

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 canvas.

Voice barely audible -mouths out to me

Who is this new persona?

Blood of my labour sworn to tell the gospel TRUTH.

Astonished -wrinkles crease — at time ‘s wildfulness 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 an intoxicating incensed haze.

Measure 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.

Tortured 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 to 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 earth’s seasonal affective disorder

Why does she have to be mortal?

Wings hook into shoulder blades

Reduced to a puppet attached by silver linings.

aerial 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 scapegoat

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 are never alone for eternity.

We have one another to rise above our hurt.



knowledge is power, wisdom is happiness and truth is freedom