https://youtu.be/diZEGYsAvJg I used to think my writing was ineligible maybe that was its charm. These days I write more concise cos a guy couldn’t take in more than 300 words of what I wrote. I detest this undercover cop writer fraud Its mind possesses my pen The daily dips in a stream in consciousness […]
If you took away my infidelity
Would you let me have my way?
If these words were flesh
Would you bury my bones
Dig up the grains of sand
Blow my spirit so the the people who could never say
The bones could never declare
For a day
Unless you said I was fair.
For a moment
An hour longer than you dared to muster
To declare I’m the loyal mare
I dare you to share
For another day might tame
The girl who cared.
Or are afraid to .. …
Let’s TALK ABOUT THAT FUCKING ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM!
Yeah, I’m obviously not going ignore that it is WORLD SUICIDE PREVENTION DAY -especially considering the work and training I have been doing this week, around Mental Health Recovery embracing the 5 key concepts to the
HOPE-People who experience mental health difficulties get well, stay well and go on to meet their life dreams and goals.
SELF-RESPONSIBILITY- It’s up to you, with the assistance of others, to take action and do what needs to be done to keep yourself well.
EDUCATION-Learning all you can about what you are experiencing so you can make good decisions about all aspects of your life.
SELF-ADVOCACY-Effectively reaching out to others so that you can get what it is that you need, want and deserve to support your wellness and recovery.
SUPPORT – While working toward your wellness is up to you, receiving support from others, and giving support to others will help you feel better and enhance the quality of your life.
WRAP is . . .
I’ve been so inspired, comforted, shocked and angered by the stories I have heard this week. Every one of us has been through shit- the same clinical diagnoses come up again and again, being drugged, feeling ashamed, stigmatized.
Being called crazy for acting in a way where obviously a person’s mental health is not good for whatever reasons.
Still, we live in this society. With this Victorian -lock them away, throw away the key mentality.
In my life, I have met people from all walks of life, ethnicities, religion, job roles/class.
I knew a physiatrist, (I have known many) who was not mine but a fellow inpatient, just like me. No one will know who I am on about. It was many years ago and nobody who knows me today and who I connect with today will know this person.
The thing with suicide – it can be intentional and unintentional – a quick act or an act that goes on for years until eventually, Grim reaper does come to collect.
Usually, there are years of pain and suffering and wearing the ‘I am ‘normal’ mask, not like – them – the “crazy” -unwell people, before someone does intentionally/unintentionally ends their life.
“I only drink 1/2/3 glasses of alcohol, a spliff, a night/at weekends to calm me down/get a buzz .”
I’ve heard that a lot.
Why does a person need this kind of outlet and coping mechanism to chill or escape from reality?
I include myself in this.
Life is stressful.
We are not helping our mates, colleagues, family, friends and community by pretending this is one of the healthy ways to cope.
“I only inject heroin or smoke crack, snort coke/Ket on weekends” It’s recreational use.”
I hear that too. These very words have come out of my mouth over the years.
SELFIE- WE ARE HAVING A BLAST – ONLY ON THE WEEKENDS!
“I can’t cope with life at all and need to take antidepressants/ mood stabilisers/ drink/smoke/inject/starve/comfort eat to cope and deal with the stresses of life”
I can hear the crowd heckling and tsking already.
That person has gone too far.
“All in moderation.” I hear some people say.
Have you actually looked at what the ( ahem..) governments guidelines for how much alcohol you are actually “advised” ( doesn’t mean you should) to drink or the number of painkillers you should take and when you should take them?
(if that is your “thing”)
Did you go out and buy a government, custom made, wine, beer glass or whatever to make sure you are getting the correct dose?
If you look at your drinking glasses compared to what the size of the glass that is advised (if you insist on drinking something that happens to be legal), I think you may have gone over the limit.
In this context, The moderation theory is a fucking myth, in my opinion.
Food is legal – people get addicted to it/not eating it.
So is Sex. So is stealing – that is illegal, of course.
Why are we self-medicating ourselves in this way?
Ask yourself. Don’t point a finger at Bob or Tina next door who are total mad heads, crazy, raging druggies or whatever, who are always having a bust-up.
Look at your own life. The own things you use to keep you well, that keep you able to make it to work the next day or not.
Keep you ticking over just nicely enough to cope with Lifes/ people’s unrealistic expectations of you.
Just a thought.
Do or don’t. I am not here to judge. I’m merely expressing my thoughts. I’m thinking/ musing– being human.
I know I come across as confrontational in this post and maybe I am.
Hell, yes I am.
I’m pissed off at how society decides who is fit and who is a misfit.
There are so many other ways to chill, be happy, live.
Why do we (I include myself in we) choose ways that are not actually healthy?
Why do we alter the wiring in our brain? Numb our feelings?
What is wrong with feeling and expressing so-called “weak” ” negative” feelings?
Take a look at your friend, a stranger in the street/ family member/ the person who calls you crazy.
It’s not hard to figure it out.
Did you know that a person with a label of schizophrenia is more likely to kill him/herself before harming another?
Yes, self-medicating – drinking, taking drugs to cope increases the chances of a person with a diagnosed mental illness becoming violent.
Think of Christmas, bank holidays, seasonal drinkers who congregate in civilised places to drink or even the illegal drug takers who congregate wherever to imbibe whatever substance.
I’ve been to these pubs/clubs/houses/parks/festivals/doss houses sober and seen what “normal” looks like.
How many of those people do you know?
Do you know their background, mind state?
Really, How well do you know them?
Have you seen what alcohol and drugs can do to a person who is a “normal” member of society?
“It was the alcohol, the prick who looked at me differently, the fucking coach of whatever sports team, that German/English/ French prick.”
What you put into your body will change how you act/perceive things and that is my point.
If I drink alcohol – when I have and done so, I tend to binge drink and I can “lose” it.
One last thing to think about, if you wish.
If I asked you to visually describe and give traits of a person who you think is likely to think about or actually take their own life, what does that person look like?
Here is a Fact: or about as accurate as a statistic can tell you.
The person most likely to attempt/take their own life, according to the statistic website I chose to use,
age 30- 64
method: firearm, strangulation, suffocation and poisoning
Previous Attempts to self-harm.
No items found.
I’m using him as an example with his permission, of course. 😀
Five years ago, he did fit into most of the criteria for being the person who is more likely to attempt/commit suicide.
He thought about ending his life when he was bullied, in his early teens, in the neighbourhood, he grew up in.
My husband has ended up in A&E due to an injury he acquired intoxicated. In his case, skateboarding accident.
Today, he is not suicidal nor does he own a firearm( it is illegal to in the U.K.) He has not drunk alcohol in 5 years, doesn’t smoke or use drugs – he has never even smoked a cigarette.
Today my thoughts confound me.
Hijacked emotions detonated into a familar war zone.
The survivors feel mixed up for another mistaken identity
passport confiscated by newfound enemies.
this queue finally advances
25 letters fated to the gates of uncertainty.
A survivor is stuck in the middle -it’s me -a headless body with a hidden agenda
Skin flushed assimilates bloody shadow a crimson hue mane of the unflinchers –
pale, skeletal, naked, destitute, some even of their robbed of own teeth
a pile-up -bodies all shook
adorned by a hand, ankle, A cold shoulder, one fair nipple, a flaccid penis
Perhaps your inner idealist
can resurrect these lives distorted by final moments -a conscious full of shame.
No burial for those of faith
Souls denied a peaceful resting place.
The faithless blasted out mid breathe energy kinesthetic Life mid beat -legged it
A desperate plight -scientific proof hearts can beat or flee.
My body under constant surveillance
The scourge of self-scrutiny
Double doubt implants enhance all traces of unwanted memories
Should I hide my body
The very essence of my being?
emotions -use tic tactics
Thoughts use unrestrained strategies.
propped up by bare feet
conditioned to protect my diasporic body
Roughly re-examine all once held beliefs.
Displaced her head!
how contrary I would have said
pure insanity I willingly would share.
If I don’t have any thought
or an opinion I’ve sought out myself.
I’ll become a diminutive
No person will ever see me
No person will hear my roar.
This voice will become non-existent -all my declarations are torn from the books of history
uninformed therefore never spoken nor unwritten
My right is to live and be!
My right is to feed peacefully
not between flippant mercenaries abiding by wall division protocol that I can’t see.
disconnected to set a prenup engagement
How is it I feel the pressure of the tummy bloat after the soldiers who gloat
of their lack of familiarity?
No sense die-hard before a sensation penetrates the first bloom of intimacy
They forget how hard they push
enter the orifice
Where I learned how to formulate words.
All I have is words and sound.
They take liberties- jabs & jeers are the echo chamber to my inner core.
These are the spoils of war.
My Emotions are absolute in their conviction
My sentence – A Disempowered daily mantra
I am to be their common whore.
a concubine filled up on spew, chunks of bile flotsam
traces keep me chronically ill.
Medical treatment denied because I’ve forgotten how to express my will
The West states I’m worth it !
the East send out a search party
on wise mind hill
There is no privacy.
My body is presented against my will
These clothes cover up the tight jeans that have become my only woe
Self-growth without a choice in how I present my self
Scratch these newly formed scabs for I have lost my flair
writing words to recover
self-oppression lost out in the talent show of acquired skills
Recovery is heartbreaking.
Hoochie flavoured scent
sniff out trouble keeps me imprisoned
I look up -the window is clear still
Or perhaps my beliefs are outdated.
Murder with intent
disarm these emotions
strangers with a familiar stance
Physical appearance is my only strength?
How Naive a woman can be
One strip away from freedom
I claim a culture of sound
Dance a tango inner peace with an outward serenity.
Silk lined hemmed skirts
embroidered letters spell out a movement of hope.
I’m one dancer
I’m one dissident
a fledgeling feather
& ink well
A pregnant pause followed by a ward filled with the birth of more words
sentences will start to show
the labour of courage pushed out in its full placenta -reborn – free feathered fledgelings take flight
-A yoke is sky born
These are my words -maybe she wrote/ be happy or die trying.
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.
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.
I’m not always distasteful
Some bluds might call me graceful
No more graceful than dying hair red
Taking a bath
A pic of fake Menstruation on social media seems needed as its relatable.
Those who don’t know how it feels when your daughter whispers sweet nothings in your ear
Until you can’t deny she is you blood.
Veins pumping genetics down to her very veneers.
Unlike a gangster with a knife
She can disarm me with one word.
More tears to fall.
She is my life and I feel shame to be told I am a failure according to ‘the perfect mothers’ bible.
Secret whispers in the night with my Bee and our cat
I’m elated by delight of their sight.
I pretend I’m tired
all I want to do is listen to an 8-year old tell me about her life
Virual is alright.
Her self made granny
The architect homes she designed
The way she does things back to front
Kisses her cat before wiping her face
Is it so bad
she has character?
She is a person with grace revelling in her precious nature.
I love her
Forget the love me not.
She heard me say that her dad needs a shaggy cut.
She screamed out in jest that his Mario sweater is replaceble.
Cut and dry
Wife with a belly full of fire.
She lived with an advisor
Who clouted her with words
She holds herself like a raw diamond.
With all my strength I wish I could embrace her with my words
Take away the miscommunication.
She is my blood
She gave birth to me
How could I truly hate her?
She gives advice and tips
Tells me: I’m wiser I’m wiser I’m wiser!
Tell her: I know I know I know!
Indulge her fear to check her memory
Alzheimer’s runs in the family it may not happen to my maternal
Mom and I disconnect because she thinks I’ve misplaced her mind with my mind chasing speedballs
With out thought
Nor thoughts of a future.
Denounced my victories
Declared I should be recovered nor heeded her advise
Disrespected her pain
I wish she could put her life onto paper
For now, I see she wants recondition me to remember where I come from.
I hadn’t forgotten.
Save my daughter who will never forget her cumbersome roots
No Respect for a mothers love
When the child has not lived an age of daughter & mom with 38 years and odd some
Not for the grace of any God did we want the same for outcome for my child of surprise.
She is the one who has become our saviour.
Breaking up the pieces of our past.
How can I tell her to choose between mother or grandmother?
Who’s life is already unstable
20 years from now perhaps she will be a disorderly
Drunk or solicitor with letters after her name.
I’ve has enough of her being held at ransom by the past, ifs and buts
all the songs screeched from
The rabid rats
The stray cats
We once loved them.
I live in a place that’s to become my home again.
Ive sinned in mothers eyes
Because neither being clean off coke, weed & MDMA nor alcohol is enough to placate her that I’m enjoying recovery after waking up from a 5-day coma.
I believe I’m trying my damn hardest to get better.
She doesn’t care when I explain the recovery process.
You have too many issues.
Time to find a semi used snot filled tissue
We powwow with our words
Resulting in bad art titled ‘the splatter’.
I’m not trying to berate her.
My heart breaks.
She falls apart into pieces of bloody flotsam
Salty droplets of water flick her face at high tide.
In another room
A child washes her hair
Cuts out the words she doesn’t think she wants to hear.
She doesn’t understand the possible dynamics of life that awaits.
I hope life and fate won’t degrade her.
My child’s soul is pure.
Please, higher power embalm the one I call my graceful dancer
For I do I love her.
My mom too.
I love her
More than the blank stares and words that are hidden in my mind riddled with bedlam made cancer.
Bahtuhkid · my thoughts about the past
When I think I’ve escaped the past
I know my Ma doesn’t drink alcohol and she Sort of kicked me out without kicking my ass.
My daughter cried
Tatiana didn’t meow
I came back to the place where I thought I would relapse
I went to buy cat food
shop was closed
memories of that drug dealer who shine bright with implanted teeth
£4000 inclusive holiday
I could have gnashed
Instead, I congratulated him for his holly wood smile with panache.
Using my money to fulfill another dream — one more ticked off his bucket list
It’s so sad
I’m back in the house
haunted by ghosts of the past.
Mother wouldn’t let me in
steam off on a legal poison
Get Sleep with Prosecco & a gin with a 60 pence glass.
Daughter cried I packed my bags
I saw her cry for our cat
I packed up all my bags
And walked out like an immature twocker
with a dirty rash.
DIDI WANT TO SCORE THE GREATEST OF THE GREATEST OF SNIFF?
Nah, all I wanted was freedom & to sleep without alcohol and illegal grass or bash.
Here I sit in darkness not happy to be back.
I have a packet of lamberts and Prosecco I’m NOT interested in drinking until I’m befokkered.
I won’t sleep
Forever forgotten all thoughts that made me high
Making drug dealers run for corruption, greed, and bite so compared to ash Wednesday like sinners driving by.
My bee she cried for my Tatiana
Guilt came flooding for sleep in a bed
where my inner whore rode the men who treat me like trash
Except for my soul mate …
He told me to fuck off and I gladly said
Went to the shop
Found spring water tuna-I
Felt Less guilty
felt less crass.
Went against the momma bears rule.
I’m a wildflower with an instinct to rebel from life rules.
THE FALLEN ANGEL WITH INVISIBLE WINGS
If chickens could fly higher I’d fly higher than the dragon from the land of sniff ready to rape
fOr an extra taste.
In coma 5 days x another 5
In a coma, I remembered the alien abduction
Their torture made me atone to live life differently
I’d even believe in mom’s anointment of Jesus Christ.
Thorns of roses
Thorns of self-destruction.
Alone with my cat — my husband won’t come back-
My child is probably still crying.
I’m alone again
I can’t complain
This was my choice.
I want to sleep
Dream of our family home
help those who shouldn’t live a history worse than orphans blurred vision live on the African continent
Not their decision.
*written on 13 June at 11 pm. 2020 ( today is 29th June and still wanting to Live)
I didn’t relapse. I didn’t want to get high. I had a drink because I needed to sleep and I’m on sleeping medication 5 days a week out of 7. I’ve asked my doctor to take me off 15 mg of Nitrazepam that I had been since 2007.
It three weeks since I tried to take my life and nearly succeeded, maybe Life is not finished with me yet because my family were told to prepare for my death, brain damage or me being paralyzed*
* 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,
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.
Struggling to convey all words .
Reciprocated words are often misinterpreted
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
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
Don’t want to carry on living this way
It overstays — the bailiff texts for rent arrears
What is laid down?
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
I’m no tight rope walker.
I’ve become my own word stalker
Shoulda, coulda, woulda arrested these rants before my digress
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
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