Blog Archives

Mad woman

Infidelity

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
Left
Over
Blow my spirit so the the people who could never  say
The bones could never declare
I existed
For a day
A season
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
Laisse faire
For another day might tame
The girl who cared.
Or are afraid to .. …

These are my words 2

These are my words

Let’s talk about the Big chuffin elephant in the room

WORDS MATTER

PEOPLE MATTER



MENTAL HEALTH AWARENSS

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
Wellness
Recovery
Action Plan
Programme.
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.
See this?
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,
White
Male
age 30- 64
method: firearm, strangulation, suffocation and poisoning
Previous Attempts to self-harm.
My husband
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.

Fledgling or not -here I come

Today my thoughts confound me.

Bombard

Hijacked emotions detonated into a familar war zone.

The survivors feel mixed up for another mistaken identity

passport confiscated by newfound enemies.

A glimpse

the letter

E
motion

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 dignity

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

my identity?

The very essence of my being?

Caught unawares

emotions -use tic tactics

Thoughts use unrestrained strategies.

Haunched knees

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.

body displacement

head

disconnected to set a prenup engagement

How is it I feel the pressure of the tummy bloat after the soldiers who gloat

Finally relieved

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.

Rotting

Bed rest

Bedsores,

These are the spoils of war.

Degraded

Defaced

Disgraced

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

Direction?

Possibly

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

I can’t

I have.

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

unification

Dance a tango inner peace with an outward serenity.

matching outfits

Silk lined hemmed skirts

embroidered letters spell out a movement of hope.

I’m one dancer

I’m one dissident

My possessions:
Passion

a fledgeling feather

& ink well
will deliver

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.

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

Grace full of distate

I’m not always distasteful

Some bluds might call me graceful

No more graceful than dying hair red

Taking a bath

thinks

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.

Fallen tears
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.

Clandestine

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.

Blonde

Blue-eyed eyes

Diane

Shy girl.

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

Impulse

Nor thoughts of a future.

Denounced my victories
Declared I should be recovered nor heeded her advise

Disrespected her pain

Her growth

Her pain

Know

Her life

She pays

She laughs.

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

No Respect for a mothers love

When the child has not lived an age of daughter & mom with 38 years and odd some

Living apart.

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.

My thoughts on escaping the past

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

I left

 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

Fuck you

Went to the shop

Closed

no

cat food.

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

& Chase

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*