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My first uploaded spoken word piece.

Time has been unbearable.

Damning.

Fleeting.

I’m so tired. I have yet to start my journey.

To hear Daisy in audio 😉 click on the link below

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I’ll be back after a few long messages.

 

 

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Catch 22

Fall – leaves turn shades of browns and greens.

my heart dips and I don’t feel  that same sense of  summer’s beams.

Alone. I look to my left. Creativity shines- glitter, stilettos- latex, white faux fur coats. All legs.

Like a string of pearls flung across a room,  a musky scent wafts across my midst.

Temptations persist. Glamour. Warmth is all I seek. Summer,why do you have to be so cruel?

I know if I cross over to the other side – I’ll be feeling the  warmth – it will be pimped out in box ring styles – I won’t have time to dodge the fists.

My body will burn up an exotic shade of hues. I will have no rest.

Hell is the other side of Summers gluttonous  jazz bassline.

One hit. One vein. Blood – artificial nirvana could infiltrate my being.

I won’t have to think of the biting cold that is ringing in my ears. Muffled will be the ice cone, frozen on the edge of my nose. It doesn’t matter who sees that I have been seen.

Bus shelters full, spikes erect from the corporate  underground – I can’t sit down. I know it takes less muscles to smile than frown.

Energy is all I have to see me through this cycle of  undomesticated abuse. October may be  Domestic abuse awareness month.

If I hadn’t left my keeper, I would still have a roof over my head.

A blanket.

I would still be touched.

 Roughed up .

Better the devil you know – I know every one of his moves. I know when to dissociate –

detach my mind

from my body.

Floating above the marital , martial art stylised  bed – I see myself and that devil I married,grabbing folds of my skin. He doesn’t notice the smell of the new conditioner I bought at Asda or how soft the sheets feel now they  have been newly spun.

Dryer . I’m dry. He doesn’t notice the lack of moisture. He doesn’t notice that all of that fluid has shot up to my eyeballs . I refuse to let them free flow – I am not her. I’m floating.

Fly on the wall. Caught up in a spiders web. I have to watch. It doesn’t matter if I have a crick in my neck – oh hang on a minute is he choking me?

Leftover food languishing in the sink drain. He switched the waste disposal  on to automatic .

Arrested, I am back in bed , under him. Time to vogue with my lips and give him  a little pucker.

These white sheets  have turned red in his need to let off steam. I come out in blisters hovering underneath his vapour.

Turn my neck – feels like I need a box of  throat lozenges for having to get all deep throat.

5 am flashing in stimulant green.

I’m 5 months pregnant. I am going to be late.

Grab the nearest decent clothes. Pull on my Adidas trainers. Scrape my hair up into a ponytail.

Finally the motivation to go on the run. I don’t have to time myself. I know his schedule well.

An Olympic torch passes into my hand. I’m running for freedom . Liberty is my destination.

I can start over.

Spring – blues, violets, colours in a perfect union – uncompressed. Naturally dressed.

For the first time in months, I feel like I belong. I too am a medley of colours. I blend in.

Natures milkshake collects in my breasts –  4 months to go until I give birth to a miracle of pure life.

Not branded a colour – just innocence – a chance to see a light – work on my soul and tackle it all. This is the only cure.

Vanilla.

I am no Killer.

Life goes in cycles. It passes by fast. There are no traffic jams when you have to pick up your feet and walk.

Eyes cast down, belly protruding.

Christian volunteers crouch down next to me- hand me a card.

Die and be reborn.

They can help me. I just have to give my old life to our saviour. I’ve never met him but he sounds

Forgiving, comforting, caressing- a handwash with extra Aloe vera – calming properties.

All I have to  do is offer my unborn child to him and I can enter paradise with the rest  of  my weary comrades.

Eyes raise up to the bitter sky. I’ve always thought whatever is up there twinkling and winking down at me is having a far better time than me.

My unborn deserves a place in heaven. Earth only promises scars and  wild jungle roots to keep it grounded to the spot.

The ultimate sacrifice.

Did I fold in with this cult out of cowardice?

I will drink my poison.

Maybe this winter I will be reunited with the one that let out a sudden cry.

Lead me not into temptation. I lie  down , no need to be afraid, child. I close my eyes and sigh.

Hope is my last premise.

* Inspired by domestic violence awareness month*

Source: Catch 22

In seasons lies lifes mystery

This  is the moment where I should embrace   the wintery-powder snow to come.

Under-wraps.

We all have naive delight to create  snow angels.

So too the  most damaged pimped out  hoes.

The death of every thing I know.

Yet,

I

don’t

know

if

I’ve

 ever

 known

Even one thing for certain.

Always,

I  thought

I blew according to the way the wind doth blow.

until I  walked right into the eye of the

C.louds

 I.ntelligance

A.ir

shouted them down-

No, I won’t go slow.

Voice  ricochets  seeking  a target

breathe exterminated-

The managers above cloud corporation hear my

costly,

cerise

commotion —

derogatory

delirious

temper tantrum.

speech

pressurised protests-

Attacks of panic.

I got what I was owed.

Hitch hiked a lift with a passing tornado.

Whirlwind dropped me off in a place with no directions to  the Republic of sense-at-ors of common.

I walked along the  the uneven, cobbled path —  another independent equality  free flowing  feminist ,

juggling with digits and exchanged words with third eye chakra chemists

Paper –

trees-

All alternate in form — it ends for the same means.

Or is that me unravelling myself from being stitched upped — picking away at the seams?

I didn’t  mean  to lose my way — country side hikes are  not my  governing zodiac  sign indicating

I’m in my element.

This body  contains still waters wrapped in layers of skin.

No  teasing trickle or   babbling brook

nor  a wishing well to reassure my hearts confidence within.

Summer time and the livings never easy

not when you’re a weed  on self destruct,

especially when the sun shines on  and makes blossoming

a gift without the morning sickness

That sense of queasy.

Rudimentary realisation .

Desolate

Deception.

Dark sunglasses can’t  make me ingnioto —

Looking back-

I should  of clapped my hands

,in breathless awe when the  sun set—

lowered gently against the abstract  backdrop

Tropical  orange  salmon ,pink sprayed skies.

Pay my respects —

Let it rest  when it his time to slip down and fall.

Reap what you sow.

I deal with every blow.

Turbulent Winds spirals me off   common ground

I find myself high up  and all alone

the come down — finds me face down in muddy bog marsh — eyes arrested by a

Facetious fog —

Not even a bird to sing me an ode of encouragement  to aid me back home.

Its true what they say we come into this world alone and we die alone.

Money, stuff — the acquisition of property

— it all gets left behind when we lift the veil to step into the next body of energy-

stagnation left in a cadaver —

this is our vessel —

Our only claim to earths  throne.

Seasoned Cycles of

life,

death,

regeneration ,

rebirth .

 

Change –

it’s contradictory to  our nature

Wearily   wallow over wilted ,   dead plants — tomorrow I’ll throw them away.

it’s all procrastination

Embrace the opaque

, the possibility of a welcome winter wave in

undisturbed silence-solace only to be find in untouched fallen snowflakes.

Trigger the cycle to fall — this is autumn .

Death and decay I feel  implacably broken.

This idea of pressing flowers ,dried

Into bookmarks is a nostalgic notion.

Shouldn’t I let it go and embrace the tremors, the blast of the callous   cousins cold and colder

A gift of this perilous  season?

anti climatized.

I live on  an island full of tall trees in treason for being out of season.

Let these words be enough.

Be my reason.

On my knees begging for hands to let go of me-especially those who touch are rough.

Grant  me sight to see-

permit  my body and soul to feel the spectrum

exhilerating and painful emotion.

Facing  forward to a future

 smelling the unsullied  scent of rebirth

A possible sight spotting of   Tigger

ready to  uncoil  and bounce into spring

 For the  awakening of the the blessed bees, Lilly white lambs  and a hereuse  holiday closer to the ocean.

 

 

 

 

 

The power of choice

*Life is busy again -I choose to post this 10 days before I am “supposed” to because I think our MENTAL HEALTH needs care and attention every single day*

Inspired by taking a head ache tablet and the film ‘the Matrix’

It’s a bit abstract and simple at the same time.

Using the matrix as a metaphor to raise MENTAL HEALTH awareness and reduce stigma

What if I asked you This?

What pill will you choose?

img_20170930_191653_4141668701966.jpg

Remain ignorant about mental health issues ,or acknowledge and seek to educate yourself?

If you believe you have a brain and a body -then it makes sense that you have Mental health and Physical health. Both exist. Both can fluctuate along a spectrum of Good- Bad.

Yes. I am aware that the picture shows only one tablet. Think of this one tablet as how  the status quo deal with Mental health -good and bad.

I’m not saying there hasn’t been progress. There has. We have a long way to go still.

Society wants to understand IT and at the same time ignore that IT exsists.

We can’t have both.

 In my opinion,

to think you can live with both:

understanding and ignorance  is INSANITY.

This is what keeps us from understanding and evolving into the mental well being matrix system. 😉

‘ the body cannot live without the mind’

Morpheus from ‘the matrix’

Here is a link to world mental health U.K. website –

it has articles, blog stories and loads of information on MENTAL WELLBEING -good and bad.

I live in West Yorkshire, U.K.

support links for people in my community here

its OK to talk

Hope Mental health charity- Calderdale  recovery college.

Healthy minds  Calderdale services

Wellness

Recovery

Action

Plan

Information in the U.K.

I have done the 5 day  co facilliator  W.RA.P.  and I’ve done the 12 week  program.

I’ve been involved with many of these services  or know people who have in some different capacities and reasons.

I BELIEVE ENGAGING AND REACHING OUT WORKS.

I FIND WRAP HAS HELPED ME.

Invest time in learning about the Wellness Recovery Action Program 5 core values.

What is your understanding  of these values? Click on each underlined link to read another person’s definition of WRAPS core values

  1. HOPE

  2. EDUCATION

  3. PERSONAL RESPONSIBLITY

  4. SUPPORT

  5. SELF ADVOCACY   – (it took me a long time to understand this)

SHORT INTRODUCTION TO WRAP

 

My premature message for #WORLDMENTALHEALTHDAY 10TH OCTOBER 2017

 

Great mate expectations

*A silly 5 minute poem I wrote for a long time mate of mine.

I know a lass called Tri

We’ve sold enough holidays and car hires to start our own biz in the travel industry.

We moved to Tenerife for a life by the sea

7 days of mad filled drunkness I got scared to work at a pub without my  best mate beside me.

we fell out as all good friendships do

and three days later we found ourselves  re entering  Yorkshire-

We didn’t speak for a year or two.

Memories of bussing it to cover a short staffed branch.

Eating boiled sweets ,laughing at our quirky granny attitude — tummy in stitches.

The next moment we could be screaming at each other-people scarpered before they got covered by under our verbal avalanche.

Opposite in twice as  many ways

Young and careless-we had our confused days.

Hit the clubs  straight from work.

Uniforms still on for an early start  shift

 the next morning.

We knew how to work hard and play hard — we  could separate the two/

We made a great team — always ready with a coffee from Merry England  and a cig

-work life was never boring.

Navigating our friendship we sometimes got it wrong

If only we could see how much we wished we could swop bodies-oh to see then that we were wrong to think that would make us feel we belong.

The truth is we drifted apart and life carried on

Until one day we found each other again

we had grown from life’s lessons

More chilled, less judgmental, less temperamental and both married

Me with my child-

My little mate is about to become a first time mum.

I’m so  glad we found each other again-both in our dirty thirties-This time round I see my mate and I count my blessings

LOVE YA LOADS.

 

 

SINK ,SWIM , FLY,CRAWL- How I fought to get my daughter out of social care

It’s good to reflect on our experiences. When all seems impossible- remember what you have already survived and been through. Blow your own mind. Then carry on moving forward.

Daisy in the Willows

First posted 2015

Content: How I got my daughter back-  and issues of control/ being out of control

Well bloggers we are already into week three on blogging101 course. Today’s topic is about when you hit writer’s block and using a prompt and to make that prompt personal to your blog.  Let me know what you think.

MY PROMPT:’SINK OR SWIM’ 

This morning I woke up with a feeling of loss and  a heavy anchor weighing me down. I should have been buzzing. I was three hours away from meeting up with a girl who works with a mental health charity and to work together on a one off workshop to close the stigma between the volunteers and the people they help. Below is all I had to type this morning: warning alert: very woe woe woe is me and not WOW WOW at all. BEFORE I CONTINUE: It came…

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