Category Archives: WRITING INSPIRATIONS

Quotes, meditations and a time to pause and reflect on what is truly important in this world we live in.

The birth of a Great daughter

It was 13/10/2011. Icelandic temperatures in the U.K. We had zero cash and I was not afraid. Everyone around me; My Nan, my Mom and my Aunt were giving me advice and asking me questions.

“Have a bath. Have sex. Have a curry. Have a bath.  Have a … inundated with many opinions and suggestions

My daughter was still not due until a week later. In one week I had had three stretch and sweeps. My Nan had to give us money for fuel to get back to the hospital.  After my lovely bath, I went to lie down but I felt rather contrary and decided to check back into the hospital. The midwives said I still had at least 5 cm to go.

So we trudged back into our car for the seemingly long journey home.  10 minutes into the drive home, I felt something that I thought could be a contraction. It wasn’t painful but it was consistent. and it was a real ‘feeling’. I turned to my Nan and said I think I may be contracting. The car swerved and headed back to the hospital. At the hospital, the contractions started to pick up in intensity (not sore just an ‘alien’ feeling). The nurses led me to a room and said they would be back with all their midwifery gear. My Mom and my Aunt arrived.

By this time I was going into panic mode because I didn’t know what to expect. I demanded my drugs and started hitting the gas and air (That was all I asked for). If only I  knew how ill too much would make me. I sat on this massive pink blobby ball, bobbing up and down like a  confused Buddha. Mom was massaging my shoulders like I was in the wrestler’s seat ready for round one in the ring. DING! DING! DING!

Out of nowhere, I had the urge to get to the toilet. I don’t want to be vulgar though the feminist in me wants to flip the bird and give all the gory details. We need to get over the fact that birth can be ugly.

Moving on. This immense pressure hit me and it felt like I  needed a shit. REALITY PEOPLE!  Though, it wasn’t the same feeling like the usual order of the bathroom purge. I ran/made a move to go to the toilet and I sat down on it. My mom followed suit   and said to me,

” No grandchild of mine is going to be born on the toilet” so she and my aunt took an arm each and propped me up and headed in the direction of the bed.

I got on the bed and screamed out what I needed to do. I wanted to push.

“PUSH”  they cried.

Okay…. so I pushed really hard. I heard my Mom say,

” I can see her shoulders, push! “

I gave one almighty push that started from my head (with thoughts of ‘ one more push’ ‘body will obey’) One more push and it was ‘SHOWTIME’, I felt her shoot out of me. A chill stirred by my snakelike placenta laying frigid in between my legs.  No cry. The midwives burst in at this moment with a Spanish inquisition manner of urgency about them. All tooled up for their big moment.

“We need to pierce the placenta.” 

My little girl was born in the full sac. My body didn’t even have enough time to send a message to tell my body  ‘waters you may now burst’.

Still no cry.  Then a tiny mew of a cry and they placed her on my chest for a  nanosecond and then took her away to make sure she was in top form. They took my girl to another ward to observe her breathing and to make sure the medication I take had not affected her in any way. The midwives broke my waters!

My Mom and Aunt were clapping like a bunch of sea lions and then kissed me on the top of my head and dashed out of the hospital to catch a bus to London! I almost looked around for any discarded popcorn.

I did grab for the gas and air because my daughter had torn me and I needed to be stitched all the way around like a hem of a skirt. I needed some post-labour-pain relief. The whole drive back to the hospital and the labour lasted less than three hours. My baby girl was born on the 13/10/2011 at 03:15 a.m.

All the other Mom’s were super jealous. The easiest birth ever.  The worst part was actually having to go to the toilet and not scream out in pain when my stitches had been so cruelly awoken. She has never been a hassle from her birth right up to her fourth birthday. She is such

a placid kid, she is always smiling from morning till night. She tells people they are beautiful and she comments on what people are wearing. She sings and dances. She shares. She is so courageous. There is an old wives tale that children born in the placenta sac are ‘special’. Centuries ago men travelling at sea would wear a part of the sac around their neck as a talisman – it was thought that it would give them protection and stop them from drowning at sea.

 So much has happened in my daughter’s 8 years on this planet. People expected you to act like some feral child but no you are the most chilled, charismatic, hilarious, intuitive and smart child I know. I see you blossom and I blossom too. When I hug you to my chest that connection. That surge of emotion puts everything in perspective. I LOVE YOU!  

Our pinkie promise: I promise to love you forever and ever and I will never stop loving you and you will always be my baby girl, pinkie promise.

I know a special girl whose heart is full of sunshine
She dances her way around the world to deliver her own special punchline

She laughs so distinctly that people cannot help but become infected
It is a sight to behold when this observation is detected

She is gracious and kind and is delicately inclined
the phrase 'she is an angel' are the only words that come to mind

Her name means beautiful-that  of body, mind and soul
and to have her touch so many lives confirms her title role

She is my modern day princess -so noble and full of grace
I love her with all my being and she is a person that I cannot replace 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, my sweet child. You are the true gift
I found it in your innocent eyes and that was the day my world truly began to shift



Don’t let life keep you bitter

Don’t let life, and how other people treat you let you become bitter. Don’t expect people who keep the same company to be on the same level as you. Be a good person.

Remain honest, full of heart and genuine

You do not owe anything to anyone who chooses to disrespect you or your values.

Remember – we all have our own way of coming to a conclusive thought or opinion. We are human and we feel and it’s okay to talk about our feelings and thoughts.

People are influenced by the company they keep (an observation).

Protect yourself, keep yourself safe -especially when you are a person who has a lot of empathy ,and time for others.

Let other people talk, critique, gossip about you. It doesn’t matter what people do or don’t say who aren’t in your life.

Remember who you are.

We learn everyday of our life.

Stay around people who ask how you are, who care, who stick up for you. Forget about those who don’t.

Give people the benefit of the doubt but don’t ever allow anyone to disrespect you or bring you down.Or make you feel that your values are being disregarded.

Don’t hate. Let people find their own path.

Lessons I’ve learned lately. Opinion is not always the truth. I can’t be responsible for what a person understands.

Copyrighted Natasha bodley

Hermit Hymn take two

*Revised draft- still needs work *

 

I write about the hermit hymn

He often takes me by the hand.
 
A fan falls
Lost to gravity
The one used to navigate the wind.
 
 
Pushed forward without marking my body.
 
Resurrected
Motivation forages  forgotten seeds of Hope
planted for those days stippled in downs more than ups.
 
 
This son of a bastard pulled out the brazen Sol –
 relief  shears  luminous laments 
 
 
Luna wanes with a weary wave in retreat.
Arouse an Apollonian Deity within.
 
Hermit hymn’s voice
gazes upwards 
Caught  mid glare – blinded by
 
In sight
Overhears  cuckooing  of winged creatures
Caught a fleeting glimpse of freedom.
 
 
This knowledge found in  bare-faced trees
Stem cell life routing for immortality.
 
 
Presume the recluse lives in my muted shadow.
Contactless views  his
Sobe sidewalk into a growth spurt epiphany.

He who wears the hallow  

 make a final empty ditch attempt at shirking the namesake of  ‘the chosen’ one.
 
 unsynchronised dubbed over mouths crucify 
 
Pitched sounds for this smoke effect bellow:
 
Can I get a  proper score?
 
 
Few focus on his fallen wings
Clipped of clarity
 
Unable to seek an alternative
 
Many fall for the look of familiar skin.
 
 
That ole devil called love
 
Billie holiday thanks for the speckled dove.
 
Facile to caress only what we wish to know.
 
Highs & lows
 
hi’s and by’ es
 
 
High light   the remains
 
A  pint of Bitter froth flees on a one thought train track 
 
How the sun shine when it comes out. 
Belief blossoms bypass tunnel vision mood congestion tax fee out of respect.
 
 
Life
 
Depart from the babble of Doubtful
Thoughts
Far fromVapid
Merely short-sighted when grey-bearded clouds appear

 

stubbled by the 5 o clock shadow
 
 
Paradigm stunted growth
 
tuned out dense cosmos responsible for feeling dim.
 
A connection to a reflection.
Innocence contrast moments heckling: we don’t deserve to move forward.

Clandestine cloaks conceal our original sin.

 
 
This ongoing duet I sing with a feminine hymn
scintillates my belly until I feel the fire lit again from within.

( Still needs a lot of work- over thought this too much  😦 )

Take a leaf out of the Amazon

One reason global leaders are able to sleep at night? They find absolution in ‘the family’. ( Check out Netflix) these global leaders, politicians, and public figures have invented a Covent composed of ( rather) impressionable modern-day “disciples” to justify what they let bypass / happen to our world.

They have messed with men’s spiritual health. By spiritual, I mean I don’t necessarily mean in a religious sense. We are all thinkers. We have the ability to feel & reason. Spirituality can be something emotional & philosophical. Our spirituality is personal to each and every one of us.

These bastard leaders are killing our planet.
They have brainwashed themselves to believe that they are “chosen “to lead for religious reasons.
Can you grasp how much power that is to give to 1 % of the elite in this world?

Nobody – alone can control all that power. Greed corrupts. This is just an example of how one ( ahem) leader- Thump justifies🙄 his outlandish & vapid ramblings on the trade wars with China & U.S.A. we need a revolution of consciousness.

Read  POLITICSTrump Looked Up To The Sky And Told Reporters ‘I Am The Chosen One’ by anonymous

A shift in consciousness. I haven’t got all the answers. I hate injustice.

Listening to Tupac’s song about Changes & thinking about the themes of the song. He seems to to be questioning us (  the black man ) to question the consciousness of society.

THUG society wasn’t about being a thug. Another post for another day.

It’s not a song that is about self -pity. Its a more hold your own nuts song & be civil. That is why it is revolutionary

That isn’t even equal.

As Micheal Che said in his stand up comedy debut – ‘Matters’.

if we can’t be equal: can we at least be civil? (haha!)

Society has really messed with the willows today.

PLEASE sign the petition to help the Amazon frontline save the Amazon. Our home too.

GREENPEACE.org -SAVE THE AMAZON

750 Starving lions were found in captivation ( malnourished )& their sole purpose for living was for Trophy Hunting.

Trophy Hunting?

People in Serengeti are being forced from their homes to make way for poachers to slaughter our earth wildlife. Our delicate & intricate ecosystems.

China killed another whale today.  After 30 years of efforts to save these mammals. They are now activley commercially hunting whales again. Why?  Greed & corruption. The divided between the West and East is killing our planet with policies.

Yes, I’m passionate because I sense the complacency in society ( in myself even) to fill the void and over-consume. Desensitize our selves more to what is happening to our home. We have blinkers on. We need them to grapple our heads around what a mess the world is in & how what we can do about it.

One act in the right direction. A shift in thinking. A conscious shift. What you do (no matter how small or big) matters. What we do has consequences. SCIENCE 101

I’m sad & I’m mad. All I  can offer are my words & to spread the message about what is important right now.

Over what?

Diamonds that have no value?

Over paper planes & money?

Trees provide us the paper to breathe. Why do we ask more of it? How can it provide life if we burn it out to its very core?

We an indulging in a mass matricide with mother earth and self- suicide and genocide people all over the world. Our own world.

I’m spent. I have to write about what I care about. if only to reinforce what I value & truly believe in.

Goodnight

 

Brrrisk it –

This is audio recorded experimental monologue in two parts that depict the impact Brexit /welfare reform has on one woman with severe mental health issues trying to keep things together and on hold to talk to someone about  (I don’t know) her benefits being stopped. Or her having to go  & be questioned on intimate & embarrassing issues to prove she is ill in front of someone probably not qualified in complex mental health issues. It’s my story.  😀 I am making the assumption .lol. This was an experiment (essentially scene one)   as sometimes I can’t type or write so I record and act out an improvised piece. I have always been able to create characters in my mind and act them out. My daughter does the same thing. THERE IS AS GENE FOR MY PECULIARITIES? Gulp.

(the recording is not great quality-its the concept I am more interested in and how I  can use it to create a piece of work that means something to me and has some relevance to the community I live. Theatre and social issues equal a match made heaven.

IN yer face drama ( this isn’t) Brechtian? (elements later on if this ever is finished) Kitchen sink drama? It’s not glam, is it… I would love to an SFX of her peeing or on the toilet having a number  2 when someone becomes available down the job centre or something. It needs a ton of work.

To digress ( briefly)

Going into my own world was my first addiction. I would disappear and create dramas and stories to escape from my real life. I started doing it when I was 5 years old and stopped when I was 15.

For this character ( loosely based on me and other people I’ve seen go through a breakdown in mental /social health) I used repetition in the characters dialogue. Iand I think that the character doing everyday chores- cleaning, making her bed contrasts with the chaos that is unravelling from the hinges in her mind. There would need to be more backstory. It needs a lot of work but I think the government should hold their heads in shame. I will always fight for justice and whatever I write.

Different actress. It’s an interesting technique to use when you have writer’s block.  Like my “poetry” ( borderline) is organic and raw so is my approach to creating characters.

I didn’t study for a postgraduate degree for any other reason but to make sense of what was happening in my life. And writing became my life. I had forgotten how much I have written over the years.

So it’s rubbish  QUALITY WISE( not the idea) it needs loads of work. I love the Vivaldi in the background ( in a theatre it should drive people nuts) but its better suited for an audio play or radio script because of it feels oppressive, we don’t know what the character ( not me anymore) is going to do next. WI.

God job I write for myself and not to please other people.Though I enjoy being an instigator of some one’s happiness.

I could start my final year in October. I’m enjoying learning about writing about music and engaging with people in a different way. It’s not the world of academia. And I m loving my little fashion career. I get work with my mom. And I’m happy. I’m happy that I can still write. I know I was a better writer at one point. My grandad was a self-made millionaire-  twice and poverty stricken  twice

I don’t write pretty cos the world not preettty. It’s fascinating and terrifying and all-consuming, fleeting, dull,

I’m done writing…

I feel ok.

 

When words are few

When Words are few

Connect

Create.

Collaborate

With other Creativists.

creativists

Noun — (1) To be a creative activist. (2) To challenge conventionality using art and expressionismas your tools. (3) To creatively enactchange.

Someone who is attuned creatively to their surroundings; a person who understands and expresses their lifethrough creativeworksor motifs.

URBAN DICTIONARY

When I don’t feel able to talk to anyone my thoughts are scattered and strewn about;

I’ve always found clarity & relief with the help of writing and Music. Music allows me to put displaced emotions into a feeling of organized chaos.

It can help with replacing my emotions and self talk to break the negative cycle I’m in and I can re-engage with people (even if on a small level) and feel passionate about life and my goals again.

I believe that we are all creativists — We don’t need to sing well, play an instrument or be a DJ, professional dancer to express our emotions through music. Personally, I enjoy combining my passion for writing about and listening to music to get what I need from music.

We don’t need to have a degree in Music and Arts to feel or write about it. Although that’s cool too.

Google, a couple of books, communicating with people who are into music, and your soul-should be enough to make whatever it is that you get out/want out of the music industry- happen. Oh, and passion and focus helps too 😉

Self-expression is creative.

When we find a medium to feel, it can help us feel that we’ve been heard-we are being creative.

I’m more than passionate about Mental health and anti-stigma. I know the Music industry is in need of more help to help artists channel their energy productively, but like any industry as big as the entertainment industry there is a lot of pressure and stress attached to achieving our goals.

On the flip side of the coin, there are the obvious benefits being creative in any medium can have on improving mental health.

One massive stumbling block to (ahem..)blocking creativity is not connecting with people who allow us to create something with another person. It could start out as a simple conversation, comment, idea, compliment, dream, or career.

This decision to connect with a person/group creates.

We are all creativists. Technology and social media help to communicate. So that even a person who doesn’t or who can’t get out and “connect” socially can still be super dope in their creative outlets via the internet.

Self- Doubt and listening too much to other people’s negative opinion can wreak havoc on your confidence and ability to express yourself. This is intensified for people who are suffering from their mental health issues.

Of course, feedback is a good thing. Pick your mentors wisely, if (like me )you want to write about music or work in the Music industry.

Find someone who doesn’t rip you to shreds. Constructive criticism and being a blunt asshole can seem like the same thing coming from an “expert” but it’s not.

Constructive criticism is taking into account the overall work and presentation and breaking that feedback into sections. It should be honest and tactful. There is no one way to write a review, or compose a piece of music or run a music label.

When you connect you have an opportunity to create something with another individual who has a whole different system of thoughts, beliefs, ideas and experiences to contribute.

You don’t know what the result is going to be and that can be the best part of the creative process: The not knowing. We often surprise ourselves with what we can do when we just-DO IT!

The collaboration process doesn’t have to be a huge gig,

Or it can be.

It can be anything.

I’ve uploaded on social media have spoken word/music oddities that I’ve made on garage band!

My favourite recorded spoke word project is one I did with a mate. It was fun.

I’m not too precious about what people think. Creativists should take risks and often end up surprising themselves.

Don’t let other peoples talents or your own self-doubt, or a lack of knowledge of music theory, for example, stop you from expressing yourself. If you want to learn to play an instrument well. Then you have to put in the effort. Technology makes it so much easier to connect and learn.

I’ve also started writing song reviews on my blog. Not everyone gets it or likes it but its something I’m passionate about doing. Blogs should evolve if we are to change, surely? They need work and I need to Improve. We all have to start somewhere.

NWA all the way.

EXPRESS YOURSELF!

 

Good Gnoosic with Gnod

 

Who else has heard of this search engine database for music you have yet to discover?  the MUSIC MAP it generates is the GOAT.

GNOD (The Global Network Of Discovery).It is an ongoing project developed by Marek Gibney, based in Germany.

f you are looking to find new music and artists to listen to or learn about this database is where you need to be.

Gnoosic is able to produce a personalised Music map of artists or music you may like based on your search results

Here’s how easy it is to use  GNOOSIC

Type in up to three bands/names

I typed in two that the database knows & one that it didn’t know. I wonder if we can use it to introduce other users to new music artists and genres?

Based on my 3 choices it aks if its predictions are correct. You have the option of choosing you don’t know.

suppose_summary.php

The other part of Gnod is MUSIC MAP.

info.php

It’s great for finding new artists similar to who you type in the database. What I love about this system is that it is a community project.

If the artist you want doesn’t come up you can ask to add it to the database. You can also verify other users artists uploaded.

There is a link to submit artists who aren’t on the map too. And if you are of the pedantic type you can fix typos too 😉

Gnoosic and the Music-Map are the music parts of Gnod. Together, they are visited by over 200000 music fans per month and provide them with millions of music recommendations.

I chose to look up Orsten orsten.html

I’m impressed by the results closest /similar in style to Orsten Moderator, Nym, Boogie Belgique, Moderator are artists I already follow. I’m tempted to check out Madwreck.

It also brought up a bunch of bands/artists (not so similar) but who I enjoy too. A few examples are

  1. L’orange

  2. Cut Chemist

  3. Degiheugi

  4. Hugo Kant

If you pick an artist/band on the map it automatically regroups names to the most similar. It’s dynamic.

It would be great to be able to put in biographies too but I find a quick place to find new music to listen to, write to, write about or to submit yourself as an artist -its a great project.

The big test is to find a new artist & song that I love that will feature on this blog. I’m sure it will!

Simple to use.

Great for finding new music and artists & bands. its also great for understanding what music genres or (sub-genres) appeal to you & for helping people who want to write about music use this as a resource to research genres, news…

It’s fucking useful. Trust me.

 

#NYA GOAT Kate Tempest

I’ve had this song on my playlist for years now.  The track- Finish this album is taken off her ‘Speech therapy’ album( 2009). It won the British Mercury Prize award. She was 19  years old when she wrote this  & it shows the introspection of a person wiser than her years. The track comes across as a discourse on the reality of how so many people in the U.K. (and global)  still feel more divided  & increasingly feel alienated from our communities.

In Debelle’s case, she used poetry and writing to get her through her own homelessness experience.  Debelle is a rapper and musician  /homelessness social activist from South London.

Debelle started writing poetry when she was 9 years old. Her influences range from  Mary J. Blige, Micheal Jackson, TLC & reggae.

Her lyrics are raw, honest, self-reflective & engaging. She unfolds stunning vivid narrative in her delivery of the song.  When I hear her vocals I feel her passion & fire. Her vocals are the perfect uplifting antidote to the overwhelming reality of her world with her insight into Life, its battles & her ambitions.

Honesty is courage and since I got the heart of a lion then there’s no sense in lying

lyrics from ‘Finish this album’

This is a philosophy for the soul.

 

She’s been signed to independent British label Ninja tunes/ Big Dada Records.

Home to  brilliant British artists from

  • Kate Tempest spoke word performer/poet/playwright  (Her play ‘wasted’ is worth a read)

  • Sampa -the great poet/hip hop M.C.

  • Bonobo

  • Roots Manuva

I’m a massive fan of the Kitchen sink drama creativists of the musical world.

I guess she finished this album- creative outlets are GOAT.  Write to recover, perform to recover, do whatever it takes to express yourself authentically.

Creativists 

creativist

Noun — (1) To be a creative activist. (2) To challenge conventionality using art and expressionism as your tools. (3) To creatively enact change.

#NYA GOAT- Jaz Kahina

Jaz Kahina is IN-YER -FACE and unashamed to speak her mind. Fiesty, hard to like & hard to hate.

Her confrontational attitude is hard to ignore. She’s a marmite 12-foot subway.  I think she is in a league of her own.

She hails from  Hackney, London & is an active member of the London Hip Hop & Open mic community.

When I first heard 284 ( video produced by Danny Wolf & filmed by Film Jordan Grant studios), I was half fascinated & half mortified.

Part Fascinated & and part mortified at her raw confrontational style.

One thing you can’t deny is her passion. Passion is one of the 7 top virtues to have in my opinion.

She is feminine &  inspiring to women in the U.K.  because she doesn’t apologise for speaking her mind. She is acerbic in her witty wordplay & audacious. She is a politically conscious MC highlighting the social & culture issues in the U.K.

An active part of her community she has featured alongside many artists including the prodigy.

FEATURE interview to come on her views about the music industry, Mental Health, the inspiration behind her track & more.

One more track  I  love

Catch 22 #InternationalWomensDay

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 inbox 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 fewer 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*

 

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OCTOBER 2016 (IMAGE SOURCED FROM GOOGLE)

 

HERE IS A LINK TO A  POST I WROTE,ON 11TH MAY 2016 , ABOUT MY OWN PERSONAL EXPERIENCES IN A D.V. RELATIONSHIP , TO RAISE DOMESTIC ABUSE AWARENESS IN MY COMMUNITY AND   SOCIETY.

CLICK ON THE PINK HIGHLIGHTED LINK BELOW

THE FREEDOM PROGRAMME

*photo credit Rhode Island Francesca Woodman, Benjamin Moore *

 

 

Queen of Tristesse

Stone cold.
I sit in silence.
Tears betray the death of Another beating heart.

Distant to my heartache.
Love is meaningless accented by meaningful Nuances.

Hunger strikes, I’m alone With the pangs,
Unsure if I want to feel the Caress of familiar hands

Or

If I’d rather escape to a Nether land.

Conjuring Magicians
Ready to sell inconspicuous potions.

Allow me to flee from my Skin.
Threaded by veins
Morose in temperament.

Aloof to the consequences Of escaping this reality.
Complicit to the sadness That shrieks in my Gut: Pierced spleen.

It’s not nearly as stomach Able as watching the Chambers of my heart in My hands

Weep.

For the moments tangled In lust.

The desire to be a part of Someone else’s sun.

To inhabit their orbit.

Study the stars
Share butterfly kisses
Break free into a wild run.

Freedom is a state of Mind.

Release me from the Bonds of this exile.

I am the hunted.
I am the hunter with the Blade ready to attack.

This is my vessel.
My only means to move forward.

Cut the strings for this Puppet will not be coerced To dance nor sing,

Until I find a simple hymn.

One to attest that another Mortal respects I am more than my sin.

Words hurriedly apologise to recapture that soul

Spotted

in the glimmer of dawn
It cowers fearful deep
Within.

Have a piece of my heart.
Have a piece of my words.

Sully not my thoughts to Taint my heart with more Leacherous poison.

I am breathing

Merely existing to find out how to win.

This is Life’s charade.
The cards dealt with each hand.

Thanks to Gaia for I have Both intact.

Able to use my body.
Able to use my mind
To forgive.

Though,
Not give in.

The melancholy of my
Aura glitters like a Midas Collectible
When it touches the man I call my king.

The weight of this gloom Thunders over me.

Cajoling me.

Repressing my desire to Quit
Killing myself.
Smile authentically. Blossom again.

It ’s not time to hide under sand beds
Muted into making me think I’m still not thin,

Enough.

These words don’t do Justice
To how I truly feel.
I lose people I love.

Gain friends who form a circled ring around me.

I have to reach out.
Allow a hand to bring me Full circle.

Alone,
I contemplate.

Fighting for the thud in my Heart.
Fighting for another hot Flushed blush.

Wondering
If I have already died.

Is living not for the likes of My kind?

Am I here to exist glibly?
A ruin of poorly
constructed pyramids?

I sit here in silence , Blowing out smoke rings
Made
Out
Of
My
Woes.

I’m the queen of Tristeness.
My position is to not give in.
(Queen of Tristesse part of the ‘Be happy or die trying chronicles)