Even Lunatics must break fast

The calm before the storm.

I break my fast musing over my odds of being crazier than the norm.

Booming shutters  smash – open and close.

Muttering ,stuttering

— Brain  sensory over load — the cranium structure is deceiving in its form.

The third eye lazily flickers in a state of REM.

Here I am attempting to channel my inner  chakra.

I’ve resorted to stick-on Goggly  eyes to play the part of spiritualist guru ,sipping on high tea, to awaken my  inner rapture.

Dear Goddess Kali  can you save me?

from the howling winds,

The mooing cows spinning around me,  moaning  gutturally for  their new  fateful flight as fledgelings  ?

Glass

My house shatters into  a myriad of snow flaked, razor sharp,jaggered  pieces.

broken ,

unable to repair  the damage .

Take a searing hot iron to my face to smooth  out the grimace in my features .

Sacerdotal screams in the night — a  man stolen from his  lullaby.

Distant but not too far off – I keep my inner warrior on stand by.

In truth, it’s the time of the creatives .

Out come the freaks

Sleepless ideas

patrol ,

brazen in their efforts to destroy,

 my favourite playlist titled: sweet dreams.

I wonder who I will be in 12 months from this very hour ?

Where will all the thousands of words I’ve ploughed through with oars

Will I have sailed?

will I capsize?

Will I have ability to walk or be a cripple, dragging myself by the elbows  under a storm pelted bleached ,grainy beach?

– Will I carry  any legitimate power?

The Temptations won’t knock

They will saunter in .

Oh, it’s to be expected.

I refuse to fall to my knees,

swear my allegiance to make another man’s family richer

Than see mine indicted.

I’d sooner sit on a floor , covered in colours of paint and corners lit with the smiles of my loves.

I’d sooner watch paint dry or read a screenplay loosely based on what I know about when life comes to rouse me with rough pushes or shoves.

Fire ,

water ,

earth ,

and air

Elements balance my kinetic ,

dynamic ,

complex feelings of despair.

Change comes with promise.

Fear comes with very little solace.

Motion  to a new position –

don’t cower from success

It might even suit my  current attire  and my inner prowess .

My time to deliver.

Get my due.

Affection,

laughter,

love,

and living

For me and my few.

My kind words are  still here and my support?

I have some to  spare.

I won’t waste it on those who don’t reciprocate

The err is but their own.

Chosen to remain  frozen-staring down a hall of , pale, mirrored self reflections.

unable to see

they are not the only ones

Who need encouragement and care.

I swill down the remnants of this blessed meal with the rest of my cuppa charr .

I clamour to suppress my applause.

I  catch out the dawn  rising with a yawn  unashamed ,gloriously

naked.

I’m no longer afraid to be the lunatic. I’ve seen the powers of nature.

Forces of rage.

still waters run deep

 This insanity is something I hold dear to me-

The great  mother gave it to me-

I will set with the  sun

It’s my duty  to  consummate  all that is sacred.

Revised stream of consciousness — border line poetry.

*feeling nervous and excited for year two of my Masters , moving home and shizzle like that 😉 ha ha*

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Short story- The order of the black Dog

THE ORDER OF THE BLACK DOG

My family. Here we all are, sitting around the circular dining room table- flecked with bits of gold. Ma sits under a hanging portrait of this Christmas just gone. Three weeks ago. We are all smiling in it including Poppy. Poppy sits playing with her Annabelle doll, on my husband’s lap. Sat opposite from Ma, closest to the electric fire hearth is Gran. I find myself sitting across from Gran. An iciness breathes mist over us. It separates me from them, cloaks me in a fog. I try to swallow. The air is so thick it chokes me, I’m forced to put my hands to my throat. Nobody notices me.  Nobody notices me the way they used to. I tune in to the conversation-taking place.

‘Of course I’m not suggesting this is your fault.  I should have known. Done more…’ Nan bursts into tears. A cry out for:

 I need attention I’m suffering the most.

My skin bristles. Nan pulls her scarf tighter around her neck, and then throws out a familiar comment about it being draughty.

‘You know I could catch pneumonia with my Asthma.’ She coughs. Ma gets up to put on the electric fire.

‘I didn’t take her seriously. You know what Angie was like?’  Ma’s eyes are red as the rosary beads she is thumbing; she looks over to an unusually quiet Poppy.

‘Did she just do it to spite me?’ How could she just leave her own…?’

 My husband throws a warning look at Ma,

‘Marie, for Poppies sake.  Our Angie suffered more than she let on.’ Ma sits back down. ‘Let’s put on a cartoon, luv?’  Poppy shakes her head.

 She doesn’t look at us.  I look straight at her, willing her to leave this table. Leave this conversation. She lifts her head and looks me dead on in the eyes. I instinctively smile. Eddie and me always stood together when it came to Poppy. Her face is pale, her eyes sunken, her skin is drawn in so tight I can see cheek bones protrude. Beneath her eyes-, veiled shadows betray her youthful face. She clings onto Annabelle, still looking me dead on in the eyes.

‘When’s Mummy coming home?’

 Silence. Her words enmesh with the silence. Her question disarms me. Marks me. The arrow leaves its bow splintering my heart. I open my mouth to scream out as many words as I can. Condensation steams the air distilling me into silence. I reach my hand across the table to grab hers. She doesn’t see me. I glare at my family sitting at the round table. They say nothing. Smothering themselves in sorrow, they witheringly curl inwards. I urge to shake them, uproot them from winters glaze.

-Answer her! Answer my daughter.

Instead, Gran succumbs to a puddle of wrinkled tears, mechanically Ma gets off her chair, attempts to console Gran and naturally it’s  up to Eddie to mediate.  My calm, rational Eddie. His eyes read as vacant –his beard is wild and unkempt.  It’s impossible to read his face. He clears his throat,

‘We’re gonna see Mummy when we give her… say a proper goodbye.’

Gran flounders in her anglers net of remorse.  Great splotchy splashes of grief escape. She wails,

‘She’s with the angels –looking down at you, darling!’

 I roll my eyes. Of course I love her!  Lately, she grates my skin more frequently with her, melodramatics.

– Confess how you truly feel. Relieved!

I’m so fixated on evoking a response from Gran; unnoticed, a light flickers with an intensity to match my own.  Eddie carries Poppy over to the sofa, sits her down to watch a cartoon. He covers her with a blanket then kisses her forehead.

‘We’ll see mummy soon? To say goodbye?’

 Eddie nods his head, his voice cracks.

‘Aye, love.’

‘When will mummy come back from saying goodbye? In spring? My teacher says it’s winter – everything goes to sleep like her?’ Poppy points to ‘Sleeping Beauty’ on the television.

 Eddie focuses on the image. The Prince is just about to kiss Aurora on the lips. He turns his head away from the television before he can see Aurora wake up to her true loves kiss. He grinds down on his teeth. Poppy’s eyes remain transfixed on the television. Eddie gets up, crosses the dining room table; I’m compelled to follow him, I have to stop him. Tell him I’m still here. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve so much to tell him.

 -There is no God! We were right all along. Religion is for people who can’t think for themselves.  We were right to take the piss.  

Eddie flinches, puts his hands in his jean pockets. I follow him down Ma’s hallway and into the bathroom. He closes the door on me. It doesn’t ever close fully. I slip through the crack of the door that is always ajar.

 Head down. Still. He sits on the toilet seat.  I kneel down before him; go to lay my head on his knee. He flinches again. Hits himself in the head. Bangs his fist on the wall screams out:

‘Why? We could’ve figured it out, you fucking stubborn mare’ I bring out the best and worst in Eddie. Till death do us part. What are the chances?

He still refuses to let me go. Stubborn.

My symptoms intensify in the days leading up to the funeral. Everything‘s heightened especially emotions that seemingly walk precariously on stilts.  I can’t walk through walls or levitate. Nothing like any of the horrors Eddie and me used to watch together, on the sofa. 

Unheard, I bellow continuously,

-Just let me go!

 Every time I hear my name called reflections of nostalgia flash and beam over and around me. Prompted, I gravitate towards the source. Someone needs me.  These past three weeks, I’ve been teleported from one conversation to another. I find myself in a room; familiar or not familiar, with people I know and people I don’t know.

Today I’m summoned to the usual bickering between Ma and Gran. The familiar sound of Gran’s kettle boils in the background.

‘I want that picture of her on her graduation day and flowers- blown up .With azaleas. And roses – she loved roses- pink.’  

‘She hates that picture! And she loves- loved yellow roses…’ Ma’s wobbly voice mirrors her jelly struck legs propping her up in her work shoes. She staggers backwards. Like the black dog with a bone, Gran won’t give in,

‘No, she’s my eldest grand daughter and I know her – it is… was pink!’

 Ma sits down, doesn’t speak. I go over to her to put my arms around her then she dissolves into tears. Gran bulldozes her way over to us. Intimidated, I move out of her way. Gran holds Ma and Ma lets Gran hug her. Ma calms down, mentions something about pink and yellow roses

Vexed, I shriek

 – don’t back down Ma, I love yellow. Yellow roses. The kettle whistles for attention. My voice is lost to an object.

‘I’ll go make that cup of tea’ Nan retreats to her kitchen.

Another opportunity to get close to Ma again.   I need to hug her, give her some of my energy. As if on cue, Mum’s tear-stained face crumples just like my heart. A poking hot iron burns a hole right through it. Gran re-enters the room I scarper.

‘Here you go, love. Lost three of my own …, as you know, mind, they never got to Angie’s age. Yellow’s more of a quirky colour like our Angie… was.’     They smile at each other. I move back, the distance seems to illuminate their smiles.

Tonight, I beg for there to be a heaven. This has to be hell. The familiar, incongruous, gravitational pull lures me out of my cavernous abyss. I blink my eyes several times to focus: orientate myself. Hung up around the wall are vintage Disney posters. My eyes settle on Poppies bed. Eddie bends over Poppy and kisses her goodnight,

‘Mummy loves you just as much as I do.’ He tucks her in.

He switches off the light before walking out. I stand and watch my worn out daughter in her bed. She sings herself to sleep just as she does every night. She sings our song:  twinkle twinkle little star. With each inflection of her sweet singing voice, the words serve as a needle. Each word stipulates smelting hot ink into my flesh. My neck is ablaze.  Before closing her eyes, she whispers,

 ‘I love you mummy.’

When I reply, scorching chains wrap and lasso me around my neck. My skin swells up in blisters. The familiar sound of her breathing evaporates the pain.  I need to be close to her, I need to smell her, kiss her. Carelessly, I run over to her bed to touch her sleeping head. Startled I lunge backward as Poppy instantly wakes up screaming.

– I’m powerless

. Eddie barges into the room, throws on the light and takes Poppy into his arms. I watch her body stiffen; then relax. I watch him settle my daughter back to sleep. My hands ball into tight fists.

-She must know I’m here.

Before I can touch her face, she wakes up screaming like – like she has seen a- ghost.

-I’m that Ghost! I put my hands to my mouth in horror.

 Envy bubbles inside me as I witness Eddie consoling Poppy again. I’m half hoping he won’t succeed.

What kind of a mother am I?

I’ve been telling everyone to let me go.

Where will I go?

I can’t drive, no one can see me. There are no other lost souls wondering about telling me to join the dead community!

I won’t give up on my daughter. She needs me. I have to be here.

 The stroke of our clock announces its time; a primitive realisation slithers down my very core. Nausea spirals up into my throat. I run into our bathroom, heave over the toilet, nothing comes out. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror; I see vicious V-shaped welts where the noose of the rope has cut into my neck. This is what Eddie came home to.

The cloying black dog of depression haunted me. Its delivered dose of pain was exquisite- nothing took it away. Not drinking, overdosing, drugging myself, talking-nothing. Eventually, I told it to sit down.  I told Eddie repeatedly,

– I just want to disappear.

– How can I help you?  His eyes pleaded for an answer.  I would always lash out,

-Unless you help me disappear, you can’t!

 I remained imprisoned in our bed and he would go back to work and look after Poppy and the house. He could walk away from me. I couldn’t. I resent him for that. I can see myself now, googling the various ways people commit suicide. One article struck my eye ‘Men are more successful at committing suicide’.

  -They don’t mess about with poisoning themselves –they resort to more violent means.

That is the moment I reached out to the wrong Alpha.

The black dog and I began sleeping together. It became my obsession. Up-close, I could analyse it, experiment with it. As a couple, it didn’t take much to find that Alpha rage. One phone call from Ma,

-Just snap out of it. If you’re going to do it, get on with it.

-Fine, I will!  I hung up on her before she could hang up on me.

My impulsiveness finds me trapped within this mirror. It’s cold. Everything I read is back to front. Everything I do is back to front.  It doesn’t reflect my true intentions. When I reach out, in fact, the more I reach out the more pain I inflict. I back away from the mirror until I’m pressed up, with my back against the bathroom wall.

 What have I done? 

 What right do I have trying to tell my family how to deal with their loss?

Eddie will never know that I was messing about; I didn’t know if I could actually go through with it. From a great height in a corner of the bathroom my body feels cut loose from itself. I can see it happen in front of my eyes. Like a rerun episode, I can’t pause. The noose around my neck, in the shower. Steam shrouds the mirror, with slippery feet, I accidently knock myself off that chair and in that moment I realise,

– I don’t want to die.

I can’t scream and tell anyone. I made the decision when I decided to sleep with my enemy. I’ve interrupted the natural course of life. A lost soul in life: a lost soul in death. There are no bright lights to come with this epiphany. I exit the bathroom, stumble down the staircase, out the front door, and walk aimlessly down the street. I sense a familiar pair of eyes examining me; I look up and see the black dog in its true form. It waits for me to catch up.  We walk side by side. I don’t look back.  I am the one preventing people from moving on. I have to let go.

Trigger fish out of water syndrome

It’s been a while since I’ve done a non poetry /stream of consciousness post.

There’s been a shit load going on in the Willows, and every time I think I need to put my thoughts in a post-,life crops up. haha!  Life, damn you!

giphy

Since June  2016 ,I’ve  felt all the positive vibes I usually throw out to the right people shrivel up  into  dead  petals.

The fragrance  of mustard gas  toxins in my mind and body have knocked me out. I’ve tumbled  into a fitful slumber – ignorant to the   natural  effects of the  buzz of Life.

I’ve  become ashamed.

Ashamed because I was finally in the best place I’ve ever been in my life.

And I decided to self sabotage.

Here is the weird logic.

Sometimes, when I feel like creeping back into my comfort zone, I retreat from all the people who  treat me with respect , encourage me to carry on being creative and love me , give me chances to rise and  make a difference in my own life and possibly in others. I become a scorpion in defence and attempt to  sting myself to death.

It’s a primitive response – commanded by his most rational Amygdala.

No chance I’m going to let anyone else crush me. Haha! I will do it myself at my own hands or tail… even.   

Suspicious mind sets in.

giphy1

The thing is my self destructive tail  shrank while I was living life allowing myself to be confident, taking compliments, getting ahead ,  climbing the arduous trek uphill, and finally relishing the view  on top of my own mountain .

I  had already  started the process of  adaptation, in response , to the good fortune I’d made in my life.

Let my guard down.

In fear of being who I have always wanted to be, I fleed with my stumped tail,  roamed the desert and searched  for a medley  of creatures and elements to crush me.

I know this sounds abstract.

I recently went to an open mic night for people in recovery from various addictions, and one girl  came up on stage  and performed a piece about her strange and unusual relationships with toxic people.

It’s almost like a  buzzword. I hear this phrase everywhere’

‘don’t let toxic people into your life

I do get it.

I understand  that I don’t need to be on drugs, or overdosing or starving myself to hurt myself.

sometimes, when I feel self destructive, I seek out people who I think need saving or who can help me escape me or they seek me out. It’s not something I’m aware of until it’s too late.

These people are attracted to me like gravity. Vice versa.

These people become a drug.

There is an allure, a peculiar drive to chase after them. Hang onto every kind word spoken , every sweet gesture.

Then when  they wake from a spell of disallusion- or they feel they have been stirred in the wrong direction,or  an ingredient they needed to feel good about their current situation is added too lightly or heavy handedly; They turn on those they see as weak and prepared to put up with their bullshit.

I liken this behaviour to a rather lethal bad batch of substances or hootch .

I  refuse to walk away,  I guzzle up swigs of insults and snort up the  all the flaws that make up my chemistry.

giphy2

Eventually, they take all their own self loathing, regret, frustrations  and issues and dump it on me.

There is strength and vulnerability in me. I’ve never wanted to build a wall around who I am.

I’m transparent.

I may do shitty things and its no excuse when I say,

I’m always upfront about it.

I always let the people in my life know what’s going on.

Where I am at.

I  tend to do this with people I have just met too. I’ve hid myself for so long. If people can’t get me from the start, then I’d rather know sooner than waste precious time.

It’s not an excuse to do shitty things to other people.

I choose to tell people what I’ve done/doing. Good and bad.

I confess, I usually  have a lot to lose -most of the time.

9472470aa2469ef2d22810e89b602815-depression-suicide-truth-quotes

 I’m blessed to have a small circle of  family and friends who are  ready to take my hand and help me out of the jungle.

Help me leave the ones who are in the thick of it ,simulated  and hanging out with  familiar,  estranged  animals. They are trying to survive.

It’s hard to take a knock. It’s facile to blame others for your setbacks. I’ve done that in my life over and over.

Many times.

It’s only when I decided to make a conscious choice to make peace with my past, and take responsibility for what I do now, have I been able to bounce back quicker from life’s trials and moments of fuckery.

It’s obvious, right?

 Blaming others for how you feel is hardly going to solve your problem ,is it?

I’m full of passion, empathy  and I can be blunt,I do speak my mind  and  I can be a soft touch.

Disastrous in the wrong hands.

It becomes difficult to keep my mouth shut and not  turn the remnants of my poisonous tail  on those who hurt me.

i-am-a-thug-and-i-will-cut-you-prettypussy-9626746

Passion floods through my veins. Bubbles over.I retaliate  especially after seeing someone else’s  imperfect life. After listening to their feelings and ideas and dreams. Reaching out and saying, ‘ I’ll be there for you’ .

These people usually say: I didn’t ask for your help – ( it doesn’t stop them from taking it when it suits them)

It’s hard not to retaliate when family, friends or an acquaintance who  I’ve trusted to divulge so much about myself, in things I trust they won’t use against me, because of our common acknowledgement that we listen, don’t judge and empathise.

I retaliate at hypocrisy and denial.

I retaliate  when a person uses ammo to hurt me and then cries in a murky pond of self pity  at what a scoundrel I am! 

 when I give it back to them- in their language. People dont like being spoken back to  in fluent asshole. It’s usually my last resort.

It takes courage and stupity  to allow another to  hurl a  barrage of abuse at you. This can be subtle- only you know it is abuse because of what it does to your mind and emotions.

To have  someone  not understand how or why or  even care, that  they are poking my underbelly;

To try and  reason with a person who can only see how hurt they are – how what has been said  to them is far worse than what they have said, is frustrating.

Bashing heads  together-over and over. It becomes consuming and frustrating. I just want to record what we have already gone over, press play.

Stuck in a loop. Trying to move forward.

Attack!

Go away. 

Wait, I need you.

Welcome to radio station FM  mixed signal.

In my experience, I’ve met many people who are going through their own shit storm,and instead of looking to fix themselves they will  throw sticks at another’s issues.

Some do try and fix themselves but are surrounded by other toxic people who hold them back.  Their dreams and goals become more obscure and more difficult to make out.

The  other ones caught up in the spiral of habitual self abuse can’t help but bring others down with them.

So,

Why do I feed into these wonderful people who are full of heart  and pointed edges?  I can see they  are clearly awash with troubles.

Why cant I leave them alone?

 the nature of addiction is  compulsive and obsessive.

It’s agonising to know the psychology of toxic people and know what they are doing, feel immoblised and, desperately hanging on to my sense of self. The voice that usually stand ups and says

I won’t take this. I know who I am. 

is replaced by a mouth stitched up in apathy.

A shell of myself holding tightly onto hope.

Its not the person its their behaviour.

Hard to swallow until my passion and sense of justice regurgitates all their abuse, the cold words, the push and pull effect.

It’s hard not to expect people to be on your level- it is worth training your mind and heart to expect little from people.

Especially the people who let their guard down.

Am I the only one who can be around certain people and not feel self conscious?

 Not doubt  my intelligence, ability, my ideas and my very being?

I’m not left questioning  If I am worthy.

Then,

there are the people in full bkoen toxic mode, who will take all the positive energy from you ,and then discard you. It’s because they are   highly  absorbed  in their own life of misery. They know deep down they are better than their current situation. The anger is a reflection of the weaknesses same weaknesses they see in those they use.

 I say:

 don’t hate these people.

Most toxic people have good hearts, and when in a good place (if ever) have a lot of love and time to give to others.

By all means walk away from them, let them push you away.

Yes, sometimes we have to be pushed.

falling-off-the-cliff

Sometimes, we have to put aside the good we can see in them, and realise that they can only help themselves.

I know all this because I have been toxic.

I’ve done all these things.

We can all be toxic.  Always take time to refocus and reflect.

All experiences can help build on your character and teach you important lessons about yourself.

We are all works in progress.

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Wanna know about life?

Honest and upfront is what I do best. I’ve avoided blogging too much or connecting over the last few months because I’ve been hiding a lot of guilt and shame –

so I’ve been doing some thinking.

No stream of consciousness or poetry in this post…

Are you still with me?   ha ha

I write for myself first  and I always will.   When I write for an audience I lose my way easily.

Apologies if this is old news to the more evolved spirits reading this. 😁

Daisy has an epiphany.

I’ve been contemplating on the saying ‘dig deep’

 if you decide to use this quote to get you through an experience

Do you  know  why you need to dig deep?

My humble findings are what follows

Because whether  we become aware and conscious, in this life (or not) about my  proposed notion of  the meaning of the ‘dig deep’  quote

(that’s a bit wordy. ha ha)

here it is:

from our very conception into this life

-Our first breathe – we start to dig our  own grave.

We begin to design the lay out of where our  final resting place  or end will be.

It would epic and less stressful if from the moment we are born we knew  what we are  meant to be doing.

Many  people never figure it out or, if they do  its too late to ask them if they have for obvious reasons. 😞

Many  people decide to choose a saviour be it in the form of an icon – a god, a person , goals – money, love, careers, addictions , etc…

We strive to find something to focus  all of our seconds, minutes ,hours and years blatantly meandering about on this planet.

Be careful who you allow to support you – some people are so busy trying to save everyone else,  ( we all do  it at some point) we forget our first honour and duty is to save ourselves and know our own purpose.

It’s known in psycho babble terms as the dramatic triangle.
Most of use tend to flit between these roles depending on the situation we are in ,people we are around   etc.

To digress,

Many of us go on to  have children who rely on us – depend on us to teach them how to navigate their own path – how to create their own resting place – and to be conscious that each action,

each decision they make has a hand in determining how they will die.

Teaching others to rely on themselves is blessing not a curse.

Only when we are  faced with our own reflection and with no other help but our own resources that we have  collected along our journey in life ; will we know how we will get to the other side or to our end in this characteristic form.

Some off us  end up addicted, or come to  our end at the hands of illnesses like cancer or dementia , car accidents etc.

Many of us are not aware that from the moment we are given independent life we are consistently (for better or worse)  building our own coffins .

is it fair that we are not told this from our first breathe ?

I didn’t make up the rules in life or society.

We – I – can only govern myself and my actions.

Be wary who you try to help or who you accept help from.

Don’t get mad when people let you down

they are doing what they need to do – following their own purpose.

Some  people never find out what their purpose is.

Dig deep.

How comfortable and aware of your surrounding do you want to be  when you take your last breathe in this life.

We create our own Elysium  or heaven or utopia even –

sometimes it’s not what we want –

 but we won’t  know until we are swimming against the tide or even hanging ten and riding the wave.

 I do know that I want to be as conscious and aware of my choices ,limits  when the wave crashes .

My personal  chosen Gods have always been  tangible- in the form of fully crystallised human beings -flawed  just like me.

I think I chose human idols to put all my faith in to

 so  that I can have a go at someone  when “they” 😉 let me down. I want to face my own success and disappointments A-sap . Patience /Sabili is not a strength of mine.

 I need to look at a reflection of myself to determine I exist.

it’s not easy to figure out life- there is probably  more evidence for the saying that instead of trying to figure out life- it needs to be lived – consciously and with purpose.

We can live with purpose and not know if that purpose is right and we can live consciously and not know what out purpose is.

hopefully,  with the aid of  our experiences we can decide which of the  tools  or resources we need to use if/when  we have a “I’ve possibly hit the bottom of my pit”.

How do I bypass this mythical minotaur  I’ve read about?

We wonder  how or,

if we  can

or ,

are able to  crawl out  and up out of it to  place where we can find  some  sense of comfort.
We wonder if we have the endurance, courage and motivation to get out of coal mine

Whether it’s worth finding a running brook of water to wash the soot from  the I side out.

The alternative option is that our final resting place will be exactly where we decide to rest – in this case the bottom of a pit  . State the obvious 😂

Only we  can make our ending  a place where  we feel we have done everything in our power tosit amongst the angels or the gods of Olympus or whatever it is we believe in that will take us through from the beginning to the end, where we can  feel at peace with ourselves.

Some of us – most of us never get to that point.  Downerz 😁😁

I don’t know about reincarnation but I am aware.

Society  tells us it’s a selfish idea

‘ look after yourself’.

Human beings are wired to reach out  but how we do that and to know our boundaries and the boundaries of others is tricky and a part of the dance of life- the cha cha

one step forward backwards thing. I’m full of cliches in this post.

It’s scary to know we are ultimately alone – only we can change our selves – our emotions – our ideas – our path.

It’s hard not to resent others or life for making us so capable and resilient.

Damn  you life! How dare you 😂

it’s easier to choose to not see the bigger plan – the idea that yes we govern ourselves and we must govern our selves and own our actions and our lives.

and at the same time understand that every move /choice/thought we make – has that butterfly effect –

we cause the ripples .

science has come up with a terminology -a language to help us understand our position in this world, our make up , what and how much we are capable of – how much responsibility we all have

How significant just one body made up if molecules is :to the rest of planet balancing out or toppling over –

We have nature to compare ourselves to – an example of what happens when we fuck up our ecosystems – when we put element a somewhere  and take out element b from somewhere else.
It’s trial and error.

We repeat – the cycle continues.

The fear of being alone is a lot scarier than actually being alone

When I am alone left to decide -I choose to swim and come up for air.

I remember that I have walked the earth with legs , I’ve flown and seen the world from a bird’s eye perspective.

I’ve also stayed a rather unglamourous amphibian  thinking I’m in a vast sea surrounded by  a fellow  hybrid form of alluring sirens

I choose to live  another day. I don’t know if my choices are right or wrong – time is what it is.

People in my life , of my life

I love you but I don’t need any of you  In the way I have allowed myself to believe I do.

That’s it.

Do i  decide to fight the battle every day or  fall  back into walking state of  slumber

Buy ding time

So many people watch and talk about those who they under estimate. By all means watch,

And learn.

Maybe you will learn how to deal with one or two of your own issues

A perfectly flawed Daisy Willows

I let us down?

Shadows betrayed with a mere glimpse of a frown.

No words can express the guilt dictatorship governing me

It’s not a cop out. I know right from wrong – I know this plea

Manipulations-sucked into the vortex

Epileptic fits, child crying for a place where dinosaurs indeed exist in the mix.

Buying time while losing our minds.

Insanity led me to insist this was the shortest cut to a state of perpetual eutrophic times

Heart attack — Jack missed his usual target in sundry extrapolation.

Too much — too much — afraid to not have enough-

Threats

once choice I  have  to have an abortion

…..or an abortion.

 

The value of life against a three digit number

is not worth the risk of  another loosing sanity – Look at that temper!

Fuelled by selfish, ridiculous acts in  percussive persuasion.

Sick of hurting the good ones in the pursuit  for a place in time where we are  not struck down by  our own damnation.

Heightened emotions — rouged the face of her grace .

Head  rendered poisoned by the one with the  latex face

Queer sighs — teary eyed.

Worth all this anvil chorus  shrieking out implacable aural instigation

The fear if a god had its grip on me – I would take the whip out on my vice with attempts of self flagellation.

21 days

my soul betrays all sense of balance –

5 years of drudgery for something that has less weight than a heart.

Lost in that maze of procrastination  — buying time — throwing out another seasonal  line.

Fear – it will run out-plans mystify my usual organised self — maturate until all evidence  of ejaculation is collected by its DNA component to outsmart.

Happiness leads to an oasis  dried up well —

See that camel over there?

she’s my final hope for a sip of redemption

Unusual  for a vegan to murder an animal for a quench of innocence-how far I’ve fallen —

two points away from extinction

Madness runs forever in a contortion

Fucked if I know how to talk sense into a cross eyed mass of exhaustion.

Pillage me for I am running low.

All thought out plans left in the bloodied soulless bodies of Russia’s war in winter snow

Front line-I cower-there is no courage in the how I dished out my packable blow

Left in a quiver — screamed by the knock of confrontation at my door

I do. I do I do..

If not for myself but for the one who I look to

amazed-

I observe it as one would in a zoo

Rueful

Meaning to be dutiful

This reflection is the antithesis of beautiful.

How long can love last?

when the tokoloshe is cross examined for its  denied  attempt at buying its time

or trying to convince that biding echoes are indeed in the indefinite past.

 

 

Not the Messiah

Big day in the U.K.

My musings……

Let’s sort  out any confusion

I’m under no great illusion

that Corbyn is  NOT the messiah to lead this island

to balmy weather.

Fair in the ideas he postulates.

Words that that resonate with humanities mantra of together.

Don’t expect a perfect world unless we all put in some labour

One man can speak for the many but the many must graft for the life they seek in ardour.

the many make changes – X marks your choice

It’s not over.This is but the start – it’s time to think outside of the box – continue to use your new found voice.

This is phase one of an arduous journey

We will lose if we don’t endure the marathon and have JC’s back when it all gets thorny.

Don’t lose faith

Keep your head looking  to the above.

It’s not a one man job

It’s up to all of us to stand the test -stay the course

perhaps one day we will see a world blossom from our sacrifice to give it one love.

 

Today I vote labour.

If there was a chance GREEN would or could win this election, I would have voted for them

 

Extra Extra- Tories mirror chicken

*photo credit Francesca Woodman*

the pen is indeed  mightier than the sword- The weak will draw blood first. 

Daisy Willows

Shame on who ?

Me?

for having an opinion,

a view

Of the outrageous Manchester bombings.

Killing off innocent lives of younger generations.

Who truly wants to show who has global  dominion?

Silent politician  — the most deadliest opposition.

Spin a Democide on the innocents who make up the majority of our citizenship.

Deplorable act.

Corbyn speaks for young hearts with his  Robin Hood mannerisms.

Noble enough to plant a feather in his cap.

The conservatives  make a come back with  hyper  sensationalist  plan-

What a way to react.

Theres a difference between responding to the people

and scaremongering those into a statement of hatred against immigrants

Western Tempers raised to look to the East for another insane bomber converted by the Quran.

A classic destabiliser move  to keep the people less equal.

Social media doing her rounds — vicious terrorists — chuck the unorthodox  bastards out.

Who funds the organised crime unit?

Who knocks another nail into societies faction,

sense of community to sustain a world clouded in doubt?

The injustice of this hypocrisy makes me want to fall to my knees.

Please,  open your eyes-look ,

see

The bigger picture is not to look to a country living in a refugee crisis— riding it rough trying to traverse to safe shores on the tremulous seas.

No person in their right mind want’s to leave their own home.

What would you do to protect your family when you are staring at all your belongings obliterated into another political stitch?

Woven into the conditioned mind-fabricated lies — bursts of walmarts own clothes wash-Iron fist scented smokescreen.

A white wash to cover up the Theresa May in a niquab to bypass border control — look to true snitch.

Jumping from a sinking ship.

Is it not  to enough to destabilise the economy?

Divide the minds of the people  to instil a state of dichotomy.

Don’t buy into this cycle

Don’t let  the  Imperialists continue this barbaric  rule.

Capitalise on the vulnerable  they choose to keep less insightful.

Fundamentalist terror is home grown.

18-25 year olds orgasmic  omnipotence   can  save the united kingdom.

not just this is England , with  welsh sheep murmurs whispered across clouds seemingly made out of foam

Venerable private pensioners ,I respect your views

Wake up from this nightmare.

 Giving up your unneeded winter fuel tax allowance isn’t helping to secure a strong future our children.

Let sinners repent . Let justice and humanity  reign.

Have mercy  on those who live in the world we  are yet to share.

The stench of politics arrests my heart.

Don’t desensitise now

When death is  imminent for your fresh start.

Elysium can exist in this world not just the next.

Divine heaven!

Look up by all means –  It’s all generic text.

Look around and see the plight the innocents in this have to wage.

Stop this merciless hunt to cull young voices — remember the wisdom  a child imparts with a mere smile.

They are truly the ones who are sage.

This is not a foreign terrotist ISIS attack

If it is-

It has been funded by the most conservative ,vicious Tory pack.