how to be a good wife. 😀 😉
Cause less sorrow.
Talk less tripe
scissors, or masking tape
love free from doubt
Decline an upgrade of
buying into a get one free argument.
Another year passed.
Still eyeballing the ferocious stye of the hurricane.
numerous days swept by
side by side
Manage to keep one another extremist sane.
Paper kites or paper cuts?
Endure and expand on our own perceived ins and out.
A test to keep harmony on a scale
Genetically modified pesticide free.
Take one for the team
Roll over Beethoven.
Parasite recoils – breathless corpse.
Rise scientific soul mates
Abandon host in search of a live love that remains.
Keep it organic
Atrocities often committed when primitive bare feet leave a trail mix of impulse.
Picking out unsavoury nuts in an odourless panic.
pause on moments passed
lovers instinctive need to recreate
Recapture the beast of time.
never once dawdling – unaware of its power to desecrate.
Maple honey squeeze leads to a scent of forget me nots
Souls connect – diffuse the trigger wire in the brain.
racing against accruing
from the memory bank.
to the knees,
‘please cease fire’
I’m no academic poet.
Talk to me about about syllables, haikus – to be honest, I can only hear the blood rushing to my head.
I started doing stream of consciousnesss posts in 2016. I’ve received positive feedback on here, and now I want to step up my game.
Just for fun, the social aspect and it’s a different way to express myself.
So, I did what I do best.
I went to the poetry workshop, everyone seemed to know what they were doing except me!
I went with my heart, my emotions and willingness to try out new approaches, in tackling poetry for live performance.
It was a cool workshop – delivered by a well established,British poet – Matt Abott –
check out his bio HERE
A collaboration with DREAM TIME COLLECTIVE.
We went through a series of activities with the idea to have some form of a draft by the end of the 2 hour workshop
The theme was political poetry.
Each participant chose a theme that they felt passionately about. I chose ‘Animal rights/cruelty. ‘
I got so much out of a two hour workshop that I’m going to share what I did.
Once we had chosen our theme/subject
we had to ask ourselves three questions
Who does it affect?
How does it affect me?
Why is it important to me or to the world?
A Couple of notes I made:
It affects animals, people, ocean, planet
I’m a lover of animals, I don’t believe that we need to eat meat, or wear clothes or makeup made up of animal derivatives. Because of my knowledge of what animals go through to become a consumer product. I feel it is unethical.
I have my own view of animals. I admire how they are able to evolve and adapt, in a way, that doesn’t have a negative impact on the planet .This shows me that humans could learn something from nature, instead of destroying our home.
2. What Matt stressed is: that if we want our poetry to make an impact writing it to perform , we need a motive, a call of action, an agenda.
Who am I delivering this message to?
What do I want to achieve?
Examples: Do I want to shock people, encourage people to look at solutions to the problem etc..
Imagine a room( keeping in mind what your subject is) and put 5 points/Images using ‘show and tell’ language to come with up with strong words.
tearing of flesh
frothing at the mouth
Place the victim/s in that room.
What are they doing ?
How do they feel?
I had two victims. I imagined a gorilla coming round from another bout of being sedated by electrocution. He was wearing garish make up – heavily made up blue eyes and bold, blood colour red lipstick.
My other victim was human – a female who happened to be dressed up in chicken outfit or as a bird. She had a morbid fascination finding herself in this surreal room with this clearly broken ,macabre gorilla.
Next we had place ourselves in that room -observing what was going on
Horror, what do I do? , retaliate or fight or freeze. I was frozen on the spot. Upon reflection, this is how most of society reacts to topics that make them uncomfortable. They become apathetic.
Next, we had to place the victim outside of that situation/ROOM . Different surroundings. Aware of what they have witnessed/ or know and how they react in a different setting.
I chose the female ,costume wearing bird human and put her in a cosmetic store. The emotions that came to me were conflicting – this victim of societies idea of attaining beauty is thinking ‘ ‘I have a choice’
The next stage was to put these ideas into the poetic form.
Make a poem.
Always keeping in mind what we want the audience or how we want the audience to react.
We were directed to to start to put together a poem of no more than 50 words, or certain amount syllables. The aim was to keep it short.
Keep it punchy.
I wrote about 100 words – possibly more.
Then we had to cut those words in half – 😦
I ended up with 46 words.
This is the end product .
Gaze in the mirror.
Blue sparkled hues
Do I look pretty enough for you?
Tearing of flesh.
Bleached in acid
Reflection never part
Do I look pretty enough for you?
The true freak in this show is
, indeed YOU.
Daisy Willows/ Natasha Bodley
Times up. Workshop over. Get back to real life 😀
Now, I have another to approach to poetry when I write.
Have a great weekend!
I’ve finally received my results for my 1st year, doing my Masters, in Creative writing.
PASS-with merit. I officially can use more random letters after my name — ha ha!
I am now in possession of a post graduate certificate in the Arts and Humanities!
How’s this going to help me with what I want do?
I have a dream.
I do. 😀
One of my goals is to move back to France. They love people with diplomas. I hope to get a well paid job there. I need to book a trip to The French embassy later on this year. My husband has decided he is going to take on my surname and become a French national. He’s English!
He’s not only English, he is Northern, from West Yorkshire.
I need to register my Bella Bee as a French national because even though she is more English than I am. Born here. English Dad and roots. The British government will not give her a British passport because I was ordered by her majesty’s court to register her Fathers name on her birth certificate and now they won’t give her one!
I feel so uneasy about my family not having a passport. My entire life, It was drummed into me to always have my passport (in date)in case, we moved countries.
Which we did- a lot!
Moving on . ( pun unintentionally intended :D)
What’s happening in my life?
Loads of shit- ha ha! as usual.
I’m doing better – I keep making a come back. Oh, life – you little tease!
Dare me to live.
Dare me to succeed!
Daisy’s mental health
Yeah, it’s been.
up and down,
up again ,
very up –
not quite sure
aargh why did that and that and that and ..
did I do that?
Those kind of moments, really.
Surely someone can relate?
Not happy about a medication increase in my anti depressant.
I don’t of any person who is on (high/ highest legal doses) of
Two anti psychotics
Two anti anxiety tablets,
and sleeping medication.
I know my health posse want the best for me.
I don’t bullshit them.
I tell if I’ve been using shit coping mechanisms, good ones. Thoughts ,feelings…
I made my psychiatrist laugh.
He offered me psychology therapy — again .
I was like:
‘Look Dr J, seriously every time I sign up to a pyschologist , they leave!’
All my psychologists have left me half way through doing whatever new pycho babble, current trend treatment , is used, to deal with folk such as myself.
One dude, fell asleep in a couple of our sessions.
So, I was like
‘ Listen, I know how to use CBT/DBT, I know how to communicate and talk. I know what keeps me well . I just want a cure’
Another laugh escapes from Dr J.
He is a legend.
A legend ? yes, but not a wizard 😦
He totally gets me and I feel I have a choice in medication changes etc..
I’ve asked to come off one of my meds because I don’t see the point of being on it. It hasn’t helped me.
These meds have affected my memory. I’m terrified of getting Dementia. I’ve been on (legal) tablets since I was 13/14 and I’ve never been off medication.
Talking about memory.
I’m using my creative outlets to start getting into the open mic poetry scene .
I love performing but my memory is really rubbish. I’m going to brave it by doing more live poetry next week. I’m excited. Nervous. It’s all good.
I have my final year of my MA to keep me — super occupied. There is a lot of work to do. For part of my thesis ( check me out)
I’m thinking of using my blog to interview creative folk who live in my community to talk about, their work, (durr!) Creativity and their mental health. My photographer mate is on board to take pictures. Some people have shown interest — yeah!
My heads occupied which is good.
How will doing this help me with my thesis and final work?
Well, I am going to use this year of discovery and research on the link between mental health and creativity as an alternative form of therapy to cope with life’s unpredictable moments.
Then I will have loads of inspiration to write a film script (120 minutes) on a character ,who , is thrown back into society after a long stint in mental /prison institutions , and who is looking to find him/herself and another way of being and expressing him/herself positively, in society.
The opening scene will kind of look like this
I have an ending – (a bit abstract at the moment) – saying there words:
‘I look around for the first time with clarity. And see I’m exactly where I need to be. Around the misfits. The beautiful misfits just like me.’
DAISY’S UN NAMED CHARACTER
It’s all early days and I still have 4 scripts to write, a critique and a character analysis on a famous playwright to do before the final chapter.
All in all. I’m alive, optimistic-ish, full of emotion, drive, passion , a pain in the ass but just doing my thing.
All terribly boring really… 😀
So, I am back!
I can’t commit daily to blogging but I have joined a group on Facebook.
Shout out to Gary @ fiction is food for adding me.
It’s a website for us!
I’m a newbie, its good be around other bloggers again. I’m hoping it will keep me off Facebook and keep me connecting with people like yourself. People who use their time more productively. Doh, oh the irony.
One rant before I go : I wish people would stop leaving public posts about my appearance on my Facebook.
If you ever happen to read this
I know you are having a shit time dealing with your own weight issues. I’m well aware of mine. Please take a look at yourself. Look after yourself first. If you don’t – FUCK OFF!
That is a wrap. I know. Hilarious! ha ha!
Thank you so much for reading
Time to step out and live real life..
Catch up soon!
What’s everyone else doing with life? Blogging?
I’m genuinely curious to know.
When you’r feel you’re hanging on the vine,
remember- a seed push forth a mighty sign.
You must take the sunbeams and treasure what’s thine
Wild Kansas City is but one destination on the sign
Take hope, light and lose the animosity ,
for inside there is no monstrosity
Get yourself caught speeding in high velocity.
It’s not a train smash — no not a catastrophe.
When you’re stuck in the middle of time.
Jump off the fence ‘cos that’s doing yourself a crime.
Don’t you let commoners think your words cannot define,
Your value , worth and dreams are not benign
Take it from the apple tree
He allows fruit to aid in his victory .
oh don’t , hide yourself like a willow tree
Cry, but remember you have a destiny.
Everything will be fine — look up — allow the clouds to throw some shapes.
Open them wide , mind expand — understand the lessons from life’s true greats.
You’re already one them-slightly chipped — still most valuable of porclain plates.
Never doubt what you can do — take a leaf from natures golden ratio
You radiate when you guide the fates.
Lets’ lasso this up and keep your spirit wild
Grow tall — never lose your inner child.
A silly poem to spread to the crowd
Accept her quirks — light hearted ,silly sap — never lose a day when she has smiled.
*I’m feeling less heavy hearted and more like my old self these days. I was inspired by the song ‘This little light of mine’. live, love, don’t hold as grudge. Remain true to who you are and you won’t stand alone for long.
A song a mate shared with me. Happy vibes. I defy you not to feel happy listening to this.
Why did I eat that ?
Any cat will know I’m gonna scream bloody hell I’m so fat.
If only I meant it like I’m cool dealing with a belly
extended like a starved, fledgling Biafran
Doesn’t mean I’m happy when the scales groan
-too much mass.
Why did I eat that?
inhaled beans, and camembert cheese , tuna and pees
Hard core, non divergent, box ticking Anorexic.
I can’t throw up. I can’t use laxatives.
I sit with my new found rolls.
not cute .
Eating disorder you smutty little tease.
Why did I eat that?
Mushrooms to grow?
Or shrink my stomach to give off a sexy new glow ?
Only so much fungi I can mitigate when I’ve had an oral mastication blow.
This is not a pleasurable job.
Hands cover my eyes. No mirrors must ever let me know.
Why did I eat that ?
A memoir to torment my self – 30 tablets a day – neck it down
Sit on the psychiatrist couch.
How about we lose the meds, you give me the cure
I can show off a palatable pageant, non dentistry crown.
Why did I eat that?
I need energy, Cant go places without any juice
This ole devil gives me every sodamastic excuse.
I’m feeling not quite right in the head.
I’m determined to live out the next 30 years living free of Bio-Pyscho-Social, self punishment misuse.
Girl bets he weren’t always so plastic.
Fell deep into a pool of eyes that hinted at a heart full of fantastic .
The world is now a bit colder.
Sun shines even a little bolder .
Don’t know why son pushed away the great play to his heart when it only allowed the room temperature to stagnate into a cancerous cadaver
now 30 years older.
Harsh cold facts .
Perspective bound by smaller minds clouded in a haze of toxic, inner house attacks.
Girl weeps to know two doors down
son and mother abuse each other.
We were all once innocent.
We all grow up to the reality of life.
We all make mistakes .
Son hides behind a pointed finger for a cover
to save face from only himself.
not even the one he now calls his true blood brother.
walls whisper inferior
by the son
Girl bets he wasn’t always so plastic.
How many more years is he gonna carry on sucking lemons?
sitting on a pedestal of empty cans
spitting out condescending pips and belittled bits?
A hard,long way to fall
Always taking the moral high ground.
Amongst the smudges of smugness
girl saw a glimmer of his original fantastic.
Lines crossed – militant gas -lighting to the ones on a lost path.
Characters don’t need to be shouted down at.
raise son’s ego so he can live amongst the Olympian Gods;
Devastation – pride miseducation
can be the only aftermath.
Girl weeps – reasoned with her heart – trouble found her passing inappropriate affection.
This time she won’t carry the burden when she floundered in son’s manipulation and rejection.
Players play a part.
Games lose all fun when the son only sees people he can step on
Heighten an evoking, abstract canvas.
Draw out a new horizon.
A disappointed son
finds he has exhausted all misaligned souls of their energy.
Turns up the abuse and sticks a knife into a beating , drumming heart.
overflows the space with shades of reds and blue hues.
Trurh be told.
It’s better to have everything to lose and still walk tall with purpose
live an inebriated lie.
Hoaxing folk with a demeanour of nothing to lose.
Eventually,we all have to play our cards.
suffer the consequences of our enacted desires.
Girl weeps for the carbon copy spirits
consciously conscious of losing sense of all self .
Grab a hoe
dig for more dirt to throw on misplaced bodies
already buried vertically .
son’s light gets dimmer.
The deities stole their fire back.
Girl bets he weren’t always so plastic .
Spinning dog – hounding smaller animals with greater spirits.
Poacher trophy show case
in a house of broken doors,overflowing ashtrays, side way glances.
Specks of dry spit spewed from another night screaming in an accusatory fit.
Close the curtains on the yo yo man – the son that once shone vivid, in the coat of arms, bearing fantastic.