at liberty to choose

Charlie met Esther on abortionist roe.

Hedges neatly trimmed – enough to disheval a bearded vagabond to weep after his latest woe.

No coat hangers to gut the newborn sac.

Charlie stood for hours until her number came up.

Raging

rouge screen screams with a tremulous beep.

Surreal,

Conceal;

Unable

to strike the star lead role in a Bolly wood film deal.

unsullied arrived in a cumulous cloud,

stricken by a thunderous compulsion to wail.

Esther didn’t hear the bond lust, lilted scream.

memory hazed -by two fat ladies at gate number 8.

Efforts disarmed – inability to count down to the primal odd.

nebulous chlorophyll masked her mouth.

Envy immoblised to an unrecalled dream.

Innocents smile;

swinging on tyres.

Freddie Kruger caught in a static slumber loses night mare credibility to a sterile clinic;

Action paralysing every unconscious scene.

Strathem , London-night defends to keep watch.

Both stumble upon a tidy little room – 1970’s style. No disco defiblerater harmonizing jolts to the beat of

‘ Staying alive ‘

Old granny hoovered up flowers chocked in ivy a patterned carpet ,

Mist of lavender lingers. This bitch knows how to spray.

Dont mess with the O.G.

Peppered,seasoned hair, non linear lines carve out a facial narrative.

Don’t be fooled by this kungfu hoe.

inebriated illiterates

desensitized to her strategy in a game of cruel cluedo.

It’s all so normal. It’s life, you know..

Scissors ready to stab a beating heart,

Positioned in foetal

Sucked out the uterus.

Pro choice.

Pro voice .

Pro life.

Pro midwife.

Tall walled wars.

Bricks bolster the Illusion of affairs in order.

Nobody is scrutinized so fiercely as the woman who maps out her own destiny – navigates the boundaries that her ideals can afford her.

Qality control.

The NHS paid for a private eye.

Two signatures deemed sufficiant to see her through the hours of her sobering silence.

Shame less in her flowered disguise.

Ginger nuts ,un savoury tufts.

No, this wasn’t her nine month due – no ice cubes for killing in the name of freedom to govern her own vessel.

No need for pro life stepford wives lies.

Sins annoint.

Sins accumulate.

Where would our saints stand without a dissident at hand?

Society sit down, protest proudly.

Part the veil of clouds

Peer piously downwards,

ready to strike thunder bolts of judgement.

Rain down booming terror tactics .

Esther cares not for their gospel band

Society sips, exhalingg wafts of fair trade, Ivory coast coffee beans.

Privilege smells of a modern holocaust of starving babies in bony mothers arms.

Who said any of these women consented to consummate?

Penatrative obedience to the phallic statues erected in morning glory psalms.

Civilized society!

What if God was one of us?

a scripture in the making.-

Touch and kiss the sky .

Would he become the true reflection we see ,when we catch ourselves about to exhale the final breathe ,before we die?

Fantasies always signed off with a silver lining and promises of a rainbow.

Reality is cold,

winter serves a plateau of ice .

Frigid flowers frozen in angst,

Shatter

like glass.

Rebel against their reproductive nature.

Air,

breathe.

One full gasp.

If only a mere raspy rant leaves on its depart.

It’s either them or an urban jungle of homo sapians collecting another free day ride .

Ready to infect ignorance on every global ocean that has shores that go out at low tide.

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Punch and Judy -sober edition

Intolerant society.

We live in a belly fighting off bacteria

Begging other intelligence to disembowel us.

Before

a tsumanima of hate floods our irrigation system of morals.

No lives matter.

Nazi’s aren’t the only few crazier than Mercuries Mad Hatter.

Everyone has an opinion.

Every Judy thinks they are entitled to a Punch – no need to be drunk.

No justice,

infuriating that we can’t learn violence is a domino effect.

Cause and effect

ripples from thrown stones.

Balance in humanity

artifially insemitated tinnitus

is the reality.

We look to archaic verse in the Testament that

‘ an eye for an eye’

is as natural as two beasts being violated while they are in active fornication.

Instinct and emotions show us we are alive.

We feel, we must feel — we have to feel to carry a vigil of hope

Some divine sign,

god, goddess installed a program of free will.

Divine sign?

Why not take back this privilege?

Why make a world perfect and full of sublime, lure us out with the promise of sunshine?

Caters to the needs of every breather, every ecosystem.

No need for uadulterated theft.

God is a Narcissist.

why would someone with such power sit back and watch us destroy one another?

Fuck the lies, the parables,

Jesus dying for our sins!

His resurrection has risen along with centuries a blasphemeous leaders chanting idolific hymn.

In the name of ignoratious barkus dogma

Religion – organised to control the masses

Opium now smells of it’s true odour-terrorisim .

Bombs, nuclear weapons, fists connecting with human bodies, unlicenced rifles blasting into chunks of animals flesh .

Rights?

Who is right?

This game has found us lost in a maze and the goblins haven’t the eduction to translate to us

cuts to every department,

land.

Division.

Revison .

This is prison.

Suicide seems an answer to a man’s motive to rise to heaven and receive a reprisal.

That is a given.

God is a narcissist .

Jesus-is a shoddy carpenter.

Mary Magdelane -the whore,is the only tangible part of this story I find plausible.

Create a world – destroyed by nations.

Give me a sign!

suffering to this extent is for an entity pantomime.

Enlightened gods, sit on Mount Olympus ,never miss an episode of planet earth.

The screen darkens to reveal

another dismal form of the masses , pupils— dilated, babbling words of freedom to.

freedom to insult ,

freedom to obliterate ,

freedom

to disfigure,

freedom to impregnate,

Freedom to do anything.

A society bloated, heaving up piles of excess.

Anarchy doesn’t mean terrorisation

Revolution is for the mighty of heart.

Ones who wish to see change from inequality for the many in parts.

Race,

Gender,

Sex,

We all deserve to be on the earth offender register

Why do we have laws ?

when we take our grievances into our own hands.

How can there be justice?

-when justice fails us with a well practiced pose of inverted corruption?

Trust in humanity.

Live by your true North, moral compass .

Born in navigation mode,

even if life serves you a sentence of physical deformity;

Don’t look to the sky for an answer.

Don’t look to a man with free words dribbling down his jumper.

Don’t tear down statues that can’t fight back.

There is no sense in joining hands with this vicious pack.

We all have it wrong.

Every. Single. One. Of. Us.

Think the death penalty teaches people to stop being immoral?

Tears cause waves, I’m hiding between the reeds and the coral.

Every face has that stoic sense of entitlement

Knitted together,from years of oppressive governments taking our God-given birth sight to see what a plight this truly is.

We all need to hang.

Hang our heads in shame.

Enough .

Cut out my heart

See it bleed

Let it bleed –

examine the appearance of your own and understand there is no difference –

we come into the world

We all rely on another hand for our first feed.

I’ve always been taught to have a plan B

I find myself alone; ready to denounce my mammalian side and take my chances, swim against the tide of oil sickened oceans, in one last effort to truly be free

from;

Not for.

From.

Free from hate,

, free from words spoken with a lingering scent of horse manure,

I denounce my own and seek a new home on the basis-I don’t recognize my own kind.

I don’t see a common interest,

goal –

all I see is another foe.

I choke on these words.

Why can’t we learn!?

I could go on, but we have unread history books, in abundance.

Nothing is censored.

The age of enlightmenent has turned into the birth of disallusionment.

the derelict

A picture tells a thousand words

 up close a real human face obscures,

Hides the truth of what is on the tip of its tongue.

Disapproval met by vibes  in thrumb .

Pledged to one other

stand with an umbrella ready- for when in need of cover.

Sometimes dripping in regret is

the only way to salvage how we love and why we forget.

Bruised flesh,

tempers threaded with dynamite.

Will of one -stubborn as a carnal idol fight.

Pleasure seeking

sweet words passed along fingertips

pattern swirls over your lover’s body – a pulse – blood rush, skin on skin

not a touch that is fleeting.

Prolong the ecstasy. Uncode the quest in me.

Moths flutter to the nearst light of anxiety.

Love me – hate me – accept I am my gracioust deed.

Trust , how much I am in need.

Drive love away with a belligerent fiaxtion of desire.

arousal and connection fused to spark up   the dopamine wire.

Explosions of division. Sweet kisses, bites to the neck -won’t go unhidden.

Pain is pleasure -without one the other can’t exsist,

it’s forbidden.

One lover looks to the West

the other lover to the East.

dichtomy driven by a modern day beast.

Will we grow?

Will I become the mother who knows how to sew?

Sounds elementary, I know.

Cook from scratch.

Laugh at my attempts to create another botched up cookie batch?

sentiment is arousing.

stimulants keep the thought from dousing.

I never want to hurt you yet I hurt me and have no idea how to grasp a different intellect.

Too many have raided and pillaged me. Today I stand, remembered by one otherwise a forgotten derelict.

 

Star crossed other

Never knew there was a word to describe their combined fate.

Never knew Shakespeare studied the stars and knew much about lovers who mate.

Never knew they were lined up as opposites-never to align on the same side.

Thoughts of opposites attract are magic tinted Methos applied,

so people can trust to confide

in each other.

Always end up leaving one for another.

A summer’s day, sitting, drag remnants on a Marlboro tab.

Forlorn, unhopeful.

Destiny reeled her in like an unlicensed cab.

Doomed. Life growing inside – feelings of  Rigor Mortis was all she could summon to transpire.

The truth was the loss of her will

her desire.

She had lost that inner fire.

Under a freckled thumb- tangled in a webbed lie

through it the sun still shone.

A shadow emerged from the light, and a heart realized its given art.

Fairytale savior- a hero always ready with a smile.

Swallowing down screams.

Shamed

into a false smile.

Their eyes connect – should she tell him what she has done?

It was never to be.

Swallowed a lethal poison in an effort to be free.

Yes, she intended to take the life with her she had growing inside.

It was a desperate plea.

Shades of nausea, don’t you see?

Coins fall to the floor along with all the great works of Wordsmith Shakespeare.

It was easier to think unlovable thoughts

imagined hatred in speech bubble form.

To hear him say you are not for me

 distilled in clouds of fear.

Dramatic scene.

Bus stop revellers turn heads

eager for a spectacle.

hot tempered

He walked away.

Not trusting him still burns her cheeks

 to the same Fahrenheit, she felt that day.

Rain lands on penetrable skin,

wanting much more and expecting the very least,

set the fickle tone for the rest of this cycle of the ‘beck and call’.

Inevitably Seasons passed.

A winters day,

he called out her name.

His smile cleared up the fog of habitual trudging through the every day

society

blurs into arts of abstract- more imposing than some great display admired from afar.

Swept up with day to day folk uncluttered by star-crossed philosophy.

Nothing mattered

Only now,

another chance to show him- somehow he would think.

that girl -WOW! 

Fight for her

somehow.

over imbibed, arguments stippled in blackouts.

New starts

fresh

with sand she dug up for her own grave.

Dirty bitten down nails,

silent punishment for things that could never be undone.

Who’s to say who was truly in the wrong?

She can’t remember much

past walking into the house promising the most fun.

Seasons changed

again.

Dressed and forgiven – ready to wed the worthiest white knight to ever traverse her path.

Dichotomy sanctifies such a union.

Tear’s splotch faces, toasts, fuzzy memories.

Birds out

no need for a tuppence

Freely sung the newlyweds a blessing.

Something along the lines of tinkles chimes and her laugh.

Afterthoughts cushioned  by rose petals

a lavender fusion

flagellation on self

imposed by guilt

deepening the confusion.

How do we wake, make our move if caught in the spin cycle of punishing our souls?

A dare,

 her thoughts told her.

If indeed they were merely star-crossed

She would willfully find a way.

Barefooted, she soberly walked into a live fire burning on coals.

 Figure out what she felt she owed or indeed was it all a division in her head.

Passions stunned into a state of arousal

 Who’s to say if it fulfilled her?

Tears wanton to overflow

nearly lost sense of all ground.

 37 days she had not bled.

There are only four seasons.

 All continues

 winter clearly signaling death and rebirth to come.

His posturing lingered long in her mind.

She fathomed

reasoned

 the duresse of her thoughts;

permanently fixtured her by the spun out  Catherine wheels.

Clarity comes in an obscure fashion.

Manner and presentation are not facts.

Facts -harsh and cold.

 unveiled decision in an exposed mind, scuttling in the dark

not even aware he let loose his redundant rats.

Infiltrate every corner of her mind.

Passively they sit by,

osmosis eyes watch a happy family in a tourniquet.

Forced to apply more pressure.

Open up the wound.

Calculated a reactive to get one man’s truth.

Perhaps Star-crossed lovers are indeed something to be forgot .

Her silence is her answer.

Silence sees her own worth, she sees clarity it doesn’t bother her if the passion died,

Along with the whereabouts of his existence

Shadows move all the time,

even in Beirut.

She walks along her path with a smile on her face.

Her silence doesn’t require her to look up for another clue.

 He was never a star-crossed lover but merely another.

* remember: just because one person/people reveals their opinion or truth about what they think of you to you. This is not the whole truth or even half of it. You are not other people’s opinions. Never let people wear you down into believing you are merely what say or what they think you are. No one has their shit together all the time or even most of the time 😀

Conscious heart

I just wanna be free  from this heartache.

I don’t hardly know you and you bewitched me, yeah you bewitched me alright.

I know I can go acting all crazy – I have nothing but my insight.

Bliss  bliss  – just wanna feel this bliss.

I got scared I felt like I got bypassed – missed -dissed .

I covered my true emotions from you cos I was afraid you was gonna reject me .

See, I didn’t know…..

I didn’t know.

I don’t hardly know you and  you bewitched me – yeah, you bewitched me alright.

Didn’t mean to cause no fright .

Connections were made when I felt your beat – it moved my feet.

You got me dancing – all I wanna do – all I wanna do –

is dance – feel these beats – merge , combine.

sublime – is that truly a crime?

I don’t hardly know you and you bewitched me – you bewitched me,alright.

I just wanna be free of this heartache.

Checked every lotion I got to remedy this potion.

Stuck in reverse.

My heart is not well versed.

All I wanna do is reach out – yeah, reach out.

I keep getting rejected.

Emotions are not my rationale.

I consume triple portions –

I am about to implode.

All I wanna do is reach out – yeah reach out to you.

I just wanna be free,

wanna be free,

free to dance and merge our beats.

Sensations to make me feel, something resembling a full pie chart -a work almost   incomplete.

I know I can go acting all crazy. I have nothing but my insight.

This is my soul bared- naked as they day you undressed me.

I came to you.

Yeah, I came to you; bare, vulnerable.

I just wanted you to know – I wanted to you to know .

I ……

I….

My heart can’t be reasoned with. I’m breathing.

It is real.

Not cognitive dissonance.

Laid myself naked and bare.

Rejected.

Rejected.

I just wanna be free from this heartache……..

* Inspired by…………. lol . I’m a tactile person*

photo credit  

Untitled. (Death of a Chicken.) 1972. Ana Mendietta.

 

Ma Me. #Socs

socs-badge-2015
 – MY MUSE – THE LOVELY LINDA

“Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: Start your post with a two-letter word. End it with a two-letter word for bonus points. Have fun!”

LINDA- Stream of consciousness Saturday

To be or not to be.

I could have stopped right there. 😀

Today I choose to be. I am sat in bed with my G, my Bee and Miss Tatiana watching ‘cirque de Soleile and there is no better feeling than being together and connected.

I think  our family in all fairness will grow and grow. Hockey team?

Feeling like I do!

 Score as many times as you like.

giphy.gif

Surrogate needed ?

No.

Suffragette?

 yes,

Suffer we  must- those who refuse to eat and instead are force fed like chickens in a battery farm.

Cow or Bull?

Shit,

Conflict.

Why do men get to enter and exit when they want?

Why do women only have the key to the door and the will to want to or not want to open?

Which is better?

I suppose both is just as fair.

giphy (1).gif

‘Blue balls’ is not a medical condition but if one must act this way

a medical solution,

I have.

 It has been used since the most ancient times.

 a cold blast of water

giphy (2).gif

Ask any lunatic worth his marbles.

That one rolled  right under the door. A space for an eye to peek under.

Not so fair when we cheat.

Monopoly.

Monopolise .

monogamy.

Westerners sodomise.

How to end #Socs with a two letter word ?

 Shall I be a rebel and give not one but two fingers up to the rules?

Broken.

glass .

splinters –

a wooden leg tries to stick his in one hand.

Running away – I don’t want to see  red.

broken-glass

Let me rather see yellow.

if you want me add to it,

put a rose on the end and forever more will you have my friendship,

on every level of grammar school we enter.

You two?

too?

or ,

to?

or rather,

enter in to.

 

Secret words

‘I  have given you words of vision and wisdom more secret than hidden mysteries.Ponder them in the silence of your soul and then in freedom do your will’ Bhagavad Gita

Why have I chosen this quote?

For  those who read YESTERDAYS POST- I STILL GET TO CHOOSE

My fears were indeed unfounded. I think of my psychiatrist  when  I decided to use this quote. Yesterday,

6526-all-is-well.png

 

We are open and honest with one another. The beauty of this kind of relationship  is he leaves the control of how I use the concoction of medication I am on in my control under his guidance of course.

I don’t know many doctors who do this.

Yes, I am on far too many anti anxiety tablets.

Addictive ones. I have been on them for years.

I know there is day that I need to get off them.

There never seems to be a right time. I need to create that time.

Doctor J. put the words out there:

” You are on too many benzos”

(panic starts its drum) .I acknowledge this.

We talk about factors that may explain why I am still not stable (as I have been) with my moods .

  1. not eating correctly

  2. been on the same antidepressants for  over 10 years

  3. the pharmacist’s mistake in the dosage one of my mood stabilisers

  4. Benzo’s make you depressed.

So what is the plan?

change-you-plan

The plan:

  • Up the mood stabiliser.

  • Think about reducing one of the Benzos by a half -a tiny little speck of a half

  • . Follow up with my C.P.N. three weeks from now.

  • Gauge if the increase in the mood stabiliser is working.

  • Decide how I want this to play out.

  • do I feel ready to start reducing the benzo’s?

No! (my automatic response)

Okay, chill, Daisy there is no pressure.

GO back to the quote:

The seed has been planted.-  I have received ‘the words and vision more secret than hidden mysteries’

‘Ponder them in the silence of your soul and then in freedom do your will

 It is only my will that can lead me to true freedom.

How many other doctors do you know who are like this with their patients?

He trusts me. I  do honestly try to use the least amount of benzos in a day. If I want to have another child after I am married.

I do!

I will not repeat past mistakes.

My next child may not be so lucky. He or she may go through severe ,life threatening withdrawals.

I was ignorant the first time round. I have learnt the lesson.

My child is a daily reminder of what I wish for her and my future children.

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So, for now. I get back to my passions: volunteering and training, get my confidence and focus back- then I  am in a stronger position  to make   a decision that will benefit me in the long run.

I read so many other posts where people with Mental health issues don’t get the kind of support and trust I get.

Yes,I am blessed.

I am also honest( to a fault).

There is some kind of message here: Not speaking up for  Fear and acknowledgement of how we cope, can be a natural reaction to protect our mind.

fear-is-not-your-enemy-with-an-open-heart

 

 

Change.

 the word- petrifies me

 What will I do without xyz.?

Anorexia and many other Mental health illnesses have a strong component of control as a symptom. The way to empower us to to give us some control over how we want to be treated and how we don’t want to be treated.

I put together a WRAP plan last year –  my whole professional support team have signed it.

It includes

  • what makes me happy

  • Triggers

  • coping mechanisms

  • early warning signs that all is not well

  • breaking down signs

  • crisis plan

  • treatment plan

  • post crisis plan.

WRAP TESTIMONIAL CLIP      ( it may just be the best gift you ever give yourself or to someone you love. All it costs is a bit of time and effort, I contributed to this testimonial )

I think more mental health professionals should move towards this approach. When a person with mental health issues is relatively well, that person is the only person who knows what will get them back on track.

 I know I am going on a bit here

but,

if we do a bit of work on ourselves and find out what makes us tick -we stand a better chance over improving our mental health and our quality of life.

Just an opinion from a person who has mental health.

Don’t I mean mental health ‘issues’

No I mean – MENTAL HEALTH.

Do you have a mind?

Yes.

Then you have mental health.

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Different  life scenarios and experiences  constantly change, so that you are always sliding along a mental health spectrum between good mental health and bad mental health.

 I have bills to pay and grocery shopping to do today, I neeed to get my booty in to action.

So for now, to  a person  reading this, who doesn’t think they are susceptible to poor mental health;

I propose an exercise.

 

 A challenge, if you will..

Where would you be on the scale of mental health?  ( good feeling 100% well – bad being  0%)  if

  • your cat/dog died

  • you got a job promotion

  • you got divorced

  • you won the lottery

  • you child is bullying at school

  • you find out your loved one is dying from an illness

  • you win tickets to go see your favourite band

  • you fall pregnant

  • you need to move home

  • you are moving to a new country

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Just something to think about.

—-Andrea-Nguyen-copy

Can’t wait to read what other people are thinking about, what is going on in your lives and everything thing else. Thanks for reading.  Time to hit the real world and get broke!