I thought I’d succeed this time .
I’d die reciting poetry under my favourite duvet ..
Perhaps listening to music.
Nearly ended up sectioned .
Making the most of a new day.
No serious damage except to my ego.
I’ve never felt so ashamed at failing to take my own life as this attempt.
Why ? Cos I’m still fucking here.
Apologising to people for not wanting to be here.
Time to keep going.
Moving to a new home is a priority..
This house is a poltergeist.
It feeds my need to keep bleeding.
I love my husband
My mommy & daughter.
3 good reasons to state that I’m
She gets on with life as a wannabe music journalist,
She’s a charismatic kinda gal.
She likes chilling on Sundays,
She likes reading in the week.
She likes to contemplate owning a goat.
But when she starts to daydream,
Her mind turns straight back to her cat-Tatty Anna
Sometimes I look at her and I look into her eyes,
I notice the way she idolises about Tatiana with a smile,
sensual lips she can’t disguise.
But she thinks it’s GOAT making her life worthwhile.
Why is it so hard for her to decide which she loves more?
She likes to use words like ‘eish man
She likes to use words like ‘sorry.’
She likes to use words about GOAT finds
But when she stops her talking,
Her mind turns straight back to Tatiana having a heart attack.
She likes to hang out with Pinkie
She likes to kick back with Belle,
But when left alone,
Her mind turns inwards she obsesses over losing her Tats
She’s not too fond of gossip,
She really loves cheesecake & wants a goat
But she just thinks back to Tatiana
And she’s happy once again. knowing she is owned.
These are my words. They are all I have.
I threw it away
Not realising I would come to call it my most favoured crown.
Fascinated seeing my self riding waves of the guilt
drowned in salt tears of rumination to the hilt.
letting mom down
all my fam too.
Those who truly love me.
There are but few.
Hot damn! That’s better than cool.
Gave self-destruction a permit to ride out a course of self-flagellation
decorated in sleuth
The truth hit me oops upside of my head
Discombobulated -I saw the truth.
I let myself down
Take me back to my roots.
Be nt over crooked
wrung my hands for people who haven’t left my life
Anticipate gloom & doom.
allow these drum beats to perform
my body afloat
on cloud nine singing cheerfully to the staying alive tune…
Regrettably, I’m responsible for this present predicament.
There goes a fully armed disorderly platoon.
folded like that grieving widow.
She had a reason
I still have an abode
I’m not a widow.
I’m down on my knees & up off them almost like it didn’t happen
Stood defiant still feeding an outdated superstition
of other motives
This is my prison.
Trust in people
Risk my heart
Yes, It didn’t go my way
This was a time to not fall apart.
A glimmer of hope I’ll grow strong
Make mirth and merriment
not misery & disappointment.
I have only one person to blame.
I disappoint myself over and over again
then Surprise myself by what achievements I continue to create.
How am I to play this next move?
escape to another alternative reality – never to bloom!
Or talk about my feelings -is anyone listening?
Cos they have, what is the problem, strewth?
facing all that ‘I feel fat’ STUFF
Makes me wanna holler hey you, cat, scat!
Look me in the mirror & be proud
of my deeds for seven consecutive weeks.
Nor ask my loves to keep turning another cheek.
I am to blame.
I have to fight
My mother is alright. I mean my mother is right.
This half-hearted escape acts
attempts on my life.
attempts to self-harm
They come & they go.
If I can keep this train of thought
the cravings of self-hate might go
Perhaps I will still hold on to some of my dignity
or become a statistic…
We all end up a statistic one way or another
What statistic do I want to come under?
Now there’s a question to ponder over.
Don’t give up – don’t give in.
Eyes discover you bloated- vomiting up your own sin.
Brain chess- pawn after pawn is taken unjustly,
Black equality doesn’t matter – cognition will conquer what it desires lustily.
Ivory conquests – impure from the acidic bile.
Caffeine alert – simulate all senses – the target is common -the biggest bargain ransom.
Flogging a dead horse to a blind, muted soul – cognitive dissonance –
child sings ‘Out comes the sunshine’ in the disguise of a bloomed blossom.
Wasted mother .
Travesty lurks spoof like
We know it is there
Feet kicking, hiding behind the sofa, giggling childlike thinks it’s invisible.
Unchain my heart. Hostel bed sores – shine a light on our plight – save us from This saw hand, marked fallible.
Man-made – pharmaceutical drug lords inject a lethal dose of synthetic Gamma wave stationary by product.
Profiteering – collateral damage – no name – no existence mere condensation trickling down a viaduct.
Fight for your life- for your consciousness .
Throwdown the tools of self-destruction
only ashes to see here
Phoenix bird eloped with the Dodo bird in Act two.
Aristophanes’s – Greek tragicomedy – bawdiness.
One character stumbles along a plot that emerged in the opening scene of the frenzied laughter (offstage)
Tame that harlot shrew.
Glasses askew – brightness dulled by 1960 tranquilised blue smurf salesmen.
What do we know of consequences?
When we seemingly have found an answer to a long-held problem of delirium tremor flashbacks from war apocalypse rehabilitation stint-
Hurry or we will need another corporate shaman.
Worry not – reverse psychology.
Worry a lot – trust in the depth of raising questions in philosophy.
I write with no answers,
intelligible at times.
Wondering how to get back to a well-educated mind
who knew how to rationalize.
There goes a notorious caricature of her former self – ignoring traffic lights and all her accumulated speeding fines.
Fear of bats
Watch the finest disappearing act,
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