Weeds need no moonshine

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. 

 

 

i

 

 

 

 

The yo yo man

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.

 No-one else

 not even the one he now calls his true blood brother.

Girl weeps

 walls whisper inferior

by the son 

 the pedantic,

semantic,

sexist,

passive aggressive

virus carrier.

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

blaming.

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;

Temporarily.

Devastation – pride miseducation

can be the  only aftermath.

Girl weeps – reasoned  with her heart – trouble found her passing inappropriate affection.

Misdirected intention.

Hands up.

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.

Fickle foe.

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.

Blood trickles 

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

than to

 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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Toxic raven nation

Puppet in distress

done  jigging to the maestro player -thinking all can be forgotten with one caress.

Puppet in distress

 dancing  to the bark of wood  to entertain 50 shades of Halifax’s easily ho hummed guest.

Puppet in distress

strings attached by words  signed sincerely yours god bless

puppet in distress

if you truly care then cut the strings and retune to  your idea of finesse

Muppet in a mess

calls upon the one who responds with exotic prowess

Muppet in a mess

commands a court  of clowns.

Here’s a gesture leave this puppet to march to its own goal without making it digress.

Muppet can’t confess

Puppet  forced   to bake an Eaton mess

Lunatic moody spell of loneliness forced  on puppet attempting  to evolve into  a breathing life force.

Heart in full beat .

Victorian smirks  – conceal the lure of lust on heat

Dirt lies on a floor in a heap  in full defeat.

Honest Courage

bare  like the day it conformed to the necessity of sucking its mama’s teat.

Shallow grave digger in demand

Take your boorish rudimentary games on a   scam  time shares camping holiday with  your imaginary friends on reprimand.

one spoon stirrer twat from a council estate –

thinks peaches are organic  when canned.

Humour lost when the smiling mug lost a handle – this  unfortunate series of events was not planned.

Puppet has a grip on reality

Muppet hide or speak with integrity.

Observes the matter of the one  speaking about a raw paw -urban jungle patois.

Allow a Feminist  chancer to equalise the  score.

Voodoo doll pinned  down -preparing for  a hysteria- ectomy.

  Tree pines pins and needle  for  lost comrades hiding away in shadows when its own self belief decided to flee.

Dangled carrots  have less value than the Congo natives begging on bended knee

Understimate the value of one true pulse – a sudden rush of blood to the head.

clear signal you banged egos with the puppet  mans red fire

ignited

well before this species woke up naked in a carnivorous  hermit crab   bed.

Contradictory mixologist – king Loui Armstrong – one of a kind – mans belly not been fed.

Stop expecting organic honey from this flower – she demands  respect- make up your mind – stay or lets leave it with

I’ll  see you in the  wind 

Treason over your feudal system.

cover yourself in  haze of the ghetto inhabitants  blasting out

there goes  another lost soul walking with 

dead.

*Inspired by a chat with  my  hair dresser mate  and ‘I wanna be like you’ Jungle book and life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Head Mace

*Inspired by daily human observation* 

Citizens arrest a seizure

exploding out of her chest

Detest the demise of optimism- look aT that crumpled face

bereft.

Raging carnival trying to stay straight

‘Nature welcomes me’

Though not blinded by an attempt on her savage drinking spree.

Moments owned  in contemplation

Detest she caught a Jack Wills scent  immersed is  his idealised rave nation.

How many  t – issues to imbibe.

Called her his inbred so he could remain high

Sensational arrest

No mirror to attest to the beauty she finds.

searched google maps for Scalifax’s finest hearth.

Should she lay down to rest?

Wait for a sudden epiphany?

Her mind can’t take twocker  ignition games from kids still wet behind the ears,

straggling their momma’s rancid pyjamas

Searching for a place to settle in between her knees.

Scrumpy Jack persona

she assumes

Is she really a cut above the estate who try to convince her they have answers to all the clues?

She’s not like them.

This species are not her brethren.

English cider tasters of blood from a irrefutable provider

Knock heads against tombstones and concrete walls.

Green-eyed,Winkie  slept behind a grill gate to keep out the flybys.

Vulnerable heart -veil lifted from day one.

Chinese whispers of some busy blasted scum

Common decency leaves the palm of her hand -slaps a face hard – its body turns

enthralled at the chance to appear overly occupied.

Enjoy chillled !at 6 percent 

Bad move to guide to her to her own whereabouts

She paid for her own calm connotation.

Guideline on  how to  avoid walking  into a web of sin

Tanned face betrays  that her heart hasn’t felt  akin.

There’s nothing of substance behind the beer goggled eyes.

Monotone life

get up

get dressed,

smoke a roll up

take a sip of the brew that simulates a disguise of content.

She’s not one to say she’s any better than these numbed, train fare skivers

Fun when a teenager…..

Numbers on the  increase –

She thinks they should at least have figured out how to suit up and boot up

Yes, use your all your  ties.

Bound up in this place of besmirching death

Positive energy sniffing up the vibes

conflicted as the amish addicted to meth

Red ant crawling up her thigh

more focused than most humans she has the pleasure to relate to

One mighty jump off this stony  hearth would not be

how she would want end her life

not nigh.

Sun in her heart

Moon never far to seduce her into a twisted cadence with

legs defiantly apart.

‘The settle’ calls her home –  shrieks filled with the ego of the Saint Lies -a Spinne.

What business has she pollinating with  the  bees?

It’s her playground too.

She won’t  let the bastards inject their humdrum existence –

unleash their quiet, unpalatable disease.

Point fingers at an indecipherable colour or sound

The ku klux clan live but one gate from the smack head who sleeps with the blood hound.

Remove these walls ineffectively

Family values, Adams apple samples the hit of threes company too

Humour her, she never  preached to know every pelvic beat.

Extend a hand

Forget not

that one gaze will settle reflectively

Don’t make another feel uneasy

Solely because it’s you who feels Queasy.

Smirking at them playing it cool

Do they think she is a brassic , court  jester fool?

Indulge  them she does.

but only because she knows the truth

They live a life that’s  ambiguously impenetrable.

The difference between the simple life and herself ?

Empathy.

Compassion.

An open mind.

Sentiments branded on her – costs three lifetimes in wages to wear her kind of fashion.

Attempts at making her feel she is wrong and potentially illiterate.

It’s beyond a joke – she plays naive – she knows  they are a hoax

She treads through a land full of tossers

Pity not more of them get fired off into a land of terrorist moshers.

Feelings misgiven

This drink was an attempt at a pitch

It’s not her style.

impetigo limper

brewed up to tease pacman eating jack and jills in a ditch .

Irate she  saw integrity  in one other smothered core.

Ineffectual – yapping up intoxicated mummies three day old pyjamas.

Think it’s an accomplishment to shove her mistrials in front of her face?

How many more fuck you’s  and put up’s must to deal with?

Momma doesn’t need their  drama’s?

The issue with people who stick together in stitches

is that without an audience -without a chase

they will dangle that carrot

especially when their  life is on the down

squinting them  into the glitch.

They need her kind more than her kind needs theirs .

Empty out  the contents of a full can of scrumpy poison

One factor in blurring all boundaries.

Is it fair to intoxicate nature with man -made hootch?

She’s repulsed – she sees them all  their stark naked  form

such is her clarity

who to label as a warning ‘ there goes another douche’ ? 

ethics, medics, system of values- it’s an appeal to their humanity.

Need to get out

Get out of this space

She can see she’s playing into this heinous fate.

She makes her rules

She breaks the rules

only because she knows them so  well- lets state she knows how to present the look of

I’m off my face 

Temptation heel to her command

She regrets inaction of  strength she  usually ordains

only this time she lacks

Fuck it , she is done with the cloud of visual  mace

She’ll get hammered at a location ,

on her request,

digest

satiate

Can she have a mirror?

Third eye awaken to  the true head case.

Photocredit Francessa woodman

 

 

 

Everyday churn

I’m having a nervous breakdown

No tear gas needed to see my features frown.

Give up, let go.

It doesn’t matter.

Give in , give away the words

I write from my inner chatter.

Pride may come before a fall.

This writer is mad and frenetic enough to bawl.

Sleeping alone with a furry bengal.

Live and breathing, nightmares shedding one too many a ghoul.

I live in fear of letting myself  fail.

It’s more innate stubbornness that leaves my face pale.

I’m sick of over achieving. I’m jaundiced from worry.

Projectile thoughts invade my space. illegal immigrants hide in my quarry.

Work so hard and see no results.

When I see the rainbows end -I may watch the blood seep from my wrists.

The mind won’t let me have a moment off.

Fatal escapism needed

a dose fit for a carcinoid cough.

Every moment – liquid drains  my lungs.

Torture

when talcum powder is  blown into organs.

Mop up creativities flow.

I can’t breathe in this dungeon.

Get out of my way ,don ‘t look at me – snarl and bite a portion out of your flesh.

Vegan turn rotten, core bound up with an unnerved bile uprise.

Human machine venting  for my inability to refresh.

Hold up my dignity

keep me in stents;

make sure I don’t end up in a coffin embellished with the last person buried alive.

A scene far too surreal and intense.

I’m spent.

I’m howling.

I’m a lunatic.

I’m prowling.

Injured.

You scare me but dammed if I will roll over and play dead.

Like sand through the hour glass

blink once and the deadline is almost head over arse.

I’m scared of failure

I want to be the man to pull out exacaliber.

Merit and knighted.

how shallow  glory is,

I’m far too short sighted.

Immobilized in a zombie fashion

Micheal Jackson thriller

Nearly forgot to yell ‘action’.

Take me to a planet fermenting in sushi.

I need a trip to find my very own mighty booshy.

Writing is my hoochie. 😁

This weed looks up & sees results

I think I am going to faint.

TMA 3  results back in for my Masters.

83% a high merit and incredible feedback.

Current score

  • TMA 1 62% (Script genre)

  • TMA 2  82%  (Fiction genre)

  • TMA 3 83% ( Script genre)

Here is the 700 -ish word commentaryI submitted for my  TMA 3 and the feedback.

I believed I couldn’t do this MA. I believed I was shit at writing but maybe…… with practice I can be a better writer and achieve great things.

Writing a book is less of a goal.

Using my words to change society -however insignificantly, is a goal of mine.

mahatma-gandhi-almost-anything-you-do-to-help-humanity-will-seem-insignificant-but-its-very-important-that-you-do-it

COMMENTARY TM3 Approaching script writing the Aristotelian way.

My challenge was to write a whole play in 18 minutes. I believe that there is too much exposition and would suit as a longer script. When I cut, or slowed certain dialogue-it’s original appeal became lost to a different type of play. The characters lost what made them unique.  This is where I rely loosely on morality play techniques. This story could have started in many ways. I felt it best to reveal the turning point and the how and why’s at the end of the play. It is linear and has a beginning, middle and end reminiscent of Greek Tragedy plays.

I often use a stream of consciousness technique to get into a writing zone. For scene 1, I started typing on a blank page and let characters come to my head and speak whatever they wanted.  This was how the first scene was produced. I was tempted to discard it until I received positive and constructive feedback on the TGF forum.

A possible subconscious influence for early drafts came from reading the chapter on David Edgars’ how to write a play, (chapter 2 page 17). In TMA 2, I focused on creating characters to reveal the plot and as exposition. Upon reflection, after reading the on-going debate about the primacy of plot versus characters, I think to an extent this true of, e.g., medieval genre morality plays.

Difficulties arose to make the characters more 3-dimensional when using archetypical/universal characters. I relied heavily on a strong plot to drive the narrative and the characters through to the conclusion of the script. TMA3-  plot informed the characters and their motives.

Other influences came from conversations with my blogger acquaintance, Clarissa Simmens( Simmens C. 2017) who is from Roma gypsy descendant, and my own great -grandparent’s lineage who fled the Russian 1918 revolution to live a life in the slums of Paris. The setting and background gave the characters more complex motives and inner conflict. Panacea is an old woman who was left with her second sight and not accepted by society or her Nephew.

In this world, it seems society is lured by visual aids. Vladimir was more ready to accept Eve’s gift of soothing people’s problems because of how she appeared outwardly. Vladimir is complex, he was left with third-degree burns from the 1903 revolution, lost his parents, went to live with his “strange” grandmother.

Hopefully, a writer will get a true sense of Vladimir’s character by the end of the play. He did what he had to do to survive. He is human. Flawed. He didn’t stop and analyse whether he should save baby Eve in the Revolution; instinct took over.  My inspiration for how he and Eve arrived in Paris (maintaining a high-status life during and after WW1) is taken from George Orwell’s book ‘Down and Out in Paris and London’ set in 1925.  There is reference to espionage and a secret Russian society, whom, paid people to convert to communism after the war (Gutenberg.net.au. (2017).

The music in the piece serves as a device to vary the pace of the play. I hope that the melancholy moments of when Eve/ Panacea plays will give the audience a time to pause, or at the very least, vary or change the pace of emotion.

Genre: this play is not one type of play. I describe it as experimental, immersive drama with elements of morality play themes because, the characters do indeed impart the audience with a strong message.

Humans are complex. There is a clear theme of choices and consequences.

I don’t want to ignore any doubts about this piece: H.R. made constructive comments on the language and the exposition of the piece (refer to XX FEEDBACK (2017)).   I hope that the timelessness of dialogue and language could very well take place in Paris, or indeed a modern society setting of today. My choice of setting reinforces to emphasise that these stereotypical characters still function inside time. Does Eve deserve her fate? Probably not.

Time has moved on, wars still occur yet society still seems to dwell on escapism i.e. Piano music metaphor to deal with life, dwelling on people who seem to have the illusion of the perfect life/ status. Society still struggles with acceptance of identity, race, ethnicity, mental health status etc. We’ve made advancements in technology/society but what about advancements in what type of human we should strive to be?

 

MY TUTORS FEEDBACK –I have kept her name anonymous for obvious reasons.

PT3Thank you for handing in TMA03.

This TMA accounts for 35% per cent of your continuous assessment mark for the module.

There are three parts to TMA 03:

a creative writing element;
a commentary;
extracts of peer review contributions.

Write a stage script ?18 minutes running time.
Write a radio script ?18 minutes running time.
Write a film script ?18 minutes running time.
Please state clearly on the first page which medium (stage, radio or film) you are writing for.

Your script can be either a stand-alone work, complete in itself, or it can be part of a longer play or film. If the latter, it should be structurally resolved (e.g. it might be a complete act from a larger piece; it should not finish mid-action or mid-scene). If providing a section, provide a summary of the larger project ? no more than 200 words ? situating the submitted section in relation to the larger work and offering some context. This summary will not be assessed in itself, and it won’t feature in the word or page counts.

Your script should not be an adaptation of work by another author or an adaptation of a piece of your own work which has been submitted for an earlier TMA.

This part constitutes 15% of this TMA?s grade.

Write a commentary (700 words) about the process of creating your work, the context in which it was developed, and your relevant further reading.

WHERE YOUR TMA SUCCEEDED

A Fair Wish World is powerful piece about loss, vision (actual sight and second sight), mental health and how war and conflict shapes or rather twists people.  It’s full of big ideas and you work within a very imaginative immersive theatre setting.  Also you have two people, one of whom has apparently saved the other, when it turns out that Vladimir is more reliant on Eve.  History is full of unusually talented women who have surrendered their power to a man (Doris Day’s third husband was abusive and stole her money, Billie Holliday was permanently attracted to abusers).  There’s a link here to the depressing litany of young women and their exploitative lovers, so this theme has a timeless resonance (although Vladimir isn’t a villain).

https://broadly.vice.com/en_us/article/the-music-industry-men-who-got-away-with-exploiting-female-pop-stars

There is an interesting piece I’ve linked below here about Peter Brook (he’s 91!!) and his latest production – how stripped back and bare it is and how for example a single piece of cloth can represent several things, eg a piece of cloth is twisted into a snake at one point.  This is, in my opinion, a true sense of live theatre, where the audience invests their imagination as opposed to being passive observers – as we are a bit with television. (Also it keeps costs down!)  So your idea of the immersive, promenade production is a good idea as well as showing that you are using the medium of theatre as fully as you can.

https://dctheatrescene.com/2017/03/31/peter-brooks-vision-battlefield-stage-kennedy-center-review/

All the characters resonate, but none more so than Panacea (I’ve got this image of Coco Chanel in my head) and Vladimir, the Russian aristocrat.  Panacea because of her contrasting powers and down to earthiness but Vladimir because it was only a few years since the entire Russian imperial family, the Romanovs with their five children were murdered at Ekaterinburg in 1918.  The British royal family offered mealy mouthed excuses for not offering them shelter but the real reason was they were afraid of a similar revolution in England, as I’m sure you know.  I read the play a couple of times before I read the commentary, so I wasn’t pre informed. I really like the way that Eve can ‘see’ certain things and how when her sight returns, it becomes a curse.  You may to have to indicate this quite strongly to the audience but it’s a bold and exciting idea.

CONSIDERATIONS FOR THE NEXT DRAFT

I have a few suggestions for the next draft (and I really hope you continue with this play).  Firstly it would be to add some more movement to scene one it as it’s currently a little static.  I’m wondering if Eve could get up from the piano and be doing something – getting dressed perhaps in her evening finery?  Panacea could offer to help her lace her boots or maybe at some point she could loosen Eve’s corset so she can breathe or brush her hair?  You could even have Eve trying to find things which have been placed among the audience – depending on whether you want the audience involved or not.

(I recently went to a promenade production of ‘Jane Eyre’ in a stately home.  At one point, the actress playing Jane had placed the sketches she was going to show to Rochester on a piano and an audience member was leaning on the piano without realising.  There was an awkward un-Bronte moment as Jane tried to yank the sketches from under the audience member’s elbow!)

Because Panacea comes across as a slightly mystical character who just shows up, I wonder if she could be slightly earthier, in contrast to Eve’s more romantic language.   She does have some lovely moments such as her laughter over how useless mirrors are to her, but as much of the play is between her and Eve, and she is a magical creature, perhaps making her the more down to earth seeming would contrast more brightly with her supernatural gifts.  See my L4 comment.

In the final scene there is quite a bit of explanation and it feels just a bit squashed.  With maybe ten or fifteen minutes more you could find a way to blend in the back story a little more but I understand the difficulty of covering an entire play in eighteen minutes.

Overall, I think you’ve written a big, brave play, which tackles big subjects.  It has flaws and needs some development but it’s part of your development as a writer that you take some risks, and personally, I don’t think you can really tell whether a play has legs until you’ve heard it spoken out loud by other people.  But I’ve read it out loud and it packs a punch.

You’ve probably already heard of the London Playwrights Blog but if not, they publish opportunities every week.  There’s no substitute for

http://www.londonplaywrightsblog.com/

COMMENTARY

In your commentary you discuss the process of writing the play, in comprehensive detail including the difficulties, and with references to course materials and a commendably large amount of outside reading.

As this is an MA, a high level of both analysis and presentation is required, and your presentation is fine here.  It can be helpful when you are sick of the sight of your script/story to give it to a trusted friend or at least leave it a while to give yourself some space.

You don’t have to agree with course or outside materials, either, just show that you have reflected on the ideas within and show how they might have affected your own creative choices.    It’s also helpful to explain briefly what you intend to reflect on – such as characterisation, structure and dialogue (maybe picking one area you feel confident in and another where you may feel less confident).  Your tone is good, in that you are aware of your own style and what you are trying to achieve without adopting the I-have-achieved-a masterwork-and-now-I-will-reflect-on-aspects-of-its-awesomeness. Instead your tone is curious and questing and always willing to learn.

Thank you for the peer group references.  You have always been very active on the forums.  Also your references are very good.

I’ve given you a high merit for both the script, and the commentary, an overall high merit pass of 82%  As mentioned, scene one is a little static, and the final scene has a slightly ‘expositiony’ feel, but these are very fixable.  What I would suggest now for the script is to read out loud and perhaps workshop it as the most difficult bit is letting it out of your head and into the mouths and bodies of actors.  You’ve done really well Tasha and taken risks with your writing.  Well done.

If you have any questions please feel free to get in touch.

Kind Regards

MY  TUTOR

I can’t believe it’s Easter already. This will be the first Easter where me and my family don’t go and see my Gran in her care home. I’ve mixed feelings about this.

I don’t get to see my gran – 😦

I don’t have to go into a care home this year 🙂

credit to all the care workers out there who deserve a hike up on their wage. We should invest gratitude and time and resources to the people who look after the vulnerable people in society – in my opinion- of course.

We are all going to my Ma’s house on Sunday (family tradition). Gran will be in our thoughts.

How do other people celebrate Easter?

Happy-Easter-300x182

❤ Daisy xoxo

Life challenge on a soundtrack

The challenge continues.

Thanks Meg!  😉 

Today’s choice needs a hint of epicness.

Put on my poker face but I’m a current of emotions inside. ha ha!

Another reason I chose this is because,my uncle made a joke that my Gran looked like Don Corleone, at my wedding in June last year,in her wheelchair and wearing dark sunglasses.

Laugh, cry, live or die.

I’m putting on my armour – mere mortal that I am and,

for the next week preparing for battle with all things to do with organising a funeral for next Wednesday.

I remember standing in  my gran’ s room for 9 hours -maybe more . My Ma is super religious and she was telling my Gran to go to the light- just walk to it. She was telling her that she was ready for her to leave.

‘Leave – I let you go’

I don’t know if I’m sick and twisted,I mean we all deal with grief in our own ways but, I had this occurring thought that-my Gran wanted to sit up and look at my Ma and in a demonic voice go:

” There is no fucking light. Give me water, feed me.   I’m in pain – at the very least give me a dose of morphine, you inhumane bastards”

My ma kept on asking where my ( dead) Grandpa and Aunt were. Why they were taking so much time to collect Gran to take her to heaven.

Sarcasm got the best of me – I was thinking ‘who in their right mind would come back to this shit hole?’

If I went to  a country and got food poisoning or a strange illness. I would not go back to that place because of my previous association with the place.

72 hours.

That is how long it took her to go.

Here is my biggest thought. It’s not pretty and it’s highly unsentimental.

I think; because my ma was ready to say goodbye that is why Gran is dead.

No, I’m not saying she killed her. There are many laws blurred with the assisted dying law. I am pro for it only, if it’s not dressed up as the blessing and will of a God.

I think if we had nursed her back to health -given her water, kept her in the hospital, fed her etc…

She would still be here.

She would still be the vacant shell of the woman she once was -living in a bed,24/7, surrounded by iconic pictures and statues of some white Jesus,who happened to be a shoddy carpenter but a damn good healer/shaman/ trickster – idk 😀 figure that out 😂

The doctor wouldn’t give her pain relief because she didn’t look like she was in pain.

She had vascular dementia and Alzheimer  – her body couldn’t respond -neither could  her mind.

Just because she was wasn’t thrashing about -making a nuisance of herself;

Does that mean she wasn’t in pain?

If It took me 72 hours of

no food, water, people looking at me crying, and me with a rosary bead around my neck,  to hopefully, slip away

“peacefully”

I can assure you – I would be in severe pain – if not physically,  then most certainly mentally.

I choose the  battles to fight.

It doesn’t matter what I believe because the fact is: she is not here.

My  own beliefs or even my daughter’s theory that she is ‘ hopping from one aeroplane to the next travelling the world ‘ or whatever.

It’s a  comfort to me that I can’t see her in that care home -wasting away.

I don’t know what possessed me to do it!

I’m analytical and an observer -It was about 10 pm on Saturday night. We were all tired. Gran was awake- not dying …..   ( if this comes across as disrepectful – please bear in mind,I have my own beliefs about religion and dignity in dying)

My Ma had fallen asleep on the cushion part of the bed, my gran was lying in her bed and, hanging on the wall in the background, was a picture of his lord’s son  ,  most merciful saviour.

I have the picture  on my phone.

It ‘s a picture that shows that humans suffer.  God’s don’t move from their paintings and show mercy.

if that were true there would be NO suffering in the world.

The picture shows a dutiful daughter , exhausted and full of love, refusing to let her mother die alone and scared,

watching over them is some picture of the son of a God doing- fuck all.

I won’t put this picture on here out of respect for my family.

It is an image that clearly expresses my inner conflict about my love and duty towards my family and my own beliefs about life and beyond…..

I particularly like my daughters belief that my Gran is rocking it on Jupiter.

That is where I would go – screw heaven!

They’ve denied entry for this amount of time. Sure they can hang on for a bit longer.

I’m going travelling . I don’t need money.

Anyway,

The challenge is not only a blog challenge but it’s about challenging  myself to move forwards

Today is all about:

choosing  make up for my gran to wear – she’s being cremated( she wanted to be buried),   choosing flowers, travelling around the country side picking up various legal documents with my gran’s social security number and evidence that she is dead.

My gran has been treat by the government with more respect now she is dead,than when she was alive.

I sound angry , bitter.

I’m not. I’m glad she’s not suffering.

I hate hypocrisy and injustice and I speak my mind often, especially  when I  care about something or someone.

I fell out with my tutor about my TMA 1  script because of our different perspectives on the homelessness crisis.

Come on ,

This is my character.

I will be 40 years old in 4 years time. I’m set in my ways just like jelly.  :D😁😁😁😁🤔🤔

I can learn new tricks if tempted 😉

 I tag the music  challenge to other characters (bloggers)

SUMMER 

Sheldon 

In my defence,

 I  know I speak my mind and heart.

It’s not always appropriate but I do mean well. I love fiercely. I am there for my mother until her last breathe. I have her back. I will lay my life down for her.  Many times I’ve manned up and apologised (to people)if I went overboard  and said let’s agree to disagree.

That’s fucking dramatic – ha ha!…. let’s do this!