Tag Archives: WRITE TO RECOVER

So far gone

These are my words. They are all I have.

Wallflower

Eyes lowered, separate from the crowd if you ignore her frowns,

Could this wallflower throw down the gauntlet of one party reveller- Time himself dozing before the stroke of midnight?

Or, Would this wallflower anticipate the daffodils, daisies and roses to save the day with clear cut stems of prosecco?

The  garden of gaiety pours out  bubbly conversations

 

Impervious to check if the seconds move forward.

Ignorant to an eternity  doomed to this New years eve of  2019

Bursts  of lavender- waft obscure   goals

a   hint to a future -proposing a nouveau depart without delay.

 

Red-faced by an anxious creeping Rosacea  attack

Wallflower cuts the vines tethering her from the wall tower.

Unveiled from the comfort familiarity penumbra.

 

Walking she becomes an unwanted eavesdropper attunes not just the laughter but the punch lines too.

music notes intermingle. A few casualties drowned out of feeble conversations

Whilst whistling  a lament to the blues

Eyes peer up – sordidly scans this once garden turned wild.

Junglist Wallflower  wilt not

Nor wither  a delay when  mere seconds  away from  unwaning entrapment

of existence.

 

 Threatened confinement to this moment

Never to feel the breath of another day.

never to leave this place & go home.

 

Mustering grande efforts   hands push further into the jungle depths

Navigating a path. Not once does she recoil?

Less apologetic her persistence carves out a  clearing to reveal stroke victim -Sir time.

An interruption with grace

so refined.

You’ve fallen asleep at an extremely important time.

Dressed up in Thyme  Time  awakes shuffles one then two steps forward,

 the jungle momentarily quietens

then corks released from restriction pop in Ecstacy

In the air are hanged notes of Celebratory songs

A new year to make life count.

Time over -foliaged stumble forward until he finds a chalice of wine.

turns his head  -Gratefully raises his glass directly to the shadow.

The wallflower is not there, here

nor around.

 

The wallflower is nowhere to be found.

A brief moment mingler she salvaged this space

Left the festivities subdued  without a sound

*Inspired by writers’ block, acrostic poetry turned free form. No masterpiece but I’ve finally written something down.*

Coalesce

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 life.

Wasted wife.

Wasted mother .

Wasted father.

Wasted land.

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-

Take 911!

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.

splitting images

 There goes a notorious caricature of her former self –  ignoring traffic lights and all her accumulated speeding fines.

Slow-release.

Hat trick

Card trick

Fear of bats

Watch the finest disappearing act,

coalesce.

Mrs Thought bubble

This is a surreal piece  I wrote during a surreal time.

It’s about the cruelty of life and how the elderly are treated in Britain. It was inspired by the time I spent with my grandmother in her care home when she had Dementia and Alzheimers.

It’s a stream of consciousness  Short Borderline script.

 

 MRS BRUISED:  “I’m tired”

                                 “I’m tired”

 CARD SHUFFLER: (throws his voice from a table on the left)

                                      “I’m tired too.”

MRS BRUISED:          (sits upright)

                                         “I’m tired”

CARD SHUFFLER:     “Aye? Go to sleep then.”

 (The room fans out into a full house of insidious laughter)

MISS CARDIGAN:   excuse me, Dear, can you tell me where the toilets  

                                    I’ve only just  popped by/

THE WEED: ( Looks around for a sign indicating the Mangers office)

                                         Of course, just follow me.

(THE WEED walks back from the toilets  and goes to crouch down to hold MRS THOUGHT BUBBLES  hand).

THE WEED:             She’s pissed herself. Can someone change her?

THE ROSE:             No, she hasn’t.

GINGER:                (enters) Here you go. Open your mouth?

(GINGER shovels a hefty spoonful of what looks like boiled bagged food) 

THE WEED: (aside) Lost in thought……The smell of piss can’t be worse than death’s kiss…

GINGER:               Here- wah-la!  open your mouth.

  Mrs Thought Bubble’s inner thoughts

 

THE WEED:           Tu es Pleine?

(aside)                 Like an old coffin opening for the first time in a          century;

 MRS THOUGHT BUBBLE:   Pleine.

THE ROSE:               You   are thirsty today.

( Comes back from the kitchen with another full beaker of  red diluted kids juice)

                                     So so thirsty.

THE WEED: (aside) Three empty beakers all lined up in a row – My eyes rest and are ready to aim – trigger happy and ready to blow.

 

                               She has pissed herself, look!

THE ROSE:          Oh you have made a pee-pee Mamie- a pee-pee!

 REGRESSION SOUNDS

 

(chorus) A Nod. A skeleton- face grins

Bright light beams from  Mrs Thought Bubbles eyes.

An Image.

A carved pumpkin with a toothy grin.

Burning away in a dark room within.

More strained laughter churns out lactic acid.

MRS BRUISED : (on a loop)

                              Oh, I am tired. 

BRUNETTE:      Fiddler!  Stop putting your hands down your pants.

THE WEED:     Maybe that is the only way she gets to feel something.

(Legs splayed-  FIDDLER’S fingers explores her vagina hungrily)

MRS BRUISED:       I’m tired.

CARD SHUFFLER:  Yeah me too! Shut up.

(Eyes veer to the table on the left).

 

THE WEED:  Dying flowers  in a glass vase.

                   If I had to throw it would reality become what I once knew it to be?

Jeer me on why don’t you? 

Throw the fucking vase.

Throw it!

How long have those silver wrapped chocolates been  stood there. This is not some fancy New York hotel. 

If they are going to start leaving chocolates make sure you get Hershey’s kisses.

Brown as the shit under neath Mrs Thought bubble’s  nails.

 

THE WEED:  She has pissed herself!

GINGER:      I will go get dessert.

THE WEED: (aside) Does it come in different sex positions? 

                                     Sweet Silence.

                                  One of the toughest spells to break.

                                  No one dares look at the other.

                                Carers go  a drift.

                                Congregate to conflate into  gossip office politics.

THE ROSE:            Go and tell them to change her.

(THE WEED creeps along the  floor until it has found the right door).

THE WEED:               Can someone change Mrs Thought bubble!  She is in her own piss.

MRS HEGEMONY:  Wheres nondescript and the other one too?

Great big sighs. A room full of eyes wondering if the pay they get is worth the time.

The time finally has a stroke and then another and another.

The hoist in all its bluesy hues comes for Mrs Thought-bubble.

 

GINGER:               I’m sorry I got called into the office.

THE WEED:       Look it’s not you. Its just… I am sitting watching Mrs                                           Thought bubble over here, shout out….  and                                                            “she is wading in her own  piss!

THE ROSE:           Let’s go outside

THE ROSE: ( turns to BRUNETTE)

                             Can we take her outside?

BRUNETTE: ( a voice rolls out  like a plush  red carpet)

                         Of course.

 ( BRUNETTE rolls out the wheelchair –)

CHORUS: She hasn’t been outside in over a year.

                    She shouts and protests.

                   Vintage sunglasses are placed on her  to  help process her eyes.

                  Flowers.Bees.Sunshine.Colours.

(More shouts and protests).

MAINTENANCE:  Do you want me to take a picture?

(THE WEED and THE ROSE in unison) Oh yes please.

(Chorus) CLICK !

                  CLICK!

                     Mature cheddar smiles captured against the vines.

THE WEED:  I love you Mrs Thought-bubble.

(Muffled sounds.)

                         I’ll settle for that as an good enough au revoir.

                         Four doors.

                          Four Windows.

                          Four wheels.

                         Taxi takes us very fucking far away from here, please.

THE WEED: (to THE ROSE)     Did you notice that nobody came to clean the chair?

THE ROSE:      Don’t tell me this.

                       Every night I cry myself to sleep 

                          If we move her again she will die.                           

                         Please let her die.

                           Why? 

                            Why?

                             It is beyond my understanding.

Petals start to turn inwards – it’s a crying shame to see rose a  start to wilt.

RED CAP:       There was a sticker attached saying ‘TO CLEAN’

THE WEED:    Oh.

                        I’m sorry.

                         I love you, Rose.

                         I can’t imagine what you are going through.

THE ROSE: (Wilts that tiny bit more)

                         She doesn’t even know who I am anymore.

THE WEED:   I know who you are.

                         You know who I  am.

THE WEED: (aside)

It doesn’t matter if the sun is shining- water will always ignore the air around it. If it wants to pour so it shall.

Tears pour.

Tears break.

 The weed reaches and creeps until it has a secure grip  around The Roses stem.

Hands entwined.

The Weed .

The Rose.

Both look out their own private window.

                            Bee would have loved to see that cow…..

THE ROSE:     ( watered and ready to pose)

                         So tomorrow is a busy day. We have to sort out the cake

THE WEED:   The cake?

THE ROSE:       …the wedding cake?   And We need to find Mr Thought bubble an outfit  for the wedding.

THE WEED:    Is she actually allowed to come?

THE ROSE:        Madam  Hegemony, says it is fine.

THE WEED:    (flat)Oh, Cool. I wonder did we tell the cake makers that we changed the theme from sunflowers to yellow roses?

THE ROSE:     Yes! We are just having yellow icing on normal    flowers..

 THE WEED:     Oh… like the colour on our invitations? 

(Stationary).

THE ROSE:      See you tomorrow.

THE WEED: Mint, Yes.. tomorrow… (as an after thought)

THE ROSE:   10:30, Don’t be late.  We are getting threaded first.

                        Have you got the Bee’s shoes?

THE WEED:  Yes Mam.

THE ROSE:    I swear if you had loads of money in this town you still                                           wouldn’t be able to spend it.

                        It’s all bullshit

(from) THE HORSES MOUTH:

                    And so the earth continues to travel around the sun.

                    The sun goes down.

                  The moon is full-faced and all fluttering eyelashes.

                  And  I still have a long face.

                 Nothing but everything changes.

Nay,

Neigh!

Horses don’t talk.

Neither do flowers

Horse manure.

Bullshit.

Jut another day in ‘I wonder what the fuck  next land?

Just an average day in an average Care home.

 

Image Francecsa Woodman 

 

 

Inner Mic O’pen Dictator

 

Have you ever been away from the open mic/talking public scene? Perhaps you’ve isolated yourself for too long … perhaps you’ve lost confidence?

Perhaps you mention your partial denture to people to ‘break the ice’.

Perhaps you doubt
Perhaps your inner dictator needs to get a few words off its chest, then you start reading a borderline poem about the time you broke up with your husband (in front of your husband & everyone in the audience…EEP!
EEK!

 

 

I believe we all have an inner dictator waiting inside of us to be heard.

3min maximum slots are advised. 😀

Perhaps you have your say & think it will get easier another day.

Poem to follow…

 

 

 

 

 

Fowl poetry

The land of filth cost me more than a life

It cost me a dime

it cost me what stands in front of me nigh

neigh

long withdrawn

foal play

write, write

clap your hands and throw a few bass shapes

Enter the City of funk

the soul has set two tears back for Sunday night’s carafe of wine.

 

Foal don’t play if can’t shake that ass.

Hashtag All Words matter

Here she comes

Me-the late bloomer

I have a revelation words matter circa 2015.

ALL WORDS MATTER.

Let me try and type something with substance

Words have power.

We

Collectively should choose our words carefully.

Don’t stop talking.

Hashtag it’s still okay to talk.

Start a difficult conversation.

Mental health is here for as long as we humans are.

For real…

Stop with the sincerely Stan — suicidal fan stereotyping-

Passive aggressive greeting-Hello hunties

Yes, I have a cunt and I won’t let any man hunt me-unless he is prepared to be chased too.

How can we all be so woke when

We still choose to believe in fake news?

People love to give blow jobs on other peoples words.

Most people swallow and don’t spit.

Retweet it to keep it 100.

Can we put a value on integrity?

Words matter-when we stand up for our belief to break away from the mould.

Open mic night’s expressions should be honoured by doing our words-over and over.

Especially when people aren’t watching.

Show and tell how to walk the talk.

Match a wage bet — that another brother’s claims of little Miss trouble are too high key.

It’s okay to talk.

Tupac,once said

real eyes

realize

real lies.

People should see before they make a judgement.

express yourself — in the social accepted way-

Aspire to appear lowkey?

All these quotes about

Keep your personal business to yourself.-

Then do a 180 and take the ” power back”.

A calculated performance.

Reveal you know how to manipulate words — with barely legal finesse.

Hashtag wars still matter.

Use language for positive change.

Talk.

Start a difficult conversation.

Think about your fellow patient in the opposite bed.

Why does she have resting bitch face syndrome ?

Why does she stare at back after you state

‘That feeling when you feel like Britney spears circa 2007?

Oh you have problems — you slit your wrists — oh how savage — roll of the eyes.

Let’s get creative with our words.

Affected by a mental illness.

infected…..

Lives with a mental illness ?

Or suffers from a mental illness?

How savage (roll of eyes)

These labels — — schizophrenics. Bipolar , psychotic.

2019 is the year where Everyone wants to be insane

the reason to be a certain way is the new aesthetic

or an excuse,

To be lowkey about our true shame and high key about superficial hurt not to lure in the Stans.

Whose that?

It’s not relevant (as long as I get approval from my fam or

My Sis from another Miss).

We are more than a tick boxed list of criteria.

We are complex humans , with diverse traits and interests.

Who is that? Over there- making a statement.

Crazy

psycho

nuts

lunatic

Not relevant — That there is just some extra.

insignificant

to you;

Not part of the true fam-

Is this how we wish people to feel?

Insignificant!

For all the RT’er’s out there who love to share,

Share your own personal story.

The world will become a place where you are lit by your integrity.

Not everyone can relate to the G.O.A.T.’s

With swagger.

We probably are pretty for real when we embrace our bromances and our militant feminists.

True power is being woke enough to see the ethic in bringing out the G. O. A. T. in EVERYONE of us.

We can all be be lowkey.

We are all fam.

I’m not going to say its cool to call my new ‘ship interest-Dad.

Words matter

And the lack of them.

What we don’t say … is a statement of power.

Spoken word — maybe we all have inner dictator waiting to stand up and be heard.

I don’t know how we can claim to be so woke when everything we do is to death.

What am I going on about?

Apologies for this is the mix in slang-

I’m not pedantic … I am keeping my integrity — my code of of ethics.

If we are going to talk and be true about our feelings — Remember that the words we use to connect on a level can out you as a hypocrite-

Words matter because they help us communicate and relate with a diverse bunch of people who may end up feeling like family more than your own Dad or sis.

Communication can cause dis-ease — challenge our own self awareness;

Not because you the go to p[person to get the latest scoop on someone else in life detention.

Its cool to be high key about not fitting the mould-

Embrace the idea that to be holistic is not going to conform to your method of living-

For real.

WE don’t have to be conventionally spiritual to have faith.

Well-being of the mind and body is the G.O.A.T.

– the power-

The perfect ratio.

Sometimes we fall — human after all …

I guess

When we outcast others for assuming their make up

Judging every part of them based on an undemocratic vote of what a person’s true disposition is.

How fair and unbiased are our Hugh key views when we don’t have the whole picture?

That moonscape — that attitude is a predisposition to sus and ghost others because of their diversity.

We spit words , stand up for diversity and equality-

Express ourselves through didactic verse.

Congratulate our selves on our ethics-to embrace the variety of our culture.

The irony is what we say and do,

What we day we are going to do.

And what we do when confronted with someone who is different and not facile two understand.

How quick we are to turn into heartless bastards and turn away from our own race.

Everyone is quick to look at the other person.

I Don’t see colour! I’m not racist.

I don’t discriminate, I’m well up for equality.

“Look at those tits!”

“She looks well up for it.”

“Crazy, cheating man hating bitch.”

“Disrespecting my bro..”

Consult the bro code.

This divine, esoteric oracle states that she was asking for it.

She’s trouble.

Aaah aaah aaah BAH!

True story — a woman lived under apartheid then came to live in the patriarchal society of English gentry. She’s spoke up for herself — acted like a dude-how dare she!

Embraced the spoken word and unashamedly campaigned for the right that it is truly ok to talk.

Segregated cos she is diverse and predisposition to speak her mind, she made as many fuck ups as the people she met and spent time with.

She decided to end her borderline poetics with

these words

I don’t don’t give a fuck, I know the world is bigger than a few small minded ,feeble gossips who use their words to bond

I “died” to be reborn .

I answer to nature not people.

*An experimental piece using slang to show how powerful words are.

A muse in Patron

It don’t matter how many selfies you take.

What matters is if you can accept your own mirror reflection.

No time to flinch.

No time to hesitate.

Free to stride across abundant valleys conjured by a sweeping imagination.

God, when she weeps!

I collect her tears.

Covertly

Thankful for the martyr,

My patron muse.

Crystallized an abundant array of gifts .

Perhaps it is a silhouette…

Perhaps it is a rainbow’s smile illuminating intrinsic hues…

These words could reveal Science’s stuttering staccato voicing his love for nature.

For all her might

For all her brute

Which one is Beauty?

Which is Art?

What if you believed the sky is indeed blue?

.Daisy -the Dissident Goat

The song I’m sharing to day is by New Zealand’s very own Bjork-Kimbra. & a blogging associate  turned me on to her.

This is  #goatbahs for today because it makes my heart soar & I feel a great adrenaline kick from it.

 

Mother Nature does discriminate.  Why?

Yesterday, I found out a badger is loose in our garden. I think it’s looking for a place to nest. I decided to google ‘how to get rid of a badger’. The number one solution is:

Human male urine.

Yes, or a hot Scottish bonnet or 8th on the list is Lion’s wee. Even if I was still living in South Africa that would be hard to get.

Mother Nature!

What do single woman/parents do if they are being “urbanised” by a pregnant badger?

Just a thought.

 

My passion has always been for  causes that fight oppression in its many guises. Poverty, discrimination from Mental Health to Homelessness & inequality  , clique groups, media censorship.

This is  a  huge problem  globally,  including places like  Nigeria. It’s devastating to know what is happening in Nigeria. Check the United Nations website out.

 

If we want to be seen as  cultured or considered cultured, we should  strive to educate ourselves. This is what I try to do for myself.

 We are so quick to judge people by what country they come from.

Charles, is Nigerian born man with goals ,ambitions and dreams.

Not every person is a stereo type or trying to scam you.

There are a lot of folk who I’ve realised do scam you ( if you let them). We all need an income, right?

It’s about ethics, inherent  morals we are born with and choosing who you decide to associate with.

This is why I am honoured to  call myself

Daisy-the Dissident Goat.

I think  Charles vision to connect as many creative people  to come together as a community fits in with my vision of what I want to achieve by blogging/writing/goals/career prospects .

  • Connect (with people)

  • Create ( with people or on your own)

  • Collaborate

  • Communicate

Check out What is with the whole GOAT thing?  for more information.

Please check out  CEOLARANTS website for  Q & A as a part of  the dissident team’s  THE DISSIDENT PROJECT.

 

It’s a learning process. We learn & re learn every day in our lives.

I’ve experiences (and still do experience) prejudice & stigma.

I was mentally and physically in a terrible place for 2 years.

And  (now) I’m “woke” .

I almost lost myself, my family and self respect to   scum of society. I allowed myself to be taken for a ride by people who disgust me. Drug dealers

Losers with a drivers licences/bullies & I’ve told them what I think. I’ve also told them I’m not afraid of them either.

Make of that what you will.

Love is a two way street…

So is business.

I have realised by using my wellness recovery tools that self medicating and making plans to end my life was because I felt so little worth about myself & I thought people ( even  wannabe  king pin drug dealers have feelings) had the same integrity & values that I do.

Or, at the very least if a person compromises their values then tries to consolidate the problem.

I’m back  in place where I see my worth again. I see where my energy, time & money is better used.

I’m not a girl for NA  or that kind of set up. I  have my family, friends & support around me.

I’m going to get back into volunteering again.

I’m grateful for Hope Street Calderdale recovery college for seeing the potential in me & giving me the chance to do my own 12 week WRAP  (2015)& then fund for a 5 day course to co-facilitate WRAP  (promo video link)  to give other people as many different tools to navigate and deal with life ups & downs (so to speak).

I still  intend to use my skills when I’m well and unwell to helping other people.

I’ve bonded more with my daughter properly for the first time. I feel focused again. I feel happy when I’m not making myself ill.

I already have diagnosed ‘illnesses-Chronic Anorexia & Bipolar.’ I  have the responsibility to make sure I don’t fall back & do serious damage to myself (in the future) that I cannot undo.

I’m never going to be perfect & that is where I always go wrong. I aim for perfection when there is no such thing.

Even Mother Nature is flawed in all her  complexity & beauty.

 

 

If you’ve read this far…

Thank you for indulging me.

Shout out to Linda for  her  #1linerWeds  prompt & fun writing.

 

START HERE

Welcome,

I started blogging in 2015 & I couldn’t believe when people would read my opinion about something & comment!

I write to recover. From what?

Panic attacks, self-harm, feelings, starving myself, eating, being a mom who feels guilty about making so many boo-boos ( big ones).

This blog became a storage place for all my passions.

 I found by giving my time to learning new skills and committing myself to build a community within my blog and outside it, I learned new skills, became confident to try out new techniques and write about different content.

 I started coming up with ideas for writing by choosing a motivational quote and expanding on why I chose the quote & what it meant to me.  This led me to ask other bloggers to submit a quote & I was able to find more bloggers to connect with.

FOLLOW GREAT FOOTSTEPS

I’m here to connect with people.

Tune in turn on and stay plugged in (& sometimes I drop out for a bit).

In the early blogging days, I dedicated many hours to this blog & I did daily shout outs & accepted blog awards.

SHOUT OUTS

BLOG AWARDS

I’m a person who needed to find alternative coping mechanisms to live. Like most people, I’ve had traumatic experiences. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Some of my posts relating to my journey can be found here:

MENTAL HEALTH & LIFE

 

This blog started me on a journey when I was fighting the justice system to get my daughter back in my care.

I went on to do my B.A. and a postgraduate degree in the Humanities -majoring in myth in the Greek & Roman worlds & Creative writing ( stage plays and fiction genres) came naturally to me.

CREATIVE WRITING ACADEMIC

After another 7 month stint in an eating disorder clinic (2007). I was reintegrated into my community & I needed to occupy my mind and fill my time. I enrolled in a college foundation degree in Acting performance. It was a challenge for me.

I was ill, afraid to talk to people but I stuck it out. When I was going through fighting social services for my 12-week old daughter. I found the strength to fight back.

FIGHT BACK

I involve myself with many writing challenges, -A-Z Challenge, NaNoWriMo

 ANIMALS MATTER and learned so much about animal welfare & rights. I’ve met a lot of bloggers this way.

I found it easier to write free flow and stream of consciousness. It was the best way to get anything down

When I decided to experiment with STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS POSTS I expanded on my writing, started to revise some of my works & I started writing  what I call BORDERLINE POETRY

My definition of borderline poetry

‘ poetry that is blatant, honest, provocative ,emotional and not pretty or fancy or written to hide reality. ‘

 I started going to  Spoken word open mic nights  & started expressing myself in different mediums.

SPOKEN WORD EXPERIMENTS

 My love of music & writing has led me to teach myself how to write music song /genre reviews. I’ve interviewed a few musicians too.

I’m the Black sheep in my Dad’s family. I decided to claim a new archetype to empower me. Goats are smart and there is the acronym

G. REATEST

O.F

A.LL

T.IME

ABOUT GOAT MUSIC

MORE ABOUT #NYA MUSIC REVIEWS

#NYA MUSIC REVIEWS/FEATURES

 

My blog helps me prepare workshops to deliver & co-produce sessions with mental health charities.

I use this blog for creating positive mental health awareness/wellbeing and anti-stigma projects.

VOLUNTEERING EXPERIENCES

I am a trained co-facilitator for WRAP -Wellness Recovery Action Plan. by Elen Copeland.

WRAP

I love finding out about new people, ideas and cultures.

SYMBOLISM

BELIEFS
GLOBAL HAPPINESS

This is a place where I found acceptance by speaking from my heart. I found folk who had never met, commenting &encouraging me to keep writing.

I became unwell again. That happens in life.

I’ve used this blog as a self-help technique to deal with major life traumas like my gran dying from dementia and my aunt a year later from cancer.

I’ve used this blog to try and communicate unreciprocated feelings to my father & rant about why he won’t love me.

Self-expression is necessary for mental wellbeing.

I enjoy connecting with folks, creating content by myself or with others. I enjoy sharing information. I like to see myself as someone who is creative

I call myself a creativist because I know how important it is to have positive self-image and self-talk. I have a wealth of experiences and I am a person who tries to see all sides to a person’s situation.

 

I figured if I start writing about my thoughts and experiences – regularly, I may stop over analyzing and over criticizing myself.

I have made a few friends and gained some new perspective and interests.

I write for myself first and foremost & then if I find it helps others that is a bonus.

Hermit Hymn take two

*Revised draft- still needs work *

 

I write about the hermit hymn

He often takes me by the hand.
 
A fan falls
Lost to gravity
The one used to navigate the wind.
 
 
Pushed forward without marking my body.
 
Resurrected
Motivation forages  forgotten seeds of Hope
planted for those days stippled in downs more than ups.
 
 
This son of a bastard pulled out the brazen Sol –
 relief  shears  luminous laments 
 
 
Luna wanes with a weary wave in retreat.
Arouse an Apollonian Deity within.
 
Hermit hymn’s voice
gazes upwards 
Caught  mid glare – blinded by
 
In sight
Overhears  cuckooing  of winged creatures
Caught a fleeting glimpse of freedom.
 
 
This knowledge found in  bare-faced trees
Stem cell life routing for immortality.
 
 
Presume the recluse lives in my muted shadow.
Contactless views  his
Sobe sidewalk into a growth spurt epiphany.

He who wears the hallow  

 make a final empty ditch attempt at shirking the namesake of  ‘the chosen’ one.
 
 unsynchronised dubbed over mouths crucify 
 
Pitched sounds for this smoke effect bellow:
 
Can I get a  proper score?
 
 
Few focus on his fallen wings
Clipped of clarity
 
Unable to seek an alternative
 
Many fall for the look of familiar skin.
 
 
That ole devil called love
 
Billie holiday thanks for the speckled dove.
 
Facile to caress only what we wish to know.
 
Highs & lows
 
hi’s and by’ es
 
 
High light   the remains
 
A  pint of Bitter froth flees on a one thought train track 
 
How the sun shine when it comes out. 
Belief blossoms bypass tunnel vision mood congestion tax fee out of respect.
 
 
Life
 
Depart from the babble of Doubtful
Thoughts
Far fromVapid
Merely short-sighted when grey-bearded clouds appear

 

stubbled by the 5 o clock shadow
 
 
Paradigm stunted growth
 
tuned out dense cosmos responsible for feeling dim.
 
A connection to a reflection.
Innocence contrast moments heckling: we don’t deserve to move forward.

Clandestine cloaks conceal our original sin.

 
 
This ongoing duet I sing with a feminine hymn
scintillates my belly until I feel the fire lit again from within.

( Still needs a lot of work- over thought this too much  😦 )