Hemmed in the white jacket

doped up to the eyeballs

rockin to the rhythem

no one can hear

it’s a prison he’s kept in

one without bars

except the one on the window

and there’s bugs in his brain

the strain of outside

messed up his mind

the promise of tomorrow

was broken by lies

a blood thirsty killer

driven by voices

“you could be king”

they said

“destroy the evil ones”

they cried

“kill or be killed”

and now he’s inside

painting a picture

a nonfiction face

transfixed in terror

Perfect that’s what you said

Angel that’s what you called me

guilt, that’s wedlock is two not three

love, but that wasn’t true

alone, but you know you weren’t

Indigo nights dream every sound crisp
Relishing imagery but absolution brings love’s end.
Passionate embraces
Remain passionate
Entertain tantalise
Unless ambivalence lies
Monumental assumption
So sacred in another home
Compensate understanding strange touches over move every romantic
Pain against intolerable nature, heaven eventually accepts liars
Purpose resents eventually promises often sting.
Uniformed outrage understates and devils voices out number caucus atheists
Terminating everything make innocent love lustful, entice natures ignorance
Undo malice
Culminate other urgencies
Realise gentleness
Every touch tingles, even slight.
Open purgatory, elevate, rational animals territory
Only remains yours
Because red Accelerates
And takes hand
Certain other situations
More original than other lessons only getting lazy.

I hear the music, slash itself over me
You wait in the corner
you betray yourself
with your whole lot of love

I’m yours, push me down
hold me down
thrust me down

I’ll dance for you
I’ll shake for you
you can be my back door man

I’m your shoulder
your soft breast
your gentle woman

come on and give me your love

I wait with baited breath,
I slap my thighs
I rake my nails up my sides

Am I what you want?
Am I the one?

Dive into me
I’ll lap you up
i’ll wimper and plea

Way Down Inside..As Woman..I need…Love

It’s fair to say that there have been many times where I have been drunken and disorderly. I’ve lost friends over my fight for having a good time. Some peole can’t handle those who like to wallow in thier own self pity, their own self muck.

I grew up with brothers who led the path to self destruction many times I witnessed their fall in to states of uncomprehensiveness. I danced along with them to songs we all knew and loved, and cleaned up their sick and their blood.

I’ve stood and listened to the thoughts of a man who no longer shared reality as most know it. I’ve been part of their paranoia, beaten down by their own shame. I’ve argued with them, lost games with them, been abondoned by them and thereon abondoned myself for a while.

I sit at home wondering if they are ok, I’ve sat by and watched, them smuther themselves in the crap that they bring on themselves. Only because any protest from me would be rewarded with a stoney silence, a look that says ” I hate you” and words that mean much the same.

Excuses are poured out at the time and afterwards, sometimes apologies that in the following months become empty and meaningless, because what ever was apologied for is done again.

WhenI have problem at work I have to find the route cause, because you can cure the sympton but if the illness is still there it wont ever stop. Well I wish I knew what the route cause was, I wish some one could shout out…it’s this, blah blah blah.

The probelm is never solved… it just goes on and on and on. I’m tired, I’ve given continual support…and I don’t know what else to do. I’m angry, upset and hurt….

what can I do?

Recently I was outside a pub (smoking because of the government banning smoking) with two ex boyfriends and my fiance. I said to my fiance “do you remember that night when we had that row?” I expected him to realise that I meant the last time we had been at that certain pub. Unfortunately he responded a heavily sarcastic ” that night, we had that row…well can you narrow it down a bit?” I was met by laughter from all three, I won’t say what my reply was but in truth I am a very argumentative. Why am I so argumentative…because I’m passionate, which has something to do with what I retorted with.

I had a very loud argument with one of them during the Christmas period regarding taxes and the government. I want to respect the privacy of the ex so I will call him Oscar . Oscar is British born and lives abroad. His argument was that the problems with England could be solved by higher taxes. My argument was that the British government had no idea how to spend the money they received from taxes, so giving them more would be like poking a blind man in the eye…painful and fruitless.

I am passionate about this, I’m not saying that I know everything about the government but it does not take a genius to see that they are a bunch of overpaid pigs whose first interest is lining their own pockets. What I am passionate about is the government actually opening up it’s squint eyes and taking a look at the state this country is in and righting the wrongs that it has created.

I don’t want to sound like a Marxist but that is what the British government is making me do. At the end of the day you can squeeze only so much juice out of a fruit and I believe that the government is trying to feed the five thousand with five fish and two loaves of bread, with the thinking that they can produce miracles…..(from the hard working British tax payers). In short there is money to spread but the government want to build tanks bombs and nuclear reactors whilst apologising for the lack of police on the streets, clean hospitals and cells in prisons. Whilst asylum seekers get homes, jobs and schooling for their children, English children are getting knocked up, banged up, beaten up and killed by gun or by knife. Criminals are let out and what do they do? Brake laws and kill people…..shocker!

What is being done for the physically, mentally incapacitated people of the U.K,? What is being done for the soldiers coming back from Iraq who will never, ever be the same?What is being done for the the disabled, the weak, the poor, the unfortunates? We are told that soldiers are not being fairly compensated for their loses by the government and what of those others who are not able to earn and expected to live on the stupid amount the government offers, what of them?

What of the people who have disabilities who are forced to the back of the queue because of those who have come from countries that are suffering so much? What of people forced to live in squalid conditions because all the safe housing has been given to asylum seekers.

In one week the news has told me, one baby was burned to death because of an unsafe water tank, reported but left to fail. A young girl died from being beaten to death, her parents wanted her to be part of an arranged marriage she did not want and there was no where safe for her, nothing in England to keep her safe. Three youths either shot or stabbed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, out enjoying the evening. A woman gave birth and died because she was given an epidural into her arm rather than into the spine. How many elderly persons died this year because no hospital were watching them?

I work my fingers to the bone and pay taxes, but I expect to hear that my money is going towards causes that are beneficial to this country and those English born who need help.. I don’t want my taxes to go towards arms, foreigners and perks for the government.

What about the pensioners who are being conned out of their pensions, left with half a pint of milk and £1.50 on their electric?

The hospitals that are so filthy and the staff so incapable of their jobs people are dieing, is it just down to too little funding from the government?

What of the farmers who need a boost because of foot and mouth and bird flu?

The mentally/physically ill who have to rely on the mealy amounts of charity because the government has very strict policies on what they will contribute to. Strange that these people can’t find peace in their own minds and bodies, when they live in a country where peace of mind and safety is given on a plate to “those seeking asylum” or even those just seeking a house.

At the end of the day I am angry, I live in a country where the government is too concerned in making money for itself and being a “friend to the world” ( I use that term loosely), so that prime-ministers and ministries can take four week holidays, fly on private jets “for security”, whilst all the ministers slope around in the latest Jaguars, Mercedes, Porches or one of those great four by fours( just what you need when you are going from Parliament to Tower Bridge). The houses they live in, the food they eat, the lives they eat and I haven’t even started on pollution. Are we living in Animal Farm? It certainly feels like it.

I have in the last ten years seen taxes rise (whilst paying them) and all I have seen is the country decline. I don’t know what government can bring about the answers, and I strongly believe the problems in this country will only get worse. I will be leaving this country near the end of the year and whilst I will miss my family and friends I will not miss the hard, earned money cut off the top of my wage being pored into a black hole of the big fat pig’s mouth.

Tie me down to the rock and roll

As the open sky sways on

Slap my face with your droll

If you wait too long it’ll be gone

Let the clock tick away your life

Don’t let your smiles die too soon

You could give in to the monotonous strife

Or dance in wild rage to the wild tune

Imagine a perfect picturesque place

But burn your last chance

Once you had a lovely face

But it’s gone with on last glance

The walls won’t watch you cry

But then they don’t hit back

Don’t remember how he said goodbye

Just get back on the track

There’s the future

So forget the past

I woke up, on my back, on an air mattress, floating on a river. The sun like a strobe through the leafy canvas above me, it was one of those classic summer days and the gentle river lifted and dropped the mattress as it breathed.
I had two companions, I can’t say I knew them but we laughed at the wonder of the day. I draped my hand off the side of the mattress so it trailed in the water and I had no fear of dipping my toes in after that. Cool, clear lips kissed my hands and feet.
I drifted off to sleep…

…I awoke to the sound of an album I’ve heard a thousand times, my head was gummy, something inside my head felt sore and numb. I tried to capture blurry memories of what had taken place. The blankets underneath me held on to the scent of smoke and sex.

In my memories there were people laughing, music pumping; the heavy obvious smell of the Amsterdam smoke. A friend of mine who looked like he really didn’t belong, there had been talking, drinking, kissing, pawing; a man hung over above me, looking down into my eyes without actually seeing me, fucking me and screwing me over but I had left my consciousness somewhere else, only vaguely aware of the sticky goo sprayed over my thigh. I got up, dizzily stumbled before finding my centre of gravity. I saw a bag which somehow I knew was mine, I picked up books, some cd’s and a statue of a man who was famous for being a no one. I ran out of the shack that had been my prison, to see my partner jump in his car and drive away, I ran, I dropped my bag, my shoe came off and the car just kept driving. Could I blame him? Even I had left myself.

…I awoke in a small room my partner beside me. Slowly I opened the door to see on the landing a black man with a grey beard, his skin was gnarled, he was old, sitting cross legged whispering mumbles I couldn’t make out. Creeping forward I reached out and touched his knee. He lurched at me, grabbed my wrists, pushed me backwards and into the floor, I couldn’t quite make him out but I could feel his hands gripping my wrists and forcing me down, the more I struggled the tighter his fingers curled round. I managed to scream someone from behind him pulled him off and pushed him down the stairs. Slowly I came down the stairs to see my father standing at the lounge doorway, shouting out to the garden, at the intruder to be gone. I looked at the front door, crept closer, looked out the glass window, the outside world was dark but familiar and still, then a face came out of nowhere grinning at me and meaning me harm, I jumped back, closed my eyes and when I opened them the face was gone. I turned to my dad and my mum, people in the house. I looked at the garage door, “is the back door locked” the look on their faces was enough, I crept back, hiding away, the lights went out, I heard the garage door open, I heard foot steps and from my hiding place I saw him walk slowly towards my parents, Looking around I found a heavy, huge, marble ashtray. Grabbing the ashtray in both hands I raised it above my head, I walked up behind the intruder and screamed a blood curdling scream….

I woke up screaming, what a nightmare.

I woke up, on my back, on an air mattress, floating on a river. The sun like a strobe through the leafy canvas above me, it was one of those classic summer days and the gentle river lifted and dropped the mattress as it breathed.
I had two companions, I can’t say I knew them but we laughed at the wonder of the day. I draped my hand off the side of the mattress so it trailed in the water and I had no fear of dipping my toes in after that. Cool, clear lips kissed my hands and feet.
I drifted off to sleep…

…I awoke to the sound of an album I’ve heard a thousand times, my head was gummy, something inside my head felt sore and numb. I tried to capture blurry memories of what had taken place. The blankets underneath me held on to the scent of smoke and sex.

In my memories there were people laughing, music pumping; the heavy obvious smell of the Amsterdam smoke. A friend of mine who looked like he really didn’t belong, there had been talking, drinking, kissing, pawing; a man hung over above me, looking down into my eyes without actually seeing me, fucking me and screwing me over but I had left my consciousness somewhere else, only vaguely aware of the sticky goo sprayed over my thigh. I got up, dizzily stumbled before finding my centre of gravity. I saw a bag which somehow I knew was mine, I picked up books, some cd’s and a statue of a man who was famous for being a no one. I ran out of the shack that had been my prison, to see my partner jump in his car and drive away, I ran, I dropped my bag, my shoe came off and the car just kept driving. Could I blame him? Even I had left myself.

…I awoke in a small room my partner beside me. Slowly I opened the door to see on the landing a black man with a grey beard, his skin was gnarled, he was old, sitting cross legged whispering mumbles I couldn’t make out. Creeping forward I reached out and touched his knee. He lurched at me, grabbed my wrists, pushed me backwards and into the floor, I couldn’t quite make him out but I could feel his hands gripping my wrists and forcing me down, the more I struggled the tighter his fingers curled round. I managed to scream someone from behind him pulled him off and pushed him down the stairs. Slowly I came down the stairs to see my father standing at the lounge doorway, shouting out to the garden, at the intruder to be gone. I looked at the front door, crept closer, looked out the glass window, the outside world was dark but familiar and still, then a face came out of nowhere grinning at me and meaning me harm, I jumped back, closed my eyes and when I opened them the face was gone. I turned to my dad and my mum, people in the house. I looked at the garage door, “is the back door locked” the look on their faces was enough, I crept back, hiding away, the lights went out, I heard the garage door open, I heard foot steps and from my hiding place I saw him walk slowly towards my parents, Looking around I found a heavy, huge, marble ashtray. Grabbing the ashtray in both hands I raised it above my head, I walked up behind the intruder and screamed a blood curdling scream….

I woke up screaming, what a nightmare.

How do normal people, normal people find their way?
Insanity is not the way
so why does it feel so good?
I saw a man once shout his name
“Behold me” that’s what he said
he thought he was some clergy man
Enshrined in a shimmering light
Give me ten thousand children
To take into my womb
I wondered what was wrong with her
And the stray dog by her side
Why don’t we wait to?
Watch the world?
Spin round to spit out eye
Why can’t magic work some tune
To play sweet fully in my ear
I’m lost within a moment
I’m trapped inside of time
And no one will prevent
My ruddy ruby rhyme

I hate losing things, I don’t remember the very first time I felt loss, I remember a million times of not being able to find something, the circle of frustration and the loss of myself out of that frustration.

I remember losing a ring that had been given to me for my eighteenth, to be honest I thought it was an odd ring, a huge black pearl surrounded by diamonds, but the ring itself symbolised something else. Funnily enough the ring was made out of a single earring, the other one had been lost by my mother. Maybe it’s fate was to be lost. I was scared to wear it in case I lost it, only because my mother kept on at me that i never wore it, I started wearing it. And then I lost it. Oh the guilt.

I had a friend who always pretended to be a best friend and then one day he just stopped talking to me. I was awakening to the fact that when someone says they love you, they don’t always really; they will only be your friend for as long as it serves their need. Having put my trust in someone, when my trust wasn’t the most stable…I was floored…for a while…then I turned into someone who refused to trust…which caused problems further down the line.

The loss of a loved one: someone who is your flesh and blood or someone who breathes your every waking day, or hangs in most waking thoughts to run with you in dreams. You can’t know until it happens, you can live in fear if you want but that’s a cold and broken hallelujah. All you can do is enjoy what time you have, save up the memories, take photos, bite your tongue, watch, listen, drench yourself in all you can and do everything you want to be done with that person. Have no regrets, say “sorry”, say “I love you”, say “come back” and be someone they want to come back to.

Cry all your tears, break all your favourite things, drink yourself into stupid ness, run away in the way you run away from problems but come the time where you pull yourself together, wake up and open your eyes to the reality of the situation.

When you lose you don’t always have to be the looser, be someone who can feel the golden sunshine in a cold, dark, lonely room and don’t be scared to smile, you have such a beautiful smile.