Tag Archives: cry

Some people kill for suppositions

Some people know what it’s like to be so multicultural that they call you fake

Call you a wannabe, call you a snake

Some people know what it is like to live in different classes, but mostly being poor

Some people call you a fake and they close their doors to you

Some people know what it is like to be fat then thin, then fat again and thin again

Body changing constantly like the tides of the sea

Some people know what it is like to be me

Some people think I can’t possibly be, all these things, that make me, me

A half gypsy grandma with Greco Italian roots who is a quarter cast to boot

Married a half jew that was raised catholic, a cockney with a Welsh grandmother

Clutching rosaries and cursing the church, what a sight, how absurd?

But that was them my maternal side

I have nothing bad to hide

I love my family and they love me

But still society picks on me

Because I am fake, didn’t you know?

I can’t possibly be all the things I know

Even fake still my paternal side

My grandpa who watched the genocides

Whilst smoking pipes in his wheelchair, writing letters like he didn’t care

Calling himself a Christian and a lord some spit at him and some applaud

Is he German or Austrian? I never knew, but my grandma said he could be the two

But she knew he was Italian too, wearing black shirts and doing poo

She was ashamed of him, I am too

She was different, the opposite, with her Dutch roots and Irish eyes smiling, though her hair was dyed, worshipping Jesus and the saints like a good catholic woman

Swimming in the seas of war saving sailors, now that I applaud and dancing with the majorettes, a descendant of the oldest aristocratic family of Europe, the most loving person I could ever know

Teaching me how to speak and grow

Won’t tell me about grandad you know?

I can’t blame her really, can you?

Not if he wore blackshirts supporting poo

But you call me fake, don’t you?

So you don’t believe a word

Because all this mixture is too absurd

My grandma hid a fact from her husband and it was simply this

Her great grandpa was from Vietnam, I imagine he’d be really pissed!

Fascists think they are pure and true and yet they are very wrong

Everyone is related yet they say it’s wrong

I know what it’s like to not be believed

I get it everyday

This is why I don’t talk that much, because I have nothing else to say

I am who I am and I am a mix

But you call me liar, so I’m in a fix

Because I tell the truth, yet you say I lie

But I do not and it makes me cry

My mother skipped from faith to faith

Trying to find her feet

Kept doing this and that, making things hard for me

I decided long ago that the only faith that’s real

Is the old testament and nothing else

Because the new one was written to steal

Steal God’s people away from him

By other liars true

If you think about it, you will see that what I say is true

Most religions stem from the Jews

Isn’t it a funny thing?

How the Jews are the smallest culture

Yet the liar’s faith grows and sings?

Yes the prophets were all good men

But why pray to them so?

Pray to the source, which is God and all the bad things will go

I feel blessed in my life, since I started to pray to source

But you are angry to hear this, I understand of course

A culture that lasted centuries can get set within their ways

I cry for all the lost children

I cry and pray each day

That you will return to God and see what the deceiver has done

Playing cousin against cousin, watching the chaotic fun!

But that is something off my chest

I needed you to know

Because I love you no matter what

You are lost through all the woe

This poem was not meant to preach

But show you all my life

But things have a funny way to show

Who holds a candle and a knife?

I know what it’s like not to be loved

I know what it’s like to hurt

I know what it’s like to have a mother who pushes you away into the dirt

I know what it’s like to have a father who watches what she does

But sits afraid of losing her and sits with you in the mud

I know what its like to love and lose

I know what its like to be alone and bruised

I am tall but I am not strong

So many people have done me wrong

Yet I still love and care for them

Because I believe in Lord Hashem

He’d want me to look after them and show them another way

I know what it’s like not to be heard

But that’s Ok

I am sorry I got a bit carried away with this poem; this poem was the second task from the book “How to grow your own poem” by Kate Clanchy.

This was supposed to be my own version of “Some People” by Rita Ann Higgins.  https://www.lyrikline.org/sl/pesmi/some-people-5711  I must apologise in advance for the swearing that is quite strong in this poem.

But I really do know what it’s like to have such a mix heritage that almost everybody thinks I lie about it to impress them, but I really don’t.  It’s really hard not to talk about your family and their ways when your family has literally been your only life.

I really do feel for people who have got lost in lies.  But the thing is, I understand that the prophets etc that are included in religious rituals were good people too.  I understand that, but religion has deflected away from God so much because they prefer to pray through those prophets and then wonder why things aren’t as blessed as they should be. 

I honestly have known Christians who believe that Jesus is God, some of the more educated understand that he isn’t, but still they pray through him, not directly to God?  Can you imagine how God feels about that?  Especially as the supposed Messiah has not fulfilled their promise told in The Old Testament? 

Did you know when the true Messiah comes to Earth no one can doubt him, not even the tiniest bit?  That when he comes all will feel he is the genuine one and it will cause instant peace on Earth that lasts forever, then after people have seen the Messiah, God himself will come down from heaven and destroy heaven so that Earth becomes paradise?  The Torah says this.  It’s something to think about isn’t it?

It was Gods promise that he would do this.  Thing is, I am not jewish, my great grandmother was, but I was raised in three types of Christianity whenever my mother wanted the change – Anglican, Jehovah’s Witness and Catholic, I never knew what I was supposed to be growing up, that’s why I went and researched religion so much, to find out what the blazes the truth is!

I chose to be a non-participating Noahide until further notice, because I am confused. A Noahide is what Jews call a righteous gentile, a person who wasn’t raised in the Jewish faith properly and who believes in God and prays to him and sometimes they are converted fully into Judaism, some never are. I participate in private prayer to God, but I have not joined any communities yet.

Why? Because I find my relationship with God is a private one and I understand that this world is rife with hate and violence.

Studying every form of religion that stemmed from Judaism and then Judaism itself made things abundantly clear to me; it’s nonsense all these religious wars because everyone who stemmed from Judaism, should still be Jewish, not killing each other over what version of lies they love the best. 

Yes the deceiver is true and real, but I can’t help but think that billions of people can be wrong and duped. 

Even the Jews themselves have sort of lost their way a little, when the Sadducees and Pharisees started changing things, making the original seven laws of God into Ten and then all of a sudden six hundred and thirteen!  How did that happen?

Most Christians I know have no idea that Jesus was even a rabbi, they believe he was just a carpenter, but that is partly true, but also yes, he was a rabbi! 

Honestly I have been there and experienced all this myself and like you, I was astounded at what I found and I was deeply pained in the knowledge that all those who believe in the same God, still fight and kill each other, it’s utterly ludicrous!

A major part of my depression is knowing all of this and crying daily because I see cousin against cousin and for what?  For suppositions, that’s all!  Just mere suppositions!   

I became like my mother in my early adult years, skipping from faith to faith trying to find out why God ignores me and it wasn’t until I decided to connect with my spirit guides and ask them why he ignores me, that they told me one simple thing.

“Have you thought about talking directly to God without going through another entity, not even us, your guides”? 

To be perfectly honest – no I didn’t!

Because so often I was told that God is too busy to listen to all of us hence the angels and the prophets; but don’t you think that this disempowers him? 

Don’t you believe for one second that God has created all of this and he has the time to care for all of it, that he wouldn’t go beyond his own personal limits that he is limitless and will respond?

Because I believe he doesn’t take on more than he can chew personally.  I believe he has the time but the thing is, do you have the heart for it?  Do you have the inclination to respect his wishes from you and treat him with respect and talk to him respectfully like you would any monarch upon the earth?

Don’t talk to him like a beggar would, that’s disrespectful, humble yourself, but don’t beg.  Be mindful of his power, be mindful of his love and don’t try to abuse him in prayer.

You need to pray in a way where you ask him to teach you, ask him to show you things, so you can help yourself, because if there is one thing I have learned about God are that he despises laziness.  He made you in his image remember; would you dare to call God lazy?

He is there to help because he loves you, but he helps you only when you ask him to. 

He doesn’t give you things on a plate, you say “Oh I am so poor” give me some money please”.  No matter how polite you are, that is lazy prayer with no intention of helping yourself.

Instead say this; “Show me a way that I can raise my income without it being boring and affecting my health negatively”, he answers by dreams or synchronicities – signs.

If you are sick do not complain about it to him just ask him “Am I sick because here is something I haven’t learned yet?  Are you preventing something?  Are you trying to slow me down because you are worried that I may be reacting too fast I’d get into trouble?  Or are you trying to show me something else, please gives me signs why I am sick”.  He helps.

I have longstanding problems with my hearing and ear health, when I asked him to show me why this was, apparently in a dream I learned that it was because I was constantly telling people “I don’t want to hear about your problems, I don’t want to hear your criticisms” and I realised God was more or less granting me a wish.

Do you have leg problems or hip problems?  Have you ever flippantly said to other people you need to slow down?  Or you wished you could relax more?

Think about it.

I didn’t mean for this post to be preachy, but I am a water dog in Chinese astrology and I can’t help but flow to what I feel is right at the time… my apologies.

I better stop there.

Thanks for reading and much love to all of you!

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Filed under Defining myself, poetry

My heart is like a butterfly

My heart is like a butterfly

It falls apart when touched

Kind words and simple gestures

Are just too much

I’m not used to kindness

I’m only used to fear

Friendship is new to me

I know that it sounds queer

Why are you so kind to me?

What is it that you want?

I can’t help feeling there is more to this

My past it still haunts

I cry when you are nice to me

I can’t hold back the tears

Because I am not use to this

Only ridicule and jeers

My heart is like a butterfly

It falls apart when touched

I can’t bear this kindness

Though I like it much

My heart is like a butterfly

Though I wished it wasn’t true

I’d love to know you better

And be a part of you

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Nightmare of writer’s block or the stories argument!

Gargoyles, leprechauns and witches oh my, they sit and clog up in my head. No room for vampires they always say, aren’t vampires now nearly dead?
They always have been, I reply, that’s their charm and wonder and grace.
But the others they sit and they frown in despair as though I have slapped their face!
Stop this jealousy, I always cry, it’s the vampires turn not yours
But the leprechauns sit and they chastise me a lot for not allowing them to finish their wars.
Then the witches with their bleak little cackles threaten to curse me if I forget, to add to their stories a little more gory, about a curse they’ve beset.
The gargoyle just moans and groans and cries out words like ALAS! Get on with my story, do not ignore me or I will kick you up the ass!
Now that’s quite enough bad language from you, says I with a determined glare
If I want to sit and write something else, I shall and it’s the vampire’s lair!
Not him again, they all shout and cry once again for the umpteenth time, you have to finish us before you start another story, song or rhyme!
Oh for peace sake, I say in an irate moan, I’ll burn you to ashes if I please, if you annoy me just once more you’re out of the door, stop bringing me to my knees
It is vampires tonight, whether you want it or like, I need to get them down too, so I start on the story, it’s a little bit gory, so the vampire sits in the queue.
Why stop there in my elaborate lair? Asks the vampire looking at me
Oh don’t you start, I say to him, don’t become like the other three!
Just leave me alone whilst I sit and think and sip at my sweet black tea.
Now where was I? I say to myself, oh yes, the miserable banshee!

The poem above reflects on my exact thoughts as a writer.  My stories which are put on hold are literally lining up to nag me to think of them even now I intend to focus on just one or two.  I hope a lot of writers who have unfinished projects agree that they also go through the same thing as me, because if not, then perhaps I need a therapist, ha-ha!

I often struggle with which of my stories to concentrate on day to day; some ideas have been coming on and off the shelf for the last twenty six years, yes, twenty six years!  I have stories about leprechauns, gargoyles, witches, banshees, and zombies, girls cooped up in a mental asylum, demon animals, vampires and many more.  Back in 2009 I decided to make a list of all the stories I had started but never finished past the first draft and the list came to 76; I lost the list when moving house and I have since added to it, I also lost a lot of papers when moving house so a lot of the ideas I started are lost somewhere in time and space.

Due to the motivational archive I found on YouTube recently, I discovered that it’s not that I lacked momentum when I was writing for all these years; I lacked consistency with sticking with something to the end.  I didn’t prioritise which idea I wanted to finish the most and that is what I have been focusing on since mid-September, I have been trying to focus my ideas on just two books and I have set myself a goal, which the archives suggested would help me.  I am to finish the leprechaun novel by June 2019 but the vampire novel must be finished by the end of January. 

The vampire novel I am working on is part of NaNoWriMo, but I know in my hearts of heart that 50,000 words is just too short for the story I am writing, wrimo is merely giving me the boost that I need to press on with it, so I shan’t be stopping at the end of November.  I also found other sites where writers can set their own goals, I found it through http://writetrack.davidsgale.com and there is another one called http://nanocountdown.com/advanced.html  you can set your own schedules and daily word count, it helps keeps you focused.

There will be another, very short post later on today when I have finished writing for the day to update you on how much I’ve done on the monthly challenge and other writing projects.

Ciao for now.

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I cry for my place in the world

I cry for my place in the world

But my place is not here

The place I yearn for doesn’t exist

It’s a place where I go to each night in dream time, a place where I love and miss

When I am awake it drives me insane

All I want to be is inside my brain

I want it to be my world

Is that insane?

Is it insane to love what is inside your brain?

Again

I will tell you

I cry for my place in the world

But it is not here

The place I long for doesn’t exist, anywhere but in here (points to my head)

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Song of lost souls

I hear the echoes of the songs of the lost souls
Captivated I cannot move
I only listen
Their cries sound like music, though there’s pain
Indeed they are the cries of pain
It would drive some insane
But me, I remain
Silent, still, listening on to the tune that chills
Deep into my very soul
They are familiar to me, those singers
Those words that they sing
So familiar it stings
I try not to think “why” to such things

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We all fall down

Nation against nation a war has begun, people prepare with their bullets and guns.

Soldiers are ready at the foot of the brawl, women weep as their children fall.

Many are mane and many die many scream and many cry all live in hope for the war to end

please not let a war come again.

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Kelpie

Glaring lights, pale as death, call you and me.

Dancing through the leaves of the night, dancing around the willows and the oak, hearing the sounds of mysticism in an endless voice of hope:

What is it that we evoke?

Rushing through the air of the night, filling our souls with curious delight; the moon shines upon us as we run after thee, O what can you be? What can you be?

The silver of the night can be what you are or a guiding star? Yes a guiding star!

You took us from our campsite when the air was chilled and harsh – you made us run bare footed across the country grass!

Nightly dew soaks our wandering feet and we search for where you go. Roaming free like a bird in the sky you fly, through the leaves of the trees in the night!

But we remain warm with your charms dear light.

Running endlessly we wonder where you take us. Miles and miles it seems… we run through the fields and past the stream, this feels like a wonderful dream!

Pure is your light of wonder, warm is your glow, but where do you take us, where do you go?

What are you which we evoke?

Faster and faster you run wild and free, past the streams and the tree’s and we run faster along with thee.

We hear a mystical voice again, calling like a choir, calling our names to follow still, even though the night is chilled!

Brighter and faster the light becomes running through the corn. We follow and run helplessly we become most forlorn!
The light has gone! The light has gone!

O where are we now?

As if it was all a dream we suddenly awake from the hypnotising light we are in the lake… we are in the lake.
Drowning, mourning sorrowfully, we cry and call for help. But all that hears our calls this night is the old mythical creature the Kelps!

All we do now is yelp and yelp!!!

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home to paradise

I was floating above my shell last night

About to travel to the world of my dreams

But then I stopped

I don’t know why

It’s frustrating that I do not fly into that other realm

Maybe it’s because the idea overwhelms?

Oh is it real?  I can’t tell

But I know it’s a place that’s put me under its spell

Maybe they’ll call me tonight or maybe not?

I hope so; to me it means a lot

Though I worry that it’s not all real

That a game is being played

I sometimes think that way and I shouldn’t

But I think I’m mentally frayed

Well one day I shall know

And if it’s real my happiness will overflow

But if it’s not, then my soul will die

Because for many years this place has made me cry

For I want to go home

I want to go home to my paradise

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