Tag Archives: dark

You are dark like me

If my existence bothers you

And you do the things that you do

Then why are you still here? Give a clue…

If I drive you mad for years and years

That you sit and stalk and curse in tears

Then why do you watch me so?

Please tell me, I want to know…

If it pains you that I am alive

Then why do you watch me and won’t let me thrive?

Why are you so keen day to day, to keep on being this way?

What have I done to deserve this curse?

Because I didn’t join you in verse?

Then you must be tortured for I am only one

One of billions, who won’t praise the son

You are stupid, but you don’t see

That you are nearly the same as me

Because you call me dark, but you should know

Because only darkness can bring people woe

You bring me sadness, you bring me fear

You keep on watching, near and near

You are dark, but you don’t see it

You think you are light…

But you can’t be it!

Not if you can do what you do

Come on, wake up, you have no clue!

You are as dark as me… it’s true…

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Filed under poetry

Rethink the light and dark

You drink the blood of gods

Creatures of the light

You drink the blood of mortals

Creatures of the night

You worship wooden idols

Creatures of the light

You worship self-love

Creatures of the night

You creep cautiously past the shadows

Creatures of the light

You creep cautiously everywhere

Creatures of the night

You kill to the point of genocide

Creatures of the light

You kill to survive

Creatures of the night

What is good?

What is bad?

What’s the difference?

It’s all sad

Light and dark is balance true

Light kills dark

chaos ensues

Dark kills light, it is the same

Rethink the light and dark again…

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Filed under Arts & Crafts, poetry

Funny VS Serious

Something has changed in me regarding my creative pursuits. 

I have for many years wanted to write horror as my main genre, focusing primarily on supernatural beings such as vampires with a very serious stance on the subject.  I then wanted to write fantasy as well but for the adult market; However, I have been battling with these ideas for the past five years as I have become more humorous in my writings and more emotional and I have found myself writing much less serious horror and more family oriented fantasy.  The horror I do write is becoming increasingly comedic and I don’t really know why, but I enjoy it.

I have fought against putting in comedy in my books, but I can’t help it, I wanted to write in a manner that depicts the darkness of human nature in a very serious way.

I have learned as I am getting older, I am finding humour in the most unusual of things and I am writing in a light hearted way increasingly.  My books were originally going to be of the seriousness of Anne Rice, Stephen King or Dean Koontz, but as I am developing as a writer I am becoming much more like Christopher Moore, Ransom Riggs and the writers of the league of gentlemen television series.

I have a couple of writer friends who saw this happening to me long before I did!  They often said to me “Tina, you really are a funny woman, you should write comedy it will really take off” but I shunned it moodily and said that I am not really that type of author and I was worried to take such a stance creatively because once you are renown for being funny, isn’t there always a pressure to maintain this personality to everyone?

Well I sought to push out the comedy that was in me, every time I wrote a funny scene I edited it out, until the scenes started getting funnier and the stories were becoming more and more demanding that they should be humorous in form. 

I have to admit I have avoided comedy entirely in my blog because I am scared of it to be honest!  My sense of humour is rather unique I feel and somewhat dark.  I am scared that people will start to think that my humour reflects me as a person, to me; humour and people’s acceptance of different types of humour can be a very touchy subject and should always be stepped into with caution.

Along with all of this, there is also the problem that I am one of these people who are constantly afraid of offending people, I always like to remain as polite as possible and sometimes people can consider humour as impolite or downright rude!

I am terrified of doing this, but I am going to try and get out of my safe comfort zone and attempt to write the humour on my blog occasionally – now please remember, the idea of showing people the funny side of me scares me!  I usually keep my sense of humour to very close friends and family and in general I am looked upon by those who are not close to me as a deadpan sort of woman!

My sense of humour I would describe as sarcastic, ironic, dark, tongue in cheek, warped and very corny.  Sensitive people would call some of my sense of humour as just simply sick and over the top!

Most of the fiction I gravitate towards reading are very dark horror or humour.

Most of the television shows I watch are comedies, costume dramas, horror or fantasy; but looking at my DVD collection it is mostly two thirds comedy!  People who know me, but are not close to me are often puzzled when they look upon my DVD collection; they look back and forth from me to the collection in sheer wonder.  I am not very public about my humour and I am not entirely sure why!

Part of the redefining myself is to bring out the real me in all its raw details to everybody, so this means I have to start getting comfortable being me in public as well as private.  This means people will start to see a new me, those who are not close that is and it may confound them.

My vampires had a lot of corny jokes in their books, but I deleted some of them in the past thinking that humour had no right in being in a serious vampire novel.  

I felt that people would not appreciate a corny joke in a book about vampires unless it was consistent throughout the book and was specifically marketed as a comedy – I felt that my stance in writing a humorous sentence only once every twenty pages or so wasn’t enough and would perhaps irritate hard-core readers of the genre.  Then I found Christopher Moore’s “Bite Me”, though I admit his comedy is very consistent throughout the book, unlike mine.

I will talk also about how my art is affected too in another post as I am also fighting with what I want to do VS what I seem to do most and enjoy!

As stupid as it sounds, this post was meant to be a post about how people need to focus on their natural talent rather than fight against it – instead it is just basically me telling you all how I am struggling to come across as a serious person, but I fail miserably and try to hide my sense of humour from the world!

Hopefully some of you will have read it how it really is – that I am not confident to be myself wholly and that I am trying my best to be so.

Thing is, I don’t want to be funny in everything – some of my work in this blog has proven that I do think very deeply about a lot of things and I can come across as deadly serious in many subjects!  Can an author be appreciated for the two very different takes in their works?  I hope so, but doubt it somewhat.

Happy reading!

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Filed under About my work

A dying spirit

I need to get this off my chest, I apologise if the following becomes a long-winded rant and it is not my intention.

But I simply can’t do it anymore – I cannot live up to other people’s expectations and other peoples idea of what is or is not morally correct or what is or is not true; Everything that I talk about regarding my current life and my past are all true in my eyes, but a lot of people will deny that it is the truth and I can understand why they would lie about that – they are trying to socially protect themselves because they treated me wrong and don’t want the ramifications of how others may perceive them for it.  I appreciate their feelings on this, but I won’t hide the truth, I won’t keep deleting things just because the truth fucking hurts them, they never take into account how much their actions have hurt me so why the fuck am I so bloody accommodating to them?

I have rights too, I have a right to express myself anyway I blooming need to in order to heal.  Living a life of quiet pacification is literally killing me as a person and me as an artist/writer.

Living the life that my previous abusers want me to, is killing the person that I am in every way shape and form that a person can be!

I took on this blog back in winter of 2012 purely as to act as a form of therapy for myself as recommended by my therapist, he suggested I talk freely about everything I want to regarding my life, he recommended that I also use it to bring back the creative person I was again.  It worked until some people found out a few things about my mum they never knew before and they like defensive little minions went and told her and defended her and grouped up on me via telephone and emails to hound me to tell everybody who reads my blog that everything I said was a lie.  They wanted me to lie about the truth I told – they demanded then that I go to London again and at a family gathering literally grovel for my mother’s forgiveness in front of them!  I am quite serious about what I just said; they did demand this of me!

Every time I say something about them on my blog, I do run the risk of anyone in my family still sticking around to read what I am saying, relaying and potentially getting telephone calls and emails again, which is why I had to change the telephone number and we are considering moving because of this, because I can’t be silent anymore.  I need to express everything I have gone through and I feel it is my calling to help others who have gone through the same coercive upbringing as I have, by talking about my past.  A coercion that I was raised in is quite unusual but not unheard of and many people who have experienced this kind of abuse rarely talk about it, because of how violent a large amount of people can get if they hear of it.  You see it is usually lead by one individual who has a large social circle who will act like posse to reign in the abused child if they start getting out of hand or rather, start becoming independent and so-called rebellious to their clique ideologies. 

It rather like living with a mafia minded family with an extended social circle of friends all of whom think alike, like a big extended hive mind. 

This kind of abuse is hard to deal with for a lot of therapists; I have never found one who has been able to help me.  They all suggest that various people of whom have taken a part in controlling me should go and see them, but who the fuck will go up to their abusers and say “you know what?  My therapist wants to see you as I seem relatively stable in comparison to you guys”.  Lol – no one is going to do that and the therapist appreciates that for safety reasons it is probably best not to suggest it.

You know how badly the revelation to my mother has affected me? 

I became for a long time now, primarily a poet who occasionally dips into abstract impressionistic paintings, because I have been scared to talk about anything anymore.  I have even been told that some of my novels I used to write, that the family often used to read, that they see now that some of the things in my fiction work could actually be based on my supposed “poor abused childhood fantasy life”, to a certain extent a few of the themes in my stories are based on my own personal experiences, but I understand enough to know what is true and what isn’t.  That is my fiction.  The stuff I talk about regarding my life is TRUE and I state this quite clearly, the message has not been mixed!

Because I am struggling to appease my abusers so they don’t come back into my life in an aggressive way, I have almost ignored a lot of my creative expression via words and non-fiction posts.  This has led to me becoming so severely depressed that it is affecting my health badly.  I have a lot of problem with mobility of the whole of my left side of the body and I have extreme insomnia and hypersomnia – what I mean is, I can’t sleep for like 30 hours and then when I do I can’t wake up for 15 hours and sleeping comes randomly at any time and once I feel just a tiny bit tired, it is almost like I have collapsed into a coma.  Nobody can wake me up, not even Henry having a tantrum on the bed next to me; it is like I have died!  Quite often, the last thing I think about when I go to sleep is “I hope I die in my sleep – I don’t want to wake up, I don’t like the burden of my memories”.

My appetite is dead, I only eat when extremely hungry now and it is usually just one meal per day and around the side of a sandwich, coincidentally I am losing a huge amount of weight pretty quickly and my hair is around 60% white now.

To say the suppressors are literally killing me by using my own mind against me is an understatement.  I find no joy in anything anymore.  Everything about the sweet, bubbly, fun, obedient, passive, quiet, little Tina everybody once knew is dead.

In trying to force me to be their idea of perfect instead they have made me their idea of a waste of space.

For my health and sanity sake I have to heal the only way I know how.  So I am taking a risk, if they get back into my life again somehow, so be it, I am ready for the repercussions because the alternative is death anyway.  I am going to die someday anyway, why is sooner no better than later?  Would I rather die in secret of how I died and be a mystery to all who knew me forever, or do I want to die in a way where other people can understand me and understand my situation and perhaps, just maybe, stop this from happening to other people?

I know which one I have picked.

The thing is – before they interfered and demanded me to delete and shut up, I was only sharing what I thought was the minor stuff, the stuff that isn’t too big to shout about.  The stuff that is easy for my readers to digest – but now they’ve done this, maybe it is time for the real big stuff, the stuff that makes my therapists cry?  That stuff I kept to myself, that stuff I never revealed and I don’t think people like my big brother, understand there is an even darker side to our mother, than even he realises!

I don’t like talking about that stuff, because I hate remembering the really, dark, dark stuff, but how I express it here, sometimes it comes out sub consciously through my abstract impressionistic art and the images I paint are also not easy to digest for a lot of people.

But I think it is time to just be me in every way shape and form and not hide from myself anymore.  I can’t.  Shutting me away in every way possible is suffocating my spirit and body to death, I need to free myself and that makes taking big scary risks!

Because I am pretty damned sure, since November, my body and spirit is preparing to die.  I am convinced of it and I need to stop this process – not for me, but for my boy.  I care only for him, not these coercive “I have a problem with your life and truth” assholes!  No one can have a bigger problem with my life and truth than ME!  Get over yourselves you control FREAKS!

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Filed under About Me

Prison of a dark pearl

Blackness descends all around me

Clothing me in the shadows of darkness

How dark can it get?

Darker than dark

I am hidden from the world

Hidden within the prison of a dark pearl

They keep me safe, but blind, concealed alone

Clasped within the hands of the damned

I am at their mercy

For at any time, the pearl can drop and break

As can my soul

When shall I at last wake?

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Filed under poetry

Big brother from the dark

I am a shadow on the wall and I will follow you

Everywhere you creep, I will be with you

Following your every step, I will haunt you

There is nothing you can do

I am always watching you

Like big brother from the dark

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Filed under poetry

A word to hexers, haters and jealous people in general

A word to hexers, haters and jealous people in general

I am starting to take up art again, this time with an idea to try and make a living from it in a few months’ time, by then I would have developed friends in art and a little more self confidence in my painting work. 

I am still sick, that is something that will never change, in fact recently I have been told it could get much worse, but I am trying hard to pull through and make some kind of a life for myself despite all of the bad mojo trying to pull me down every once in a while, you would think it would have something better to do than to concentrate on picking on me, but never mind, they love me so much they just can’t stop thinking about me, which in a dark and psychotic way is kind of nice of them to think so much of me, I don’t think anyone else does to be honest, which makes them my greatest lover I suppose?

Yes, recently I have started to believe I am cursed, but then what do you expect from someone who is both spiritual and a lover of horror movies?  I’ve had such a long lasting run of bad luck with my health and personal life that I had to eventually come to the conclusion I have pissed off one too many witches during my life, for simply existing.  Lol

Anyway on a more serious note, it is true; I do believe the above statement. 

Despite this, I have to admire them for wanting to be involved in my life so much.  Hate can be as deep as love and just as obsessive.  In a strange kind of way, hate and love are the same thing, as you spend so much time thinking about the things you hate, like you do with special person you actually love, you give it the same attention, sometimes you even neglect the ones you actually love in favour of spending your time thinking more of the ones you hate.  It’s a strange kind of world when you think about it.

So when all is said and done, I am quite flattered of the attention I am getting, no matter how abysmal it makes my life.  I sort of feel sorry for the person who hates me to such a degree, because although I do not believe in karma, I do believe that you always reap what you sow and I believe in the sins of the father, despite not being a religious person personally.  So in a manner, it is not me they are cursing, but their own children; which is painfully sad for me, to think about.

Despite these setbacks, I will try, no matter how much I cry in pain each day with my ailments, as I do cry – so do please, enjoy that statement dear haters as I am sure you will, I will try and get along in my life and make the best I can of the cards you are dealing for me.  With a glad and happy heart, I will drag myself through the Hell you are creating for me and I will revel in any successes I may have in the future, whilst you are still sitting back on your posteriors, wishing that you had a taste of my supposed glorious life still.  Well by all means, you are welcomed to having a full three course meal of my life, if you so wish for it, you are welcomed to it and I really do hope that you choke on it.

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Filed under Brain Drain

Lies, truth and love

Locked in cold stone walls
Shut away and forgotten
Forbidden to live a life
By those who are mean and rotten
Lied about by your torturer
Hissed at by their friends
A mystery to others
Yet no one helps you mend
People accuse you of being the trouble
People accuse you of being bad
Yet nobody knows that the woman they love
Is evil and nasty and mad
Some have seen the truth, a glimpse
But unsure, they look on
And eventually I run away again
And hope that I can belong
But away I went and then there was more
Trouble and lies and hate
But the people who witness the things going on
Think it is I who has caused this fate
They won’t be told that someone they like
Have two sides to their personality
Instead they decide to add to my torment
Thinking they are defending their mother, naturally
But they don’t remember I am not the only one
She has kept in the dark and cold
I am one of three and she hates two
But the oldest one, he never knew
He won’t accept the truth
My father is lovely and it pains me to say
I might never get to see him again
Because she rules him, and he won’t come
To visit me and his grandson
Because she lies to all around, that she gives him a choice to come around
But she doesn’t you see, the truth is this
She would rant and she would spit
If he came knocking at my door
So until she dies, I’ll see him no more

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Filed under poetry

Depths of blackness

In the depths of blackness I hear the cries of creatures drowning in their own sorrows of the thick dark night.

Souls wretched and souls bereaved, crying out to the night for love and release.

The fires of torture burn through their brains, in an agonizing heat wave how can they be saved?

Swimming through the whiny larvae of their new found home, sinking floating, choking on volcanic foam.

Tortured souls how can they be released?

How can they suffer anymore than this? For what is the purpose, isn’t this insane?

To see tortured victims burn up in the flames?

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1922 – Stephen King

Stephen King’s – 1922

A very gory short story about how money can bring about great evil in this world; the story is written with such unusual details for King in my opinion that it is an absolute gem to behold.

The story is about a man who is driven insane by the murder of his wife (he was the murderer) and how she haunted him into his own death.

The story can be found in the anthology called “Full Dark, No Stars”.

It is not the kind of story you want to read if you have a rat phobia. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

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