Tag Archives: death

The butterflies sting

I told you not to touch the butterfly

Lest she falls apart

I told you not to touch her

But you couldn’t help your heart

Now she’s broken into bits

She’s fading fast like snow

Because of broken dreams

You have caused her woe

You couldn’t help but touch her wings

You couldn’t leave her be

Now she’s melted in your hand

But you still don’t see

You are to blame for her little life

Fading and now it’s gone

You couldn’t help but touch her

Though you knew it’s wrong

You were enchanted by her spirit

You were enamoured by her wings

You really thought your touch was light

You didn’t think you’d sting

But I knew the butterfly

And her heart was made of snow

To touch her has killed her

Now you cry with woe

Maybe you are now a butterfly

And now you fly on delicate wings

Maybe someone will hear you cry

Don’t touch me, it will sting!

Poor little butterflies

Unloved and forever alone

Because their heart can’t take it

Their broken hearts unsewn

And people think they fake it

Though they surely do not

But to touch a butterfly wings

Will cause those wings to rot

Do not touch a butterfly

Let them flitter on and pass you by

If they land upon you – great!

But please do not make that mistake!

Do not touch those delicate wings

Do not be the butterflies’ sting

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Someone New

A thousand years I have been a drain

A drain on human life

Living within the shadows

Drinking and spreading strife

I leave a trail of mourners

My legacy is real

Every night is someone new

Someone new I kill

A thousand years and still I go

Spreading death and causing woe

A thousand more I may yet exist

Because I was cursed when I was kissed

Granted the gift of eternal life

Cursed to spread death and strife

I exist to cause you pain

So each night I rise again

Someone new is approaching now

Someone new will die, I vow

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I trust wildlife

One of my crows died this morning, Kerr.

I heard a hullabaloo outside and looked out the window to see their offspring mourning on the grass verge and the rest of the murder in the sky trying to dive bomb away the local buzzard which was trying to swoop down to eat the remains.

I liked Kerr, he was quite old.

It’s odd it should happen the day after I was talking to Paul about how I haven’t seen Scruffy for weeks, another crow I like.  A female, her mate is called the Sentinel by me, as he seems to watch the house and me more than the others.

Barbar was really distressed.

I’ve lost two of my crows in a short space of time as well as a magpie, which I believed was killed by his own family.

He was a runt by comparison, I called him Rocky.  He would sit on the window ledge and was so tame I could nearly stroke him when the window was opened.  He had an obsession with a pebble that he carried everywhere with him, he was unusually thin and although he was about a year old – he was still being fed by his family, sometimes forcibly.  I think they killed him as he was a burden, he never grew up and he was quite strange for a magpie.

I miss him too.

I am silly like this, I get attached to the local wildlife and name them and I will try to tame them when they come into my garden and care for them. 

A few years ago Paul wanted to take me to live with him in Canada, but our plans fell through due to my ill-health.  He always said, he could imagine me on the porch surrounded by bears and raccoons and hand feeding them berries, treating them all like pets!

I actually think that would have happened too, if we had gone!

I am rather shamanic and very brave around all animals.

I have nearly touched a real live bear once too – they were passive, I got within two inches of their snout before their keeper stopped me in my tracks.  You see I had found a way through the bars of a zoo cage to touch them.  It was a friendly bear and it sniffed my hand and tilted its head like it was going to let me stroke it.  That zoo made renovations very quickly after this happened.

I had a deep sense of trust it wasn’t going to hurt me, because I could read its energy. 

But that’s just me, a feral creature in her own right with a deep understanding for nature; humans are far more dangerous than any bear!

All I think about is love, I send love to the animal, peace, I don’t have a fleeting feeling of fear at all – I feel happy, content, loving, peaceful and trusting and say over in my head like I am talking to the animal itself – I just want to share my love, I won’t hurt you, let me touch you. 

Thanks for reading!

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Filed under spirituality

Romance with death

So many things are taking up space in my mind over the past few days; I am finding it hard to concentrate on anything but emotional presence, which is strange because I usually try to avoid acknowledging my emotions as much as possible, or at least as minimal as possible.

I don’t really know much about meditation other than what I have learned in books and on YouTube.

I have never had a guided meditation – so I don’t really know if the meditation I did a few days ago called “Who am I”? Has anything to do with it, but it’s a strange coincidence if it hasn’t.

When I am not drifting off into trance-like stupors losing twenty minutes a time, I try to sit and focus on writing something for my blog or towards my stories or reading a book, only for me to be absorbed yet again in my emotions.

There is a voice at the back of my head telling me that I need to go through this process as it is healing me in preparation for something big coming into my life.

If I want to cry, do it – but I still try to hold back.

I never did get into the crying yoga I said I was interested in – I kind of know deep down it is something I need… but I still hold back.

I often try not to be emotionally present so it is all new to me.  I try to shut away my emotions into a coffin, put it into a wardrobe and throw the wardrobe into a lake tied up with ropes and rocks so I don’t remember them… until a drought comes at least.

Not that I fly tip or anything, I am being metaphorical – some people can take things too seriously!

I think there are some readers out there that takes me too seriously too – sometimes when my depression kicks in and I make all these creative works of poetry, I sometimes sit back and laugh at how tragic I was for those moments and I feel stupid and slightly embarrassed by yet another emotional outburst. 

I think it is good for you to know that sometimes when I have got it all out creatively, I do laugh at myself – because of how pathetic I come across.  Some days though, I am quite serious and often think about death very seriously after writing such things… but a good third to near half of the time I find humour in my tragedy, like some kind of sad clown story.

I do see myself as a pitiful sad clown a lot of the time.  The kind of clown that will sit in the grey in dirty dusty clown clothes, with a black cone hat and grey pom poms on it, sitting miserably alone in their own grey tragedy – then suddenly opens the door of their house to jump off the cliff that’s waiting just beyond the threshold only he is saved by a rainbow bridge and whilst he is standing on that rainbow bridge he magically transforms into a colourful rainbow clown and laughs at his own sorrow and skips off down the curve of the rainbow to play with the faeries!

Well that’s how I visualise myself anyway.

Dark sense of humour at times!

But you have to admit though, the depths I go, the sarcasm at times, the irony etc. – I see myself as ironic, my humour is definitely ironic and I know because I have been told multiple times that my humour is lame – but you’ve got to admit, sometimes it’s funny?

Was never meant to be, but boy I can get too deep at times cant I? Its almost like a romance with death and despair!

Well, if I didn’t laugh I’d cry and which one is better eh?

I’m trying so hard not to be a Sylvia Plath, not going down her route.

However, my depression is very real.  Have no doubt about that.

Thank you for reading… 

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Filed under About Me

Precious time

For the past few weeks my brain has been more than just a tad topsy-turvy. 

I have been suffering from insomnia for years but since around November my insomnia has got far worse, sleeping an average of just four hours a day and it really is day time sleeping too – often getting to sleep around 8am to wake up around noon.

It feels so alien and wrong to me, I have never been one who likes to sleep and I have never been one who accepts people who sleep-in; I am one of those people who generally have little respect for people who sleep in bed past 10am (even on a Sunday)and here I am, doing just that!  In fact, before I got sick, I was disgusted by people who couldn’t get out of bed by 8:30am!

But there you go, things change and not always for the better!

For me it is inconvenient to be asleep during the day because Henry is at school and whilst I am fighting with my insomnia and sleeping whilst he is at school it means I am practically getting nothing done at all for weeks now!

No reading, hardly much writing, no art yet, listening to music, not much meditation or conversation, not much of anything. 

When I am awake I am tired to the extent of feeling faint most of the time that all I am able to do is sit and stare and try to maintain consciousness.

So if the quality of the writing in my blog has been really bad lately, you now know why!

Last night was an exception for me considering these past few weeks, I managed to get to sleep by 2:30am and wake up around 10am, which is amazing considering what’s happened sleep wise for the past two months!

I’ve done more in these three hours today, than I have for the whole of last week!

If anybody out there knows me, they know that one thing I can’t stand more than sleepy heads, is people who waste their time by choosing to do nothing!

I have a huge intolerance for time wasting, unless it’s purely for relaxation, recuperation or fun!

I am easily frustrated by myself if I find I am not being productive in at least something – it doesn’t have to consistently be the same one thing, as long as I am being productive in something!  Such as cleaning, reading, honing a skill, writing, socialising, exercising, bonding with a pet, gardening or keeping my brain sharp with a strategy or puzzle game.  Anything which doesn’t contribute to some kind of betterment in the future, or productivity is a waste of time!  Unless as I have said, it is for fun or recuperation – this is where TV and music comes into play for me.

Because for me, the TV and music can be very productive, even though I might just be sitting and watching or sitting and listening, because not only am I relaxing and having fun, it adds to the stimulus for ideas to be creatively productive in the future or a form of research – this is something non creative people can never understand!

Though even watching TV these days is a task not worth fighting for as I can never watch anything in full without being disturbed or someone randomly coming over and turning the channel without asking if I am watching it and to fight to keep it on is not worth it and too much energy!  I live with selfish people who don’t care and are stronger minded than I am, so they walk all over me! 

The idea of sitting down and doing nothing in a brainless manner, even for relaxation has never really made sense to me; Paul does it all the time, he sits down sometimes for hours and I ask him what he is thinking about and it is always the same answer “nothing”, I don’t get it!

Even when I meditate I never go into that state of “no mind” so I suppose then by meditation standards I am doing it all wrong?  But I just can’t seem to grip the state of “no mind” relaxation.  For me, when I relax I suppose it’s a sort of astral travel?  I am wondering round in the throes of my mind in forests, having conversations with people, thinking deeply about anything and often find myself doing the things in my head that I would like to do physically if only!

When I was bedbound sick, you have no idea how crazy it made me just sitting in bed all day every day for so many years just existing as it appeared to me to just suffer!

I exist purely for germs, was my everyday thought – to give life to infectious little bugs as a host and nothing more.  As dramatic as it seems, that’s how I felt!

Sickness, procrastination and doing nothing, is highly inconvenient for me – as is sleep, going to the toilet and travelling in a car, because of the little activities I can do during those times!  Time wasting, can’t stand it!

Yet I’ve done it so much over the past eight years whilst recuperating from ill-health and you have no idea how much guilt I put on myself for it either!

The only time that time wasting is ok for me, is in pleasurable pursuits, then I can waste lots of time doing those things!  I am a hedonist after all! 

But yes, time wasting is my biggest frustration in life and the idea that my health and now insomnia is getting in the way of so much I want to do, life is short as well – is there any wonder why I am often finding myself suicidal?

I wasn’t suicidal before I got sick, in fact I used to be scared of death – but since being ill and lonely, I often crave it now, in fact some days, on bad days, I want to run towards it!

It’s a huge contrast to how I used to be when I lived with my mother, I wanted to be immortal, wanted to become rich enough to invest in discovering the immortal elixir of life and silly ideas like that!

Rich enough to put in research to life extending sciences!

It’s funny now how I don’t think this way anymore, how I just want to fade away because my body insists on being a time wasting shit head, a bum – I don’t like being a bum – don’t respect bums and hate being one, but I am one and you have no idea how much I loathe it and I am fighting against the odds to stop being one!

But the thing is, there is only so much you can do with four hours sleep and a compromised immune system and an NHS system that constantly fails to support you and poverty to boot!

There comes a time when you think about just giving up…

It’s exhausting trying to fight for the little freedoms of everyday life which almost everyone else seems to take for granted!

Those little things other people take for granted, are just mere dreams to me right now.

Thanks for reading!

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Filed under About Me

I can’t wait!

I step in time

With the dancing mime

Lost in a mirror

Lost in rhyme

Trapped within myself

Hung upon a shelf

Teased by the light

It’s their delight

Broken like a china doll

I cry and cry alone

Nobody to love me

Nobody is home

All I ever wanted

My dream is quite pure

Is to have a love

That will endure

That’s all I’ve ever wanted

That’s all I want for me

But pushed aside forgotten

Is all that came to me

I would gladly throw away

All my songs and rhymes

All my stories and my freedom

For those better times

But locked in sadness I’m alone

And trapped in time I cry

Is it any wonder

I can’t wait till I die?

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Releasing me from the blue?

I lick the knife that wounds me

My pain it tastes so sweet

My tears are salty I like the flavour

But it isn’t really a treat

Its bittersweet you love me

It’s bittersweet to know

Because I can’t fulfil a dream

I can’t glow

Because one thing is lacking

My heart is dead as stone

My world is crumbling round me

I am turning to bone

I can’t stand the fighting

I can’t stand this life

I can’t stand only living

On the edge of a knife

I can’t stand the loneliness

I can’t bear the stain

I can’t bear what you do to me

Should I start again?

The blade is at my wrist now

The words I say are true

How I wish for something more

Something more colourful than the blue

I am washed in my own blood

Clothed in the cloak of death

Soon my life will be ended

So I will breathe the last breath

For you have chosen wisely

I’m not the one for you

Your words are not taken lightly

But at least I am released from the blue

I will not see the sun shine

Not again my dear

Please do not cry for me

Don’t shed a tear

Be confident you chose this

Be happy and stay true

I forgive you darling

For releasing me from the blue

In April you won’t see me

Not ever again

Because I won’t be here

There will be no more songs to pen

For I will live within the grey

Of the lost in limbo corps

But at least my heart won’t heart anymore…

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Sorry if I ruin your day

I had a bout of depression yesterday that was pretty bad because I felt extra lonely.

So I created a lot of really down in the dumps poetry scheduled for today, but as the day moved on I felt happier in myself and so all of those poems are really passé now.

Please don’t worry, I was feeling dramatic – but I keep myself to myself when I am like that and start creating morose poetry and songs, like a sad vampire at a piano… think of The Vampire Lestat at the piano talking to Louis in the 1995 movie Interview with a vampire… it was that kind of creative vibe for me yesterday afternoon!

Hey it got work done didn’t it?

I don’t like to drown people in my sorrows offline and in my home; I like to keep my home and family at a happy place… I suppose then that Pollyanna hasn’t died yet in me, like I said she had a couple of months back!

There is hope for the little dear yet!

Thanks for reading… and I am sorry if I ruin your day with what’s to come!

I know it’s hard… but enjoy it?  *cringe*

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Filed under About my work

Life isn’t always bad

What is the point in following her that has a heart so grey?

To love her works and writings, for her to throw her life away?

What is the point in caring, when she is doomed to die?

When she still insists in sitting down to cry…

The point is that you love it

The point is my words should flow

Like the water that’s in my spirit

I should let my words go…

Who knows it could heal me?

Who knows I could change my mind…

Who knows what is what

And what my life should find…

The point is I am healing

The point is I am not

The point is I am trying

I am trying not to stop

One day I am happy

One day I am sad

One day I want to kill myself ever so bad

But some days I plodder on

And write these things for you

Whilst soak in tears and sadness, sitting in the blue

Wondering when my life will change

Wondering when I’ll find love

Wondering when things are different

Or when is the next shove?

I am curious when I’ll do it

When I will cut the cords

That ties me to this life full of discord

I wonder when I will cut too deep

Too deep that I will forever sleep

I wonder when my life will change

So I can look back and think it strange

That I was ever in that place

That I was ever sad

Because I try to lie to myself, that life isn’t always bad

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Trapped foe

A silvery moonlit path guides my way through the howls of the night to a place that non dares to go

Hunting a shadowy foe, within the mounds of obituaries covered in snow

It sneaks and ducks down and low, trying to hide from me is my foe

But I see him well and I track him down and soon the world shall be safe and sound

From the bite of the night that is my foe

I shall bring an end to woe

He is trapped; there is no place to go

But to deaths door as I bring down my blow

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Filed under poetry, Short Stories