I’m not going to be part of your theatre
Your little dramas here and there
Your tragedy story, suicide case, or pitiful fare
I’m not made for your amusement
When you are bored with life
Toy with me like a fool and I’ll cut you like a knife
I’m not here to make you feel good
Or snuggle with your ego and pride
I am here for the ones who love me
And care if I lived or died
Cover me in poison
Drown me with your fears
Suffocate me with your dominance
Stop me with your tears
Then you wonder why I left after all of these years
Because you sought to keep me my dear
You thought if you drowned me in toxins
I wouldn’t have the strength
To up and go and leave you
But we don’t share the same wavelength
I am not broken by abuse
Abuse it makes me strong
I am not like you who are weakened by the chains that are your bonds
I instead get stronger
Each and every day
I keep faith right beside me
I grow stronger because I pray
Though you never heard a word I’ve said
I keep it close to heart
And from your bonds I am released
And now I have to depart
You can’t keep me with your darkness
You can’t control me in every way
Because I have silent faith
Because I silently prayed
Now I will go away
And wish you well in life
But I can’t stay here with you
Because you bring me strife
God has released me from the bonds you bound me with
He is the reason that I left
Because he is not happy at the life you stole
Mine, it is theft
Thou shalt not steal be the law
In the commandments ten
Someday he will call you to account
I don’t know how, why or when
But I leave you now
To think on this
And think on it you must
Because you have allowed your ego to be overcome with lust
Goodbye my dear I am going
Goodbye my dear, please learn
For I do love you dearly
And know you do not deserve to burn
Because everyone makes mistakes
It is true and it is forgiven
But never let power rule your heart
It is evilly driven
Goodbye my love, I wish you well
There is no place for you in Hell
Because Hell is not for mortals
Did you know?
It’s for the adversary to go
Filed under poetry
I am creating a writer’s journal that is private and sending it to my cloud. It is all about my thought processes throughout all my creative ventures and things that occur because of it.
I do want to be a writer and get published and I know that doesn’t seem like a reality right now in my life, due to the fact that since September I have probably written towards my novels no more than perhaps six times due to extreme depression.
But the dream is still there, to be a writer that is published.
I am trying to focus my thoughts and ignore the crap going on in my life so I can get on with it, because not writing my stories is like someone putting a chisel to my temples… its torture basically.
I thought, all the best creatives in the world keep a diary don’t they? Well, why don’t I? But this one with the intention of keeping it for future historians is that conceited of me? Is that really a bad thing?
I like to think that it’s appreciated rather than judged as a form of egotism.
There are things in the diary that won’t be published until I am dead, because it will reveal problems I have undergone to maintain my individuality and it will talk about people who have literally stolen ideas from me because I talked too much in my earlier years as a writer because of the advice of “how to write” books.
It won’t just focus on my writing though, it will focus on my whole being as a creative; stories, poems, art, music, everything that inspired creation in me and had a part in the works I’ve done. I will talk about all my projects, even those that might never get published. Those that might never get published will always be stored away somewhere, so that in the future, perhaps someone will publish them because they want them, because they want more of me.
Again, not to be conceited, but I have to think about how much people want these things and they will and they do this thing with other posthumous authors and creatives, so why should I be any different? It’s just forward thinking that’s all. We often get pent up with all the process of just being ourselves we forget the larger picture, we presume we are not good enough to get to that stage where we become historical, but who are we to judge in the end?
Nobody thinks highly of themselves enough to assist historians do they? Some do, but not many and it is a frustrating thing for historians. I have a love for history and I have a love for certain authors of which I wanted to know more on a deeper level but they felt that they were being conceited if they spoke about themselves a lot – humble creatures really. I am too, but I understand people and the things they yearn as I am a person too.
So that is what I am doing. I am, from today, creating a creative diary about my writing, its processes, where I got inspiration from, my rivals, my thieves, everything about my creations is going to be documented. If nothing else it will make me write more than I do, because it could be used as a warm up to writing instead of playing online games or ranting in my 750words.com
I will enjoy it.
Thanks for reading…
Filed under About my work
The world has lost seven new poems in the past two days.
When I write a poem I am in a certain emotional state or a semi-trance and I write them; if I am disturbed sometimes it is OK if it is for a few seconds, but seven poems in the past two days has been interrupted for five minutes or more with much needed emotional feedback which meant the poem was half finished and the flow was gone, so they got deleted.
I never get the flow back ever again when a poem has been interrupted in its creation, there were times in the past I put the unfinished poems into a folder on my computer and I have tried to get back into that space but it never happens – so poems that are disturbed like that are lost forever, so now I delete them.
Every poem I write always ends up on my blog; this is another reason why my blog has been so quiet. There is a lot of emotional turmoil going on within the house and people want my response to what’s going on because I am the mother of the house; however, when you are mother of a house where your opinion doesn’t matter, what can I do other than sit there, give whatever emotional support I can, sit and shrug and say – “you know I can’t do anything about love”.
Its hard being a mother to a child and making suggestions for that child when the father has opposing ideas and is very strong-minded and shoots my opinions down like we’re in a war against each other!
It’s even harder when you know your child has come to you to speak to you in private because he doesn’t want his dad to get on his case again for his honest opinion about the situation. So when he asks you for help, you have no choice but to talk to the father and then realise that the father seeks the child about it and starts the mini wars again. So the child asks for help, you tell them, I need to speak with dad and he asks you not to, or sometimes he says ok, but you know it’s always the same. It’s more difficult than you can know!
It is very difficult knowing too, that when you tell your child you are separating and in a few months’ time will be moving out – that this child choses to stay with the person he rarely goes to for any emotional comfort simply because he wants to stay in this house (which he will inherit as it’s in a trust for him) and to stay in his school with his friends because he doesn’t like the concept of change.
It’s hard because you know in your heart that his emotional declination is almost assured if he stays.
But as stupid and irresponsible as it sounds, my child is thirteen in May and in my opinion I should honour his life decisions whether or not it hurts me – that’s the kind of liberal parenting I do. It’s all about my child, not me, that’s the way I am.
His father is much more conservative about raising children, education comes before anything – that includes emotions. I often joke that Paul is like a cross between Data and Spock, but in actuality it isn’t funny!
There are times when Henry gets emotional about not being able to do a question in his homework and I swear Paul is struggling to hold back from saying “Being emotional about this question is illogical, you need to do the homework now and do the emotional reflection later.”
It’s Henry’s choice to stay here and I am not going to wrench him away from what he wants, simply because my ego has told me I know better than him.
Maybe I am a bad parent, but for me, I want him to be happy and thrive in a way that doesn’t cause any unnecessary stress for him, also he has a girlfriend, he is dating already and so who can split up young love like that without having some huge pangs of guilt?
Thanks for reading…
Filed under About my work, Home and Family
There are creatures in this world that never let sleeping dogs lie
They won’t let this chameleon change their colours
Why?
Because they won’t change
So they see – that I will always and forever be me
They don’t care if I have learned a lesson
Because to them I need impression
I need to be like them you see
Because they really need me to be
They don’t care if I am better
They don’t care if I am in fetters
They don’t care if my way is pure
They send my way more to endure
Life is hard as it is
Caring for home and raising kids
But to them – you see grudges are deep
They’ve allowed their evil ego to seep
It is rotting away into their soul’s core, what for?
So they can boost their ego more?
So that they can avoid Hell’s door?
But it just puts you closer even more
You don’t see it because you’re blind
Blind to the words you’ve spoke unkind
Blind to the evil you have caused
Please reflect, sit and pause
It’s been more than a decade you declared this war and fed the demons you abhor
You are mangled and twisted deep
Because of the vows you chose to keep
The vows of evil, not of love
The opposite of what you’ve talked of
You are not the cure you are the cause
You are the one who screams the clause
You should know what it is you do
But your mind is muddled, you have no clue
It is scary to think that you don’t know
That when you die, it’s a dark place you’ll go
I was your lesson
I was your test
You failed with me and the rest
You can’t keep doing what you do
Because it will get the better of you
You think you’re safe, wrapped in gods arms
But he saw what you do, all the pain and harm
Though you’ve misinterpreted him as well
You’ve created it yourself, your Hell
Hell doesn’t exist you know, it’s true…
But you won’t believe it, none of you…
Now I am not an atheist, but you won’t agree
This is why your war will never set you free
You believe things I haven’t done
This is why you all are dumb
You’ve made assumptions about my life, because of words I’ve said
Then bought me strife
You thought yourself clever to read between the lines
But in the end the words you read, were not mine
You translated wrong all those things
And like a swarm of hornets you sting and sting
Don’t think you are cleverer than you are
Don’t try to stand up and be a star
For you are wrong and you have cursed me
This is why you won’t be free
You are an evil thing you know
But I am willing to let it go
But I know you wont
You never will
You keep on in this world, doing ill
Until… ?
Filed under poetry
royalty free image from pixabay
DISCLAIMER –
The below poem is not meant to be offensive – I am personally a sensory impaired member of society, I am very short sighted with astigmatism and I am totally deaf in my right ear with only 35% hearing in my left ear and I could potentially lose that, considering I have auto-immune inner ear disease. I have only learned to develop a sense of humour with the cards I’ve been dealt with in life, please understand.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of deaf
I shall hear no evil, but see a lot I might
Though I hear not the barks that scold me, I see the awful sight
Evidence of those who hate me are seen everywhere
And they sit back and they think that I really, really care
But yea, the mind is full of ego
And they shall think of themselves
I shall sit in wonderment, why they don’t put the hate on their shelves?
I wonder why every day, why they think of me?
When I have left them long ago, yet they still want to torture me?
Then I realise that those poor dears, they do not have a life
So that is why they taunt me, with curses and poisoned words of strife
They of course have an ego too, that you can be sure
That they sit around every day gossiping of the times of yore
Becoming old and bitter, making their friends think that they are a bore
By choosing to focus on the dead past, the past that makes them sore
And I sit back still amazed, that they have chosen to concentrate
On things about me, each and every day, because poisoned words always finds a way
To go back to the victim
You see that’s the side effects of your conviction
Gossip not and leave the friction
Filed under poetry
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