Monday 28 February 2011

Curious

It's real curious how some ideas form,
Like a summer shower or a rainbow storm
Of thoughts,
That dribble in through the ether;
If it don't make sense...well then I don't either!
And a joy it is when I'm near a pen,
So I can keep the thoughts and return again
To a state of mind that is fluid and free,
Without worrying what could the meaning be.
Let it come, like a flood,
Like a wonderous sea,
Let it come,
Here, I'm ready,
Let it come, let it be!!

Saturday 26 February 2011

Destiny

Time is the sadistic master.
Laughing he erodes all will power
Until Indecision reigns, the farcical hero.
Thoughts collect like raindrops
Drowning defenceless Hope.
The master slows his pace as seconds sweat past,
Writhing with infinite glee.
Now outlandish Fear stifles Reason,
drowning she lies face down in the water.
He regards his victim, and smiles.
Hours pass, prolonging his patient torture
Until only Self remains, all emotions dissolved.
Time relents, disappointed,
For even he must defer as Destiny sheds her cloak, waiting....

Friday 25 February 2011

Mummy

Embalmed in rancid fluid,
Decayed flesh mummifies
Inside restricting, rotten, linen.
Once beautiful visage,
Crumbling sadly into dust,
A prince of worlds,
Falling into sand.



Thursday 24 February 2011

Doubt

I trow I will forever be
Caught up in this conspiracy,
Between the phantom and the ghost
For it is I that plays the host
I fear fear,
And succour pain
That dances in and shouts 'insane!'
So weeping I admit him in,
And then the circle starts again.


Wednesday 23 February 2011

Play the Game

They try to crawl into your lives
And whine and wheeze and spit their lies
That fall like rancid acid rain,
Destroying peace with bile and shame.
These sycophantic nightmares breathe
Rank torpid air, that serves to feed
Their own desires, base and low,
Just how much lower can they go?
The finer points of life soon lost
Fair play and honour turned to dust,
For eating out their souls for gain
Mere shallow empty husks remain.
But trapped inside their rules they stay
And die a little more each day,
And soon forget they'd ever been
More than a hating, lie machine.
So pity them, they cannot see
Just how much more they could have been.
The players played, alone, undone
For this damn game will ne'er be won.

Tuesday 22 February 2011

Unicorn

It stood, a monument to chastity and honour
A memory of a hope entombed with stone.
Grey and old, defaced by birds and man and time it stood
A throwback to a different time,
Around which school children ate their lunches and
Drunks belched away their afternoons and
No one ever looked to see what it was that shaded them.
Days came and went; then months, then years;
And still no one looked, no one wept to witness the humbling of their unicorn.
Just a place to steal a kiss, or more; on a dark summers night.
Always and forever.
Forgiving, almost forgotten but never forgetting.
Dance my unicorn, dance yourself another universe on concrete hooves.

Monday 21 February 2011

Inheritance

I would not visit this dread place again, but duty drives the carriage in which I quake. Every jarring bend threatens to destroy the fragile calm I strive to portray to these grim, rebuking relatives who surround me; resenting my every breath.
I squirm in this padded discomfort, my clammy white gloves covering even paler skin.
Is it always this way with the passing of one's distant kin?
But I cannot think, the horses shoddy stride distracts me, pounding nails of sweat into my brow.
Soon, too soon, the driver slows and my stomach falls through the soles of my feet.
Gods, can we have arrives so soon?
The creaking door and the shifting of disapproval confirms my fear.
More skittish than the foaming steeds that drove me here I follow, forcing my face towards the monstrous pile before me.
Blackdove Hall.
How I hate this place.

Sixteen huge, blank, dead eyes stare sightlessly back at me from within blackened frames of rotting wood; shrinking me, mocking me.
Despite myself I still stumble up and over the damp, mottled teeth that lead me reluctantly through that gaping mouth, to be swallowed alive.
'Just let your will be straight and true' I pray.
'Leave them everything, they're your blood after all. I don't want your money, I just want to leave.'

But twisted corridors breed twisted minds, and none more twisted than the grimly mocking corpse that dominates this gathering.
This sorry mausoleum belongs to me.
Every sickening grain of dust, every coin, everything.

Choking, I try to flee, but it is too late.
The jealous knife gouges between my ribs, twisting fire into my heart.
Blows rain down upon my head, driving me to the ground, yet I watch my life's blood pass between my fingers with surprising calm. She moves so swiftly, my assassin; all I can see of her is the royal silk of her skirts as the stiletto pricks the last of my life from my breast, and I die.

But now I can see she who killed me; too well I know the green heart that coveted this place.
I see her daily, though her pitiless gaze passes right though me.
Oh, but I have patience.
And desire.
And power.
And I will have her.
When she sleeps.
When she dreams.
I will have her.
I am a black dove to steal her soul.
Sleep well, sister.

Sunday 20 February 2011

Swallow

The dust of a sigh blows motes in her mind
From a bygone age,
A final breath, drawn without pause
As the last sigh rang in her mind,
Carrying with it
The envy of creatures
Still alone in the dark.
Sightless they follow
But impotent they remain
Starving
They feed on the ghost of
Her last breath
As
It
Evaporates....

Saturday 19 February 2011

Clash of the Titans

So now the Kraken is awakened.
And it can smell a faker.
Better pray you're not a princess,
Or a zealot,
Or a maker,
Peddling hatred mixed with lies.
For the Gods they are most furious
And now is surely not the time
For mere mortals to be curious.

Friday 18 February 2011

Friends

When I was a teenager and gloating about the many, many Christmas cards I had received one year, my dad told me that one day I would count myself lucky if I could count my good friends on the fingers of one hand.

Now I am older, and he was right. And by those standards I am really lucky. I have to use 2 hands to count my good friends.

I am particularly lucky that on finger one of my first hand sits my best friend. (I mean this purely in a counting sense)

I love her to bits.

This ones for you.......

Michele

Michele, a spell you cast upon
The people that you meet
From those that know you very well
To people in the street.
'Cause all can see the beaurty in
The person that you are,
A rare and special woman
No, don’t argue, yes you are!
A beautiful enigma
Who’s reflection you can’t see
Not truthfully and without doubt
Not like, well, not like me.
Michele your spell is cast and set
The colours bright and true
A friend indeed, you’re what I need
So thanks my friend, to you.
For being there through thick and thin
No judgment, always true
Michele, my love no better friend
I’ll ever find than you.
So see yourself through my blue eyes
A pretty picture there,
And if you ever doubt yourself
I'll be round with a couple of bottles of red wine and put you straight!!

Thursday 17 February 2011

Tomato

I sometimes consider the possibility that I'm possessed. Honestly.
Because something drove me to create this.
AND TO FIND IT FUNNY!!

Driving Day

I drove in the car
For what felt like a week.
During this time I travelled
322 miles.
Over the ground.
In my mind I travelled
To another universe,
And grew a planet.

Nice.

Wednesday 16 February 2011

Happiness

It's an interesting concept happiness.
Or to be more accurate, the feeling of happiness.
Being happy.
It's a state of mind, and body.
What the brain brains, the body bodies.
We all know how it feels (I am rather making the assumption that we've all been happy in our lives, even if it was only that one time, many years ago, just before...well, never mind that!)
It's something that is almost impossible to describe.
It's more that a sense of well being, of everything being right with the world.
It feels like liberation to me.
Liberation from every other thought, every other feeling, every other concern.
In that moment all we are is, well....Happiness.
If I had to give it a colour, and why wouldn't I?
That's a perfectly normal thing to do.
If I had to give it a colour it would be bright sunshine yellow. With gold flecks. Lovely.

I've heard it said that you can see a persons soul in their face when they smile and hear their inner thoughts when they laugh.
I think that's fine.
Most people are feeling good thoughts when they smile so we're going to see the good, I say most people, there's always the odd one that's planning mass murder, or maybe perpetrating line dancing.

Although, now I come to think about it I'm not sure about the laughter thing.
I had a friend who's laugh sounded like a cross between a donkey and a rusty gate.
If that noise represented her inner thoughts I don't think I want to know what she was thinking about!!

I like feeling happy.
Sometimes I forget this though.
Sometimes for days at a time.
But there always comes a point when I remember.
I don't want to feel like this any more. I want to feel happy.
And when I want a 'quick happy' this is the picture I look at.
My mum and me on my wedding day, about 10 minutes before I became a Mrs.
This is how I feel when I really feel happy.

I'd recommend it to everyone.
Please, take time out for a 'quick happy' in your day and say 'YES' to those endorphines!!



Tuesday 15 February 2011

Grumpy

I'm not overly impressed with technology today.
I've written this entry a couple of times, first my computer froze and lost it, then the website had an error, oops sorry about that.
I'll say!!
I don't have the patience to go through all that again so I'm going to sulk for a while.
Here I go, this is me sulking.....

Monday 14 February 2011

Valentine's Day


Today was, and indeed, still is: Valentine's Day.
I remembered around 2pm this afternoon when my husband brought me a cup of tea that I hadn't asked for.
Now that's what love is all about.
Moments of kindness from someone that loves me every day of the year, not just for 24 hours of it.
Funny how it used to be a day of dread for me.
Pretending I didn't know how many lovely cards I wouldn't get.
But really knowing exactly how many. None.
Although that wasn't always the case.
Sometimes I would get one that was obviously a joke. Not funny to me strangely enough, but it must have been to someone. sometime I would get one from one of my friends because they felt sorry for me.

Thank heavens for age and experience (although I'd rather have less of the age and more of the experience!!)

Happy Valentines Day!!

Sunday 13 February 2011

Don't waste it, want it

Desire.
Oh, it's a fascinating state.
It can happen to any of us, at any time,
Focus in on any subject,
Cause staggering amounts of dread despair or deep, deep joy.
But how can mere chemical interaction breed super massive want/attraction?
Making nonesense out of sense;
Obsessive fascination beyond explanation.
What's it for?
Evolution, smeevolution.
Somewhere between the snake and the apple...desire happened.
So its a perk of being a human being.
Wanting, aspiring, desiring.
It's not weakness, it's experience.
It gives us more that it takes from us.
So why not;
Give in to it I mean.
Don't fight it, embrace it!
(unless it involves corpses or some such.
I'm pretty sure that's not desire,
that's a whole other word!)
Life's a blast, but it doesn't last.
Take it, squeeze it, feel it.
Don't waste it, want it!!

Saturday 12 February 2011

It's the Rugby!

It's Saturday afternoon.
England are playing Italy in the Rugby Union 6 Nations.
Oh, how I love it. Especially when we're winning.
Which we are; and there's still 30 minutes of the game left.
Oh me oh my.
It's war.
I don't understand all the rules but I know enough.
It's thoughtful thuggary.
Hearts and heads and thighs. Did I mention thighs. Yes, yes I did.
Good.
Anyway, back the rugby, which is where I'm going right now!!

If you want to read all about the full time result I'd recommend it.

Friday 11 February 2011

Friday Morning


She awoke this morning,
feather headed and sandy eyed,
to struggle from sleeps gentle arms and contemplate the day ahead.
Time rings his strident bell,
and forced into the shower she washes a body
that does not quite belong to her.
The pleasant vacuum of early morning emptiness fills her head,
trying to decide upon the garments of the day.
What a task!
Damp feet padding across the carpet,
choosing and discarded skirts and shirts along the way,
her ever waking eyes suddenly alight upon a long forgotten dress.
Perfect.
Ten minutes pillaging through drawers finally produces
an unladdered pair of black stockings.
Matching underwear costs her five minutes,
a pair of patent leather shoes ten minutes more.
Garments donned,
hair washed and brushed,
lips glossed,
 at last she smiles.
A trail of debris follows her to the door,
her swirling coat the last to leave the house.
Tall, straight and immaculately dressed she walks...
Ready for another day at the office.

Thursday 10 February 2011

Breathe



I found this picture on a free clip art site whilst scouring the web for images that would compliment a series of poems and prose that I was getting together. Breathe. As it turned out, it didn't fit with anything I had already written. But I like this picture. I like the way it makes me feel. It's exciting. Breathe. My eyes are drawn endlessly from her outstretched finger tips to her carefully staged feet. They slide across her legs, flicking almost guiltily to her nipples as they almost graze the surface of the water. And then there's the water. It confuses my eye. Is she underwater or isn't she?  The more I look, the more I twist my head to work it out, the more inside out it becomes. It looks like the outside is on the inside. I'm looking across the surface in the middle of the frame, yet around the edges of my vision darkness bleeds into underwater, and back to her underwater body. Breathe. The fabric of her dress clings to her skin but her hair is perfect, not even the slightest tendril adrift. Does she even have a face? I believe she does but I can't picture it. It makes me feels ever so slightly anxious when I try. Maybe if she can just relax she will sink into the perfectly clear water and her face will exist. Maybe. Her body is so tense. Is she afraid? Or is she waiting for something? Is she taking her last breath? Breathe. Are her hands holding onto something I can't see? What else is down there with her? So many questions to answer.



And she would answer them,
If she could only breathe.
If she could only move.
If she could only be. 
If she could only find her way back
To the place where what seemed to be, was.
Always was.
But not here, not for her.
Drowning in a never ending moment.
An ocean away from life.
A heartbeat away from death.
All she can do is breathe.
Breathe.

Wednesday 9 February 2011

Wednesday - To blog or not to blog?

So. I've been sitting here for a while. Thinking. Focusing. What on earth am I thinking about? Spaces full of nothing float in my mind where ideas should be. Now is not the time for my mind to empty itself. Whose side is it on?
I can feel now, the impatient void plucking vulnerable thoughts from my mind. The enormous void that is where the words go. 
Stage struck am I, faced with this challenge. I'm an insecure egomania. Am I writing for myself? Why would I do that?
Well, because I'm afraid nobody else would be interested in what I have to say. 
So why not write a diary?
Because secretly, I think people might be interested.
Ah, so, if I'm not writing for me, who am I writing for?
Oh, anonymous readers of course. Intelligent, discerning, interesting people that are interested. Imaginery validators to salve my vibrating unconscious, which craves recognition for being good, for being good at something.
For being of worth, worthy of praise maybe?
 Not in a goody two shoes, 'aren't I good' kind of way.
But in a 'good for something' kind of way.
What am I good at? I'm good at being me I suppose.
But I want to be good at being a better me. A me that's better. Better than what?
Better than good. Maybe brilliant is better than good. That's what I'll be. Brilliant!!
To be a brilliant me, oh what a happy day that will be.
And that's just it, isn't it.
Do I really mean better? Well,yes I do, if better means happier. 
And that's really what I'm about.
I'm full of words, pictures, stories, dreams, and spilling them out, writing them down, makes me happy.
And that's why I'm writing. Because writing makes me happy.