Archive for December, 2011
I HAVE A HEART MADE OF GLASS
AND A MIND MADE OF COFETTI
MY BODY IS TINFOIL
MY ARMS ARE SPAGHETTI
MY BOOBS ARE FRIED EGGS
MY HEART’S AN INFLATED BALLOON
I HAVE LICORICE FOR LEGS
MY NECK’S A HARPOON
MY FEET ARE PADDLE POPS
MY HANDS ARE OVEN MITTS
MY EARS ARE CHOCOLATE DROPS
AND MY EYES ARE PEACH PITS
MY MOUTH IS A WILTED ROSE
MY TUMMY AN OVER-INFLATED TYRE
MY THIGHS ARE TRUNKS THAT GROW AND GROW
AND MY WRINKLES I WISHED THEY’D RETIRE
YOU SEE I’M A MIXED UP MASH OF ODDS & SODS
YOU MUST HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOUR, GOD.
I don’t have much to write about, I don’t think. I’ve got stuck just writing poetry, when I really wanted this blog to be stream of consciouseness writing,with a little poetry thrown in. I planned on it being more like my thoughts and feelings + all of my various mishaps etc.
I think I’m boring but others say I’m interesting, so I’ll let you be the judge of that. I have to go to my psychologist today & I’m all in a tizzy because I’ve lost my homework book, with my assignement I’m meant to have done – which I didn’t. If I don’t like the homework he gives me I just write a pem, because I think at least I’m doing something. His pooey home work is all mindfulness crap. I’m not into hokum-pokum. I want practical answers for practical problems, not to get inside the core of a feeling/shmeeling. He’s a good guy & all, but he’s a bit away with the airy-fairies.
I’ve been enrolled in dialectical behavioural therapy. I don’t know when it starts but I’m scare already. It sounds very intensive. 3 hours a week for a year + homework. I’m not very good with long-term commtiments.
I haven’t showered yet & I have melted chocolate & god knows what down my top – sleep eating. Thanks to my meds I sleep walk & sleep eat & sleep smoke. Dangerous & messy. I wake up with cigarettes stuck all over me & chocolate shmeared all over my face. I’m gonna have to put all bad things far far out of reach & sight.
Anyway enough for now, I need to get ready for my appointment. Wish me luck. xo
Does anyone else feel like a blank android
With all of their once loved passions destroyed
My feelings were once at the top; they spewed
Now my self-regulation is totally screwed
My life now filled with analysis and contemplation
I feel no love, no joy, no elation
I have a financial need to be employed
But with myself jobless I’m paranoid
With no self-control, no solid foundation
My brain has gone into involuntary liquidation
If someone would give me a go I’d feel redemption
Instead of the unexplained rejection and condescension
Getting employment would give me a lift
I’m bursting at the seems to do a regular shift
My optimism and confidence I’m trying to sustain
And I try so hard not to moan or to complain
I’m not treating this like a long vacation
I take it very seriously, I realise the implication
Now that I’ve told you, now that you’ve heard
If you hear of a job, please do spread the word.
The empty echoes of her childhood
The dreams and wishes of a young girl yearning
The harsh reality of getting not much good
Contributed to her early learning
By her mother many carrots were dangled
The promise of a special gift
The grey web of lies was twisted and tangled
Mournfully setting her hopes adrift
She didn’t know which was worse; the physical?
Her mother’s beatings were only brief
Or was it the torture which was critical?
And seemed to cause much stronger grief
Her father, cunningly, always an angle
He should’ve been there as a relief
Instead with his disdain he would mangle
Her unquestioning thoughts and beliefs
Her doubts and worries were hard to contain
She was left feeling dread and apprehension
As a result her grades and facade were hard to maintain
Her real self and feelings in a state of suspension
Whatever their meaning, whatever their intent
They had screwed up this girl’s youth
Now that all of her emotions had been spent
She could go on in the world practising only the truth.
It was the year of the tiger, the year of my birth
The first and only time that to my mum I had worth
Whether to be a whore or a mum, she was torn
Though she loved me, she wished I hadn’t been born
For years I’ve felt her icy abandonment
I’ve had to keep all the lies, the sneaky concealments
There were times when I wore her stinging slaps
Inside my head it sounded like breaking thunder claps
But even worse than causing physical pain
Was the emotional turmoil felt in my brain
At times it was her hurtful criticism
And if I was joyous, her vengeful cynicism
She seemed to get pleasure from her bitchy derision
Why couldn’t she change? It was her decision
It ultimately added up to me feeling bereft
If only she’d gone for good when she first left
So instead of me having a nice normal family
I have been lumped with this cancerous anomaly.
Night cloaks me in his silky darkness
He takes away the scary shadows from the day
The bright light and glare of daytime can be heartless
Taking my safety and my hiding spots away
Evening brings with him a comforting hint of calm
Covers up the guilt and shame felt by day
When morning comes; with it blaring alarm
Mister Night please come back so my fears will allay
Night-time helps me to settle and rest
The glittery stars, my happy little friends
Daytime’s all “rah rah rah” and puts my nerves to the test
Sunlight is over-rated, it’s not all that it pretends
When the sky is black my eyes have fallen closed
Daytime sees loud brash people with prying eyes
Under daylight I feel pushed, naked and exposed
While beneath my protective night blanket, I can lie.
This is a quicky I wrote while pfaffing around with the pooda.
Internet Connections Suck
Sitting, waiting for my computer to log-in
I’m impatiently waiting to be blogging
My creative juices are all flowing
This tedious delay is mindlessly slowing
I have things I want to say; to discuss
I’ve already been in the chatroom, chatted with Gus
I’ve written a new poem I wanted to share
I want some input from all of you readers who care
I’m very impatient, I don’t like to wait
It’s nearly at the top of my list of 10 things I hate
What did I do before internet, blogs, chatrooms?
Maybe some housework, maybe vacuum
Shows me how much I depend on it when it’s down
Tried refreshing and restarting, now complete shutdown
Now my creative fires have been extinguished
My wishes to write online have been relinquished.
Hey there. While my poetry might not be getting any better, my mind thinks it’s a poetry-writing machine. If only I could write music, I’d be prolific. Anyhoo, I’d planned to share my latest poem, then I got stuck in the chatrooms blah blah blah. And then I lost my internet connection. I’m not much of a computer person but I tried everything I could think of to no avail.
While I waited for connection to comeback, I started jotting down some ideas & the beginnings of about 3 poems started, but I actually finished one complete one, which I might show you now.
I don’t know if you’ve noticed that I’ve been trying out different styles. Feel free to let me know what you think. I’m a harsh critic of myself so it’s helpful to get an outsider’s perspective of what I say/write.
Oh, I forgot, I wrote 2 while stuffing around with my pooda. So if I don’t get sick of typing I might share my latest 3 – if you’re lucky hmmm nyuck nyuck. They’ll be my next posts, so read on xo love you xo