Rush

And the pain begins again,

Pulsing, sweeping, biting, burning,

Pushing through my veins, my muscles, my bones.

Twisting and turning, it gathers momentum,

Feeling like poison, intensifying,

Stripping me of all reason, all sense

Until sounds, smells, sights

Overpower me and make me hold my head in distress,

Gripping my skull, pulling my hair to see if doing it will release me from this tourniquet of black.

This vice, this unbearable and relentless cycle of

Sleep, rest, wake, move, pain, sleep, rest, move, pain.

Not bothering for one moment, not considering for a millisecond

That this will hurt, that this will make me cry, curl up into a ball and hide away from those I love.

It pushes me closer to the edge of sanity, testing me, seeing if I’ll break;

And still it goes on, and the warm glug seems to caress my every cell,

Ok, surrounds; it’s not that loving nor kind.

Nerve ending wince, cowering away, hoping not to be seen,

Hiding in the recesses, behind my heart.

I catch my breath. Every vibration jars my skin.

Pinpricks, bruises, flu, ache, fire, smoulder.

All these and then so much more;

No let up until I drift into a drug induced sleep,

Praying as my body twitches that slumber will stop my bones ,

Stop my whole body from hurting.

And if my words, strange, unpleasant as they are,

If my words reach you, if you see yourself reflected,

Then I’m here, and I’ll hold you close to me…

I am

I may not be a superstar,

I may not be a Nobel Prize winner,

I may not have a name that’s lauded to the rafters,

But I am me.

I may not possess great intelligence,

Or command mighty audiences,

I may not woo the paparazzi

,But I am me.

I may not always be liked, loved,

I may be hated, derided,

Laughed at, scorned by,

But I am me.

I may not have an hour glass shape, be over weight or have a face that launches a thousand ships

(well, maybe in retreat…)

I might have weird feet and a hairy chin,

But I am me.

I may have true friends that will always stand by me,

Or friends that leave, abandon me,

Turn against me,

But I am me.

I may not have the voice of an angel or move like Fred Astaire

(old school)

My dance moves may leave a lot to the imagination,

But I am me.

I believe I was created for a reason, a purpose, even though I sometimes wonder what that purpose might be, as I battle, rage against the time and tide.

I was created in my mother’s womb, my wonderful, loving, amazing mother’s womb,

And there, in the darkness, with the sound of a heartbeat,

I grew.

Then and there, yes, even before I came into life, before I was a blink,

You had your hand on me, knew my future, knew the plans and dreams of every second.

You, who made everything from nothing,

You made me!

Why would you waste your time on me when there are so many more important things to be done, but you say

“Hold up! What are you going on about?

You need to understand this- this world wouldn’t be the same without you.

Even when you wanted out, when you wanted this life to end,

I said No, I decide when life begins and life ends,not you.

When you glance at yourself in the mirror, then quickly turn your head away,

because you don’t like what you see, remember, I created you.

If all life was the same, if all races were the same, same hair colour, same eyes,

Where would the beauty, the wonder, the myriad, be?

You are mine and I love you.

That Star Wars line, that was mine in the first place, and which they used most effectively,

“I am your Father” is completely true, though I’m not Darth Vadar and you’re not Luke Skywalker.

But what you are is mine, what you are is astounding, creative;

What you are is unique, with a humour not everyone gets

And a taste in music that some would say is decidedly strange.

Face it, sweet cheeks, I made you and I am more than pleased,

I’m ecstatic, in fact, I’m over the moon,

I’ll always be in love with you.

.

Hello?

Hello?

Sorry, I didn’t know if you saw me.

I’m standing right here, yet it’s as if you see right through me

To others who are talking, laughing, friends.

I’m not cool, in vogue, speak da street;

But I’m part of it all, part of existence, part of life.

Yeah, I’m fully aware that I’m not that important anymore-

Kinda figured that one out.

“Hey, do you remember when….”

Oh, sorry, I thought you were looking my way…

So, I go through the memories myself,

Reminiscing over videos and photos,

Over messages, over tweets.

Like the time…

Or what about…

Hey. I have to face the fact that I don’t interest you anymore;

I know you don’t mean it in a malicious or ungrateful way;

I think you’ve just put it all away,

Tightly wrapped, not taken much notice of, left , shoved in the corner.

Maybe, years from now, you’ll unpack it all

And see the fun, the silly faces, letting it trigger off

The wistfulness that comes with time,

That comes from a realisation that you let it go,

Maybe not intentionally, but you did,

Just keeping the bits that seemed more vital to the here and now.

And in that moment, you’ll remember,

Slowly undoing the packages, sneaking a peek.

Maybe then you’ll remember who I am.

Until then, I’ll have to watch, unsure of who I am

And where I stand.

Unexpected

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

Not even me, not that I’m expecting it.

On the contrary, when something happens, unexpectedly, you’re like

“No way…” or “Flippin’ eck” or “Why me?”

So, here it is.

Imagine, if you will, the scene

And, without realising, you are being showered-

With silver confetti.

Yeah, you got me. Silver. Confetti.

Hmmm.

Oh, this didn’t happen in reality- thought I’d add this in- but

In a picture so real, so life-like that all I could do was immerse myself in that moment

Of pure bliss, of absolute peace, of amazement.

And the ” why me?” question came into play, and not for the first time, I hasten to add.

You see,some truly wonderful, albeit slightly off kilter stuff, has happened.

Stuff that has taken my breath away, left me wondering “why me?”

Why me, indeed.

I’m beginning to get the picture, which is still slightly out of focus.

Um, a little bit more than out of focus.

Sometimes, I can see only edges, blurred lights.

Other times, it’s as clear as a bell,

And all sorts in between.

There’s me, sitting, soaking in all the beauty, the sheer love of life when

Boom! There it is. Falling confetti.

Did I mention it was silver?

Small, tiny fragments, larger pieces, but all falling gently, quietly.

Wow.

Some picture, eh?

And so we’re back to the question “why me?”

In fact, why anyone?

Why should anyone be that special, that highly thought of.

Honestly?

All of us.

“Oh, come off it!” I hear you say (though maybe in words that are too strong to type right here)…

You can’t be talking about me!…

Seriously?  I really don’t think so!…

I mean, who would think of me that way? Bet I can count them on the fingers of one hand..

You’re having a laugh; it’s a practical joke, isn’t it?…isn’t it?

Hand on heart, I can promise you, it isn’t a joke.

And while we have have differing opinions of ourselves, some that have been given in an act of true love or ground into us, some taken on by pressure, or forced on by (un) popular consensus,

I truly believe that there is One Love, higher, truer, deeper than all,

A Love that loves us more than we’ll ever know,

A love that knows how many hairs we have on our heads ,

Or in some cases, the number of skin cells, should we be follicly challenged.

A love that walks with us, runs with us, sits and hugs us,

Embraces and surrounds us, knows no bounds love.

A love that can’t be measured or fully understood.

This love is for you.

This love doesn’t keep reminding you about what a failure you are,

This  love doesn’t put you down, hold grudges.

This  love doesn’t abuse, mentally or physically.

This love is real love; no holds barred.

This Love…

Words and promises

You say that you’re for me, but how far would you go

To show me you’re serious, to show me that you mean business?

Give it all up? No way, you couldn’t do that

Why? Because it’s all to precious to you

And you wouldn’t understand my life, even if I explained it to you.

You wouldn’t want to know, you’d find a way to make it better with

Pie crust promises and empty meanings.

Who do you speak for? Not me, that’s for sure

With you “Let’s do this together”

Really? Honestly? Hand on heart?

No, fingers crossed behind your back instead.

And I can’t bear it, knowing the pain that will be felt

Long after this day has drawn to a close.

Anguish, heartache, a sense of utter loss,

The feeling of contempt levied at anyone who doesn’t agree

With what is said or done, because they “don’t understand”

When it’s “all for the greater good”

Well, I, for one, am saddened, am lost for words

When you have plenty to throw about.

You have a lot to prove; your actions will speak louder than your words

And, if this democratic nation of ours truly believes

That this is the only way, I cannot argue with them

But will say I’ll wait and see what changes come.

For now, I cannot hear it again and again

Like sour milk in my coffee, I shudder.

There’s only so much sour milk I’ll be able to drink…

Some might say…

Some might say

That I’m slightly mad, a bit off kilter, or that I need my head examining;

They might say that being with me is hard work, that I’m needy, that I’m too emotional.

Hah.

They ain’t seen nothing yet!

I can be a Lioness, ferociously defending her cubs,

Facing the threat full on, hissing and bearing my teeth.

I get like this when there’s injustice done against those I love,

When they’re maligned, when someone lies about them.

I get the bit between my teeth.

I can be an Ostrich, hiding my head in the sand

Until the danger goes

But the danger never really goes away, and so my head is permanently stuck

Half way between fresh air and the depths of despair.

The fear of losing my head, my heart or my sanity

To some obtrusive enigma who stalks me, ready to pounce.

I can be a Deer, strong and mighty,

Proud (in a good way) of what I’ve achieved, of knowing that what I do

And say makes a big difference; using the strength to help others,

Be a positive influence, loving life, being creative.

Some might say I’m a mix of them all, and they might be right.

Some might say none of the above describes me quite adequately,

And not in a complimentary way at all.

Some might say, “You! An Ostrich!  Don’t be daft!”

But, sadly, I have to put them right, because I know that I do hide my head

When the going gets tougher than tough.

Sometimes I’m a Lemming,

Ready to throw myself off the nearest cliff

Because the pain is too much, too deep, too hurtful.

There are still days like these.

Days when I can’t put my finger on exactly how I’m feeling,

Or, if I can, wanting it to go away, leave me alone,

Stop playing inside my mind,

Stop using my head as a playground,

Running, causing havoc, spinning the roundabout too fast, the swings too high,

Which makes me feel sick, dizzy, screaming to stop them,

And they just leave me, laughing, thinking it’s funny.

Well, it isn’t, so bog off (I could say it differently, but I’m trying to be oh so ever polite…)

And so I ask the Lioness to prowl, around my mind, keeping it safe,

To stop the Lemmings from coming in,

To make sure that the Ostrich is somewhere else that day.

And I ask the Deer to give me strength, to make me courageous.

Lioness and Deer, walking together,

Keeping me safe.

Love is…

What’s love got to do with it?

Erm, quite a lot, actually.

Love is one of those things that hits you where it hurts- your heart, that is.

Love is all things to all, it defies the odds, it tears lives apart

Love is something that can’t be measured or quantified.

Love is a passion, a deep rooted feeling, a memory, something we hide from.

To love is all consuming; to be loved is what we desire.

Love is terrifying- when you love someone and when that someone abuses your love,

Fills you with dread, horror, makes you cower in the corner.

When love is destructive, turning the mind into a quagmire,

Where all sense of reason, self belief, is kicked out of you- literally.

When the person you love hates the sight of you, taking pleasure in making your life a living hell.

Silence. Terror. Bruises.

Love is a feeling like no other and creeps up on you when you least expect it.

When you go for years thinking you’re unloveable,unattractive

And that someone comes along and sees you as irresistible, beautiful, captivating.

When everything they do shows you how much they love you.

A lie in, a cuppa, a slice of hot buttered toast, feet up, watching TV.

Love is when you don’t need words to communicate.

It’s like you know exactly what they’re thinking.

Love is that middle ground, that no man’s land, where neither can understand what’s going on,

Scared to move, to speak, in case you’re pushed away.

Love is taking tentative steps, being bold, stepping into the unknown.

Love is different, unique, unaffected by race, religion or background;

Not held by class nor colour, it aims and finds it’s home.

Love is…

Blurred

Sometimes, when I look out of the corner of my eye,

I catch a glimpse of…something, though I’m not entirely sure of what it is.

The edges are blurred, merged into some obscure blob

Shapeless, yet defined by the round, curved edges

That bend and twist, catching the light,

And catching me unaware.

Dimensions pulse, their movements seen, as if brushstrokes

Painted across a blank canvas.

The picture begins, it’s outline vague, unattractive;

Water sprinkled on the surface, taking colour and spreading

A blue haze, mingled with yellow.

In the distance, an object, partially recognisable;

It’s form filled with deep, resonant burgundy, caught in shadow.

I squint my eyes and see the image of my parent’s home.

My first home, terraced, tall, red brick in a small off road street.

Walking through the door, I see through to the kitchen,

Long and narrow, seats where I would sit

And watch my mother.

Stepping away from the picture, I am left with a clear image of my childhood.

Forever held in memory of my youth.

Though the picture changed, sometimes beyond recognition

And in ways I now tremble at,

That image brings a smile,

Seen with clarity and love.

Stone in my shoe

That feeling when a small stone gets stuck in your shoe,

The way it irritates your skin, the tiny nicks and cuts,

Abrasions, rubbing together.

And even when the stone is gone, it still hurts

Because flesh has been caught, pulled open

By an insignificant object.

As you walk, the skin catches,

So you stop to assess the damage.

Redness, sweat and dust have gathered

Causing your toes to swell.

You sit and rest, moving your feet to increase the blood flow.

Thankfully, right at the bottom of your bag , is a plaster

Which must’ve been there for some time now.

Easing the wrapping off, you delicately embrace the wound.

It stings and you take a short, sharp breath.

The cushion between your toes feels safe, comfy;

Toes move in appreciation of your action.

And the stone? Flung far away.

Some might say that this is an attempt to say, in written form, the pain

Of words that are thrown to cause grief; small comments made to give maximum impact.

They’re absolutely right.

And my reply is this. As soon as you find the stone, stop its actions,

Take away its ability to stifle you, take away its need to hurt

And bind the wound so that it heals and, when you are ready,

Remove the dressing, the caution, so that the air can get to it.

Let love and kindness be your salve,

Be your source of comfort and joy.

And tell others that there is a way,

A way back to life,

A road that, although small stones may strew it’s way,

Is the road whereon you will find truth.

.