Pluck And Fuck

There’s a weed grows wild in my garden,

I kill it but it still survives,

No poison or potion imagined

Can quell it, it lives though frequently dies.

It buries beneath to find nurture,

It spreads out, could take over the land,

But I prune it with shears every morning

Or else it would get out of hand.

It’s a bugger that haunted my growing,

Taunted whenever it could,

I bought all the pellets, I cropped it,

I did what I was told that I should

To stifle its errant persuasion

For no one can live while it feeds,

It sucks all the flavour from living,

It thrives as can only a weed.

I looked again, freshly, one morning,

I hated its sight in my eyes,

Recognised world and its worries

And my nature combined fuelled its lies.

I wept at the weed, strong despite me,

Forgave it its nature and face

But begged for the chance to grow flowers

In most of the wide-open space.

I became gardener to flowers,

To roses and riots of blooms,

I decreed weed was unwelcome,

I accept it but it gives me some room

To be all the me that I can be

For inside of the weed there’s a charm,

Understanding its nature, accepted,

I refused to be controlled or be harmed

By the power of depression that fixes

Into crevices, people and place,

I chose to be happy, I still do,

In spite of the weeds that I face.

Its not all a garden of roses,

It’s not all a wasteland of weeds,

I plant what I can, where I can,

How I can, and hope is the best of my seeds.

Now I see gardens where both grow,

Possession is nine-tenths the law,

I pluck them, I fuck all the stranglers,

Rose-tinted with a hopeful hacksaw.

 

I recognise that there are many types of depression and that not all can be addressed by a shift in perception. For me, it worked. It was either that or live on anti-depressants. The world depressed me and is still capable of doing so. I choose not to let it as best as I can. With hope and fight. And every tool at my disposal – sharpened.

 

Dawn to Dark

Whose shadow-darkened thoughts encroach and question,

Diminish dawn’s cockrow, dispel the day,

Worming into loam and taking root there,

Nightshade weed, asphyxiating prey?

 Invasive views, punitive to thinkers,

Banks of clouds eclipsing all sun’s beams,

Unsummoned guests disabling reason,

Recurrent words, distorted earthly themes.

 Florid-faced to grey on one perusal,

Ashen breath obstructing air, extinguish torch.

Whose mind a firmament of pyrotechnic danger

Erupting in the sentinel’s night watch?

 Where dreams are blessed with skies of bluest sunlight

Whose nightmares purge my soul with caustic fright?

May Music, Day 21 – Anything Could Happen

Every song I like or love is because they speak to me in some way. It may only be because of the beat or the rhythm. Perhaps because of memories they evoke. It could be that the vocals or instruments are so rhapsodic that I’m in awe. Sometimes it’s  because of associations they hold with people and times. It could be because of the words.

I’ve already posted my favourite song because it is also from my favourite movie and that was a question for day Day 11.

The title of this song, Who Wants To Live Forever?’ draws me in every time I hear it like no other song does. The lyrics remind me to live and to love. Now.

“Who Wants To Live Forever”

There’s no time for us,
There’s no place for us,
What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us.

Who wants to live forever,
Who wants to live forever…..?
There’s no chance for us,
It’s all decided for us,
This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us.

Who wants to live forever,
Who dares to love forever,
When love must die.

But touch my tears with your lips,
Touch my world with your fingertips,
And we can have forever,
And we can love forever,
Forever is our today,
Who wants to live forever,
Who wants to live forever,
Forever is our today,
Who waits forever anyway?

 

But, as I’ve already posted this song, Twindaddy’s request for today must be another. I’m going for my favourite of today. It’s on the current in car CD and has been played to and from work every day this week.

On the way home today, with the sun shining, the skies the most gorgeous pale blue and only light fluffy clouds around – not a single rain cloud in sight – the thought of a four day weekend after tomorrow’s shift, a breeze generated by the open windows and this music on, I felt so happy. I’ve had all the depression I ever care to experience.  Life is for capturing the happiness in each day. ‘Who waits forever anyway?’ ‘Anything Could Happen’.

Hope and Blue Skies Hope and Blue Skies

Ellie Goulding, ‘Anything Could Happen’.

 

 

In Awe

In Awe. Alternative award post. Video rather than written. Well, I’m shattered! And relaxing. And talking is so much easier than writing. Well, it is. 🙂 x

 

Ali And I don’t even know how I managed to leave Ali out of my video. I’m not doing the video again. Are you joking me? It’s tomorrow already. But, Ali, one of the truth speakers on difficult subjects, you’re there with the others mentioned. Blame Friday. And tiredness. 😉

Rene You rock! Hang on in there. When the deal is done you can raise the victory. One direction or other.

Shirley Soul sister fearlessly living and telling it how it is.

Trey Not his funny posts but an insight into a difficult subject. The funnies are well worth a read though!

Morgan Just so romantic! And words worthy of love.

John Afraid. And unafraid. Touching subjects some just dare to.

Desiree The eyes of the world. And a soul.

Poetic Passions Not one of his risque ones! But I love this. My absolute favourite.

Maryrose One of the ones that Maryrose does so well.  Listens to whispers on the wind then passes on truth that free thoughts.

Mike Learning what matters. And proving it in words. And in living.

Kerry Thanks, Kerry. Isn’t it awful always to need a nudge to get going? 😉

 

 

 

 

Don’t Be Alone

There are those who are lonely,

So desperately lonely,

Even when surrounded by friends.

There are those whose physical pain goes on

And they question if it ever will end.

 

There are those whose pain is an emotional one,

Those who ponder life’s end solution to ease,

The darkest of any confession.

There are those who carry a burden of guilt

And those with deepest depression.

 

There are those whose hearts seem

Broken in two,

Those whose hatred is well justified,

Whose angst and sorrow is boundless, but

It seems to eat them alive.

 

There are those who feel as others feel,

Hearts  full of despair

With righteous cause and frustration.

There’s sadness that feels like a terminal disease,

States to country and nation.

 

It weeps,

It seeps

Into pores

And floods,

There is hurt,

So much hurt,

It feels

There is blood.

 

There are those who imagine an end

Of all life

So suffering and sadness will cease,

Whose pleas on their pages

Know terrible loss

And pain that knows no release.

 

The hurt that abounds

Is palpable here,

A microcosm of earth,

Sharing distress and souls set on fire,

Crying for song of rebirth.

 

There are those whose posts are filled with good cheer

And those that say nothing at all

Of feelings or thoughts

Or what lives within,

Preferring a different recall.

 

But for those who are here

Whose very beings starve,

Seeking for someone to listen,

Bear in mind

That we all have these feelings.

It’s part of the human condition.

 

If no one is there to answer your needs,

No family or friend will suffice,

A message in private may help find release.

Do it and don’t even think twice.

 

I’ve no great answers

In fact, I have none,

Just a sense of the life that we share,

Please don’t be alone,

If you need a vessel,

Remember that someone is there.

 

It may not be me,

It could be another

But many there are who believe

That a problem full shared,

Whispered and heard

Is a problem that’s going nowhere

 

Except to be halved

Or quartered,

Diminished,

Maybe not ever to be

Over or finished

 

But lessened because

Someone cares.

 

So don’t be alone

Whatever your reasons,

There’s someone on here,

A man for your seasons

Or woman,

A friend,

A fellowship found.

Please don’t despair,

Don’t sink to the ground

Without looking up

Or inwards or out.

There’s someone for you,

Please just give a shout,

 

If only to curse at life’s

Little foibles,

Its terrors,

Its spectres,

Its myriad of troubles.

 

There are those who have offered this to me

And I’ve done the same in return.

You’ll know who to trust,

You may never need

But remember there’s always someone.

 

So when strength and solutions

Are quite overcome,

Sincerely believe

There is always a one.

 

Don’t be alone.

Please, don’t be alone.

Places In My Mind

 

Daily Prompt: Blogger in a Strange Land

by michelle w. on October 12, 2013

What’s the strangest place from which you’ve posted to your blog? When was the last time you were out and about, and suddenly thought, “I need to write about this!”?

Photographers, artists, poets: show us STRANGE.

 

 

Not on a downer! And I know it’s now 13th!

Just thinking that all sorts of strange ‘places in our minds’ create the need to write.

 

Black hole

Engulfs

And swallows

Whole.

Belief

Belittled.

Buckled,

Aimless goal.

Devoured,

Dark

Abyss,

Devoid of light.

Diminished,

Dented days.

But still

I write.

 

Sparkling stars,

Unending joy

And flight.

Even then,

I feel

The need

To write.

Depression Perceptions

What some people think or say.

‘You’re mental’

‘You’re psycho’

‘You’re crazy’

‘You’re mad’

‘You’re disturbed’

‘You’re evil’

‘You’re pathetic’

‘You’re bad’

 

‘You hurt those around you,

You don’t seem to care.’

‘What’s your problem, what’s with you?

Is anyone there?’

 

‘It’s abnormal’

‘It’s alarming’

‘It’s atrocious’

‘It’s harming’

‘You’re not like yourself.

You’re like some devil’s spawn.

Earth to your planet.

What is it you’re on?’

 

‘No-one can get you

While you’re head is a mess.

Get some help, see a doctor,

See a priest, go confess.’

 

‘You must have done something

Barmy, I think,

Go see a psychiatrist

Go talk to a shrink.’

‘Someone who’ll listen

And know who you are,

Someone who knows

Why your lid is ajar.’

 

What people need to hear.

 

‘Whatever your ache is

Whatever your pain

We’re in this together.

You’ll be well once again.’

 

What it can feel like.

 

‘The pain that’s inside

Is pressure on mind

It’s a panic, a fear,

Ahead and behind.

Don’t know why I’m troubled

Don’t know what’s the root

Can’t find me a reason

Can’t find me a foot

On the ladder that’s up

And if I could ascend

I’d be here fully with you

To heal and to mend.

My mind feels so broken

My hormones gone wild

I feel like an infant,

I behave like a child

Who is hurt, who is troubled

Who feels a great dread,

Love me, help me,

Guide my poor head.

Hold me, caress me

Sing a song so I’ll sleep

The phantoms will flounder

Delve into the deep.

The recesses roar,

Their might is aflame.

My monsters are calling

My name once again.

I’m slipping, I’m sliding,

The path is too steep.

Hold fast beside me

I’m afraid and I weep

For sanity’s safety

Its shores with a pier,

Its harbour, its anchor

To hold back the fear.

I urge you, I implore you

Please persevere

There’s aid for this illness

But I need loved ones near.’

 

One possible answer.

 

The pills they provide

Hold a key to the tomb.

Serotonin rises

Despatches the gloom.

 

Why do some suffer

The pain of the mind?

Why is it hidden?

Afraid to find

No-one will talk?

Or they’ll say that

You’re weak?

So hold it inside

Too  ashamed to speak

Of  mental illness,

The stigma attached.

 

The sink has a crack

Where the hormone leaks out

The levels diminish

The brain screams a shout

Fix me, repair me,

Do whatever it takes.

Why do you hesitate

Till your body it shakes

With tremors and torments

And rocking anew

This mind that is troubled

With thoughts gone askew?

 

The answers you seek

Lie in one little bottle

The inhibitor prevents

The desire to throttle

The life from your body

The thought from your mind.

Be assuaged, be helped

So some peace you will find.

 

There is more than one type of depression.

 

Different answers may need to be sought.

 

Help is out there.

 

Attitudes to mental illness need to change.

Cory Monteith

My daughter asked me to write something that matters to her.

As it happens, this also matters to me.

Another child lost from life.

Thirty-one years is a babe.

Too young.

Too little.

Too late.

A face known to me by my children,

A voice, a smile, a song,

Talented, tormented and toppled,

Searching for far too long.

‘I’ve got the rest of my life to be a grown-up

And, for now, it’s ok to be young’,

Choices, drugs and pressure.

A life where the song has been sung