Fairy Wishes

A fairy in my dreams asked me

Had all my dreams come true.

I looked at her and thought a bit

Then said, as I here I do.

 

‘A lot of what I longed for

I have already here,

My family and love around,

A cup of greatest cheer.

 

The other dreams are in my hands,

I hold them carefully,

I treasure them and nourish them

And then I set them free.

 

If dreams they are to be fulfilled

I have to open hands,

Not so I may drop them

But so they can search the lands

 

That I may have to wander,

The plans I have to make,

The effort that I’ll put in place

So these dreams may not prove fake.’

 

She asked me then and offered

Three wishes I would crave,

I thought some more then smiled at her

And answer thus I gave.

 

‘Three would never satisfy

All I hold inside

And most of what I ask for self

Is really for my pride.

 

If three there are then let me ask

For what I already see,

The health of all my family,

That’s enough for me.

 

The second one I pass along

To others for the same,

Renewal in body, spirit, mind.

Then they can play this game

 

‘And what of number three?’ she said,

‘Now think on carefully.’

‘I would wish that others knew, believed,

They’re the change they have to be.’

Mindfuckery

You know the type.

Manipulative.

Loves to screw your brain.

Messes your mind any way they can find,

Is hurtful and cruel.

Then does it all over again.

 

It might be an ex or a current,

It could be a female

Or male,

It should be someone

You best, or ignore,

Then their mindfuck might fail.

 

It could be a boss

Or a neighbour,

A colleague who won’t give you rest.

Or kids in the ‘hood

Who just won’t be good.

Think what to do for the best.

 

It could be someone in your family

With an ex

Who’s really a prat.

Help make them see that his dick’s really wee,

Then you can both

Laugh about that.

 

It could be a friend

Who’s no friend at all,

Delights in bringing you down,

Dump them.

No one needs that crap,

A ‘friend’ who makes you feel like a clown.

 

Whoever they are

Remember your mind

Is yours, not a fairground pot luck.

Demand they desist,

Ignore if you wish

Or tell them you’re having no truck…

 

Ah, you thought that last line

Just had to rhyme

With ‘luck’ and a word I’ve used before.

Ok, then, we’ll say it again.

No mindfucking here.

Close that door.

 

My banter is intended as humour

But the message is one

To heed.

No one, not any, known past or in present,

Has the right to

Mess with your heid!

 

It could be someone

Whose words are no fun

Or actions are designed to convey

Ridicule, stress

Sadistic duress.

Don’t engage then they cannot play.

 

It might be yourself

Who’s the culprit,

Battering away at your brain.

Ego destroyed,

Validity void

Stop it! Don’t do it again.

 

A flower with filaments tender,

Seeking to bloom

Where it can,

Nurture your mind,

Stuff others who find

Pleasure in ruining elan.

 

Give what is due

But whatever you do,

Keep your mind well intact.

Those who insist

On taking the piss

Should know a couple of facts.

 

Spirit of self is a wonder

Shared,

A blessing two-fold,

But fucked with for fun

Is just not on.

Resist, persist, be bold.

 

It could be the politicians

Obvious I know,

That’s their art,

Assisted by media

And spin ,they begin

To screw your head and your heart.

 

Don’t fuck with my mind, you moron!

My head is my own!

Try that cheer.

Say it again till they believe it.

And then

Say it again, so you hear.

Video reading Mindfuckery

Innocence Injured

No callous thoughts

Nor cold intent

Should dwell where love’s

Been freely spent.

 

Unequalled pleasure

Can’t decry

Where love was known

Though, by and by,

 

Treasured moments

One time enthralled,

Glimpsed afar,

Now unrecalled.

 

Bitter hearts

Disclaim, with voice,

Past memories

As if no choice

 

Had taken part

In ending all,

Hostile relations

After the fall

 

From grace and trust

Where love was living,

Recollections

Unforgiving.

 

They passed this way,

Once hand in hand,

A surer love,

No wedding band

 

Could so unite

The two apart,

Where love once dwelt

Lives broken heart

 

And cordial calmness

Claims surrender,

Harsh words, contempt

Sever, dismember,

 

Leaving nought

But recollections,

Remembrances,

Bittersweet perfection.

 

Imperfect memory

Chills to the core

All treasured moments,

Never more.

 

Coupled collapsing

Feels dismay,

Abysmal distrust,

Love cannot stay.

 

They grieve their loss

In strangest manner,

Vindictive, cruel,

A jealous rancour.

 

These people are

Still known to me,

I watch

And listen carefully

 

And ponder how

A love once sown,

Grew then withered,

Split to the bone.

 

Words, then endearing,

Draw blood, now bitten,

Fragmented love

From two once smitten.

 

Divided, riven,

Torn apart,

Indifference chills

But where to start

 

When coldness turns

To malevolence

And hurts and robs

All innocence?

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.

Remember

I cannot look

At photographs

That haunt or chill

My thoughts.

Seeing pictures,

Reading words

Hurt too much,

And so they ought.

 

Depicting something

Lost but loved,

Someone,

Who had to part,

Who held me in

A soft embrace,

Tender tended

To my heart.

 

Dead to life,

To earthly plain,

Another’s grief, a

Punished pain.

Remembrance all

In mindful mourning.

November looms,

The day is dawning.

My Space Cadet

Beautifully alien

And wonderfully bizarre,

From babe

To almost full grown.

Questioning

Strange anomalies of life,

And others,

I’ve never known.

Like, ‘If I was painted the same colour as air,

Would I be invisible to you?’

And, ‘ If the Clyde could be bottled,

How many bottles would you need that to do?’

 

And, others more usual, like,

‘Where does the itch go

When you’ve had a really good scratch?’

I look on and puzzle and question

From where exactly did this amazing boy of mine hatch?

 

I was there,

I felt the pain

And gazed at this gift in my arms.

Little knowing then,

That as he grew,

I’d succumb to all of his charms.

 

Eighteen years later I marvel each day

And wonder that I never saw

That my six foot Adonis

Had the soul of a child, a child full of wonder and awe.

My space cadet with questioning green eyes

And a mind with tremendous insight.

I know, in my heart, that this babe of mine

Is a child that was born of the light.

What A Laugh! Or, Not.

Is there such a thing as differences in humour between cultures? I’m asking because I have noticed that there might be. I may have to stop making certain comments that suggest, to me, that I am highly amused but may, in fact, seem facetious. It also works in reverse. Has anyone else noticed possible discrepancies? And, if so, any particular reasons why?

I don’t want to start a debate about this but I am genuinely curious. Is it down to cultures or just personalities? Is it modesty? Is it …shit….I don’t know what.

This could make a significant difference in the comments we all make.

I will not tell, at this point, what amuses me in comment but I would like to avoid offense! Both giving and receiving. Just askin’. 🙂 x

Frank

Twenty-six years married today.

I have some things to thank my husband for.

 

For still finding me ‘hot’ when I’m sure that I’m not,

For hugging me when I feel down.

For sneaking up behind me to cuddle me

When I’m trying so hard just to frown.

 

For loving my bottom, my boobs and my eyes,

For loving my stretch marks, my smile and my thighs.

For loving my nutty behaviour as well,

When anyone else would say, ‘Just go to hell’.

 

For being so strong, hard-working and true,

For simply being there, whatever I do.

For bringing me coffee in bed every morn,

For being so loving with each child that was born.

 

For resisting the urge to have a good nag,

When I reach for the packet to take out a fag.

For being a father and husband so great,

For being so patient when I ask you to wait.

 

For being the person I thought you would be,

For twenty-six years of still loving me.

Benevolent Dictatorship: Deceased

There’s a twelve-man tent in my garden and it’s interfering with one of my washing lines.

Last night, it was erected without my knowledge. I do not know what is going on in my own house. But, apparently, some children are in rebellion.

My house, my rules. Sorry, our house, our rules. Nope, I was right the first time. I like to call it a benevolent dictatorship. A certain amount of freedom, an equal amount of responsibility and ‘do as you’re told when I say’.

It works for me.

And for them, apparently.

Because, I didn’t say they couldn’t put the tent up.

They didn’t ask. But, it goes something like this.

Kid:- Do you think we should maybe air the tent before we go camping?’

Me:- (Not really listening.) Probably.

Kid:- I could do it.

Me:- Mmmmm?

So, that, it would seem constitutes agreement now in my household. No flat out refusal. No affirmative, per se. But, a blank, unconscious ‘Mmmmm?’

A subtle appeal to dad, who does, of course, ask, ‘Did Mum say OK?’

Their answer, a version of, ‘Mmmmm.’

So, last night, my three youngest, 6,11,15 and several friends of my 15year old, camped out in the garden while I crept upstairs and gladdened my heart with a King-sized bed and my duvet, remembering soon that I will be there and calling it fun.

The back door was left open all night to allow for toilet breaks in the midst of their midnight feast. My kitchen was pretty much wrecked this morning, apologies abounding from every quarter.

They cleared it up. But they had an agenda. They’re doing it all again tonight.

I have a feeling that my benevolent dictatorship days are fast disappearing beyond the horizon.

Maybe I’m mellowing, thinking, ‘Aw, who gives a shit? The kids are having a laugh.’

Thank God, I’ve got great neighbours.