Tag Archives: evil

Gather here all ye witches 2

Gather here all ye witches

Here your sisters cry

There is somebody that I wish would die

They caused me great pain

Great pain in my youth

This is why I call upon my sisters to spill out the truth

Yes I am in agony, the pain it will not cease

I want the one who did this, to suffer if you please

Gather around me brothers, warlocks powerful and strong

Please ring out the vengeance spell and chant your wicked songs

The pot is ready and boiling over

The ingredients are at the helm

Ready to be stirred with the powers sent from the darkest realms

Here is an eye of evil

A toad foot and some flax

A vile of baby blood and a ruby dressed in wax

Here is some boiled candy to make the vengeance sweet

And with a chunk of lead and graveyard dirt the spell is near complete

I stir the mixture, I stir it well

I stir with all the forces of darkness and of Hell

I add a little tincture of Angelica root

And from the cauldron fire, some ashes and some wood

There completes the vengeance spell

Now chant brothers and sisters, chant for Hell

You have crossed our sister

Who was a mild child

You caused her pain and grief

Until it sent her wild

You turned a good heart bad

With your evil deeds

Now with Hell by her side

You will surely grieve

Father of Hell unite with us your loyal folk

And douse her enemies with viles of poisoned yolk

Drown their soul in agony and despair

Make the vengeance sweet

And make it also fair

We hum an ancient tune

That will gather all our verve

We stir the pot

With the life that you deserve

Feel the power of the darkness

Feel it biting through

For we have had enough of the very likes of you

Here ye dark angels sing

The bell of vengeance ring

Oh ye witches sing

Here comes the wicked king

All ye darkest powers

Grow and grow and grow

Fill this soul with sorrow, fill it with woe

Oh ye ancient powers

Here our calls

Devour this enemy

Help us with their fall

The spell is done

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Filed under Poems G - I

Gather here all ye witches

Gather here all ye witches

Gather here in the midnight wood

Call upon your greatest powers

For evil not for good

Let your powers go berserk

There are people I want to curse

So gather here tonight, be called with my verse

Bring your familiars and your demons

Bring them all here tonight

Burn with aching desire filled with the devils semen

Raise your kundalini snake, higher and higher

Revenge is my desire

Witches, sisters, brothers, warlocks

Gather here; have my enemy’s soul locked

Locked in hatred, locked in pain

Drive this bastard’s mind insane

When the bell tolls of his death

When he has drawn his last breath

He will not be released from this torment

Not until he has repent – for the time he hurt me

Let it be, let it be, let it be

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Filed under Poems G - I

Money free world

Money’s a problem all over the world

It’s a simple solution and not in a dream world

It used to be reality, for everyone around

But men fell in love with shiny rocks in the ground

It’s a funny old thing, love, but it does astound

We all have to have currency, the shiny tokens of gold

It’s to help everyone, or so I am told

But I just see greed and exploitation

Unfairness and hunger and lots of discrimination

It shouldn’t be like this, in a human world

We are smarter than this, our minds have been swirled

I have heard of a time where everything was free

Money is an illusion, you just can’t see

Warmth, food, water and a place to call home

Are all basic needs which everyone should own

You can’t put a price on good quality of life

So why has humanity invented this strife?

It’s a puzzle, it really is

I hope we’ll soon all work out the quiz

But suffering world over would end in a jiffy

If everyone thought that money was whiffy

Everyone all living a life they deserve

With food, warmth and water, what a learning curve

Imagine how far we could all progress if price wasn’t an issue we always had to address?

Money is a barrier in this modern world

Money needs to go now, a new system should unfurl

A system of voluntary work and good will

A system where people go to work still

But system where freedom is always a choice

A system where people in their lives could rejoice

A system with a world united where barriers should fade

A system where teamwork is always displayed

Yes there will be some who won’t do their share

But society is good at not keeping people there

People are good at motivating the herd

People who are lazy would be considered absurd

Even the sickest has their worth

But whilst there is still money, plenty resent their birth

It is a horrible fact, but it is quite true, whilst money is still around

It’s imprisoning you

Not just you but all of mankind

Money is very, very, unkind

Imagine your life without money there, what would you do?  What would be your cares?

How would you live?  Who would you help?

Please do think about this, it might self help

It will open your mind to what you can become

I wish more people thought that money was dumb

This poem was written quickly, I know it can come across a little uncomprehending but it was written at 5:45am on a cold foggy, frosty January morning and I have a bad chest infection and I tend to think about too many points at once and my brain gets scrambled at the best of times – but this is an important message I think.  One that really should be shouted as loud as climate change awareness, because I think, if money was eliminated and people worked together in teams and progressed without the need of money incentives, things like climate change would reserve rapidly – the cure for cancer found – the ability to terraform Mars would have already been done and so many other things.

I mean come on, think about it – do you really need the incentive of a few shiny coins a month to make you make this world a better place?  Do you really need the incentive of earning little fake tokens of your supposed value in the world in order to give you the life you want and deserve?  It is a belief system that you do need these tokens as an incentive to go to a job you hate, being stuck in situations you hate, that have you enslaved, slavery is never ever truly over, until the fat cats decide to change it.  Though how many fat cats are there in comparison to the slim?  I am talking money here not the supposed “obesity crisis”.  I have always struggled with the concept that I can’t do this, I can’t do that, basic little things that most people in the Western World take for granted, because of lack of money.  I have never ever had the ability to be extravagant – I can tell you what I think the most extravagant thing I have ever done financially has been outside of special occasions – bought, shock and horror a book that cost me £25 that to me is an extravagance!

I have never had the ability to afford to get my hair done at the hairdressers when I became an independent adult, living away from my parents, I cut my hair myself!

There are so many things that would change in my life, if money was removed from the social system.

I have been told several times by many doctors that they can treat my problems, it is easily treatable with basic surgery, however, it is too expensive for a struggling NHS right now, so therefore, until the illness infringes my life to the point it becomes life threatening, they will not help me.  Money, I am afraid to say, does determine how moral and humane a doctor will be and from my experience, it means that money makes them carefree, it makes them monsters; not just them, but everyone, people kill for money for fucks sake!

People need to learn that money is evil.  Yes, money saves lives and all of that too, but that is just an illusion – really many people would never have got to the extent of needing charitable donations if it weren’t for the problem that money exists in their world.  Most people’s relationships are affected by six core things; money tops it the other four things are, lying, political and sport debates, religious differences and general discrimination (racism, disability discriminate, age discrimination, fashion critics etc.) – people argue about those six core things a lot and that usually determines how well you get along with a person or not.  Money being the biggest factor because not only do families argue about the lack of it or the want of it, but people generally avoid creating relationships with new people in case they might become their victim in some way financially.  People become more uptight socially if they are wearing expensive clothing and have the latest mobile, than those who are poorer in the community towards strangers socially approaching them. 

People also judge you by your supposed wealth or lack of wealth.  I have been in situations of worse poverty than I have now and the general public; do treat you differently, either with sympathy or with contempt, especially if you are known to be unemployed due to chronic illness.  I have also been in a situation where I have been considered quite wealthy (though the money was never mine, I was dependent upon someone for a time) and again, society treated me differently.  I became more human the more I showed to others that I might actually be better off than them and I have had friends who are super rich or of celebrity status tell me that it gets worse the more you have, you become almost godlike and infallible and this particular person who told me this said that she hated it, because she just wanted to be recognised as plain old normal Sue; she adored me because I never treated her or anyone else any differently to anyone else.  I won’t tell you her whole name because I don’t like name dropping.  But I will say she is a very respected and talented British celebrity. 

Going back to complaining about the doctors again; When I have been too sick to dress properly or fuss over my hair, I get treated like a piece of fermented meat in which the doctor is even reluctant to physically examine.  I am clean, but I wear a baggy grey jumper and black leggings those days with trainers and my hair is in a messy bun. 

I go back to the same doctor a few months later after coming from a funeral in a dress suit with the same messy bun might I add and they treated me as though I had a brain and they spent ten more minutes with me than usual and examined me thoroughly.  Why the snobbery?  Same patient, same doctor, different clothes and class appearance!

I am going to number and list everything I can’t have because of my financial situation – then I am going to number and list what I would do and have in a world without money.

  1. I can’t have an operation to remove unusually large adenoids which makes me long-term unable to breathe through my nose and smell, it also causes severe post nasal drip and breathing problems, it affects my voice and larynx and I get throat infections 8 times a year and living with constantly ear infections due to Eustachian tube blockages purely because of the adenoids. Because of this, I have severe insomnia and hypersomnia, depends on how much my body will let me sleep before I literally wake choking on the entire gunk in my body, this has gone on nearly eight years now.  One of the biggest factors of why I cannot work, because it affects my breathing, my voice and my hearing levels.  I also live with vertigo because of sinus and ear pressure and almost constant sinus migraines.  Because of the amount of antibiotics I need, I have been developing antibiotic resistance and my digestive system is collapsing as it is affecting my gut flora.  As an added bonus because of my health problems, I am self-conscious going out, because I have been accused of infecting everyone, because I come across as having perpetual flu like symptoms, cough and cold.  It is especially difficult to go out since this new Chinese virus is going around.
  2. I can’t have an operation to stretch my tendons in my left hand which renders three of my fingers almost immobile due to how tight they are, despite how twisted my fingers are that when I fall down I am constantly at risk of breaking my hand.
  3. I can’t afford to get rid of old furniture and broken televisions, computers, cookers and washing machines via a skip, so have to store them in a corner in the garden and I hate that, because I am extremely house proud and as far as the neighbours are concerned by our back garden, we must be pack rats in the house, the nasty hoarding sort – but we’re not. We don’t have a car or anyone who has a car who would be willing to help for a day.
  4. I can’t afford to get my son to socialise outside of school, because I can’t buy him the rugby kit he wants and I can’t afford the membership for the marathon club. Though there is light at the end of the tunnel for his marathon club, Henry has been seen doing so well at free running events around town that we have been told as soon as he is 10yrs old (which is May 2020) he will be eligible for sponsoring and free membership!
  5. I can’t have a balanced diet which meets my needs; even the food bank struggles with someone like me – gluten and lactose intolerant with a few other allergies thrown in like certain herbs and fruit allergies. At least once a week I have to consider eating something I am intolerant to, because our budget can’t stretch for the whole week.  It’s either that or having an entire day of just meat and potatoes with hardly any or no veg and maybe some sauce.  When money was better 2yrs ago I was having an 80% paleo diet and my health bloomed, I had more good days than not.  But when the government cut that evil thing – money, I had to cut the food and my body isn’t responding well to that.
  6. I can’t afford a fish tank and supplies, a dog or some chickens.
  7. I can’t afford certain gardening tools and supplies which will help me grow more food.
  8. I can’t afford to get a gardener to help me when I am on a run of bad health. I regularly get bed bound sick where I can’t do anything for 6 to 8 weeks at a time, by that time, my garden is ruined when I get back to it, by aggressive bindweed.  The bindweed in my garden are triffids – I was ill for 9 weeks last summer and it managed to pull down and break an entire 7ft cherry tree I had put in.
  9. My husband knows I need to get out more and see the doctor a lot more than I do, but I don’t go to see him more than once a month (though it is essential) because it costs us £12 a time in transport. Therefore, we can’t afford a car and we can’t afford to pay for me to go out, so unless I can walk somewhere, I can’t go out, so I am even more isolated now.  I am also not eligible for a disability scooter for free, because my problems are not mobile, it is mostly breathing problems due to enlarged adenoids so they don’t take that seriously at all mobility.
  10. I am struggling to be able to pay for the amount of tissues and symptom relief things I need. Such as throat lozenges, vic rub, Vaseline, sanitary towels because my coughing fits have weakened my bladder severely.
  11. I have lost a lot of weight since becoming very ill, losing weight because coughing fits have made me become involuntarily bulimic and with the lack of affordable food I can eat which fits into my dietary needs, it is hard. I have lost nearly 50 pounds in the past four months and I can’t afford to get smaller clothes, so I am wearing clothes that are ridiculously big on me.  I know there is gumtree and all of that, but really it is hard to travel to pick things up and the women getting rid of their clothes don’t like the idea of a man (my husband) picking it up for me without me present, tried.
  12. I need a wig because my trichotillomania has got worse, but I have to make do without one and tolerate the whispers behind my back when out.
  13. My bed is broken and needs to be replaced because the frame broke when Henry jumped and pulled on it last summer. I can’t afford it, so we are literally trying to hold it all together with planks of wood and gorilla tape.
  14. We’ve lived with a leaky roof in our biggest bedroom for eight years now, we can’t have the roof fixed that would be 4k, heavy rains with a northerly wind causes havoc. Also our utility room roof has caved in too.
  15. Our toilet is coming away at the wall, again we’ve had to resort to gorilla tape and sealant to try and make do until we can afford to replace that too.
  16. Henry needs new clothes too, he is growing fast, but he has my problem at the moment too – having to wear clothes too big, because he is wearing his father’s hand me downs to keep him warm this winter. Thankfully Paul is a stick and is the smallest man’s size in clothing and doubly thankful that Henry is taller than most for his age. 
  17. Our sofa is broken and that needs replacing, we don’t sit downstairs anymore because of it. Also because it is winter and we had our gas fire taken out and gas supply to the fireplace removed because it was unsafe four years ago, so we have no heating in the living room except for an electric fan heater and we can’t afford to use that more than an hour a day.  We put it on whilst we eat our dinner, we don’t eat dinner in the dining room anymore because that is even colder than the living room.
  18. I can’t afford my psoriasis shampoo and wash, so have to tolerate discomfort as the NHS has refused to prescribe me again for more, told me to buy it for myself if I need it. Also they don’t fix hearing aids in our hospital anymore; I have to go to boots, so I have a malfunctioned hearing aid now, which means I am completely deaf a lot of the time. 

Surprising isn’t it?  This is England.  This is the 21st century.  Bet you didn’t know people like me still live like that?  The funniest thing is, I am one of the better off ones – one of the least poor, there are others worse than me, I have known them.  If you think my situation is shocking, honestly, you are a very sheltered person who needs to get to know others outside of your social circle a bit better.  I have known people so poor, that despite sugar tax, it is cheaper for them to get more calories into their child with a packet of haribo sweets than to cook them a veggie dinner.   I am not that poor yet and thankfully Henry has manageable allergies.  My Henry does however, live on sausages, mash, cucumber, carrots and baked beans more often than I would like, but that is the cheapest food I can get him that he is guaranteed to eat in full.  Some of the nation’s poorest can’t even afford to give their kids beans on toast, so I really can’t moan that much I suppose!

I am not poor enough in the eyes of the government to need charity help or help from the council, because we own our home outright and therefore we must fix things ourselves.  We’ve been told that if things are so bad, why not sell up and rent?  Because our money will only last five years, I would lose benefits and security in one fair swoop and we have no means to pay the rent, it’s unlikely that I will ever get well enough to have a proper job and Paul retires in three years.

In a world of no money my life would be bearable, it would be happier, it would be easier and our needs would be met; because people are more humane to those in need when they are equal to them.

Here is my no money list.

  1. Even though I am sick, in a world of no money I would have to contribute to society like everyone else.  But society would be more understanding that not everyone can cope with long hours and hard labour.  I would help places grow food or advise people on gardening for food, even on my sickest days I could sit on the internet on live chat, helping some gardening in need with various issues.
  2. I can help the world with aesthetics, by giving people my artwork to decorate their homes with, giving people my poetry and stories in books for them to enjoy. I could even get a group of actors together and we can make plays and movies based on my ideas.
  3. I would go to a workshop on my good days and help teach people how to make preserves, jams, chutneys, allergy free cakes and breads.
  4. I could do motivational talks.
  5. I can help sew and repair local peoples clothing from home, if they deliver.
  6. I can teach people about which flowers are edible, to help broaden peoples diet.
  7. I can do the occasional arts and craft workshop to help people recycle and upcycle things.
  8. I can help people learn French.
  9. I am a good massager and manicurist.
  10. I am very good with people who are suicidal or going through a dark time. I have had several people say that if it weren’t for me they wouldn’t be around anymore.  I have often thought about becoming a therapist, but in the last five years it is debatable whether or not I will be a hearing person in the future or not.  In fact, I have been told to prepare myself for becoming profoundly deaf to becoming totally deaf with a deaf dog support.  So I gave up my course as soon as I heard this.
  11. All my household problems would be solved, no dangerous stuff, more respect from neighbours and warm living room that is comfortable.
  12. I would be able to live the diet that is optimal for me as an individual.
  13. My operations would have been done before my health got this far and I would probably be able to do more things than what I listed above.
  14. We would have an electric car.
  15. We would have a dog, a full fish tank and some chickens in the garden.
  16. We would have tools for the garden and help in the garden.
  17. I would be able to wear appropriate clothes and so would Henry.
  18. We would have a safe bed.
  19. I would probably need to apply for a house extension so I could have an extra room to use as a library.
  20. I would be able to get out more.
  21. I would shave my hair off entirely and get a wig, so I learn to stop pulling.
  22. I’d go to the cinema once a week.
  23. We’d go for a pub family meal on Sundays like we used to.
  24. I’d take Henry to the big televised rugby matches.
  25. I’d adopt four kids and concentrate on getting my body healthier, rather than push my body to get that second child I want.
  26. We’d go out on a big family day out once a month at least – a zoo, a museum, a steam train ride, a bowling day out etc.
  27. Because a world without money would be more cooperative and free, I would be free to lend my services to certain people. I would be able to assist the local elderly, cook for them, visit them to keep them socialising, take them out, play games with the playful ones, and do the same for the severely disabled. 

It is all just hearsay I know.  I am down to earth enough to realise that I may still be struggling day to day with my own needs, like I am today.  But even in a world of no money, I could manage to help society from home, in my bed with online talks.  I could go out for one half day a week doing any of those things above and still be a worthy member of society who does her bit.  Basically, I would have a better life than I do now.  But because of my current needs, ESA will not tolerate someone who can do half a day of something, without pulling the carpet from under them and saying “well in that case you can work, we will take your money from you henceforth”.  They don’t care that my illness is such that I can go out for one half day a week, but I will be bedbound for four days after it and so therefore will not function around my own home – that to them, doesn’t matter.  What matters is getting me off benefits at any cost!

I am saying, in a world of no money, I can volunteer to be present outside of the home every 4 to 7days, if society tolerates someone who has a permanent streaming nose and allergies when she does it – I often feel that people recoil from me a lot when I am out about and this leads to me thinking things such as “Well why not just euthanize me now, then?”.

I burden too many people with my presence, they make it all too obvious and people who work in benefits don’t help matters!

Money is evil, it makes us heartless.

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Filed under Opinions and beliefs

Depressing rhymes and therapy

WARNING – This post is extremely long and contains graphic descriptions of my past – sorry, it is approximately 5k words.  (For my stalkers, would you like me to send you a copy in the post so you can really scan and tear it apart in venomous discussions with your cronies or are you OK for now?  Joke, get a life, don’t read this if you are easily upset.)

It may seem strange and a little deceptive, but some of my depressing prose, rhyme, songs, poetry etc. are not actually based on my current states of mind, some are, but most aren’t.  They are memories of various people and sometimes even empathy with people who have loved as deeply as me; I in this particular week have heard several friends online tell me that their relatives, friends or spouses are dying, just died or broken with them – I mean a lot of people in just one week and this has made me remember my darkest feelings when I have lost someone I have loved either because of a life choice or because of the non-choice of their life suddenly ending.

I can very easily slip back into old frames of mind, by simply focusing, remembering and being empathic.  I am a very strong empath and I soak up the energies of my atmosphere like a sponge, if the people around me are happy, I am relaxed and happy too, if just one person becomes negative I feel it like a brick hitting me and it saps me and if you are close to me, you notice that when I go quiet it is not a good thing, that it is affecting me in some way deeply.  I have always been this way, I have always been a sensitive person like that, but I have always been a cunning person (according to my mother), by that I mean I have always managed to come across as unaffected or even cold, it is hard to read me until I get too much of it, then I explode like a bomb and become a wreck for a while and it always takes person who know me by surprise – they haven’t learned yet that this is my way and I can’t help it.  I think it has a lot to do with how my mother raised me, because she was always encouraging me to hide my opinions and emotions from others, saying that I must never let anyone see my weak side, must never talk about my weaknesses – but that’s a problem too, because I am a person who after a while, will start to talk about my problems as a means to solve those problems and act as a sort of therapy for myself too.  If I am uncomfortable with something or someone, I will tolerate it a long time before I voice it, when I voice it, it is purely to try and come to some sort of compromise with each other, not to upset the other person at all.  I always want to solve issues before they get too big for me, but a lot of people think that when I do this, it is a big insult on who they are.  Seriously it is not, I am way too liberal and cooperative to be vindictive and critical.

Where is this post heading exactly?

I originally made this blog to act as a therapy for coping with my past.  Unfortunately a relative or two found the website and spoke to the people of whom I mention and it caused a big extensive family upset, because I had never in my life, voiced out loud my problems to anyone until literally, it was too much for me to take anymore.  To think I took twenty nine years of emotional suppression within a malevolent coercive relationship where I was controlled by four people in particular in my life who are part of my extended family – people who quite literally had mini meetings about me and how to handle me and what they should do with me and what they should make me do, half of the time I was never invited to these meetings.

Some days I would wake up to find my mother giving me that look which tells me that my life and my life schedule has changed yet again or I was about to lose something.  Things such as, Tina I want you to drop out of your college course again because we have decided that you should do this instead or that instead.  Tina we have decided to send your new puppy to the rescue centre because it looks at me funny, or you happen to have the flu for two weeks now, we can’t look after it, you promised, so we are getting rid of it TODAY!  The amount of times we had pets less than a month or two, I didn’t realise until I moved out that it was because certain relatives would only visit around once every 6 to 8 weeks, so they never got to see the new member of our family.  Sometimes she would decide that I would leave a job, simply phone the boss right now and say you are never coming back, no notice. 

Some mornings I would wake up and there would be a different look in her eye, a mischievous look, I hated those more, they were very unpredictable days.  I would find that I would be the butt of a lot of jokes, the entertainment for the evening with her friends or some relatives, or victim of some nasty trick which plays on my fears – such as, I used to have severe clown phobia, she bought me a porcelain clown, black with silver stars all over it and a star patch over its eye, she knew I was affected by many horror movies which had evil clowns in them – so she would tell me she had seen shadows and things around the house all day and things have been unnerving her and how she felt watched and keeps hearing movements upstairs.  I was always bad tempered with these silly little things she came out with, because I never really knew where she was going with this.  So I would march upstairs in a bad mood to find that my unwanted clown ornament was sitting at the bottom of the bed, arranged in a position which would make it stare directly at whoever walked into the room – with two new clown toys either side it, those were more malevolent looking than the ornament.  She would sneakily follow behind me, I stood in the door looking at these unwanted clowns, knowing it was some dumb trick, but then she would go one step further and grab me from behind and push me into the room with them, shutting the door firm behind me.  Little did I know at the time that one of the clowns actually was radio controlled to laugh evilly?  It was very sudden and scary.  I could hear nothing but the clown laughing its head off as well as my mother.

My mother’s type of Munchausen was mostly mental health conditions, skin conditions and ear conditions.  She ignored most other conditions if they were outside of this niche she wanted for me.  For some reason or another she always encouraged an eating disorder, she encouraged from the age of seven to be paranoid about my weight, sending me to weight watchers, against their rules, but she talked them into letting me go and take part.  I would be put on very tightly monitored crashed diets and then made to stop, then she would over feed me and made sure I got bigger every time, then she would put me on a diet again and this continued into my late twenties.  Feast or famine kind of life, the damage she did to my digestive system was immense and I am paying for it big time today, my colon and immune system is in a right mess with what she has done.  She used to roughly clean my ears and dip my head into the bath to get my ears wet, despite doctors from the age of five telling her not to do this as I had terrible glue ear.  I was diagnosed age seven as having lactose intolerance and a suspicion of other intolerance, but mum ignored this and never altered my diet to help me.  The amount of times growing up I would have severe night-time diarrhoea that would make me exhausted the next day, teeth chattering pain and ice cold shivers whilst on the toilet, stomach in cramps, fighting not to vomit on my mums pink bathroom rugs.  She would tell other people that I was up all night worrying about the next day for whatever reason and keeping her up and that all of this is simply down to psychosomatic reasons because I didn’t want to do something or go somewhere and I worked myself up into a frenzy about it – the amount of people who believed her too!  By the time I was eleven she had convinced the world and even my-self that I had some sort of severe social phobia, but I always knew deep down I didn’t.  I had to play along with her game because the alternative was horrible.

I developed dandruff and mum made such a big thing about it that she was determined I had some kind of horrendous fungus infection the doctor didn’t seem to know about.  She bought a nit comb and would often scrape my scalp sore, weeping and bleeding to get it off me and gave me all sorts of age inappropriate medicated shampoos.  I had severe skin infections in large masses with huge weeping oily sores all over my head most of the time growing up and even as an adult for a time, one time was so bad it developed into a huge bald patch.  She would only let me wash or bath once a week too, until I made her change this when I was fourteen and was getting self-conscious around my cousins and family friends children.  She agreed only because people started to talk about how I lacked personally pride and this embarrassed her.

I didn’t realise until my late teens that I was dressing inappropriately either, around the house when guests arrived.  Mum made it normal for me to parade around the house whenever in a chemise day and night if I wanted to, even garden in it in the summer, even if we were an overlooked garden in North London, primarily as it saved on the washing.  I had no idea until I first moved out aged twenty that it was all completely shocking behaviour and that I simply shouldn’t dress certain ways at certain times even within my own home, especially with guests or overlooking neighbours.  I didn’t even know until then about personal private hygiene either, I had to be taught by my ex-boyfriend, he had to teach me so much, like how to turn an oven on and how to wash and iron clothes, because my mother never taught me.  She gave me chores yes, lots of them, but clothes washing and putting on the oven were never a priority, yet I was taught how to cook, but she always turned it on for me and chose the number and did the timer.  When this particular ex couldn’t cope with how sheltered my life had been, he sent me back to live with her because he knew I wasn’t ready to live life on my own just yet.

When I reluctantly moved back in with her, I had a break-down that lasted for around ten months and I didn’t leave the house for nearly seven months.  I think it wasn’t so much that he dumped me, it was that he sent me back there, to her, when I thought I was free.  I tried to get away again aged twenty four, but that person was very different to how I think about life and how it should be.  I didn’t get away again until Paul came into my life when I was twenty seven, by that time; things were getting worse for me.  Because as I would start introducing new things in my life, to get a life and becoming more determined to have a job to actually keep, she felt she was losing more control over me and this made her become very irrational about a lot of things and she started to become a physical threat.

Constantly causing accidents to happen around me where I would get hurt and if I disputed this with her, she would insist it was an accident and how foolish I am to constantly walk into the cupboard door as she opens it, do I have eyes?  Or am I blind?  I remember she had two BBQ grills once, one was cooked on and the other was still cold waiting to be cooked on later.  She told me she had changed her mind about the other one being used as there was plenty of food and not everyone turned up that day, so she said to me, Tina take the coal out of the BBQ for me and put it back into the bag, after she said this to me she whispered something to her friend and nodded with a smirk, I thought nothing of it until I was shocked with burning pain in my hands, then she laughed and said to her friend, there you are see, told you she would!  They laughed too.  I could never understand how many evil people my mum found to collaborate with.  Some were very lovely and were like family to me, but others were like witches, literally.  I wasn’t taken to a doctor or a hospital with my burns, both palms were entirely blistered, she wouldn’t get me any soothing creams at all, her only comfort for me with my burning blistered hands was to run them under the cold water for a couple of minutes.  When that wasn’t working for me, she reluctantly and lazily got me a bucket of ice to put my hands in, they were not getting better and I had to sleep hanging over my bed that night with my hands in that bucket of ice water in a heatwave of 30c, she wouldn’t help get me more ice during the night to top up, I had to get it myself.

As much as no one believes me now, who knows my mum; she often would call me over to kneel in front of her when she was on a corded phone if an ashtray wasn’t around, I had to hold the fag for her and let her drop the ash into my palms, sometimes it would burn, sometimes it didn’t then when she finished her fag she would drop it into her tea cup and signal for me to wash the cup out and get her another tea quickly, because she would want another fag in less than ten minutes again.  My mother is the sort of person who can drink three cups of tea an hour and smoke every ten to fifteen minutes, she gave up smoking just two years before I moved out.

I have been threatened with defamation for telling these truths, because there are people who simply can’t imagine my mother being like that, because they have never experienced this side of her.  One of these people happens to be a sibling of mine who is fourteen years older than me and lived an almost jet setter life from the age of nineteen.  Mum changed a lot around a year after we moved to Hendon, when I was just about to turn seven.

Up until I became seven, she was a normal sweet mother and I really wanted to be like her when I grew up, smoking and all.  But when things started to change by the time I was thirteen I really wanted to try so hard to avoid being the slightest bit like her.  I don’t smoke, I don’t drink like a fish from Friday till Sunday mornings, I don’t go on wild parties, I don’t send my children across the country to various relatives for 4 months of the year in dribs and drabs because I can’t be bothered with them, I don’t criticise my child endlessly and try to shape him into the image I want him to be, I don’t eat McDonald’s four times a week, I don’t constantly sniff, I don’t like starting arguments or drink endless cups of tea or try to upset neighbours or hit and throw out my child because he was open about being gay or loving a black person – I am not like her at all!

I remember one of my brothers once joked to see her reaction that he had got a black woman pregnant and he has to marry her.  I am not exaggerating when I said she didn’t just hit him, she literally beat him up like she was in the WWF (former name of WWE), he was curled in a ball in the hall floor begging her to stop because it was a joke, which just made her madder.

My brother often had fights with other guys after nights out, he had a bruise or two afterwards, but he was like he had survived a car crash when mum had finished with him that night.

I even remember mum telling me stories about how she deliberately arranged to break my dad’s leg to stop him from going into the Falklands too.  Though when this is bought up the story changes slightly all the time, it is one of these Chinese whisper rumours that goes on in my family, it is always different when it’s retold and if challenged by anyone who was horrified by the story – of course it never happened, whoever bought it up is a liar, that’s what they usually say!

My mother is relentless and tireless in her control of everybody’s lives, some people are too trapped in reverie to realise how much she controls their lives and their observations and reality, so they never really know or feel that she is coercing them in so many things.  It is so weird how so many people can live their life so blind all the time.  She gets them by being a very generous person who is a pillar of strength for them when they are both mentally and financially in need.  I have noticed a lot of the good friends who are kind and relatives who are kind are those who are disabled, formerly homeless, lonely, or were ex suicidal people, people who usually feel they owe everything to my mother because my mother had gave them a home, gave them a chance, gave them money, pulled them together when they were hospitalised and cleaned their homes for them without asking for anything in return.  It is difficult to get people to believe you about your problems with a person when the person in question seems like an angel to a lot of others.

I have been around a lot of unsavoury people from a very young age.  People that was always risky to be in the room with as a child; ex-convicts, drug addicts, drunks, violent people and those with violent brain degenerative diseases like aggressive personality changes due to dementia and Alzheimer’s.  I have even been babysat by said people.  One or two of them were not as good as they promised to be to my mum but mum always felt it was too much bother to handle the situation because she needed anyone to babysit me at the time.  Not all of them were family, some people were hardly known even by my mother.  I even remember once she was so desperate she promised to pay the electric bill of an impoverished neighbour who had a drunk wife beating husband and five kids, I stayed with them for the night and for them it was a normal night but for me it was a horror story.  Their dad came home drunk and beating his wife by eleven and I had to just get used to the fact that I had to stay there until morning.  When I told mum about this, she attacked the poor woman about how much this woman promised I wouldn’t see that kind of behaviour but a man like that is unpredictable, mum should have known better because she was raised with a father like that herself.

I can’t stop my therapy; I need to move on with my life.  I can’t be done for defamation because it is all true and I do have solid proof that certain things did indeed happen, despite how my brother wishes it didn’t.  My solid proof are minutes and papers from social services and a variety of charities which helped me from the age of ten to sixteen, I have doctors reports I can summon up at any time to give papers about how violent my mother had been to various members of staff, I have an aunt who will vouch for the violent outburst mum had too.  I just have too much to prove and I can prove it.

The thing is, if this goes further and I do indeed find myself in the court for defamation, I will win because of these minutes and reports and not only that, the person in question would do my mother no favours because there is a lot more I will never voice because she will surely go to jail with huge fines if it was revealed and at her age and current state of health that wouldn’t be nice for her.  But then again the person who threatened me with defamation was warned seven years ago that mum was too mentally fragile to know about this blog and the truth being revealed and that she was already suicidal herself about her health problems and they didn’t care enough about her then, they still told her, so I guess they won’t care this time around either!

You can only see how much weight mum has put on since she was told the truth is out, my mum eats when she is scared and only scared, I received an unwanted photograph of my mother a few weeks ago from someone online and I couldn’t believe my eyes about how big she has got. It tells me everything.  I didn’t want to scare her; I didn’t want her to know about me revealing things, because to be honest, I didn’t want to be the one who got blamed for killing her.  Because I still remember the sweet mum I had before we moved to Hendon and I still remember the good times we had, my childhood wasn’t completely horrible, there were good times even if it was always tainted with a bad ending at the end of the day. 

But I cannot sit back and let people believe that my childhood was great, that I was spoiled that I have mental health problems of the kind she claims I have. 

I do have severe mental problems but they are not the kind she tells people.  I have manic depression where I go into bouts of laughing and being happy and then going suicidal, I have post-traumatic stress syndrome, trichotillomania and self-harming issues, I still retain her trained into me feast or famine habits two sided eating disorder, starve for a month and feast for a month thing, mild dissociative disorder (where my personality changes, it has been suggested I have more than one personality, but I never had this dealt with by a therapist and it was hard for them as I never had different names for my different shifts of personality and they felt my personality was shifting a lot, purely because I didn’t have a chance to grow up and define my-self freely) my dissociative problems also cause me to forget the body I am in; make me think that I am in a healthier body and I try and do things and end up having accidents or fainting as the body can’t cope with what I am trying to do, I often have these flashes where I am some kind of super healthy and fit athlete and I try to work out and collapse within ten minutes as my shell is really suffering from more than one auto-immune problem.

Because of my varied types of guardians growing up, I have a strong chav come wigger side (excuse the expression I have no idea how to describe that), I tend to put my hair in dreadlocks during those times and write rap songs and hang around beatboxers and wear chav style clothes and big brash gold jewellery and black hats, a middle class side which is probably my most normal personality socially and my most used; and then there is  an extremely aristocratic side where I can’t tolerate inconsistencies in language and etiquette and I yearn for renaissance parties or larping.   Also as my father’s family are very Victorian in their manner and speech, I have a Victorian side and my speech can seem almost two hundred years outdated very easily, this is more seen in my writing than my vocalisation though often when speaking, a lot of my contemporaries struggle with my language usage and voice change. 

I also have a very aggressive side which only comes out if I am soaking up too much aggression around me and if I feel physically threatened, I was never told what this kind of mental illness is called but if someone physically attacks me (and they have done so a lot in my past) I get dizzy, my eyes seem to fill up with blood and I go blind and I snap out of it several minutes later to find out that I have hurt my attacker badly or I have been restrained before any damage was done, this has only ever happened four times in my life.

I must also admit – I don’t realise that my voice changes between personalities.  But I have recorded myself various times and I can do accents and different class styles very easily, I have been told by a friend who works in radio that I really should become a voice over artist as my voices are so varied and consistent.  When I knew Rebecca just two years before I met Paul I remember we sat down together and she asked me to deliberately think of my various voices and try some new ones to see how I go. 

My list is huge.  My best voices are, Marge Simpson, Jimmy Krankie, Joanna Lumley, Mariella Frostrup (when my throat is having a bad day and I try to be posh), Julie Walters, Jane Horrocks, Maxine Peake, Kathy Staff, Peggy Mount, Bonnie Tyler (when singing) as well as Etta James (when I sing, I have a powerful soul, mow town and rock singing voice); My best accents are Southern Irish, Scottish highlander, rural Cheshire, Alabama, New York Jew, New York Italian, Italian, Greek, Russian, German, Chinese, Japanese, Hindu, South Carolina country bumpkin and New Zealander, as well as cockney, middle and upper class west London, Essex and Welsh.  There are other voices I can do, but they are not defined as an individual yet, or at least we’ve never come across a person who talks like those people yet and there are some American accents I can’t seem to decide what state they are from either.  I do have a very versatile voice when it is in full working order and unfortunately I haven’t been able to play with my voice for nearly a month now and for an average of 4 months of the year my voice is affected due to severe throat infections.  My real voice sounds a lot like Martine McCutcheon and when I was younger and I died my hair dark purple which was almost black in some shades, people even mistook me for looking like her when I was in the street, but this is my main voice when around my blood family – my voice has changed a lot since but often floats back when dealing with my past.  My voice nowadays is described by others to be more like I am from the West Midlands, a mild, middle class accent which would make sense considering how often I was sent to live for a few weeks here and there growing up to Cheshire, Market Drayton and other areas around here – what makes people laugh is whether I was with blood family or not, if I got upset my voice would change into a very strong Cheshire accent all of a sudden!

My life was so unsettled; it isn’t difficult to believe how hard it was to define myself, even my voice.

This post has got far too long now, nearly reaching 5k words, I should really give you all time to digest this and I am very nervous about admitting to the kinds of mental illnesses I have in as much detail as I have.  But the mental illnesses I do not have, which my mother has lied about are social phobias, compulsive eating (yes I have an eating disorder but it is not that), self-isolation, hysterical tantrums and screaming fits on the floor and to some people she has even lied that I have a mental learning disability as well as going into funny trances and doing weird things which scare her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Daily Prompt 19

Today’s daily prompts are – Daisy – A crab – A sickness – Evil king – grapes

This is interesting; there are a few things that come to my mind here with these prompts.

Here are a couple of suggestions;

An evil king poisons a mermaid he wants to possess by making her eat poisoned grapes and her only saviour is her friend, a crab called Daisy.

Alternatively the story could be that a crab makes an evil king good again by making him sick and dependant on the kindness of others – a moral to the story is usually a popular notion.

Anyway, the prompts are yours to play with and as always, have fun!

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Reading and writing past and present

I have always wanted to be a writer since I was ten years old when Mr Alistair a therapist/teacher told me that I had a gory imagination and extraordinary talent; back then my specialism was horror and it has only been in the past seventeen years that my writing has moved onto fantasy, comedy and poetry.  I started writing stories about alien invasions, vampires and alarmist ideas about climate change, El Niño and the end of the world.   I have for most of my life been a dedicated environmentalist, but since I talked so much in a spiritual forum about my concerns I lost confidence to continue writing this journalistically (is that a word? if not why not?), because I was accused of being a doom-sayer and me being a very uplifting positive person this accusation hurt me enough to stop me.

My first ever short story of any real length was based on Persephone in the underworld that I wrote when I was eleven.  I imagined how life must have felt like living in the underworld and even when I was that young I had a good clear understanding that not everyone is 100% evil or good, so I wrote about Hades in a positive form and it was very much influenced by my passion for Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.  This is a theme that has followed me through my writing life; if there is a misunderstanding in something, I am always willing to show another side to it – determined to prove to everyone that nothing is just black or white; it is a multitude of colours.  I can do this to the most indigestible of subjects too, according to a few people who have seen my handwritten work – thus I am sometimes known as an excellent mediator and diplomat, as long as the subject doesn’t get me too personally hot under the collar. 

One friend recently told me that they see me as society’s apologist, whatever that means.  I looked it up and I am not really that religious enough to be considered an apologist, though I suppose if you were to watch me answering questions whilst I am watching many quiz shows on religion, you’d say I seem to know an awful lot about religion for someone who isn’t interested in being religious.  You see I think this is where people misunderstand me – it is not that I am not religious, I am more humanist because I think that religion by and by causes division and I am all for world unity.  However I am a deeply spiritual person who literally believes in anything until it is absolutely solidly proven not to exist – hence why I leave milk and honey next to the stove at night for the house spirit (Nisse/elf) and ask permission to the tree itself before I prune it and honestly believe in various ancient customs and ideas – though I am still soul searching, but I will make this abundantly clear now, this is not an invitation to be converted to anything.  My ancestry history is so mixed, whenever I feel I should dedicate myself one way or another, I feel like I am upsetting some ancestor on the other side, so I don’t bother myself with dedication of that sort.

Anyway, this post was going to be about how I started writing and what I started with and where I have ended up.  I have written a lot of comedy and comic themes recently that I have noticed I have more and more of the fantasy and sci-fi comedy genre, if that is a genre.  I told Paul the other day that I feel like I am being possessed by the spirits of the deceased members of the Monty Python gang and Terry Pratchett, I try and write serious high fantasy and I can’t help putting in some silliness into it and I am seeing corny puns in everything!  The more I fight it, the funnier I get.

Unfortunately the comedy themes are rarely if ever posted on here, because I have made this mostly into a life update and poetry blog, rather than the intended fantasy blog, because I worry that my worst writing might be my best and my best my worse in the eyes of the world.  So I never really know which short stories and snippets to risk posting here.

I have decided to make this blog more of a writing diary, but again I have fears that I might reveal too much of my plans.  Fear is a major factor for me not posting much lately.

I have a handwritten diary I update about once a week on average because I keep forgetting to add to it – this diary is purely about my writing, my plans and any strange themes I have noticed that day or week.  For example, I have noticed I get a story idea in my head, then a book falls off the shelf in the library of a similar theme I was thinking about – weird coincidences like this happen a lot to me.  Then whilst television flicking, subjects of things I have been thinking about or themes of the day seem to be found everywhere, even on my sons chocolate wrappers as adverts at times!

I was thinking about sharing these day to day themes and the weird occurrences they have been discovered as part of my day to day blogging, as these things often develop into story ideas for me as I sit back and wonder what the universe wants me to do with these supposed signs?  What story is she prodding me towards and I believe this is why I have more ideas than actual work – I am never without a new idea, the problem for me is writing them down fast enough and concentrating on less than three at a time.  This is extra difficult for me because I am an attention deficit sufferer, I get bored doing the same thing or thinking about the same thing for longer than twenty minute bursts – hence why my current reading list on Goodreads usually has around twelve current books on the go!  It doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a book, it just means I really can’t concentrate for more than twenty minutes.

Thinking about my reading list on Goodreads has actually just reminded me to make a point here on a matter a friend recently said to me the other day – she noticed that I have all these books on Goodreads I am currently reading but I only manage to read between ten and forty pages a day of maybe two or three books and she said that as far as she understands I am always reading but the Goodreads activities doesn’t prove it.  I said it is simple really when you consider that Goodreads is not designed to update magazines and newspapers and out of print books that are not listed on their site at all as well as local pamphlets and guides, game back stories, research websites, other people’s blogs and so forth. 

Here is a list of my magazine subscriptions and I do mean, I read them every time they are published either weekly or monthly;

Writing Magazine

Garden News

Sci-Fi Now

Gardeners World

Tesco

Yours

Pets @ home

Total TV Guide

Amateur Garden

Kitchen Garden

Lego club magazine

WWF membership news and stuff

Bibliophile

BBC History

New Scientist

Focus

Classic Rock

When I pick up a new magazine, that is the only thing I can read from beginning to end and it takes me around an hour to two hours – the reason why I can do that with a magazine rather than a novel is simple, the subject changes every few minutes.

Honestly, I am addicted to reading, I am addicted to downloading new information into my mind on a constant basis and I am a person who doesn’t enjoy sleep – I see it as a waste of time, but being ill, I have to sleep more than most and it literally drives me crazy!  All I want to do is think learn and do.

So there you have it!

Hello, I am Tina Cousins and I am a reading and writing addict and I don’t intend to cure myself of it, goodbye.

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The fates rhyme

As the midnight hour approaches

All the evil things encroaches

On all the living and the dozy

As they sleep in bed all nice and cosy

Weaving magic above their heads

Some will wake in the morning

Some will not

Some will awaken before then, in shock!

As nightmares are woven above their heads

Spinning yarns of fate on fine threads

No one knows what waits for them

In the morning, an evil fate or a shining gem

It is always a new dawning

And the fates never give a warning

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The wretched will demise

Witch from pixabay

 

The curse of a thousand years is upon you

The wretched will demise

Slowly your lineage falters

Because of your every lie

And witches cast their spells on you

They stir the magic in their pot

And I will rescue not one of you

Because you deserve the lot

Oh yes you wicked thing, wicked things shall come to you

For like attracts like within the witches stew

And slowly it shall burn your soul and terror it will thrive

Because you crossed an evil witch and now she’ll destroy your life

So slowly she will stir the pot, so the brew is ready

The spell shall come so slowly, so slowly and so steady

And you will realise what you’ve done, when it’s far too late

But now the spell it has been cast, the witch has sealed your fate

 

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Going deaf to your misery

 

royalty free image from pixabay

DISCLAIMER – 

The below poem is not meant to be offensive – I am personally a sensory impaired member of society, I am very short sighted with astigmatism and I am totally deaf in my right ear with only 35% hearing in my left ear and I could potentially lose that, considering I have auto-immune inner ear disease.  I have only learned to develop a sense of humour with the cards I’ve been dealt with in life, please understand.

 

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of deaf

I shall hear no evil, but see a lot I might

Though I hear not the barks that scold me, I see the awful sight

Evidence of those who hate me are seen everywhere

And they sit back and they think that I really, really care

But yea, the mind is full of ego

And they shall think of themselves

I shall sit in wonderment, why they don’t put the hate on their shelves?

I wonder why every day, why they think of me?

When I have left them long ago, yet they still want to torture me?

Then I realise that those poor dears, they do not have a life

So that is why they taunt me, with curses and poisoned words of strife

They of course have an ego too, that you can be sure

That they sit around every day gossiping of the times of yore

Becoming old and bitter, making their friends think that they are a bore

By choosing to focus on the dead past, the past that makes them sore

And I sit back still amazed, that they have chosen to concentrate

On things about me, each and every day, because poisoned words always finds a way

To go back to the victim

You see that’s the side effects of your conviction

Gossip not and leave the friction

 

 

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I will rescue you

I’m am talking about the scriptures

I am talking about the books

I have a message for you

Would you please take a look?

You shepherd to me pain

You created the evil and insane

You make things hard to gain

Yet you still won’t take the blame

God, you ask me to trust you

And I can trust you not

Because each creation is made by you

You’ve made everything – the lot

You tell me to be wary of evil

How not to fool for their games

Yet I wonder why you tell me

What are your puzzling aims?

You see, I think you lie to me

I think you lie and cheat

I don’t think the word of God is yours

The bible was written by a sneak

That’s why you have no name

That’s why you refuse to tell

You try to cheat all of us and put us under spells

You’ve armies who believe in you

You’ve armies who’d fight your wars

Yet God is the name for love

So why don’t you show me yours?

You see I doubt the word of the scriptures that every religion tells

I believe it’s the act of the deceiver, who has put everyone under spells

It was once said “evil hides within the eyes of the innocent” and that is very true

Everyone who has faith in this, is under the spell that’s you

I don’t believe you are God at all

I don’t believe your lies

You’re just a book that tells us stories that are endless in supply

I know that God does exist and he isn’t inside of you

The innocence you have stolen, the world doesn’t have a clue

You’ve imprisoned their hearts and their minds

You’ve taken all their souls

Yet they still worship and believe, that your laws are old as time

Well I am here to free them, to save them with my rhyme

To open their minds and hearts

To open the door to them

I will try and lead them all back home again

For God is the word of love, he discriminates not at all

Anyone who tells you he does, is a liar, that is all

If your book tells you to hate or kill, it is not true scripture it is evil still

Do you want to pay the price?  Do you want me to hand you the bill?

Do you want to be lost forever?  Do you want to stay unfulfilled?

Then take my hand and come with me, to a better place.

A place where I can show you truth, far away from the base

Yes you already live in Hell, you didn’t know it, but now you do

And here is my hand outstretched, here to rescue you

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