Tag Archives: mind

Will you follow my imagination?

Will you come on a journey with me? 

Will you sit and wait for me to find inspiration again?

Will you want to see my victories of mind?

How I will loosen up my imagination again and make whole worlds mine?

If you do, I will show you things that will fill you with awe and it will be sublime.

I will show you worlds filled with zombies who can travel in time

Giants aplenty sitting by fires singing rhymes and werewolves growing orchards of limes

And pixies who entertaining kings with mimes whilst mermaids eat shark meat all the time

And faeries all tip toe

If you follow me I promise you, there are no bounds where my imagination can go

So will you join me?  I don’t know

But perhaps you will time…

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Filed under Poems V - Z

Writer losing her mojo

We all have heard the saying that “writers write as simple as that” and it is really is as simple as that, but most don’t actually do it as regularly as they should or at least believe they should.  For me, I do not write as much as I believe I should because in the last few years I have lost my mojo, I forgot what it meant for me to write and I have done a lot of soul searching in the past year to find out where the passion has gone.

I did something rare for me – I re-read a book, usually I don’t re-read books unless I put them into a reference category but this particular book I re-read and saw it with fresh eyes and read things I didn’t remember were in the book in the first place.  The name of the book was “Big Magic” written by Elizabeth Gilbert.  When I read this book I asked myself a question; “Why do I think I have lost my love for writing”?  It was a simple answer really upon reflection and I would never have gotten this answer if it wasn’t for this book.  My writing became too focused on financial panic, the urge to write as much as I can so I can earn a living because I needed to break out of debts, but instead, this kind of pressure halted everything about my creative mind and I found I couldn’t do anything other than dramatic self-pitying poetry on mass, the stories and the playtime died, literally.

For the word, nothing has been published except for the things that are published on this blog simply because I didn’t want to approach a publisher with such depressing poetical themes, because I still hold to the idea that I am primarily a fantasy and horror story writer, not a poet!  I am also an essayist I suppose, because I like writing and hoarding information I have learned about my favourite subjects, but I am not sure how to become a paid essay writer and I am not really going to approach that as a career until I learn more about it. 

Anyway – getting back to the main subject of this post.  I forgot how to play – yes, even in real life, I have forgotten how to play and to laugh because of my severe depression, breakdown and financial worries.  I became so down in the dumps about my life that I had two years of being carefully guarded by Paul my fiancé because I couldn’t be left alone for fear I’d commit suicide, seriously.  One point it got so bad, Paul had to go out somewhere without me and he needed to ask a neighbour to sit in with me.  To say I am over that now, would be wrong, the slightest thing brings it back, but I am not as bad as I used to be, the self-harming has stopped a little bit and I am more predictable these days; but ultimately, the depression is still there and I am trying hard to find out how to play again, how to feel happy again and how to enjoy life.  I don’t enjoy anything anymore and it is getting increasingly difficult since the doctor is now looking into what they believe to be a very serious neurological problem, either MS or motor neurone disease, but like always there is a long waiting list here in the UK and I won’t really know what’s going on with me for several months apparently.

So, how does one go about trying to find out how to be happy again and learn to play again?  It turns out according to the book “Big Magic” and a couple of other books I have read recently that it is something most adults get out of practise of, that once you start trying to become playful and do things which are generally playful (even if you don’t feel happy doing it or feel that it is playful) you will eventually trick your mind to becoming playful and you will build up a type of momentum.  Once the momentum is built up, you will start to feel a change – well I hope so.

I thought hard about how I write stories now in comparison to how I wrote them ten years ago, was there any notable differences in how I produced work back then than now?

Yes there was a huge fundamental difference in fact. 

A decade ago I wasn’t afraid to be thought of as eccentric or insane, I would play with my imagination and I would share my thoughts and ideas no matter how obscure and strange they were with people around me and then I would write about those ideas.  I used to have a lot more creative friends too, but many of them have creative careers which have made them too busy to socialise even online, some have died, some have decided that they too have lost their playful side and have become super conservative people.

I have also found that my social circle is smaller these days which is amazing because I used to think my social circle couldn’t get any smaller ten years ago, the people who I do talk to these days are very serious people who have a worried look on their faces whenever anybody talks about anything out of the ordinary, even if you were to explain that you are an artist and a writer so it’s not a mental health problem, it’s just my mind playing with ideas and therefore there is a story in this.  You’d be surprise how people like that can dry up your will to be imaginative or to share your ideas.

Some people who have very little imagination tell me that they wished they had more of an imagination and they start to tinker with my story ideas themselves (which I don’t mind) but then they start demanding that they must change my concept on my fantasy worlds because things are just not plausible and that readers are real people who live in the real world and they want something believable, so they start pulling at the threads of my fantasy infrastructure and start literally pulling my fantasy communities apart by the seams.  It turns out that even my perfect all powerful fantasy God is not infallible, that he has other beings that will cause problems he can’t deal with and that even this God ponders who created him and so forth.  I told the person, you are going too deep here buddy, I don’t want to go that way in my story, but they insist that I must.

I became a fantasy writer because I find the real world too boring and predictable for me to want to think about and write, the idea of making a fantasy based novel plausible, to me, is laughable, because fantasy is supposed to be anything BUT normal. 

To cut myself off from such people will almost completely isolate me again, which I don’t want.  But can I really sit through another conversation where my worlds are being shattered write before my eyes?  I often feel like screaming at the top of my voice “Of course this fantasy God has a creator you dumbass, it is me, I am their goddess, I made them, but I am not egotistical enough to put myself in the book as the all-power”, does any other writer go through this?  Or is this situation totally unique to me?

So I am currently on a journey to find “My tribe” as Elizabeth Gilbert puts it and to find my playful imaginative self again and to have the confidence and focus of not listening to those who are dismantling my worlds and to continue with what I had always planned instead.  Which is a shame because these people used to feed me ideas, used to support me, but these days it is just soul destroying.  I have to ignore the world destroyers.

I wanted to join a writers group, but not sure what is involved with those and I am scared to find more people who are like that, once they’ve heard my stories.  I am trying to forget the people who are making me focus on writing purely for financial reasons and try to focus once again on writing for me, for fun, for release and for pleasure; the way it should be for all writers.

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Filed under About my work

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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Filed under Poems G - I

You’ve allowed me to imprison you

You must like pain if you still read my poisoned words

Always aimed at you

Always said in truth

Always breaking you, because you allow it

You allow it, because you sit and read

You sit and allow yourself to grieve

At the words I say to you

You are the fool

I am your cruel mistress

Because you allow it, submissive

You read it and I don’t make you

You’ve allowed me to imprison your mind

And I will always own you

As long as you still sit and read, sit and grieve

Even after I’ve disowned you

It’s true

It’s true

You’ve allowed me to imprison – YOU!

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Filed under Poems V - Z

Be silent, be silent

 

Be silent, be silent you drive me mad

Says my enemies to me in their mind that’s bad

Be quiet, be quiet they shout and plea

In their minds every day, directed at me

Yet I still talk, I still move on

I still continue because I grow strong

I won’t quit and I won’t stop

Not until their minds go POP!

Until they realise it isn’t me

It is their selves the silly things

They focused on me so much they ache

And so a spell they do create

Against me, their obsession and they can’t see

That the one who tortures them isn’t me

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Filed under Poems A - C, Short Story Series

I’m not your therapy

Yes I am insane, insane because lots of people have bashed my brains

They tried to mould me to be like them, to control me and hold the reins

I don’t take it any more, this is why I rant

I know the fantasy in this blog is becoming more and more scant

But I need to release this strain of mine

Because my brain I need to find

I need to release it to the wind

I need to be free and untinned

I need to go my own way, not lean upon vagrant strays

I can’t stand upon my own two feet, when I am tying knots with those who deceit

I can’t be me when I am trying to be, something YOU expect of me

I’m not what you want, you see

I am not here for your therapy

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Filed under Poems G - I

I cry for my place in the world

I cry for my place in the world

But my place is not here

The place I yearn for doesn’t exist

It’s a place where I go to each night in dream time, a place where I love and miss

When I am awake it drives me insane

All I want to be is inside my brain

I want it to be my world

Is that insane?

Is it insane to love what is inside your brain?

Again

I will tell you

I cry for my place in the world

But it is not here

The place I long for doesn’t exist, anywhere but in here (points to my head)

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Filed under Poems G - I

Corridors of my mind

I am wandering and lonely in the corridors of my mind
Heart broken into pieces, you drink my tears like wine
I suffer with your lack of patience
I am cursed with your temper too
My heart is bleeding for release
My mind is like a balloon
Will it pop under your incessant pressure?
Will it bang in its cocoon?
Is my destiny to be rescued?
Or is it to become a loon?
I don’t dare to choose my own path
I don’t dare to release myself
But how can I live with such evil?
How can I defend myself?
Only time will hear me
Will it act and save the day?
Will I be rescued swiftly?
Or doomed to fade away?
I am worried for my questions
I am scared of the future too
I don’t know what will happen to me
But I hope it happens soon
I remain in this tight spot
Until fate has turned the key
To lock me into madness
Or to release me till I am free
I don’t dare to judge what will happen
A clue of my future there is none
I just hope it happens swiftly
Release me from my mum
This was written on Good Friday 2017, 4yrs after I broke away from my mother. But, these are the thoughts that used to come to me when I lived with her. I always felt this desperate, especially as nobody ever believed me when I asked them to help me with her. Not many people believe what I say about her, but it is all true, no matter what they say.
I have no reason to lie and what hurts me the most is the fact that my own mother will sit back and tell me that those memories I share with people, good or bad memories, are false, she tried to convince me that I don’t know my own mind.
Such is the manipulation of someone who is abusive; they can manipulate even the minds of those of who believe them to be good people. They can wear any mask for any occasion they want, so if anyone in your life tries to tell you something negative about a person you respect, don’t shun it please, you never know anyone 100%.

 

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Filed under Poems A - C

curious mind of a growing author

Now, I am not in a frame of mind where I want to leave anyone right now – I am not depressed, I am not suicidal today, I am not hinting at any discomforts emotionally at all; yet despite this, today has been a day where poetically, I cannot help but write about relationships ending, leaving a former life etc. and this is just a fluke… or is it? Am I going through some kind of subconscious rebirth? Is this the start of a midlife crisis? I haven’t a clue, but currently I think I am very happy with the people who are in my life.
A lot of my poems are based on my past, particularly my childhood. But the ones I have written today are largely focusing on sexual relationships that are coming to a close, yet I am not in this situation – though I have been once. But the words in the poems would have been different surely? As I never left them, they didn’t leave me for the reasons I wrote about today, so where these poems came from is a mystery to me.
Another thing is I have written two poems today and both of those poems have a particular sentence in common “It’s not that I don’t love you”, now, I have had this said to me on many occasions before, when I was about to be dumped – the excuses that came after were varied.
Sometimes a writer can be in a frame of mind to write about something they have never experienced and usually I have been told that this is wrong – you should always write about what you know in order to sound authentic. So let me know if you think it sounds authentic enough for a person who has never experienced what I wrote about in the two poems I will post later in the week called “It’s not that I don’t love you” and “It’s not that I don’t love you 2”.
Thank you for reading

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Filed under About my work, My life

Iced Podium

 

I’m freezing in the cold damp grey winter morning
The chilled wind wraps around me like an inescapable cocoon
Will I freeze to death soon?
I’ve lost my mind and I still stand
On the cold wet floor of the prairie lands
I can’t move, I can’t talk
All I do is stand or walk
Lost in the frozen land
I’ve lost my mind
For I’ve lost my hand
How heartbreak makes us numb
I stand dying on an iced podium

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Filed under Poems G - I