Tag Archives: world

Our biggest mistake

The Millennia bought so much hope to all around the world

Life was changing for the good

Medicine at its finest, racism crushed underfoot

Then a decade in its all trashed

With plastic waste and a democratic slash

Democracy is bleeding to death

And my heart along with it too

Life was good, but nobody knew

Nobody knew that how they lived would make the world askew

A simple little plastic, a few chemicals here and there

A carefree attitude to living that is what has me in a scare

Things have to change quite soon, not soon in fact, right now

Because how we live today, is our sufferance in the future – WOW!

Yes profound, but true wise words

Don’t keep on with your ignorance and being backwards

It’s time to learn it’s time to change, for you and all your future kin

Because trashing this beautiful world has to stop, it is a sin!

Not being religious now, but Earth is our home

If we kill this planet off this century where do we have to roam?

Nowhere, that’s where, you can forget living on Mars!

Mars is a desert, cold and cruel it is not as nice as ours

You have to take care of our ancestral lands, for we are ancestors too

Stop thinking about yourselves for a change, you are not here for long that’s true!

You got to think about the kids, about the creatures we all subjugate

Because if we don’t take responsibility, all of us!  It will be our biggest mistake!

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Filed under Poems M - O

Words and people grow like flowers in manure.

I am disgusted with myself today but my partner Paul ensures me that it isn’t my fault.  I worked out last night how much I used to write compared with how much I write these days.  Prior to 2013 I wrote an average of two million words per year, now I struggle to get fifty thousand a year.  I decided this has to change and I have to get the old me back, primarily because I am going insane with the many ideas I have floating in my head – my brain is literally about to burst with literacy.  My brain will soon be splattered all over the internet and in books, so look out world, because I think I’ve been ignited.

The question is, the last time I felt like this was in 2006 and I wrote no less than thirty articles, poems and short stories a day on one site, of course I can’t post that many here on my blog, as this will make me lose subscribers, I mean, come on – who will want thirty notifications a day?  So I am debating about spreading myself onto two other blogs, so my subscribers don’t feel so bombarded – a cunning trick, but it might be worthwhile?  Because once I am on the go, I am on the go – I used to be such a workaholic, totally addicted to writing and then for some reason, I lost it.

I believe confidence has a lot to do with the lack of writing as well as health issues – I have had chronic bronchitis off and on since Christmas!  My confidence has been bashed by two people in particular, those people are held bent on ruining my reputation by any means necessary and has vocalised how they look forward to the day I become world famous, as they will be waiting.

Well there is nothing truly sinister about me but I still worry.  Because it is the story of my life that whenever I do anything to better myself the world seems to contrive a way to embarrass me out of it and make me go back into my insular hole of hopes and dreams.

I have been chronically bullied as I have been ill, most of my life and I have the types of bullies in my life who are no longer present, but always comes back once they think I have started to grow, they treat me like a weed in an abandoned garden.  Once a year someone comes along with a mower and cuts me down again, just in case I start to become too strong.  I think this weed is going to need to use their shit as manure and grow rapidly into a man eating plant!

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Filed under About my work

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

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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Filed under Poems G - I

Life is sometimes…

My life, sore as it may be, is still a blessing to me

There are things I don’t often see, happy things, miracles and a certain ease

I try not to be blind for the things I have

I try not to be ungrateful

I know that life could be much worse, it is sometimes inescapable

But I count my blessings as often as I can

So I can make a stand and say

It isn’t always this way

There are happy days and there are sad

There are good days and there are bad

But one thing that we can always be sure of

Is that life is changeable and we all know this – sort of

So when times are hard and difficult – remember it will also change

That life will lighten up and the suffering will ease and good times you will gain

But remember too that goodness, will also fade away

Be prepared for the bad times, as they sometimes come to play

But live for the moment is the most important of all

Something you don’t learn at school

So when you’re down and thinking silly things

Remember this message and let your heart sing

That times won’t always be bright and gay, but times aren’t always shades of grey

You will someday, find your peace, be happy again and pain will cease

Trust me, all things eventually decrease

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Filed under Poems J - L

Painkiller for my very soul

I am not wallowing in pity each and everyday

My poems of woes and misery are things that ease the way

It’s a painkiller for my very soul

I need to write, even if it’s dull

It helps to cure the pain

When I write my songs of misery, it may seem like it’s about you

But it is about events that happened long ago, it’s true

You should not sit there thinking, this is one is about me I’m sure

Because then you only open up wounds and make your heart go sore

You don’t know what my poems mean; you don’t know who they are about

So don’t sit there thinking you know what’s going on, when in fact you don’t know my clout

The world in my poems isn’t about you, so stay out

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Filed under Poems P - R

A word to hexers, haters and jealous people in general

A word to hexers, haters and jealous people in general

I am starting to take up art again, this time with an idea to try and make a living from it in a few months’ time, by then I would have developed friends in art and a little more self confidence in my painting work. 

I am still sick, that is something that will never change, in fact recently I have been told it could get much worse, but I am trying hard to pull through and make some kind of a life for myself despite all of the bad mojo trying to pull me down every once in a while, you would think it would have something better to do than to concentrate on picking on me, but never mind, they love me so much they just can’t stop thinking about me, which in a dark and psychotic way is kind of nice of them to think so much of me, I don’t think anyone else does to be honest, which makes them my greatest lover I suppose?

Yes, recently I have started to believe I am cursed, but then what do you expect from someone who is both spiritual and a lover of horror movies?  I’ve had such a long lasting run of bad luck with my health and personal life that I had to eventually come to the conclusion I have pissed off one too many witches during my life, for simply existing.  Lol

Anyway on a more serious note, it is true; I do believe the above statement. 

Despite this, I have to admire them for wanting to be involved in my life so much.  Hate can be as deep as love and just as obsessive.  In a strange kind of way, hate and love are the same thing, as you spend so much time thinking about the things you hate, like you do with special person you actually love, you give it the same attention, sometimes you even neglect the ones you actually love in favour of spending your time thinking more of the ones you hate.  It’s a strange kind of world when you think about it.

So when all is said and done, I am quite flattered of the attention I am getting, no matter how abysmal it makes my life.  I sort of feel sorry for the person who hates me to such a degree, because although I do not believe in karma, I do believe that you always reap what you sow and I believe in the sins of the father, despite not being a religious person personally.  So in a manner, it is not me they are cursing, but their own children; which is painfully sad for me, to think about.

Despite these setbacks, I will try, no matter how much I cry in pain each day with my ailments, as I do cry – so do please, enjoy that statement dear haters as I am sure you will, I will try and get along in my life and make the best I can of the cards you are dealing for me.  With a glad and happy heart, I will drag myself through the Hell you are creating for me and I will revel in any successes I may have in the future, whilst you are still sitting back on your posteriors, wishing that you had a taste of my supposed glorious life still.  Well by all means, you are welcomed to having a full three course meal of my life, if you so wish for it, you are welcomed to it and I really do hope that you choke on it.

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Filed under Brain Drain & Dribbles

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

Catalyst to my pain

There is a catalyst to my pain

A thing that makes me closer to insane

A habit that you have within you

Is gnawing away at my soul

I don’t want it to continue

Though you say you don’t know what you do

I know that you do… its true

I can’t explain how it makes me feel

I just know, what you do makes me ill

You say or do the simplest things, which in turn

Makes my suffering sing

I don’t enjoy this world of pain

I don’t want you to repeat this again and again

But you don’t know what you do

So I can’t really blame you

Though I do

You are ignorant, that much is true

You are the catalyst of my pain

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Filed under Poems A - C

I am the redeemer

Out from the corner of my eye, I see the world’s pain.

Just because I do not react, does not mean that I am not sane

I remain, neutral, in my neutral stance

I cannot bear to see you suffer, but I cannot stop your circumstance

Though you may fall and become weak and you may do crazy things

I am here to redeem your soul and hear you once again sing

Though you are desperate and cannot walk

I am here for you

I am waiting for your cue

I am here to redeem you

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Filed under Poems G - I