Archive for June, 2005

Bleak Shores

June 19, 2005

I stand on these bleak shores
Behind the stone walls
That guard my inner self
These ice encrusted seas
Like those of Lapland,
Siberia, Mother Russia

And then there is
My own Mother
Where is she?
I look up and there she is
She was the rock,
Standing tall above the tumult

Detached and untouchable
And she did not see
The cold moon
Staring in at me
Through the window
Each night

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Of Course I’m not…

June 19, 2005

I shall let Karma do its work. Cosmic justice. Bitterness is corrosive. Apparently. Oh, my acidic innards! Thoughts of vengeance are taking my mind off a long hot summer watching the seemingly ubiquitous Big Brother and my hellish hayfever. At work they take bets on how many sneezes I can manage in a row – the record so far is thirty four.

The Pseudo-Messiah clearly sees his evasion of a custodial sentence as a victory. He emerged triumphant. I don’t think he is aware of how the system works. I don’t think he realizes that if he commits any kind of crime within the next five years he is, as they say, going down.

Another battle with authority. This time I am being harassed by a debt collection agency employed by the Student Loan Company. A woman rang and left a message on my answerphone. When I returned the call she spoke to me in a threatening manner and said (and I quote) ‘Right then, we’ll be at your door.’

I rang back later and complained about the woman’s aggressive approach. Another woman who seemed a little more reasonable said ‘Well, we are a debt collection agency’. And then suddenly she said ‘Are you recording me?’

Me: ‘Huh?’

‘Are you using a recording device? I heard an echo. You do know it’s illegal to record someone without their permission?’

So, there we have it – a company indirectly employed by the government whose staff include a representative of the Kray Twins and a prime candidate for Paranoiacs’ Anonymous.

Wonderful! Bureaucracy – gotta love it!

Currently Reading

June 14, 2005

Nazi2
Originally uploaded by louisemills.

Road To Your Soul

June 13, 2005
(Lyrics - All About Eve)

Behind me, a caravan weighed down
With bad dreams and ghosts of apologies
There's no room, no room inside
For a hitcher with a suitcase of pride

Before me, a stallion pulls like the moon
Sun through the trees tells me I'll be there soon
The wind cries, 'cause she saw me crying
About the times I find myself lying.

I must have fallen by the wayside
The wheels crack beneath my foolish pride
Give me a sign in your direction
And show me the road to your soul.

Unhitch the wagon 'cause it hinders me
I'll hitch my skirts up and go carelessly,
Barefoot and riding bareback
Wind in my hair, it feels like honesty.

Close the chapter on a journey...
Burn the book and give me sanctuary,
In your arms it feels like...
In your arms it feels like...
It feels like home.

Courtesy of: http://www.goony.nl/aae/lyrics/l_scarlt.htm#nr1

Another Betrayal

June 13, 2005
And I don’t believe and I never did
That two wrongs make a right
But in a world that’s filled with the likes of you
Then I’m putting up a fight
Putting up a fight’
R.E.M.

I saw Keith – a fellow nut, a fellow member of the circuit – on the way back from the my GP’s surgery on Monday. We sat on a wall and talked about everyday, mundane things. And I wish, I really do, that we’d left it at that. And then I wouldn’t be feeling bitter and disillusioned and betrayed. Somehow, the Pseudo-Messiah worked his way into our conversation. Keith said that he was on his way to see him.

‘I didn’t realize you were having anything more to do with him.’

He looked perplexed. ‘Why on earth would I not want anything more to do with him.’

‘But you know what he did to me and you and I are supposed to be friends. How can you choose him over me? After what he did?’

A string of meaningless platitudes spewed from his filthy, traitorous mouth. ‘You must forgive..It is the Christian thing to do.’ And worst of all, ‘What he did wasn’t that bad.’

This is when I exploded. ‘How do you know? You weren’t there.’

He turned away, avoiding my eyes and then I knew. ‘You were there, weren’t you?’ He had seen what had happened and had failed to intervene. And such a coward does not deserve to walk the earth.

It was then that I wished I were able to get my hands on an AK47.

Passivity

June 10, 2005

WMN
Originally uploaded by rielouise.

Is this how you’d like me to be?

The Performance

June 10, 2005

Enigmatic
Melodramatic
She strides across the stage
Her stage is her room
The room is the stage

Her chamber
Peppered with papers
Unused
Running around her room
Screaming, fists pounding in her head
Teeth grating in her skull

Hissing:
‘He’s a monster.’
Onlookers stare so hard
Their eyeballs
Are in danger of dropping out
They are assessing her
Flipping through
Her verbal photograph album

How far did he really go?
Did she exaggerate her childhood traumas
Simply to justify her neuroses?
Did she force the razor deeper into her bones
Was she ever really there?
Or did she manufacture her own past
Making significance out of superficiality

She tells the audience
that she remembers
One minute
She could be
laughing carefree
down by the beach
The next
She is in the midst
Of civil war

Father is the enemy
Mother urging her to
Absent herself
Words captured in shrieks
Let the onlookers in

Listen to Mother, he whispered softly
I inserted myself between them
My that only made him hit her harder
Nobody heard, nobody heard
And yet we live in a ground floor flat
I tried to tug her hand
But she wouldn’t come, she wouldn’t come
What was wrong with you mother,
Did you enjoy it?

defenseless now
As she was then
But the onlookers see
A fledgling psychopath
Well versed in adversaries psychiatry

In they march
with all the subtlety
of an invading and marauding army

The Wolf at the Door

June 1, 2005

I have 65p to my name (excluding credit cards and overdraft).

A guy huddling outside the Co-Op wrapped in a blanket said: ‘Got any change, love?’

I looked at him and said: ‘Mate, change is all I have.’

Doug gave me the thirty pounds I needed to get my computer fixed. Bella the Cat looked at me reproachfully when I left the notes on the bedside table. She knows what is going on. I turned and met her glittering green eyes. ‘Yes, I know,’ I say. ‘But the wolf is at the door. He is growling and snarling and is fiercer than ever before. He is bigger than both of us and, as you are the smallest, you will be the first to be consumed. That’s reality and it’s brutal. It’s razor sharp and that is why I seek almost constant refuge in sleep.’

‘You see, Bella, you just don’t understand how hard it is to get out of bed in the morning (see girl – and I don’t feel like a woman, never have done, never will do – degenerate into self-pitying lump of useless jelly). Hostile faces surround me when I leave my refuge – it’s like living in a forest of cacti. People are so rude here. They display no affection, no warmth, ‘Gee, you British are so uptight,’ a disillusioned American student over here on his gap year once complained to me.

‘I’m right with you there, mate.’ I should have asked him to pack me in his suitcase when he eventually returned to the good old U.S. of A!


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