Great Britain isn’t Great for all!

Great Britain is not so great close up. What do I know? After all I am Black British, not just British straight up and certainly not the top of the crop; White British! Should I be greatful to have British in my tittle at all? That would be naive. Should I beg for all of man kind to open their eyes but close their prejudice, close their racist and just see and hear me, no preconceptions, no mask, no makeup no autosound. I’m lost, I have no identity because the truth is unravelling and I realise that I have been blind, I have misheard and struggled with understanding my entire life! I thought most of racism (at leat in the so-called developed country that I have only ever known as my home) washed out with the abolishment of slavery. My ancestors took lashings and so generations to come could be free. My beloved grandparents basically came to this country in receipt of an invitation, an opportunity to better themselves, to walk the golden patched streets of Great Britain, to be close to their Queen, to start a fresh and be the very best, but there was no mention of hardship, ungratefulness, social and racial disparity, brutality, beatings and rushes uncalled for, “No Black’s, No Dogs, No Irish”. My family took it, for the likes of me and the youngers and in my eyes, there was vast room for improvement still but The beautiful family orientated Christmas Sainsbury’s advert 2020; Diversity (dance group) BGT 2020 dance interpretation of the pandemic and murder of Mr George Floyd has opened up a war of complaints, hidden behind letters and computer screens, those cowards and trolls are catapulting society backwards. This was not Martin Luther Kings dream and it is not mine. My heads been in the clouds. I cannot handle the truth, I wish it was still there!
Black, Brown, Women of colour praying their babies will be a shade lighter to ensure their children have a better future, that is what it has come to!
So my black ass explains why I’m a failure, riddled with mental illness because all of the rejection and abandonment that I have endured/received/encountered. Turns out most of which was out of my control. My fate was sealed from conception. Two black parents. Ontop I was as dark as can be. So people have thought themselves better, me not good enough, I just could not think why, it appears I missed the obvious. I’m tuned in now, I feel the weight, I feel the pain. I am too crushed to fly the flag, ignite the torch and fight.
A few marches this year, does not cut it. A few news reports when nothing is resolved and the full truth is held back, undisclosed. An apology to me. There is an awful lot of work to be done to make things fair. We don’t want glitz and glamour, elaborate attempts of showing change. We just want it to happen, to be accepted as fellow mankind, out and proud and behibd closed doors too,but I’m personally loosing faith, not because it is too late but perhaps because it was never truely possible at all!

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Social Media

Fake nonsense,
Supposed to connect us,
Fill our hearts with joy,
Soul with love.
When in fact it does the opposite for most,
It distances us,
A con act,
No contact,
Without a limiting screen between us,
A quick like instead of actual correspondence.
Flicking through your life,
Stimulates pangs of jealousy,
As you dig deep,
Stalk,
And reep a person’s exposure,
Getting no closer to the being themself.
It wounds our hearts,
Emulates bad connotations,
Stealing genuine from our souls,
Leaving burnt out holes in our retinas,
As we are not really having sincere contact,
Just allowing a negative impact,
From selfies,
Editted stories,
Loosing touch with old special someone’s,
Following morons,
What happened to letters and the telephone?
We’re all sat in the dark,
Scrolling on our own,
Alone.
People be crying now,
Kicking up a fuss because of Corona,
But it’s just an axcuse to complain,
Use your brain,
When’s the last time I saw you?
You’re angry because your free will has been violated,
Not because social distancing has you infuriated,
I didn’t see or hear from you before the pandemic,
But you miss me now?
Your timing is tragic,
I am here,
I always was,
A vaccination will not close the gap,
We need full on restoration,
And that can be achieved,
Even if in isolation.

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Covid and BPD

2020
You’ve given us plenty,
Of crap we could have done without,
But if I scream and shout,
Who exactly would I be helping out?
The elderly,
The vulnerable,
All brushed to one side,
As corona we prioritise,
But I am struggling mentally,
Given up on grounds incapability,
The lack of care,
No one there,
The blame they dish out,
But never admit,
No apology,
For the strain on my mind and body,
A drought of the drugs you so-called critically prescribe,
Termination of support being beside me,
Disregarding my disclosure,
Of suicidal thoughts,
Paying no mind to my plans,
I know I am a lucky one,
Because I have love,
And all that terminates my plans at this time,
But I fear for those whom have no one to keep them about,
Because no matter how much you scream and shout,
The help seem to babble alot of nonsense,
Have no moral conscience,
Promise the world,
And when it comes down to it,
They have no inclination of how to help,
Despite it being in their favour,
Because this abandonment way means,
Less traffic,
Less demand for beds,
We’re no longer a problem,
And so they are released of our burden when we are dead!
There has been no intervention,
Because suicide prevention,
Means more bodies,
More fuss,
More voices,
Popular advice,
Just shhhhhh!

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Calm… Storm… Repeat… Defeat!? (but for whom)

Do you think it’s possible to loose weight through tears,
I’m chronically constipated and so the usual way may take me hundreds of years.
Isn’t it strange how I still care about my weight,
Society,
How is it still a priority,
A small part of me thinks that loosing the weight,
Gained from the medicine you gave me,
May just take the edge off enough,
To not worry about my exterior,
Allowing me to go all in on the interior.
All of my fears,
Together or individual,
They evoke floods of tears,
Come at me like a viper,
Too quick,
Too fast,
Undefeated,
Even a sniper couldn’t erase what this is,
Too late,
The damage be did.
All at once,
And all of a sudden,
I’m bit,
Drowning in venom,
As the riot kicks off in my head,
The agony of depression,
Shots of anxiety,
Psychosis bullying me,
I’m transported to mind prison,
No windows,
No faces,
As this illness embraces,
Every ounce of me.
Just shake it off.
Just make it stop.
Your ignorance is like the cherry on top.
I don’t want to be in this head space,
This God awful place.
I cannot find the words to describe,
Just how undignified my mental illness is.
If you have struggles,
Please come to me and confide,
But when I’m down,
My silence should be enough for you to recognise,
That I might be a healer,
But you can’t use such your own gift and skills for personal wealth,
I cannot heal myself.
I heavily rely on a system that is crumbling to nothingness,
Full of wastefulnes,
A Web of lies,
Undignified,
Shambolic,
They have only added to the thick of it.
I was happy,
Enough to ignore or side sweep,
The deepest secret I try to keep,
Now all is black,
As I crack,
And tremble anticipating where this one will go.
Now I don’t say it all out loud,
You’ve let me down to many times.
I am now aware,
That you ain’t listening,
You ain’t the one to confide in,
You choose what you hear,
Say all the wrong things,
You have ears but you’re not listening,
I told you the deepest,
The darkest,
And there’s still no help,
You were my one way out,
Defeated I have come to realise,
This only goes two ways,
And mine isn’t looking like a fairytale.

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Mr Speaker

Dear Mr Speaker,
I am a vulnerable adult,
My mental illness has been rife,
Since way before this Pandemic strife,
Ergo this is my life.
You say no people are allowed around my house,
But the gas man just called me up to say his entitled to visit,
So now I have to accommodate a person who is in and out of bubbles for a living,
If Corona hasn’t affected him,
Still God only knows what he might be carrying,
What he may bring in with him!?
I have many rights,
But apparently this I cannot fight.
Just one phonecall for them,
An unrequited large dose of stress for me,
I’m shaking to the extent that you can see visibly.
I tried to explain,
Back up,
Maybe they felt unappreciated and like I was going to complain,
They threatened to turn my gas off completely,
Pressing my buttons,
I did not give in,
It’s lock down and I’m not in,
I’m elsewhere self isolating.
I know you don’t mess with gas,
But you cannot just impose,
And force your way in,
To properties that already vulnerable people live in.
No empathy,
Just pressure on me,
When I am just trying to be stable,
As bad news in 2020 just keeps on flooding in.
I don’t want a stranger in my house,
It’s not the right time,
I’m in a fragile state of mind,
Just a job for you,
This phonecall alone has me stressing,
Physical interaction with a stranger at this time,
At mine,
Has my head spinning,
Do I really have to let them in?
Put myself through mental times of testing?
I am left physically shaking.
Thanks for such an unpleasant awakening,
I am stressed to high heavens now,
And the days just beginning.

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Docter Docter, What’s The Vaccine For Venlafaxine?

Doctor Doctor,
Excuse me if you find me too revealing,
But I’ve got to express the way that I’m feeling,
My patience has reached the highest of ceiling,
And yet I’m still here attempting at acknowledging and revealing,
Despite how much my (so-called) personal mental health practitioners have got me reeling!
I should have known that they don’t care about me,
Are clueless as to my lack of well being,
Cause they ain’t calling,
And they ain’t visiting,
When and if they do,
It’s a quick and short questionnaire,
With a how do you do,
Paper work being the only essential and correct thing they get through.
If you feel suicidal,
Call up the Doctor.
If you feel to anxious,
Call Up the Doctor.
If you feel psychotic,
Call up the Doctor.
Now you know how it goes,
Just call up the Doctor!
Except for if you self harm,
Then go to A and E,
As the mental health squad are far too busy and precious to get all bloody,
After all I have BPD,
It won’t be an emergency,
Just another self distortion,
Miles away from self abortion,
Just another dramatic Borderline seeking attention,
They’ve given up on BPD prevention,
Or so it seems,
From all of my experience within institutionalisation.
If you don’t feel good,
Just call up the Doctor!
Well I’ve been ringing the Doctor over and over again.
Somebody explain to me if they will pick up and when?
I don’t understand all of this awful Jazz music I am forced to hear.
I’m not feeling well,
Oh dear.
In fact I’m already planning the fastest ticket out of here.
I just need a sound piece of mind,
Somone or somebodies to cool me down,
Make me feel more refined,
I don’t know how humans are supposed to be designed,
But there is a little trip in me,
I got a few problems with my sanity,
And all of this is kept under reasonable confidentiality,
The thing with mental illness is that it’s something you cannot see,
So people don’t think I’m ill when they look at me,
But certain people,
The professionals,
They know most,
And should understand,
And still I can’t get their attention,
And I’ve been patient,
Not even expecting anything on demand,
Two months and not a word,
An email and they’ve just gone!
It’s now you pushing my buttons,
Where is everybody?
Psychologist?
Mental Health Nurse,
Support,
Doctor?
My partner is not a psychological professional,
Yet someone (and in my notes you boast as if taking credit) I do get alot of my support from,
He is part of but has not painted anyone out of the picture,
You’ve not even seen him,
But of cause the idea makes you less concerned,
Just imagine if he ceased to exist,
Or if he put me at more risk,
There’s been no meeting or introduction,
His not trained or signed up for this,
But since you got wind of him,
It is only you who constantly lets me down,
To know a solid partner exists,
I think you have happily wrote me off as fully cared for on your insulting lists,
His not a vaccine,
I need Venlafaxine,
What have you done but gotten me dependant and addicted,
To a drug I now need,
But you are keeping it restricted.
No one foresaw the pandemic,
Least of all I,
Yet somehow you are punishing me for it,
And slipping away far too quick.
I’m cold turkey off drugs now,
And I believe that you wanted me to be sick,
Perhaps a threat to pipe down a bit,
But No One speaks,
And exposes the bullshit,
No matter the concequence of it.
2020,
Ive been abandoned twice by my mental health professionals,
Now I’m on the way to thrice.
I’ve been forced to try and soothe my own ill mental health,
I am not a mental health paramedic,
I’m not a pharmacist,
Nor psychiatrist,
But it seems I have to heal my self!
I like to volunteer as a self appointed mental health advocate,
To shake up advertising that gets people hyped,
Like one session of CBT and you’ll be alright,
I pray for those that might,
But know to well the rivers that run deeper.
I try to step in for when the professionals don’t get it right,
And people are left,
Only seeing the end in sight.
I didn’t textbook study pain,
But my natural empathy sees me right.
It seems it has to get very dark before any restoration of light.
Is it I that will have to perform some kind of Martyr Sacrifice,
When will our stories truely be looked upon,
People will identify,
People will sympathise,
People will recognise,
And perhaps the system will apologise,
But it will take people like me to be dead and gone,
For the system to get a kick up the ass,
Reveal true stats,
And work at the level they so loudly pride upon,
Yet quietly loosing so many,
Truely some of the best have now gone,
I’m hanging on in there,
Trying to make people aware,
I shall reveal the thorns,
They only shout about the roses,
I have no huge platform,
But stand with me,
I am fighting for myself,
Got a lot of work to do,
But it is easier to fight for you,
When fighting for all of us,
I would like some help,
When fighting for myself,
The light turns out,
I do need help,
Exhausted all common sense,
Ran out of ideas,
Dried up and burnt out.

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No One

Looking in the mirror,
I think I may have lost my identity,
When I broke down so much of my substance leaked out of me,
Some achieve hiding the cracks and honour that with pride,
I am unable to mask my ruptured crevices and so I cannot hide,
Hesitantly I share my journey,
But that does not make me an exhibitionist,
And please hear me when I say that attention is not what I seek,
I sacrifice all bad judgement in sake of helping others,
I tell all to help other people out.
As a woman of a certain age,
I’ve been left on the shelf,
Abandonment has erupted my ill mental health,
In search of sanity,
I pray for clarity,
Yet remain lost in a haze of memories and dreams,
Triggered psychosis,
Nothing is at it seems,
I know unhappiness,
Loneliness,
Deep, dark depression,
Anxiety,
PTSD,
OCD,
They are all a part of me,
But who am I actually?
With the baggage,
The tears,
The cover ups,
The fears,
Who I am doesn’t matter,
I could be anyone and everyone,
No one in particular,
Just unhappy,
I don’t know how to be anyone else,
Even though I no longer recognise myself

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We Knew, You Knew, Your Judge will too!

And so the leech has died without our blood,
Slithered and withered away as he so should,
So away mind body and spirit,
Part swift and leave us to it,
Sarah is ours again,
Let her dance with us until she leaves for heaven.

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Suicide Bets…

The manic times are the best,
You feel entitled to success,
Full of ideas,
Full of energy,
Laughter,
Fun,
Untouchable,
Witty,
Sometimes even pretty.
Then boom,
I hear a clap of thunder,
I see the lightning is very close,
It’s heading towards me,
Before I have time to even think,
I’m catapulted to the other border of the spectrum,
Down,
Suicidal depression.
I am weak,
All I do is sleep,
Exhausted from silencing the plan,
My thoughts are intrusive,
Actions inconclusive,
All alone,
Fearful of pushing people away,
Tight lipped,
I’m fighting,
But it could go either way.

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Reluctantly Toxic Me

I feel like I am full of pollution.
I feel like I am a hazard.
I feel like coming into my space is criminal,
Dangerous,
And stupid.
So I urge you,
In fact I warn you not to.
None of it I choose,
Being this tempestuous mess,
Reluctantly I carry this storm of a burden,
That can suck you in and spit you out,
Therefore I am a vile specimen,
Vermin.
I am not sure when and how it began,
Or when it will end.
I want to contribute,
I want to aid positive change,
I want to erase stigma,
I want to be good,
I want all of my hurt,
All of my pain,
To manifest into something utterly brilliant,
God like,
Beautiful,
But I’m lurking in the shadows,
I’m not on the horizon,
And I’m not on the radar.
No one believes in me,
And I don’t believe in myself.
How come some people are just lucky and land on their feet?
Evertime!?
It’s funny,
Some people say my spirit animal is feline,
But I’m pretty sure that I don’t have nine lives,
And if I do,
Each one of them has been pretty terrible,
Because if you think about it,
If every soul has nine lives,
Then it kind of works in circulation,
Where in some lives you will peak,
And others you will trough,
But my deja-vu’s do not suggest that I have ever peaked,
My scars,
My weighed down shoulders,
The shackles around my ankles,
And the handcuffs tightened around my wrist,
Suggest that I have suffered,
That I know pain,
But that’s what makes me a dreamer,
I dream about love,
I dream about soul mates,
I dream about creation,
I dream about a world where I am no longer a misfit,
Where I don’t fit into a category where if I was on fire,
No one would even piss on me.
I have a spark,
I have substance,
Pizzazz,
It just needs turning on,
The light went out a long time ago.
I keep etching on my bedpost,
Everytime I fuck up,
And everytime I get back up,
I am a little bit weaker,
And everytime I get back up,
I believe in myself that little bit less,
And just like if you don’t believe in fairies and clap for their lives,
If you don’t believe in me,
Then my genius I won’t realise,
And I won’t create and conquer,
Contribute what I am supposed to,
Because I am not a lone soldier,
I need an aid,
I need a crutch,
Prop me up,
Show that you care,
Hold my hand,
Show that you believe,
Give me unconditional love,
And I will produce so much magic to put out there.
If I carry on like this,
I imagine it won’t be long before I no longer exist,
The pain cuts deep,
And I feel so weak,
I am giving up,
Because I’ve had no luck,
Maybe my passion is just for me,
Like my psychosis,
Something that nobody else understands,
And or will never see,
I forgo my legacy,
For the next life,
Maybe…

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