A Diary From Noone

She spoke but no one heard, every scream seemed a whisper, and so she took pen to paper...

Category: Words from ’16 (page 2 of 7)

Left Sore…

Stranded and alone,
I felt scared,
All of my positivity disappeared.
Let down,
I could not fathom your mood,
Left as easy bate,
I was lucky to have not been pursued,
As I sat crying,
No idea where I was,
In the dark,
At an unfriendly time.
The truth is,
I am not well,
Even the slightest trigger,
Could send me to hell!
The incident plays and replays in my head,
Just a little hiccup for you,
Drove me to despair,
Nearly ending up dead.
And yet still no apology,
How very disappointing,
And unfair,
Did you even care?
Now safe,
Home at last,
Yet the memory of the incident,
I cannot put down to the past!
It will stay in my head forever more,
Emotionally bruised,
And very sore.

Tits Up!

When you meet someone special,
Someone wonderful,
When getting along is easy.
When friendship exceeds the complications of romantic feelings,
Stands beside the loyalties that we share with blood,
Those relationships are hard to come by,
When and if you find it,
You must hold on,
Not take it for granted,
And celebrate arm in arm.
This is still life though,
We are still humans,
And humans make mistakes,
You forget something important about them,
Miss their call,
Bicker about politics and opposing beliefs.
No qualm’s at all would be surreal,
We usually quarrel with those closest to us,
And not bothered by others because they mean nothing at all.
Bickering is fine.
Reducing someone to tears is not.
Comical and reciprocal teasing is fine,
Bullying and targeting the weakness of another is not.
Exploding with an enormous bang out of the blue,
Belittling,
Degrading,
Accusing,
And blaming,
Your friends,
Acquaintances,
Colleagues,
Neighbours,
Would all be inappropriate,
But what ever!
Your best friend though!?
There are no excuses,
It is all wrong.
To then proceed into aggravating this person so much that they have to leave,
Alone,
In the dark,
In the middle of what they believe to be nowhere….
A woman left alone,
Unaware of where she is,
In the middle of the night!?
No amount of intoxication,
Irritation,
Or anger,
Would ever make that scenario acceptable,
Or right!
You are unwell,
This I try to understand,
Often lending you a supportive hand,
The irony is,
I gave you a supportive push that night,
Helped clear the dark and shed some light.
You seemed to forget that,
Treating me with zero appreciation and spite.
You know that I am sensitive,
Emotionally unstable,
That the wires in my brain aren’t right.
You know that I am soppy and hate to fight.
Two people,
Their were two of us that you could pick on,
But I am the one that you spat your bile upon.
Kicked to the curb,
Shocked,
In a terrible mess,
This bright night soon turned to darkness.
Drained,
And weak,
In disbelief,
You made me feel like dirt,
Worthless,
Abandoned,
And rejected,
My two major issues,
Detriments,
And triggers.
In an instant,
Broken hearted,
Confused,
Dismissed,
Verbally abused.
I was just starting to see some light,
Exercise,
Eating right,
It got turned around,
Upside down,
And my progress steps to right,
Disintegrated into shite,
Leaving me in hospital for the night.
I am not sure we can move forward from here.
I gave you company when you were down,
Together we did music,
Hung around,
Had stuff in common,
Got along.
The day at the Zoo,
The birthday card and cake that I thoughtfully gave to you!
You took me to the dental hospital,
Helped me when I was down,
Came to visit me in hospital.
I thought we were making memories,
Strong,
Solid,
Fond,
Memories to look back upon.
Unfortunately now they will be forever tainted.
The idea of the termination of our friendship,
Is something that I never would have contemplated.
I will remember the good times fondly.

His name was, David…

I didn’t see,
Blinded by infatuation,
I didn’t realise,
Easily manipulated,
I didn’t know,
Stupidly innocent.
You sort me out,
The weak,
Those without confidence,
The innocent,
The desperate for love,
Naïve.
I was an easy catch,
Desperate for love in every form.
But to you,
I was a rag doll,
A punch bag,
Easy prey,
And I suffered at the hands of your voodoo and acid tongue.
Like a vampire,
You sunk your Teeth into me,
Draining all of my strength,
The power leading to my recovery.
Your ambition was to control me,
Lure me in with a false sense of security.
Your true colours showed eventually,
And thank goodness that there was an escape for me!

Complete Silence…

I have experienced quiet but…
It’s never truly quiet,
There were moments before,
Like deep in slumber,
But not anymore!
The concept of silence,
I would associate it with sleep,
Something hand in hand with when the lights go out,
A time to let your brain sleep.
A time for peace, quiet and still,
That was before I got really ill!
I long for it now,
The ongoing noise is haunting.
I liked busy sounds,
They were a circumference of comforting energy.
Contending with traffic,
The hustle and bustle of people,
Was once all I knew,
Living in the over populated “London Town” zoo.
Music north,
Television south,
Chatting east,
The clink and clank of cooking to the west,
Such was the noise and audio reality of flat sharing.
Even when growing up and back home,
Just mum and I,
But still plenty of sound,
The dog barking in the garden to the north,
Mum singing out of key to the radio in the kitchen to the south,
Television on in the living room to the east,
Me chit chatting on the landline to the west.
All of this,
It is what I knew,
The noise of my life,
Content in the sound cloud,
Bubble wrapped within the comfort of what I knew,
The humbling sounds that I was used to.
The noises pacified me,
I knew that I was never alone.
These day’s,
It is not quite the same.
I dislike the sounds that I hear,
They seriously generate fear.
Every whisper,
Every scream,
And all of the noises in-between,
Haunting!
My ears are more sensitive now,
Susceptible,
And responsive,
To the less obvious sounds in life.
I hear the lights buzzing,
The clock ticking,
The radiators whistling,
The voices of those that you can neither hear or see.
I liked noise,
It didn’t restrict me,
I felt free,
But now it’s different because I cannot escape it you see.
Hallucinations,
Psychosis,
Heightened sensitivity,
Whatever label you want to stamp on me.
Once pacified by the comforting sounds of home and life,
My ears now ache,
And I cannot shake the discomfort which these noises make.
A voice in my left ear,
Another in my right,
Trying to ignore them,
As to correspond with you and seem alright.
All the while my strength implodes,
Because balancing it all,
It is a tough fight.
The idea of complete silence used to be a fright,
Now it is all I dream of,
Everyday and every night!

CIRCLES…

You will find a link to my YouTube channel at the bottom of this post, please check out my new vlog entitled, “Circles”.
Beforehand, please see two poems that I wrote in relation to two pop songs (Cyndi Lauper’s True Colours and Rhianna’s Stay) that inspired me for a spoken word performance. You will also find a live recording of that performance on my YouTube page, under, “NO ONE & KK!”

True Colours…

I live in a multi-coloured world.
A diverse universe,
A parody of the Planet we Human’s call earth.
I see beauty in your sadness,
And sadness in your smiles.
Of cause there is tragedy but mostly comedy,
No poverty,
No hierarchy,
No monastery,
No political parties,
No war,
No prejudice,
No racism,
No hate crime!
Saying this out loud, of cause it is pure fantasy,
Perhaps this is why I am certified crazy!?
But I see your true colours,
And I know in which world I would rather be!

Stay…

Even in my world there is heartache,
Yes, even in my multi-coloured world!
Like glass it shatters into pain wrenching particles,
Leaving an “Ora” of only black!
Your heart stops beating,
A heart attack.
The pain projected upon you seeps through your skin,
Into your blood,
And swims through your veins.
Asphyxiated by abandonment,
Turned ice cold,
Blue upon rejection.
Life’s meaning fades,
Imprisoned by love lost.
There is only one remedy,
That he will come back to me,
Come back to me and stay!
His return determines my fate.
Oh please come back,
Come back and stay!?

CIRCLES…

Extra Time…

That poor child with a hole in his heart,
He has a pocket full of dreams.
Adventurous,
Brave,
Smart,
And cheeky,
Eager for his life to start!
“A Doctor” is what he said that he wanted to be,
And so he could help fellow sick people like he!
Then there is me,
Nearly thirty three,
Thirty years his senior,
A wasted soul,
Unhappy and ungreatful in life.
We both have hole’s iin our Herat’s,
Only his,
Literal,
And mine,
Metaphorical,
Still each scenario could lead to an unpleasant fatality.
He,
To him this whole notion is inconceivable,
Unbelievable,
Unfathomable.
I was once like him,
Determined to heal,
Beg,
Borrow,
And steal,
In order to be alive and feel!
I would give him my life if I could,
He would make the most of it,
I know he weould!
Life to me,
Does not feel as it should,
Full of heartache,
Misery,
Despair,
And negativity,
Running on misery,
No obvious destiny,
Broken and desperately misunderstood.
I want him to have my life,
Some extra time.
To you this may sound strange,
To me it is a fair exchange.
An opportunity to be the best that he can be.
The wires in my head are positioned incorrectly,
If I could give him my time,
My life,
Perhaps that would finally mean peace for me.
I would be his Guardian Angel,
With him day by day,
Guide him from wrong to right.
I would monitor his sleep,
Converse with the Sand Man,
Sucking out the venom that nightmares make,
And replace them with love,
Confidence,
Comfort,
And passion,
Whilst gazing upon him amongst the star light sky at night.

Natural=Five, Cosmetic=Ten, I’d do it for myself, not just the men!

Silicone,
Botox,
Laser,
And lipo,
If I win the lottery,
I’d give them all a go.
If men rate me as a five now,
With all of them,
I’d be a ten!
Singlehood no longer,
I’d have my pick of all the men!

Who Trumped?

As black as night,
Yet it is morn,
A new day,
I wait for dawn.
Brexit,
Trump,
What a to do!
I wont bore you with my point of view,
After all,
What can I do?
Life as we know it,
We may as well forget!
Change for the best?
Or years of regret?
My hands are clean.
Yet still it affects me!
This is a nightmare,
Not a dream.

Struggles With Voices Are The Worst!

When you are down, low and insecure, there is nothing worse then the added pressure of hearing voices. For the reader’s that have never experienced psychosis, imagine wanting complete quiet but you have two people shouting into each ear at the same time, plus the radio on full volume, the TV on full volume and the piercing sound of all electricity, the lights, heating, just a volcano of noise that you cannot control or ignore. Plus everything being said is critical, condescending and demanding of you. That is the best way that I can describe my experience of hearing voices. It is agonising and can lead to catastrophic consequences’. I may be happy one second and then like a smack in the face, it can all come on and all at once. I can have the cleanest diet, be alcohol free, exercise daily, distract myself with music, poetry, TV, whatever. I could go on a heavy night out, drink all night, socialise and dance. I can be stuck in bed for days. I keep trying to diagnose my own triggers and think that is where I am going wrong. Such symptoms are simply part of my illness, what I do does not determine a relapse, it is just the nature of my illness. I take my medication, communicate with support but neither or are cures, they are just put in place to decrease such symptoms, not eradicate them. This is an acceptable theory upon reflection but not helpful at all when in the moment. I just want to switch off for a bit.

Buzzzzzzzzzzz!
Buzzzzzzzzzzz!
Swish!
Swash!
Swish!
Can you hear it?
Buzzzzzzzzzzz!
Buzzzzzzzzzzz!
Swish!
Swash!
Swish!
Can you hear it?
I can!
I am sick of it!
It’s not as it may seem,
The noise I mean.
It is like tuning into a radio station,
Before they went digital!
Nonsensical sound waves,
They then commit,
Translate,
And strongly exist…
Listen to me!
Listen to me!
Oi,
Jade,
Listen!
Seriously,
Can you not hear it?
I can!
It goes on and on,
And on and on,
Intense,
Overpowering,
Tightening,
Instructing and demanding.
I hear it!
I cannot turn it down.
Where’s the mute button?
The stop button.
They say they will,
If I succumb.
You are insignificant!
You are unworthy!
You are vermin!
You have the stench of death about you!
People would be better off without you!
You are no one special.
Pigeons are like Rats with wings,
You are like a rat with two legs.
A pest!
Get over yourself,
Everyone around you,
Strangers that meet you,
Loved ones too,
They don’t want you,
You know it’s true.
Darkness and gloom seeps in and out of your nostrils,
What you inhale is pure,
But release is deadly!
So I unwillingly spread darkness?
Make it stop?
No one wants you around,
It doesn’t have to be said!
Just read between the lines,
You are an unwanted inbred.
No one wants a burden,
You’d be better off dead!
You can try to keep up.
You can try and beat it,
Defeat it,
But is there any point?
Weighing people down,
Bringing people down,
Drowning and gagged,
Sinking deeper and deeper,
Let go and release them,
Everyone and thing you touch ends up in disaster,
Your darkness spreads like fire!
So let them all go,
Or they’ll all burn with you!

Damilola Taylor

When did humans forget?
Forget to let children be children?
Allow them to learn through play,
Through monitored mistakes,
To lead them to the best of our ability,
Offering hope,
Potential,
And all possibilities,
To know right from wrong,
Allowing them to reach for the stars,
Through nature,
Through nurture,
via education in school’s that have our children’s futures at heart and as targets,
Not just money and ofsted results and reports,
In communities,
Where people come together rather then segregate themselves due to class, race or other insignificant particulars.
When did adults forget?
Forget their parental and adult responsibilities,
To offer comfort,
Care,
Love,
And lead the way,
By setting good examples,
Teaching right from wrong?
When did we forget to communicate our differences in peace and with respect?
Pop Pop,
Shanking left, right and center.
Bang Bang,
Bullets flying like birds in the air.
Hate crime,
Youth crime,
Violent crime,
Unnecessary crime.
There is justice in punishment,
But by then it is to late.
Children and the young are being killed,
killed before they even start living.
If children cannot be children,
It can be fight or flight,
Something to do,
Peer pressure,
The streets do not a good person make,
It is dog eat dog,
kid’s pushing drugs,
When they should be sucking lolly pops.
People,
Both adults and children are attacked,
Robbed,
killed.
Killed for their diversity,
Their faith,
Their class,
For games sake,
And no justice can bring back the dead.
Whether we agree or not,
There are laws that we must all abide to,
No one is immune,
Adult or child,
There is no street pass,
Try running but you can’t hide,
You do the crime,
You must serve the time.
But I want a world where we strip things back,
Get to the route of the problem,
In order to avoid loss and tragedy.
Trials,
And bars are punishment,
But do we not have the intelligence, funds and responsibilities to intervene before the crime?
The reality is,
Not all of us have great starts in life,
Anyone of us could fall into the wrong crowd,
Grow up without love and good care,
And therefor love and care for no one.
Those individuals may have no guidance,
may not have experienced love,
And it is those people that we need to try and help before hate.
I do not condole or pardon the act of inflicting physical or mental pain upon another,
I also don’t presume that every criminal comes from poverty,
I am not ignorant enough to label everyone that grows up in poverty or mistreatment will commit a crime,
I just feel that every child and young person deserves a positive start in life,
We all deserve a chance.
Everyone should have one!

A child named Damilola Tayler (07/12/1989- 27/11/2000) an innocent boy, had his life taken from him before it even properly began, it is said to be a matter of the wrong place at the wrong time, he was stabbed and bled to death. According to the BBC, 204 teenagers in London have died as victims of knife crime since 2000. Damilola’s siblings and Mother, Gloria Taylor (died 2008) and Father, Richard Taylor (still campaigning against violence crimes) concentrated on the roots and core of the misfortune of their baby’s death, by helping other children in poor area’s with very little opportunity at, “The Damilola Taylor Trust”.
Rather then becoming bitter, switching off and expressing hate, the Taylor’s saw the need for change, for the young with very little opportunity and at high risk of turning to crime. In order to prevent history constantly repeating itself, Damilola’s parents selflessly helped the young in the community. The tragedy opened their eyes and the push and need for change ignited within them. Mr Taylor has been recognised and noticed for his activist beliefs and received an “OBE” in 2011 for his kind and very much needed work. He is still fighting and helping young communities today! He is an inspiration and I am sure that Damilola would be very proud.

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