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 3 of 7)

My Prayer Is Strong…

Gently bathing her,
Intimately easing off the dirt,
It melted off like hot butter.
As I scrubbed,
Buffed,
And polished her.
With every layer of skin,
She released all within,
She revealed her true self to me,
Her tongue set free.
This old and frail shell,
Had many stories to tell.
Under the spotlight,
She spoke of all of her secrets kept.
To know them,
I understand why perhaps she has said and done things that she never should,
I think anyone would,
She is no saint,
But a goddess to me.
A strong and undeterred survivor,
Yet a fragile child within,
Tangled in webs of lie’s,
Deceit,
And sin.
It would not be easy to walk in the shoe’s that she has lived in.
Unpredictable,
Sometimes harsh and brash,
Mind games,
Inappropriate,
She could dismiss you like trash.
But time and time again,
No matter what,
Where,
Or when,
I will always go back to her,
Again and again,
Forgive her,
Again and again,
Because this frail creature,
With a sharp and snake like tongue,
Once independent and strong,
Is getting older,
Knocking on.
Many obstacles in life she has overcome,
But time is not one that anyone can run from.
I vow to be a shoulder for her to lean upon.
Unconditionally I love her,
And I will try to be there for her,
Our love and bond together is strong,
I want her in my life,
Not to be gone.
So the universe and angels,
It is you I call upon,
May it be selfish,
Or selfless,
My prayer is strong,
I do not want to loose her or for her to be gone!

Halloween 👻 🎃 🦇

If my wits weren’t about me,
Perhaps I would not have seen,
This dark and morbid being.
As it blended into the night,
Still and invisible,
Almost to all.
But the glare from its eyes were as red as blood,
World pools of monochromatic rouge,
Like laser’s,
Appearing to just hover,
Harmless to a passer by,
But not to I,
For I was the target,
But unbeknownst to it,
I had noticed.
Each breath it took confirmed a presence,
Like a Childs scream,
High pitched inhales and exhales,
Sounding deadlier and deadlier upon repetition.
A force greater then I,
Out of my control,
Had me compelled,
Like a magnet,
I was pulled closer and closer.
This was no trick or treat,
But a Halloween feast,
For this bewildered beast,
Devilish creature,
Full of evil,
Lacking a soul,
Threw me into its black hole,
It took me all at once,
And all in one.
Halloween,
Taken for good,
Never to be seen again.
Alone and with no one,
No witnesses,
Captured and gone!

Again and Again!

Bang Bang,
Gun shot,
Out of the blue,
I would have prepared if I knew.
I didn’t see it coming,
But it came all at once,
The shot,
The next shot.
Two bullets with wings,
The fat lady sings,
You got me.
You struck me.
Surprise!
You crept up upon me,
After giving me a false sense of security.
You stabbed me in the back.
You’re not the first,
You’re probably not the last.
Round and around I go,
Unable to learn from my mistakes.
For goodness sake!
Rejection and abandonment,
I should be used to it by now,
But my kind heart,
It takes over my mind,
And I forget somehow,
Let my guard down,
let you in,
Making the same mistakes,
Again,
And again!
Only to end up right back at the beginning…

You Sleep To Much

They say,
You sleep alot don’t you!?
Yes!
I say.
They say,
Don’t you want to wake up,
Get up,
See,
Live,
And breath the next day?
Quite rarely!
I say.
Sleep for you,
It is simply what you are obliged to do,
Something you have to get through.
I have a different relationship with sleep.
Days awake are something I am obliged to do,
Each a task that I have to get through,
And that might not make much sense to you,
But it is one hundred percent true.
Sleep is my oxygen,
My remedy,
A place to escape my painful reality.
Each waking day a nightmare,
Each sleep affair,
Like a little prayer,
Sleep saves me from despair.
It pays no bother to depression,
Does not acknowledge my anxiety
I can breath and it sets me free.
I know I cannot lay dormant for the rest of my life,
But I am addicted to sleeps powers of avoiding pain and strife.
Some sleep’s are bad,
When my brain shuts down with disassociation,
Loosing all consciousness and concentration.
Nightmares,
I cannot awake from.
Or dreams that make you sad,
As you wake up sobbing into a soaked pillow.
The worst,
Drunk with lethargy,
Eyelids glued shut,
I have no energy or motivation to move,
I feel sick to the stomach,
Have an aching head,
Crazed with a continuous mental and physical haze.
But still,
It is less pain then seeing the next day.
I sleep to keep my demons at bay!

Be Humane

My life has been an unenjoyable rollercoaster of ups and downs from the beginning of my time.
In order to get your attention,
I usually write in rhyme,
Instead of flicking past me,
The rhythm and melody of my words carefully sown together,
It seems to attract you,
Gives me time,
Time to speak freely,
Honestly,
About the highs and lows of human mentality.
This is my reality,
No filter,
No script,
Or set up scene’s,
But the brutal truth of living with bad mental health as a human being.
I cannot raise awareness or demand change,
If you are not fully aware of the vast and delicate intimacy of mental health.
If you separate yourself,
Believing the subject doesn’t matter if it is happening to someone else,
And not you yourself,
You can live in denial,
You can ignore the facts,
Leave my words to rot on your dusty shelf,
But these issues won’t solve themselves!
We all have mental health,
Bad mental health is a disability,
However it bestows upon thee,
Often a result of inequality,
Poverty,
A result of nurture,
Or nature,
Simply the way God made ya,
Whatever!
You have to remember that in our entire lifetime,
It can happen to one in four,
Which means we cannot ignore it anymore!
Why is there so much stigma?
So much hate?
Open your eye’s and ears with me,
And contemplate.
No one wants pain,
To suffer,
Don’t be ignorant and brush it off because it is happening to another,
We could be talking about your sister or brother.
Don’t be selfish,
No one is immune,
If it is not you now,
It could be you soon!
Now,
I don’t mean to patronise,
Or antagonise any of you,
Mental health is not the common cold,
Or flu,
It is not something you can catch,
But as a matter of fact,
It can be genetic,
And being conscious of this isn’t pathetic.
Living with mental health problems,
It is really hard,
And if you are dealt that card,
Less judgement from others would allow us to still feel valid.
Open your minds and be empathetic,
Learn, know and understand,
Before casting us all off as contraband.
Prejudice and ignorance does not a problem solve,
It divides us,
Encourages segregation,
Our kind has had enough of that,
Let us not go backwards,
May we move forward,
And stop standing still.
Hold my hand and help other’s learn and understand,
That being ill,
It’s not a choice,
It happens against our will.
We are all still Human,
And so please,
Be humane!

Cupid and His Arrow….

Is it possible that the well known master of enforcing romantic and undeniable love, Cupid, had siblings with opposite traits? Born from Venus, his mother who represented love, beauty, desire and fertility, and his father Mars who represented war,weapons and battles. It seems clear who Cupid got his traits from, his mother. Should there have been another child, born to the same parents, could his/her traits be quite the opposite of Cupid? Spreading heartache rather then love? I think it possible, as such a curse has been bestowed upon many a people! Equal, if not more than those who have found love!

They say that Cupid and his bow and arrow,
Match make,
Connect,
And bestow love upon you and another!
Be it a blessing?
Or be it a curse?
The myths suggest that The phantom known as Cupid,
Did indeed exist and conquer love.
Be his arrow infused with natural and herbal remedies,
Much like those used by Native Americans.
Dipped into Titania’s fairy made potions from the forests.
Blessed by the ritual of blood from those sacrificed,
Like in the times of Egyptian worship and offering’s to God.
Leaving the targets absolutely spellbound,
Hit by love,
Straight in the heart!
And thus is Cupid’s job.
Please contemplate the inevitability of there being an opposite being.
Like there is a high and there is a low,
There is an up and there is a down,
Big and small,
Love and hate,
There is always an opposite,
Did Venus and Mars,
Another creature make?
A being with a dark side,
Like the grim reaper,
Waiting in the shadows for easy prey,
Good,
Loving,
And vulnerable hearts to break?
I have been hurt,
Abandoned,
And rejected,
Far to many times.
It cannot be bad luck,
Cannot be a coincidence.
Something other then I and my prey,
Must play a part in this dismay.
Perhaps voodoo,
Or the Devils art,
I seem destined for a broken heart.
Yet it is the core of my art.
Fairy-tale’s and Rom Com’s may not be for me,
But I do feel that poetry is my destiny.

No Picture’s Please!

When you look into the mirror,
What do you see?
When you look at a photograph of yourself,
What do you see?
When you take a selfie,
What do you see?
Beauty?
Potential?
Are you happy to let these picture roam free,
Travelling from the camera,
To a photo album,
Or on the internet for all to see,
Instagram,
Facebook,
Filter,
Tag,
Transported to a world of technology,
Where it will stay for eternity,
Become part of your history.
Bad angle?
Swipe and delete,
Rip it up,
Scratch it out,
Deny the tag,
Erase it,
Burn it.
Do you care what other people see?
Does analysing how you look equate to vanity?
Is worrying about it a profanity?
You may see something in me that I don’t see,
My personality may disguise it,
But I don’t want you to look at me,
Out of fear that you may see what I see,
And like me,
Have it etched into your memory for eternity.
You need not discuss,
Comment,
Insinuate,
Mock,
Or ridicule me,
By saying that when you look at me,
You see beauty!
I know what I am,
And beautiful I am not.
When I look in the mirror,
See your photographs of me,
Take a selfie,
I see blurred lines,
Mismatched shapes,
Flaws,
Dents,
Blemishes,
Fat,
That amalgamates into a vision of ugliness and nightmare’s,
Leaving a taste of bitterness.
I hate myself.
I must confess.
To top all of my personal insecurities,
We live in a world where self image is priceless,
And that makes me feel even more worthless.
Beauty is within the eye’s of the beholder,
I have eye’s,
But see no beauty.
Be it a curse,
Or bad luck,
This card was dealt to me,
I don’t ask for your sympathy,
Just please,
Don’t take pictures of me.

My Iron Mask

Like the man in the Iron Mask,
I have on similar attire,
Worry not about the bolts and staples attaching the painted and heavy mask to my face,
It is what lye’s underneath that hurts.
Not the painted smile.
My hands shake,
But you do not see.
My heart aches,
But you do not see.
My body trembles,
But you do not see.
Tears fall,
But you do not see.
You don’t really see me at all.
All you see is the fake smile on my cast iron mask,
Yet truthfully,
I cannot remember when I smiled last!

La vida de los Juegos Olímpicos de

Life is like a tight rope,
And we are the gymnasts.
We find balance,
And goals are set.
We chase perfection,
Our objection is very clear,
To push through until the end.
Obstacles will get in our way,
It is not a game,
We will face danger,
This is not pretend,
Fear will find you,
And you may retreat,
Avoid the obstacles ahead,
But there is only one way to go,
And that is forward,
We cannot cheat.
The end is in sight,
You have to fight,
Yet no matter how thick skinned we are,
How resilient,
Quite simply,
We may fall!
Determination will fill you with fuel,
Your bruised pride will help you push through,
Start again,
We fall.
Start again,
We fall.
How long it will take?
We do not know?
Will others pass you and proceed,
I believe so.
We will get to the end,
It is just a matter of when?
And so we will try,
And try,
And try,
Again.

Heart, The Tin Woman…

They say that home is where the heart is,
If I have no heart,
I would therefor have no home.
Yet the heart is a compulsory mechanism,
It controls the entire body,
Without it we would not function,
It pumps
And pumps,
And pumps,
And pumps,
From the moment we are conceived,
To the moment we die.
Situated beneath our chests,
The only physical place a literal heart can be,
But mine resides on my sleeves,
not metaphorically,
But literally,
Beyond any possibility.
Exposed,
Unprotected,
Fragile,
And out of sync.
It defies Biology,
Physics,
And chemistry.
With this theory in mind,
Perhaps I cannot call it a heart,
Knowing where it is logistically.
Perhaps I am just different,
But I must accept,
That it is what it is,
A little complicated.
I am unable to love myself,
Which suggests I have no heart,
Unable to find my home,
Which suggests I have no heart,
But I am beyond capable of loving you,
Which means I may have a heart after all.
Ignore the location of my silly heart,
Just embrace the love that I have for you,
Give to you,
Feel for you,
Share with you.
I am unable to function as one alone,
Desperate to love and be loved in return,
And whilst I clink and clank through my life,
Like “The Tin Man” from “The Wizard of Oz”,
Perhaps I will discover that I did indeed have a heart all along,
And my home is in each and every one of you.
I love you,
You and your whole and uncomplicated heart’s,
And you,
You are my home!

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