Not An Opportunity To Brand…

There’s a reason why I don’t watch the news,
There’s no room left on my body to bruise,
Pain and tragedy are my poetic muse,
And my heads already full,
I long for a break,
Someone to cut the fuse,
But I’m weighed down with heartache,
Longing for a retake,
Because for so long now society has played the same tape,
Never learning or owning upto their mistakes.
It has taken me a lifetime to waft away the haze,
Strip the glaze,
And truely see,
How society sees my reflection,
And why I have never reached perfection.
The odds have never been in my favour,
I was blind,
I was deaf,
I was dumb,
As to where all the hate,
Rejection,
And poor self reflection spawned from,
But now I see very clearly.
I don’t need your validation,
To feel like a valid creation.
Yet I am not deluded,
No longer musguided by secure ignorance,
My messages,
My stories,
Need hearing ears to fall upon,
No more suffering in silence,
That won’t stop the hate,
Stop the prejudice,
Stop the racism,
Scrutiny,
Murder,
Exile,
Violence,
Suicide,
Inherited opression,
Depression,
Injustice.
I don’t want to play hide and seek,
I am not a prisoner for you to keep,
Nor treasure for you to reap.
I am a human of colour,
I just wish to be seen,
Not judged,
Heard,
Not silenced,
Chances a new,
Not second hand,
To be seen as an individual,
Not an opportunity to brand.

2020

Oh 2020,
You have taken so much from us,
And given us plenty,
Of unwanted inconvenience,
Pain,
Debt,
And misery.
This pandemic,
Has turned the planet upside down,
Dam it!
Covid 19 will go down in history,
Murdered many,
Attacked many,
Annihilated freedom,
Seperating everybody,
Causing global suffering,
As we have had to contend with you.
From where hence you came is still a mystery,
But my goodness you have evoked enormous tragedy.
The government does not disclose everything,
But if you think,
There isn’t too much of a mystery,
The death rates shared connect only to the virus,
Not the neglected terminally ill that have been passed a side,
And the medical emergencies cast aside,
The homicides,
The suicides,
All connected,
As in one way or another,
We have all been affected,
Had snowball effects to contend with.
My mental health has suffered,
The uncertainty of this year brings huge cruelty to those vulnerable mentally,
Contending with the day to day,
Without support,
In this current climate,
Is beyond hard.
When you have mental health difficulties,
It is not just the paranoia and fear,
But the mistreatment,
Inaccuracy,
Incompetence,
Inconsistency,
The inability to provide care,
Has really shocked me,
And taken its toll.
I worry for those with nobody,
And wish I could personally help everybody,
Because I have empathy,
Which this year has confirmed to me,
Is completely lacking in the mental health industry,
At least with those whom are connected to me.
As Christmas time dawns,
I worry for those whom feel forgotten and lonely,
If you cannot connect with somebody,
I welcome you to contact and lean on me,
Because I am genuine,
I care sincerely,
About you and your mentality,
It’s not about job targets and a salery,
My kindness comes freely.
You deserve hope and Christmas cheer,
Just as much as anybody else,
I value your existence,
And want you to have a happy new year.
If not adiaryfromnoone,
As I am only one someone,
Try sane,
Mind,
The semaritans.
Your existence is a blessing,
So please fight to stay here with us,
Better days are ahead of us,
And I don’t want you to miss them.
It is OK to struggle,
You need not justify,
This year alone,
Is answer enough.
Just don’t keep it all in,
Lips buttoned up,
Release and be rid of your pain,
To stay healthy and sane.
Let us remember those we have lost this year,
Be weary of more deaths to come,
As the end of 2020 dawns,
We can leave it alone with its prickly thorns,
And be hopeful for better,
Safer,
Less isolated,
Happier days in 2021.

Glorious…

Somewhere beyond the grave, Beyond the clouds,
Beyond the stars,
Beyond the galaxies,
There is a place that so far I can only dream of.
A place where only the good may roam.
I cannot see it,
I cannot hear it,
But I can taste it,
I can feel it,
I believe in it.
This is the place where we are all destined to go,
Yet how we conduct ourselves in this lifetime may stop us from reaching.
Whether we all make it,
All my loved ones and I,
I do not yet know,
But some secrets are to be kept,
As we are unable to fully comprehend them as yet.
I trust in it,
And hopefully one day I will see it,
Make it,
Reach it,
Meet all of my loved ones there,
From the past,
My future,
And present,
And spread my wings.
It will be glorious.

The Hungry Caterpillar…

And much like the hungry Caterpillar,
Hunger turns to greed,
As we destroy everything in sight,
Whatever crosses our path,
Until we hit a brick wall,
And can no longer go on,
A break down,
A rest,
A transformation,
Working progress,
As we revert back to our beginning,
Clutching only ourselves,
In a foetal position we lay,
To some,
There lies death,
Eternal rest,
Where others blossom,
Metamorphosis,
Transition,
We start a new,
Glowing,
Radiant to the eye,
Now able to soar,
We fly,
No longer ignorant,
Unafraid of what is nighy,
Ready to live,
Gifted with a second chance,
No longer blinded by greed,
Marching penguins,
Rushing forward,
Into the unknown,
We see,
We hear,
We feel,
All fresh,
And new,
Set free,
Unchained from the rhythm of the marching drum,
Now aware,
Mindful of whom we are,
And where we came from,
Dancing free,
To the melody,
Of freedom.

Dead

I fantasise about becoming worms meat,
And must admit defeat,
No longer dreaming about what may be ahead,
In the here and now,
I wish that I was dead.

On My Own…

Sat home alone,
I cannot focus,
On anything but the bloody ticking tock,
Of my painfully loud clock.
Relentlessly kept anchored in the present,
I fester,
As I am a prisoner,
A slave captured by time,
Unable to hence forth,
Or recline,
Just stuck,
And endlessly out of luck.
What are the chances?
What did I do?
I would repent if I knew.
All I want is to love,
And be loved,
Like everyone else around me,
They make it look so easy,
And I welcome it with open arms,
But there is no love for me.
I can no longer depend on hope,
Delude myself that we are all deserved,
Of love,
And may receive it.
I have been looking,
Loudly,
Openly,
Scouting,
Foraging,
Wishing,
And wanting,
But just keep on,
Getting rejected,
Left and abandoned,
Falling,
Longing,
And failing,
I am worn out,
And I am torn.
How else can I take this but personally,
Now thirty-three,
Believe me,
I have sailed into the great unknown,
Searching for a lover to call mine own,
But it seems that love is not part of my destiny,
It turns out that there isn’t enough love for everybody,
And two shall not always become one,
We don’t all get that special someone,
To hold up and lean upon.
I must sink,
And sink alone,
But for all my writing in ink,
That shall follow me as I drown,
Like a dog to a bone,
My only companion,
As in the same pattern,
I shall leave this life alone,
Just as I came into it,
On my own.

Destined Fatality…

I do not desire immortality,
Yet there is brutality,
In the unknown of our destined fatality!
Some have claimed to pull back during transition,
Yet unclear into what,
Spoken of a bright light,
Is this the route to beginning again?
Or perhaps a show stopping finale?
Is it the path to reincarnation,
Or just the end of our life destination?
What lies yonder?
We have ideals and notions,
But we shall never know for certain,
Until it is our time to go,
And by that time will we care,
I don’t think so!

sentence…

Bare foot,
A taste of sensuality,
Whilst we stampede along,
To the beat of life’s song,
Racing,
And relaying,
As we pass the baton on,
Tracing the lines mapped out,
That we believe to be our destiny.
Beneath the concrete,
Grass,
And mud,
Our feet hover above,
Worms meat,
Without stone,
We may forget,
But the deceased are down there,
No bet!
We may not possess the knowledge of our fate,
Our future,
But there is one guarantee,
One day we shall be the foundation,
Of which other feet will hover above,
Mortality is our fatality,
No matter what,
Forget this not!
Superiority is irrelevant,
And whilst life is a gift,
It is also a sentence,
Escape death we may not,
From our first breaths,
We begin to rot.

The Prick Of A Needle…

The prick of a needle,
May appear to be,
Just a scratch,
To the naked eye.
The power is within,
The eye of the beholder,
Take it not for granted,
As all may not be as it seems,
The poison in that needle,
Is where dark shadows,
And death lye.