Lane

Who has been in touch?
Whose asked you how you are?
Who knows you are hurting even if physically they are apart from a far?
Whose true in your life?
Gifted or cursed with the all knowing of your current reality,
Tolerant enough to stick around through all notions,
Being emersed alongside you through euphoria or brutality?
Many today are entertaining the smokes and mirrors charade,
Only showing their best cards,
Once a fool to this sorcery,
I self measured sparring with the bullshit,
But now I want all out anf to be rid,
Washing my hands,
No part of it,
My Pinocchio sparks curiosity,
Into the world of celebrity,
But the craft of orchestrating or hiding from paparazzi,
I acknowledge and thank is lightyears away from me,
So why reveal anything,
Essentially to nobody,
Once fooled such networks were made to document,
When on the contrary they are built for the business of popularity,
And I seek not a spotlight upon me,
I will engage privately,
Especially with imagery,
But my minds often constraints me,
Regurgitating unwanted mental photographic projection,
That I only know to express in metaphors,
Blogs and poetry,
I must release to give my head space,
For turbulent matters to wreak havoc and pace,
Where people can choose to check in to learn and relate,
This worded place has no ladder to popularity,
No motive but to seek mental clarity.
Real is personal and direct,
A transferable transaction,
Hosted privately.
The act of back and forth,
Must flow that way precisely,
Frequency changes,
I believe are bound to occur,
But now older and less naive,
I acknowledge can result in permanent damage,
And irretrievable wreckage.
Who stuck to you like glue in your past,
So tight you never dared doubt that the bond may not last?
Who is in your present?
Are they a gift or a blooded tyrant?
Who will journey with you to the days ahead and unknown?
Memories fade,
Sometimes a blessing when practicing forgiveness.
Yet burdened scars bare permanent marks carried to the grave,
External or internal,
Some pain never drains,
Forever holding us hostage,
A haunting hold passed through bloodline,
Most complex without the hold of remembrance,
As triggers to avoid,
We know not,
Yet decclining emotion,
Mental stability,
We loose,
Confused we try to facade,
To cling to dignity,
From pressures of certain public persona,
As if wearing fragile emotion is a disability.
How do you weigh,
Measure,
The impact of bumping heads?
When trying to avoid conflict,
Yet acquire self respect,
Whilst acknowledging your worth?
The only inevitability in life as far as I see is death,
If you have entered this world as yet.
Being mindful,
Is not to revel in regret,
Or sit and wait for what hasn’t evolved yet,
Nor have to try too hard in relationships,
But to perhaps simply accept that sail has slipped and shipped,
And that’s ok,
If love was once shared,
It will always be there,
Even if unbeknownst,
Or unawear,
Worms meat is biogradable,
The universes capacity to treasure and share is amongst us and obtainable beyond our power out there,
But when trust is lost,
Your heart is ripped,
With no owned responsibility,
Warranted apology,
Palatable explanation,
And when no ofference has sincerely been made to truely fix it,
Redemption,
A line must be drawn,
For our tiny mind expantion is not infinite.
We are intended to always be on the move,
Going backwards isn’t easy,
Yet somewhow we all do it,
Nor is being in a spin,
Yet we all get stuck in loops,
There is absolutely no point in side stepping,
Going forward is the intention, And in my opinion not a cliche but accuracy,
Life is a marathon,
Learning many lessons as you march on.
In my lane there is room for support,
But now especially,
No room for baggage,
Being dropped myself too many times,
It pains me to reach this point,
But a door mat I am not!
I am pure and full of love,
I am light,
But not a star to stay constant for whomever,
Whatever,
No matter what and whenever,
My lane form is turning narrow,
With love I intend to part from many of you with one last hoorah,
Not maliciously,
Nor with sorrow,
But independently,
For a brighter tomorrow,
Deserved and contained,
Pastures new,
If you are part of my life,
You’ll personally know it,
Because you’ll be in my lane.

Black, Female and Mentally Ill…And Fighting Still!

There is a fine line between sanity and insanity.
I stare at my reflection,
Seeking perfection,
Honestly having no idea about what that truely is.
I’m on the borderline of stability and instability,
Every ounce of me fragmented,
And scattered further than the eye can see,
Between Black and White,
Spread way out to beyond infinity.
My mind is heavy,
The weight affecting my physicality,
Heavy shoulders crush my body and psyche,
Mascarade my identity.
Tight lipped,
Yet open,
I share,
But do not declare all,
As that would make me vulnerable beyond repair,
And I need to try and be present,
As I continuously try to process,
What others don’t see,
Know,
Nor understand,
Combating the high demand,
Constant flickers of my mind,
A glitch,
Each switch,
Pain like bolts of lightening,
The tornado,
The storm,
No choice but to surpress,
I cannot confess,
If I wish to rub shoulders,
Walk beside you,
Clean up the mess of injustice and segregation.
I play the game,
To appear the same,
To not appear to roam to far off track,
Because once your off the grid,
You can never come back.
I must not be too loud,
I must not appear angry,
My foots in the door,
But there’s a long journey ahead of me,
Especially with the ill mental health struggles that I adhere to daily,
That debilitate me.
I’m black,
I’m a woman,
With BPD,
Whose going to give a platform to me?
Nobody!
I must fight my own fight,
There is no option of flight,
People need to hear me,
See me,
For help,
Understanding,
And rationality,
21st century,
And yet still I am denied because of my nationally,
Hindered by my gender,
Muted for my disability.
Stigma boxes me,
Taboo blocks me,
But nothing will silence me,
People will find me,
As I won’t campaign quietly,
You can extinguish my fire,
But I will start another,
And another,
Until we are accepted by society,
And welcomed to equality.

With you by my side, i’ll be OK…

Please don’t be weary,
I’m more of a danger to myself,
Than anyone else.
I’ve got ill mental health,
It’s not completely contagious,
So please don’t leave me on the shelf,
I want to be amongst,
I need to be amongst everyone else.
Excluding me
Because of my disability,
Is highly unfair,
All I want is to be involved,
Surely society has evolved,
Just enough to know not to lock me away,
Because with you by my side,
Chances are i’ll be ok.

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!

Step Ladder Outa Hell…

I don’t believe that you are unwell,
You just keep putting yourself through some kind of hell,
Professing to be crazy,
When you are actually just lazy.
For absolutely no reason,
You’ve committed a self sabotage treason,
Putting your self in hell,
So you can just constantly dwell,
Taking it upon yourself you are just giving up,
Handed yourself over like an inanimat object,
An empty cup,
That they just continuously pour medication into,
To stop you from being you,
Because you claim to be ill.
I wish that you wasn’t so ignorant and so you could take away your pride,
And see the divide now between us,
You could have helped me,
You still can,
But you refuse to believe that I need it,
You refuse to accept what I have been diagnosed with,
And seem to think it all inside my head,
Although professionals themselves have said,
I do have have borderline personality disorder,
And it means my life is not in the same order,
I can no longer dream the same dreams,
At least for now,
Or accomplish the same things,
But I am still human!
More than anything I’m able to love and wish for love in return,
But my pain,
My suffering,
Has caused you pain,
I know,
And you suffering,
For this I am sorry,
That is why you are on auto pilot,
Which warrants your denial,
But you are no longer by my side,
I try to take it in my stride,
But it isn’t easy,
As I don’t want to make you feel any other way than love towards me,
But at the very least respect,
And belief.
I do not just make things up,
I am not just giving up,
Attention is not what I seek,
I want after healing.
I am unwell,
I don’t want to be,
If you could come to terms with this as well,
That will be my step ladder out of this hell!!!

All over the TV

This girl can bare the character of many faces, Believe me she’s going places, On the right path she’s going to the top,
She ain’t never gonna stop.
Her big dream,
Achievable,
Not a fantasy,
Reality,
This is her destiny.
All the bumps fuel the pumps of ignition,
She’s wound up and ready to go, Despite many attempts of ruining her flow,
You supported her she needed that,
But now all is lost,
To the debt of a mighty cost, Once proud now ashamed and distant practically lost.
I never meant to embarrass you, I never meant to let you down,
I never took away all the air,
I never wanted to drown.
Now so many have surpassed me,
I see them all over TV,
Whilst I stay back suffering from mental fragility,
I know the top is a place,
A place that has no room or space for a loser like me,
Mentally fit and positively different I wish it could be, I’ll be the one on the box for all to see,
I’ll be the one making you proud cashing in the money,
And because I’m not,
You’ve forgotten how to love me,
I never needed you back then when I was independent and strong,
I was on the right path on the right track and knew where I belong,
Out of everything that I’ve lost what saddens me the most is losing you,
I’m truly sorry for any pain or torture I put you through,
I wish you understood that my mental instability is not not a path that I would have chosen for me or to hurt you,
BPD is not what I ever believed I had,
Would ruin me,
Ouch this path pains me,
More than it does you,
It’s true,
And no matter what though,
I love you.

Blood Is Thick

Tis fact that you are familiar with ill fortune,
Your ears have heard the tale of many woes,
Perhaps weakening your compassion,
Pained details becoming a fashion,
That by duty you must hear and impartially adhere to,
So much so that you perceive my grumblings as petulance,
Detached you are,
This is apparent from your facetious and needless remarks,
That you have barked,
Despite my fragility.
You harbour no emotion,
It is all innocent and guilty,
When it comes to my commotion,
Because we share no blood.
Occasionally fond of me,
But only love would enable you to hear and see,
The true pitty,
Wich is my history,
Evoking such misery,
So much so that it obliterated my destiny.
Now on a new path,
I do not forget,
Still waiting for you to love me,
But I no longer threat.
I ask for nothing from you,
And am therefor not disappointed,
You are happy with our distance,
And so it is kept.
Thinking I meant more to you,
Sums me up more than what you do,
Or don’t truly think.
You compared me to them,
That’s when I knew when,
You are detached,
And I cannot change that,
We need not walk on eggshells,
Nor tango,
Waltz,
Two Step around it,
Different blood we have,
Completely different roots,
I’ve seen the apple in your eye,
Your dedication to the princess and the glass slipper,
So made of stone you are not,
I’m just the old boot,
But a boot I am,
And I must be greatful for that,
Blood is thick,
Wine is devine,
But we all need water from time to time.

Loneliness Insomnia

Sleep is my hobby and escape,
A personal skill of perfection to the nine,
From which I acquired so naturally,
From the get go,
And yet tonight,
Despite being dosed up on my sanity medication,
Being fully prepared to escape reality and ill mentality,
I hoped to dream of unicorns and cotton candy,
Blissfully bobbing along on my all inclusive Mr Sandmans lullaby vacation,
Alas love is a powerful creation,
That has stirred something within,
My need to escape has shrunk,
As everyday has been a holiday,
But now you’ve gone away,
And the bitter side affect is insomnia,
Sleep deprivation,
As tonight my lover lies with me not,
And loneliness has returned,
A feeling I had unknowingly forgot.

We…

At the bottom of my left arm, Which I usually cover up entirely,
For the sake of those around me,
To avoid judgement,
When I have been unstable and unable to fight,
Come near to the end,
My scars are proof,
That I cannot ignore,
Nor pretend,
They do exist,
And remain permanently,
They lead you through my history,
That I should not be shy for you to see,
As they are a huge part of me.
Now lies a ring that shines like all the stars have been lit up in the galaxy,
To guide me through my destiny,
After all the rejection and neglect,
I have now found the man who sees no challenge,
Whom loves me unconditionally with pride and not an ounce of regret.
Alas we must make it down the Isle yet,
But he loves me,
Come what may,
The challenges I must endure in recovery,
Shall not break me,
Break we,
Strength,
Loyalty,
Happiness,
That is a destination we shall triumph to excel and success.