A Diary From Noone

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

Tag: #poem

Rainbow

All stories come from stories,
Fables and tales of old,
Get twisted,
Torn,
Pulled apart,
And made a new.
The art is to refurbish and tell like never before,
Leaving hints of familiarity,
Subtle enough for you to question the clarity,
Yet get you hooked,
And entertain you once more.
Words pour out of my mouth like water,
Vivid,
Fast and pure,
Never preplanned,
Or to mine ears been heard before,
I must have been a muted poets daughter,
Kept back by prejudice,
In a life before,
Now reincarnated I am still kept back with not much more to gain,
So much time has passed,
Yet judgement and exclusion remains the same,
My gender now not to blame,
But this time my brain,
Some lable me as insane,
Making publishing my work a gamble,
Excusing the discrimination with health and safety,
Keeps me at the back of the line,
Instead of the front where I deserve to be.
I want to open my mind,
Open and let you all in creatively,
I’ll keep you entertained with many a story,
Some real,
Some fantasy,
Some as dark as reality can be.
Yet people don’t want to take a gamble on me,
Be it the colour of my skin,
My battle scars out and showing,
My mental health diagnosis,
My fragility,
Potential crisis.
If I was a celebrity,
Publishing offers would fly to me,
Which is something I cannot fathom!?
I am no one imparticular,
Which makes me all the more spectacular,
Because I represent you all,
Anyone and everyone,
The masses.
I could be you,
Or the girl next door,
You’re daughter,
Best friend,
Or cousin.
Instead of allowing me to rise and connect with you,
You step over me,
You do not see me,
You will not listen to me,
Despite with all of my experience,
For the curious,
Those in the dark that need a guiding light,
Someone other to hold their hand,
To understand,
I am the connect to help you through.
The one without private health care like you,
The one who has to wait like you,
The one they medicate like you.
There is no personal Doctor on call,
Nowhere to just check in,
Thats the world of your celebrity.
I will not discriminate fleeting moments of ill mental health that others have indulged,
So why discriminate me.
My illness is longstanding,
I’ve been institutionalised,
Penalised,
Accosted,
Persecuted,
Snubbed,
Ignored,
Ganged up on,
Disrespected.
I have been to Hell,
I could tell you about that,
Demons and Psychosis,
Hallucinations,
Manifestations,
Paradise,
Euphoria.
I’ve been down to the darkest place.
I’ve been up to the highest and brightest.
I’ve spoken to the people that movie characters are made from.
My eyes and ears have explored every crack and crevice of the mind and beyond.
I could tell you a tale or two,
Some you may have heard before,
Some familiar,
Some brand new,
But I refuse to speak to buttoned up ears,
Lost in translation,
Focused on fame and vaneers.
I worry I may loose,
Or confuse what has been
As my memory looses stability,
Due to medication,
And emotional sensitivity,
And so I share snippets on here,
Both to remind and for those that support me.
One day I shall tell my full story,
Awake my imagination from slumber,
Mix everything together,
And share a rainbow of novels to suit everybody,
When the world wakes up and sees my potential as an endearing literature somebody,
Fueling books,
Theatre,
Television,
And film.
My stories,
Honest and brave,
Timeless.

Roundabout…

Inspired by the TV show, West World…

See the record spinning?
Neither head nor tail,
Where’s the end or the beginning?
Round and around,
Full circle on demand,
Yet seemingly free,
Deceit!
Tis all engineered,
Placed by God,
Or something supernatural,
A force beyond our understanding,
It’s all engineered,
Designed,
Rigged,
Already chosen,
A hidden force manipulates,
What we perceive to be free Will.
Play,
Stop,
Skip,
Handle with care,
Delicately,
Avoiding wear and tear,
Scratch that,
And the sound will slack,
Skipping,
Trying to take it back.
It loops,
Circling like a hoola hoop,
Rhythm fast,
Rhythm slow,
Rhythm go,
Go,
Go,
Over and Over,
Because the master made it so.
A mirage of freedom,
In reality,
A soul trapped against its Will,
Destined only for fatality,
Things aren’t what they appear to be,
Russian roulette,
A fascade of tranquillity,
When really brutality,
A journey that you will endlessly repeat,
Yet we still forget,
The purpose as to why,
We do not know yet,
Bewitched,
Trickery,
We learn with regret,
And then we try to learn some more,
Starved with zero power,
I am mentally impaired,
But a sensitive suffragette,
Slightly aware that things are not right,
Stuck in an endless maze,
I hope for something more,
That there is some reason behind this treason,
But for now,
We lack control,
Lost in a game that we did not sign up for,
Chained to the tightest strings,
We are but puppets,
Stuck in a wretched game,
That we are forced to Play,
On this tainted roundabout,
In shades of grey.

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A Poem For The Lady On The Street… Followed By The Voice Of The Vulnerable People Of Birmingham…

Did you see the woman sitting on the street?
Don’t plead innocent,
Admit your deceit!
You saw her alright,
But instead of acknowledging her,
Your feet rapidly picked up the beat.
She asked you for money for something to eat,
Once more your assumptions and ignorance blinded you,
Why give her money to spend on beer, drugs and wine,
Although two of those are on your shopping list,
But of cause,
That’s fine!
It’s Christmas time,
You have lots to do,
Seeing family and friends,
Gifts,
From Me to You.
You will be fine,
Warm,
Happy,
Spoilt and stuffed on Christmas day,
But that lady on the street,
She won’t just vanish away!
She has no one to be with,
Nowhere to go.
This festive holiday,
Perhaps you need all the money you’ve got,
To you,
Giving a little may mean giving a lot.
But a quick smile is free,
It may mean a lot to that woman on the street,
A nod,
Or shake of the head,
Instead of hurrying feet.
That woman and everyone else vulnerable and in need,
For whatever the reason,
They are still human beings.
They deserve more.
A smile,
An ear,
Time,
Communication.
Neglect them not,
They are already at the lowest of the low,
Abandoned,
Failed,
And let down by the system,
Left on the street to rot.
Please spare a thought for them this Christmas,
I am not asking a lot.
That simple and humble kind gesture,
Could really mean an awful lot.

So… December 2016, I decided to put my actions where my thoughts were. I wanted to personally reach out to the vulnerable people of Birmingham, the city in which I was born and live, the city in which I myself am considered vulnerable because of my ill mental health. One man (so to speak) a person like myself, with no wealth, connections in high places, fame or a vast platform, cannot change the world single handily, but I can personally endeavour to try to make a small difference to the world, an impact on society, by persevering to complete my mission of raising awareness of mental health as an individual. I hope that in time, people will choose to join me on my mission, enough people to make a difference. Support me by reading my words, my poetry and blogs, regularly visiting www.adiaryfromnoone.co.uk and sharing my story and experiences with those in need, people who may benefit and learn from my honesty, collaborate with me and get the word out, follow me and recommend me on social media, watch my vlogs, adiaryfromnoone on YouTube. Please don’t interpret this as preaching or a plug but one must repeat themselves in order to get heard.
Every year for the past sixty four years (if my maths is correct, which it most likely isn’t and so don’t quote me), The Queen has given a televised Christmas speech to the Commonwealth realms. Over the years, The Queen has tried a personal touch, reaching the population in their homes, reflecting on the good and bad of the past year and wishing us all a very happy Christmas from The Royals. I must give The Queen credit, or perhaps The Duke Of Edinburgh or Winston Churchill, whoever it was that had the idea to make the reoccurring speech an available spectacle for the entire nation to see, the idea was a stroke of genius and way ahead of its time. Their idea to televise media in the 50’s, mirrors today’s social media and the power of going viral. People love, “Reality Television”. Dancing kittens, celebrities getting drunk, sex scandals, a lot of trivial rubbish with absolutely zero meaning, that is the stuff that gets the highest ratings. Undoubtedly more ratings then the Queen herself, but it is the Queens role to reflect upon the people, even though in reality, The Queen is so far removed from us. So you can make a fool out of yourself, perform like a dancing monkey, lord up your privilege but no one seems to want to know or learn anything of importance. Instead of watching an incredibly privileged or wealthy being discuss war, poverty, illness, homelessness and politics, would you not rather watch/read or hear from someone who is a selfless advocate for the people’s vulnerabilities and the vulnerable sake? I would, because the message would have sustenance, the context should take the spotlight, not the person with an alternative motive of acquiring fame or popularity. Instead of the façade that people are knowledgeable or even care about the unfortunate that The Royals preach about, using a top researchers carefully edited script, rather then personal reflection or research, why is there no platform to hear of these stories from the horses mouth? No gimmicks, no carefully edited tear jerkers, not sugar coated entertainment whilst the phones are ringing and the donation clock is going up and up, just truthful disclosures from those in need, the people on the streets, the abused, the refuges, the drug and alcohol addicts, the criminals, the minorities, the mentally ill, the physically sick, sick children, neglected children, children in care, the poor, the elderly, the lonely. Keeping things simple and focussing on the issue, that is what we need to see and hear in order to learn and advocate change.
On December 23rd 2016, I went to The Salvation Army to visit the homeless, escorted by musical friends who played live music, I sat and spoke to the people, allowed them to talk about whatever they wanted, I mostly listened, allowing them to feel special, acknowledged and heard. There was one man who was making song requests but neither I or my friends, the musicians, knew what he was asking for. He said that when he is on the streets, he sings for money, we welcomed him to sing but at first he declined. About half an hour later, there was this beautiful moment where he blossomed like a flower. Very quietly he began to sing and as we listened his confidence grew and he belted out his own lyrics for all of us to share and hear. That is the kind of thing that should be on YouTube, if only I had permission to film. I gave them gifts for Christmas and expressed my empathy.
I then went straight onto Summer Hill House, a rehabilitation centre for drug addicts, this time alone! I gave a speech whilst introducing myself and disclosing my intensions and my experiences of being institutionalised in a mental health hospital over Christmas not so long ago, I read them the poem above, sang silent night as an impromptus duet with one of the service users that I had crossed musical paths with in the past, on guitar. I held an open conversation about what they would say if, “The People’s Speech” was actually a thing. I intended to make a mockumentary of, “The Queens Speech” but with some home truths from the actual mouths of some actual real life vulnerable people, but I did not get around to it and so instead, please read on.
Most of the people in rehab were homeless, some spoke of family neglect and being in the social services and care homes from a very early age, throughout childhood and how damaging that can be. Some spoke of being so lonely, no family, no friends, no security, no home, how they just wanted to be acknowledged and feel significant. They spoke of how emotionally crippling it is to be ignored on the streets. They appreciate that not everyone can afford to dish out money, they are more then aware of the connotations that go alongside with begging on the street but would prefer to not be prejudged, stereotyped, stigmatised but most importantly ignored. Just a smile, nod/shake of the head or a brief hi or sorry would help lift their mood and confidence because they already feel bad enough for being out there and asking as it is. They spoke of how they don’t have phones or internet and so all of those messages about calling support lines online, may as well be spam. They spoke of how they have no access to information on where to go for food, a bed, healthcare etc. They want more hands on care and their most poignant message was that they are there all year round, not just at Christmas, although grateful, Christmas seems to be the only time that people remember to spare them any thought.
Overall, I was fortunate to spend the afternoon with some rather hard done by but extremely strong individuals, Circumstance lead them to where they are but they are human, just like us and all they need is a lifeline, but there are very few and extremely hard to come by. I vow to take on bored what they said. I will at the very least acknowledge them, just the same as I would anyone else. I tried to bring a little light to their life, I gave them material Christmas gifts from my own pocket but I think the gift that they were most thankful for, was my time, thoughtfulness and kindness. They felt significant, and so they should.
I am not asking you to give these people materialistic things, you don’t even have to empty your pockets! I am asking you to open your eyes and hearts, it sounds ludicrous but, just a small gesture of acknowledgement can actually save lives, revitalise these people by lifting their spirits, life is hard enough for them, without being ridiculed or dismissed! No one likes to be ignored, because it is cruel, if the shoe was on the other foot and you are completely honest, I am sure hat you can appreciate my very small request, give a little light to these people in the darkness.

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!

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