Placenta…

Who,
what,
Or how,
May impregnate,
But the birth itself is the trauma,
And the placenta is the monster,
Thus mental illness is born.

Dedicated to Kaz Foncett

The purpose to all fights is to conquer,
To win,
To beat the opponent,
The threat,
The enemy,
Regardless of where the substance begins,
Whether the catalyst be,
Religion,
Addiction,
Ill health,
Politics,
Financial crisis,
Oil,
Land,
sea,
Or,
Something petty,
There’s always at least two sides,
Striving for victory,
Only one side can win,
Making history.
Turning a blind eye to some if it,
Is easy when you are not directly part of it,
No amount of ignorance,
Or swag,
Can avoid when things get personal,
Really bad.
Lives lost,
At what cost!?
Some fights are so unrealistic,
To break war over diamonds and gold,
How materialistic.
The bigger congregations always seem to win.
Fighting for God is surely a sin,
I am not in understanding of some people’s mentality,
It is baffling,
Warranting inflicting havoc,
Chaos,
And pain on another being,
To attack,
Just because they think different,
Don’t accommodate,
Or understand,
The confinement of peace within free will.
The worst type of fight,
Is when one must fight themself,
Usually within the realms of ill health,
When our mentality,
Physicality,
And immune system,
Declares war from within,
Attack us from beneath the skin.
The big,
“C”,
Our biggest enemy,
Takes way to many,
Young,
Old,
Men,
Women,
LGBT,
This poison ruins everyone and everything,
No status,
Wealth,
Nor bribe,
Can make you exempt,
We have learnt ways to try and prevent,
But no theory is yet one hundred percent,
Cancer is against all,
It is vile,
Cruel and always wants to win,
It is the test of all tests,
That I cannot fully understand,
Because from that I am not suffering.
I do know how it feels,
When a medical enemy creeps up,
Often silently,
Most untimely,
From somewhere deep within.
I know,
And I have seen,
Witnessed strong individuals fighting,
Their heads sink,
In a spin,
Constantly crying,
Helpless,
Relying on the Doctors and nurses,
Reaching out spirituality,
To eradicate bad spirits and curses,
To break the rotten chain,
Latched onto their web of mentality.
Loved ones,
Treading on eggshells not sure what to say,
What they can or should do,
Stiff upper lip,
Trying to appear solid and strong,
A pillar for the sick to lean upon,
Encouraging them to keep pushing on.
Oh how brave such casualties are,
Oh how clever the pharmaceutical scientists,
And medics are,
But oh how brave are all of the sick,
But the ones with the,
“Big C”…
Everyday putting up with needles,
Quarantine,
Transfusions,
Vomit,
Hospitals,
Operations,
And bad news,
Sickness is a war that we don’t choose,
And so it is most disappointing when you loose.
Thankfully it does not always play out like that,
People do fight,
Inspire,
Shine,
And live on,
Super strong,
With a little help,
Strength,
And faith,
Put your mind to it and,
You may just get that chance to move on.
My friend is exactly that someone,
Blessed with beauty,
Brains,
And creativity,
A modern day women,
An asset to society,
But now,
Even though she is sick,
She still knows how to handle,
And work It,
She knows what she wants,
And will fight hard to get it,
She is more than worth it.
How she copes,
I personally hope to never know,
But whole heartedly,
I hope this monster quits,
And let’s her go,
Girls got songs to sing,
Fashion to model,
A husband to love,
A dog to snuggle,
A family,
And great friends,
This is not her time to go,
My girl still needs time to shine,
And so to all the powers that be,
I implore you,
That door needs to stay open and so she can walk through,
Turning her back on you,
It’s not her time to depart,
And you know it’s true,
She has so much more to do,
So let her come through,
Return to the world she once knew,
Before she crossed paths with you,
Worry not,
She will never forget you,
But will be as proud as punch,
For beating,
Surviving,
Escaping,
And winning,
Because she is not deserving,
Of all of this suffering!

VORTEX…

I have a vortex of solemn energy that lingers above my soul and heart,
No vacuum of pills nor therapy can suck it away,
Love,
Hope,
Nor positivity can shrink it,
Or banish it,
Trick it,
Or lead it astray.
No one can be more frustrated about this than I,
I constantly try to shift it,
But its tangled and knotted roots,
Are so thick and deep,
They have tricked my body into thinking they belong.
I want to run,
I want to hide,
But there is no getting away from this,
It’s in me,
Part of me,
This giant tardis,
Of numbness and misery,
Why it chose me is a mystery,
But I know in my heart,
That I will never be free,
As each day it gets more firmly rooted,
Holds me back from my potential destiny,
Deviding me from my friends and family.
Alone I must suffer and endure this,
Riddled in pain,
Watching life go by,
And all the things that I will miss,
Because there is no escaping this.
This poison will stay with me for as long as I exist.
I did not ask for this.
I do not relish in it.
I did not choose to be a host.
You think I am self indulged and selfish,
Able to set myself free,
Embrace love and be happy.
Oh how you are wrong!
I did not invite or agree,
For this curse to be bestowed upon me,
To live life in constant misery,
It chose me!
You’ll never understand it unless you also have experience it,
And so the fact that you don’t,
Ignites relief within me,
I would rather your frustration,
And gradual segregation,
Then for you to have to live through the same as me,
In order to fully understand me.
As this black hole of darkness eats away at me,
I would not even wish it upon my biggest enemy,
The constant…
Chronic pain,
The tears,
The stress,
The darkness,
The paranoia,
Dissociation,
Hallucinations,
Anxiety,
Panic attacks,
Fatigue,
Is not the type of life that I would wish for me,
Or anybody,
But I caught it,
And resentfully,
I must undergo all that comes with it.
The vortex,
The black hole,
Of ill mental health,
Eats away at you,
Until one way or another,
There is nothing left of you,
And seemingly no way out!

J

When you sobbed,
I cried for you,
Not realising that I was crying for me to!
Only sixty,
Not old at all,
In our day and age,
But your brain is at such an older stage,
You barely engage,
You get so forgetful,
You are so vulnerable,
Rather more like a child then a lady,
Unable to process,
You come across a little crazy,
But you are so sweet really,
Fraustrating at times,
But impossible to dislike.
Your husband honours your wedding vows,
He is dedicated unconditionally to you,
There to support you,
Committed like clock work,
It must be hard for him,
Having to witness,
As everyday you let a little more go,
He truly loves you so,
He visits and calls you every single day,
I only hope that I will find someone to love me that way.
My family don’t know the half of it,
Where to start,
What to do,
What to say,
I often wonder if they would miss me if I went permanently away?
Always polite,
Never wanting to offend,
Whilst I still can,
I just pretend,
Pretend that I am ok!
Year after year,
As things get worse,
And I have to endure this heartless curse,
A pattern seems to emerge,
I’m well,
Then unwell,
And well again,
But never truly the same,
Qualities get lost,
And I cannot regain,
Whilst circling around this gruelling chain,
Each fall leaves it’s mark,
Dulling my spark,
Regardless of where crisis springs from,
Rational,
Or frequently more so,
Irrational,
The consequences are real,
Not at all fun.
This rollercoaster of peaks and troughs,
Eats away at my heart,
My soul,
My brain,
And I can no longer maintain,
A fruitful life with out pain.
Are you the lady that I am to become?
Except the situation will be worse,
Because I do not have that special someone?
If so,
My future,
Be it long or short,
Is bleak,
I forget all together when I peak,
Hurtling through spells of mania,
But this fear eats away at me when I am weak.
This journey,
Alone,
Without a rock to lean upon,
Is a very sad one,
A life and future of only this,
Is a life not worth living,
That I want to run away from,
And escape!

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.

REJECTION

Rejection, Rejection,
Upon my reflection,
Rejection, Rejection,
Punched right in the core.
Has left me to rot from within,
Poison running raw.
Fiends, Family, Loved One’s, Strangers and People that I simply adore,
I can’t take it anymore,
I don’t even remember a before.
I never asked for this,
Please give us a break and take me off your list.