screaming at walls

Screaming at walls

Crushing into my mattress

I am a painting

Mouth gaping

Deep black hole

Praying earnestly

To God, up and far away

Like father

Twinkling in the sky

Speaking to empty air

I feel

Drenched in sadness

I feel 

Wet with anguish

I am swimming in pent up emotions

I am swimming

Still

No-one wants to be the one displaying 

pain

Honesty 

isn’t attractive

Cover yourself

For god sake,

It’s uncomfortable 

We’re uncomfortable

Take up the mattress you own

Take up the tears

Refold into yourself 

You’re 

too 

much

 

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Depression is a brick

I mourn through soaked iris

The pit of emotion

Brimming

The mirror I smash

The mirror I am

I smash

At a point most weak,

Thin thread of a spider web

At the most vulnerable,

A man squatting in a public toilet

Pride wrapped around his ankles

I am there

Drowning because

The surface, hands too far

Woeful because

Other, stare, watch the splash

Walk off back to their own lives

Bitterness becomes oxygen

I am still drowning 

Painful because

This weak point

Feels an accumulation of lost love

Of disapproving childhood

Of lost heart in heat

Of grooming, of men ambushing

Of femininity, blackness, migrant status

Lost riches, 

Sinking into poverty

I am sinking into poverty of

Heart, mind and soul

In a world,

Where even blood stains without cause,

Where is my cause found

Amongst the mundane

Amongst the self-entitled

Which do I join?

Which do I perish in?

*

For me writing isn’t to share pain, rather expose it for the reality it is. New age positivity bullshit does not bandage the fact that life is strenuous, intolerable and harsh. We protect ourselves well; the pain is important.

Two quick poems about motherhood.

i.

How much can I give

How much do I want to give 

I give my body all the time

I give it to others 

I never have it for myself

I’ve never had it for myself 

After birthing my son

I recognised that I had always given my body away

I never cherished it myself 

He was a product of my body being given 

And in return I’m gifted a human

Despite this bittersweet exchange

I still must give away, everything I am

The physical is a product of spiritual 

And so even my soul is parted with

The experience of motherhood is showing me 

That women are always fighting to own their bodies

From girlhood 

We are always in some battle to protect, maintain and enjoy our agency 

It’s always being removed from us

As if destiny ensured women would not be their own 

And history cemented this into truth 

No longer invisible firmament 

Men bestowed ‘honour’ to bring it to Earth

And now I wonder if I’m born a slave

And now I wonder if I’m ever going to be mine 

 

ii.

 

I used to think my breasts were too small

I’d hide them in baggy attire

And assume more masculine behaviour 

To show the boys if they didn’t think I was attractive or feminine

That was absolutely fine 

Because I was like a boy myself – I didn’t need their approval 

But as time went on, 

I realised I still wanted to feel feminine

And I wanted to be seen as feminine 

So my breasts were symbolic of this 

And I let them out more

Now my breasts are too big 

And I’d hidden them away

Big, voluptuous milk-filled breasts

That would be the dream of a man with an Oedipal complex 

I was too feminine, too woman and even I, being woman, couldn’t handle it 

But one day I realised that these breasts were mine

These breasts are symbols of softness, pleasure, warmth, seduction, comfort and purposed 

To even sustain life 

So it no longer matters what anyone, even I, should think of my breasts.

 

Baby bean

Who knew a bean, just a bean, could sprout something so huge.

A body, a belly, a set of emotions, an opinion, a concern, the whole world’s

eagerly, looking.

Who knew the judgement, could pass so soon,

when no-one knows anything other than what I choose

to give or show

to make obvious or known,

did you know the girl before?

Oh, a woman now? She’s grown.

This bean seems to be the talk of lips,

the reaction of finger tips and

the pain of ‘what-if’s’.

 

 

Starting with humility.

 

I was ungrateful, self-pitying, proud, conceited and inconsiderate. It was plastered over by a wonderful, big smile. I had lost humility. It been lost for a really long time. I had even fooled myself with my own facade. I was prideful and arrogant; in my position, my beliefs, my lifestyle.

I turned 18 and the pride kicked in (this helps me to stem where and when it started). Moving to London inflated my Ego hugely, even when I was kicked and humiliated and mocked by own foolishness =/= naivety. I had a huge zest for my opportunities and abilities to take the world by storm and to live out my fantasies and dreams (which later I came to find weren’t even my own). I had a huge starry-eyed conception of the world and of the glitz and glamour of city life. London was a dream come true, it was the reality of fantasy and years of idealising how I’d live and where I’d live and what I’d live as. Whilst at University, I had the safety net to be what I had envisioned, which sadly, as I look back, was filtered through the teenager I wanted to be recognised as at college, the young girl who wanted to be attractive to white* guys back in Swindon, the popular, outgoing personality I was sometimes framed as (but I am inherently a relaxed introvert)  and a person intent on being better than her upbringing; in the prideful sense.

What was missing in my vision of my life? Humility, gentleness and contentment. These are, by no means, ways of settling (because sadly, they are framed to be indicators of a person ‘settling’) but admirable attributes of a person. It’s not something self-sought, it’s something self-recognised and taught.

For whatever reason, I felt that I had to be a suspicious, contending, spiteful person who was out for themselves because everyone was – right? Yet, this wasn’t reality. It was a form of reality that existed for me; it wasn’t everyone else’s. It wasn’t most people’s reality at all, actually.

I’ve struggled all my life with the ability to be humble, content and gentle. I’ve been abrasive, brash, aggressive and extremely proud. Even though I haven’t pin-pointed how this has happened, I do know that it’s very much integrated into human nature, which means it’s a part of me I can’t source. It’s not something I can fight, but I can out-balance. But, why am I mentioning this all?

When I graduated, I realised I was no longer excused to be these things; even though it was never really acceptable in the first place. I realised looking back I’d lost friends, opportunities, ambition and good things out of being this way. The way I had been, was my own doing, whether years of programming from school, or home, or family, or friends; it was still a choice of mine, I had been blindly making. Upon graduation, I realised it had taken me five years to live out that person and force them die out. (University is a strange place because it can create more imbalance of this person; it can make our selfishness come out greatly, as we healthily compete  against our peers and lectures.) When I graduating I felt real, true pride from commitment, perseverance and humility. These were: returning back to a course I was a year behind on, a course I’d have to make totally new friends on, a course that was heavy essay-based (without me writing an essay for almost 1 year and a half) and a course that I had chosen to finish despite being almost two years behind my peers. My friends had jobs now, some married and others in further education; I wasn’t caught up with them.

But in my own journey, setbacks were necessary because they forced me to die to the person who was incredibly selfish, bordering on severely immature and self-centred. Setbacks brought me here, to my actual starting point, where I’ve finished one sector of my life better than I could’ve imagined. I used to believe the world was mine – but its not. It’s everyone’s because we share it. I used to believe I was entitled to success but, we all are because success doesn’t pick out of entitlement; its for people who work hard, in humility. I used to believe my universe had been set up for me and I was just existing in it, unable to change anything but that was wrong, I am in the middle of it, capable of creating in it and changing it. I used to believe my friends were my enemies, but actually, they care a lot, more than I imagine that they do. I was certain my family hated me and begrudgingly carried me through life but they have a lot of love and desire for my success and happiness.

This doesn’t make me naive, it makes me realistic. I had demonised my world very easily but it just… it isn’t true. Humility, gentleness and contentment are traits I think bring me the greatest honour and the greatest pride, because these are attributes that remove glory from my self; it shows that the human nature can be tamed to be and do good for others, not just the self. I am a small-town girl, who grew up learning that hard work creates opportunity, wealth and possibility. I moved to London and lost that all, but at least from graduation I’ve seen that it’s not all hopeless; I can still return to that girl and mould her up to the woman she’s meant to be, not this figure I’d sloppily made myself.

People can cloud your mind with the idea that you’re this glorious being, absolutely fabulous, one-of-a-kind, better than everyone and destined for greatness. Well, that’s not true. Sure, I am fearfully and wonderfully made but someone made me. I am destined, as human kind is, for greatness because it’s part of our DNA; our ability to create, resolve, enterprise and endure. Greatness isn’t the glamour of recognition from the world, it’s the understanding of what the world is and what it needs, then acting on that for others to see. Humility forces me to look at what life I have and what life I want to have. Gentleness reminds me that not everything is forced and contentment gives me the present joy of being.

So, starting with humility for this next phase is important. Whatever false judgement and hidden embarrassment is on the way, it’ll come, but ‘exalted are those who make themselves the least, and a humbled are those who make themselves great.’

 

 

 

*white guys: this is basically because I grew up in a working-class town where everyone was white and they were seen as attractive, conventionally, so in a way I wanted to be accepted by my peer group and subconsciously, the town I lived in.

 

 

Poem 6.

Oh you victim,

‘You pushed me away!’

Oh you poor victim –

what did the world owe you?

 

Because this world won’t care until death,

and who recognises we’re all just people, nothing more and nothing less.

Wrapped up in the emotional debts of old karmic cycles,

what did I owe you?

And if it all amount to nothing, just the black abyss of a subpar existence, revolving around your claim to want me, to care for me, to see me somehow.

This isn’t a love poem, who cares for the old scaring love,

this is a poem for when you give for your family –

and they abandon you.

Poem5.

 

And then you wonder.

Who really wanted to know.

And who really cared.

When friends become foes,

and the world scoffs when you scream its not fair.

And who wanted to take their own life,

to guarantee the survival of mine.

And who really cared about the struggle,

who really cared about the loss,

who really cared about the brutal, testing cost.

And who just wants one thing,

and who wants everything.

And who will give something,

in return of nothing.

And who judges you day and night,

and who puts you in that ruthless box.

And who sits back in pain,

when you soul begins to rot.

And who kept their word,

and who broke you down.

And who is still around –

who is still around?