"If I Believe"

If I believe
in the beautiful lies,
I am deluded -

but if I accept
harsh, hopeless,
dark
truths,
I am cynical.

"Moonlit Emotions"

moonlit emotions

place of peace

set me free

set myself free

"Selective Caring"

　
selective hearing

selective caring

your speciality

what part of the word

"desperate"

don't you understand

what part of the words

"need help urgently"

don't you won't you comprehend

can't help now

a patient's ill

I know that patient's me

but you mean a patient you

care about

and you clearly don't care about me

worthless

pointless

irrelevant

that's how I feel

I need a safe space

that's all I need

not to cause a drama

like the ones you help instead

but if you make me desperate

your drama

your entertainment

will arrive

eventually

but that's okay fine I'm only me

just ignore me

with my screams and scars

you can't pander to

people like that

after all

she'll go away in the end

natural wastage

on your stats

you always lose a percentage

nature of the job

"The Whole World Sings Along" - 2012 Edits - Version 2

Popular opinion must always favour

the confidently wrong.

They steal your tunes,

and sing their own lyrics,

and the whole world sings along.


Nobody will be the one to admit

that the emperor has no clothes on.

"The Whole World Sings Along" - 2012 Edits - Version 1

Popular opinion must always favour

the confidently wrong.

They select a tune,

and sing their own lyrics,

and the whole world sings along.


Nobody will be the one to admit

that the emperor has no clothes on.

"In My Defence"

There are words I could use in my defence.

My mind goes blank. I can’t think of any.

I’m ill. That’s not a criminal offence.

You take me to bits. There are too many

Answers you’ve rehearsed. If I’d a penny,

For each time that I knew a point I’d made

Was valid, yet you just wouldn’t hear me –

Then, stuff "benefits" – I would be well-paid.



The way that you seem to want to steer me –

I won’t go. You tried to break me: Nearly.

"Greyscale Days"

I struggle through each

Greyscale day,

And even

The silver in my night sky is

Tarnished.

"Vision"

vision

so pure

in pastel shades

of peace and healing

"Seeking"

in vast azure skies

beyond fields of green

I seek these truths

experience deep inner peace

"And Now"

vague, pale shapes

dart

into mind

ill-defined

but somehow soothing

somehow soothing

"Breaking Down"

unresolved

dissolving I am

so sad

so lonely

empty

hurting feel hurt so hurt

broken I am

"Monochrome Existence"

It’s all about survival

And scraping through

Another greyscale day



There is nothing left

Just emptiness



Forgotten aspirations

Inspiration fading

Along with the setting sun



Existing here in

Grainy monochrome

"Enough People Agree"

Why fly to Ibiza just to get pissed,

When there are clubs and pubs across the road,

Which are less expensive? Guess I have missed

The point – if there was one to miss. A load

Of rubbish can be made "true" by consent.

Almost any story that you invent

Is "factual" once enough people agree.

Ibiza first. Then it’s Glastonbury.



Religions end up being just the same.

It’s all about what’s "authorised" – not true.

Let’s play the "because-it-says-so-here" game.

You aren’t allowed a different point of view.

The leaders, in their Simple Simon roles,

Ensure that we remain in pigeon-holes.

God has become lost in bureaucracy.

Might as well just go to Glastonbury.

"The Line"

This seems to be the popular solution:

Any blame, ensure that it is mine.

No, I do not pretend that I am perfect,

but this is where I start to draw the line.



The isolation gets so hard to handle.

Always feel obliged to answer: "Yes, I’m fine."

Well, I’m not fine. I am broken. Since you asked me.

And this is where I have to draw the line.

"Feels Like Being Punished"

I felt that I deserved a break, but no:

Thing after thing goes wrong. I’m powerless.

Keep searching for a way for me to show

God that I repent. I need to confess



To stuff God must already know about –

Since He, or She, is everywhere – sees all.

I just can’t figure any of this out.

My safety net is broken, so I fall.



I don’t even believe in "sin". At least

Not as relates to anyone but me.

That something which I once called faith has ceased

To light my way. That’s not how it should be.



My head is full of doctrines that conflict

With each other. The word is derelict.

"So-called 'Practical Advice'"

Sometimes genuine sympathy is nice.

It demonstrates that people really care.

I’m sick of so-called "practical advice".



So what if I have the same problem twice –

Or twenty times? You should become aware:

Sometimes genuine sympathy is nice.



Mere "empathy" can be as cold as ice.

I don’t always need answers: just to share.

I’m sick of so-called "practical advice"



And value judgements. There’s always a price

To pay these days: Something is not right there.

Sometimes genuine sympathy is nice.



There is no need to bully – just entice.

Must all of life be so harsh and unfair?

I’m sick of so-called "practical advice".



Decide my future: You just roll your dice,

Which makes it clear that you don’t really care.

Sometimes genuine sympathy would be nice.

I’m sick of so-called "practical advice".

"Even If"

Even if I am altering daily

Even if I need to swear

Even if my thoughts are "evil"

Even if I walk around in a daze, day after day



Even if my weight decreases

Even if I put it all back on again



Even if I can no longer believe

In an all-male model

Of the Godhead



Even if my heart and mind are broken

Even if I rarely know the date, day or time any more



Even if I wash my hands again

And again and again and again and again

And again, and don’t stop doing this all day,

Every single bloody day

Of every single bloody week



Even if

"Prozac Nation"

Welcome back to "Prozac Nation".

It’s just a myth that talk is cheap.

Prozac costs us next to nothing.

Counselling is kind of steep.

"Neon"

neon screams

in dark

corridors

"Divine Love"

I feel her in the moonlit sky.

You still don’t understand – won’t try.

The truth is there, you’ve all denied.

Divine love has a female side.



You say that she does not exist:

"The Bible says…" You just insist

I’m wrong, which must be rectified.

Divine love has a female side.



So I’ll not be a so-called "Saint".

Well, all hypocrisies just taint

My spirit. You think I’ve not tried?

Divine love has a female side.



I touch your truths, and those are real.

Just so confused: That’s how I feel.

I could have "fit in" if I’d lied.

The truth is there, you’ve all denied.

Divine love has a female side.

"Moonlight Reflected"

The lake of pure lust

has frozen tonight.

Moonlight is reflected in ice.

In tentative baby steps,

her inner infant

is re-learning

to trust.

"Any Magpie"

I would welcome any magpie once

even if he flew alone

I blinked and missed the second goddess

looked from maiden straight to crone


another seven years of shattered mirrors

seven babies buried in one year

still trying to believe this

thirteen lucky

still trying to visualise a worthwhile future here

"Real"

Sorrow is real -

hope an illusion -

just a bitter-sweet delusion.

That's how I feel. Really feel inside.

Most of life is fake.

Sorrow is real,

and here to stay.

"1993"

already these walls

bleed bad memories

remember the amplified echoes

of her screams


yet this young girl

still only nineteen

feels at home

herself

entirely alive

within these walls and ceilings

plastered with posters

with Metallica

defiantly blaring

sufficiently loud

for the little pub

to make the street outside shake

vibrate

a lager inside her

and suddenly

this is her sanctuary

her space

her source of insane sanity

and a good place to escape

for a few hours

before meeting up with her ex

for a drink and to talk

he said to be sober

on arrival

so she is only having

a very quick drink


then he catches her eye

this guy - blonde and cute

says hi - tells her his name or

the one that he goes by

that he likes her profile

she smiles

heart notes the

handsome stranger

already lining up

her next mistake


before she leaves

in time - or only

slightly late - to

meet up with her ex

for a drink and to talk

"Moments"

stunned by life's synchronicity

someone somewhere
might be missing me

faded
jaded
torn apart

a solitary figure
so distant
on sunlit afternoons
tasting moments
facing her own fresh chapter
new start

"Plan B" (for Stacey)

she offered me
a plan B
didn't recognise the complexities
of why
it could never work for me
could not really understand
why
her plan B
simply made me want to scream

but why
why
did I have to deny
that she was
going
to die
and I couldn't even
wouldn't even cry

now left with fragments
a parrot painting
squirrel fridge magnet
books
memories
and a friend's plan B
that still won't work for me

"Reasons, Seasons and Private People"

Left with reasons and with seasons
of each not-quite-lifelong friend.
These things are simply not intended
to endure - and so they end.

My parents won't tell me about
anything. They like their "privacy" -
and yet, they must object as soon as
I request the same for me.

I've had the reasons and the seasons,
and I've had them up to here.
Is anybody genuine?
I need to make it clear:

No more reasons, seasons -
"private people".
Just be honest from the start,
if you really don't give a damn.
Stop messing with my head and heart.

"Slimming World"

She, once again, posts off the renewal cheque -

payment for her sub to Slimming World.

It occurs to her that this is her third time; by

definition, surely that's not right?

But they did say that no girl should expect

miracles to happen overnight.

Still, she firmly resolves that, if

it doesn't work this time,

and her weight continues to soar,

like a clubbing queen on E -

and should any more zips accidentally

dare to bust - then she will

immediately cancel all the mags,

and chuck out all the Morgan

one size (which means size six)

jeans, and thank her lucky

stars for Marks and Evans -

and try to forget that she used to

prefer Gap, Next, Top Shop,

River Island - in another life!

She is actually growing

somewhat sick

of attending Weight Watchers,

week after bloody week:

each victim weighing in,

like cattle anticipating slaughter.

That regular ritual of public humiliation

has finally taken its toll: so soul-destroying.

She feels that she may flip, at any time.

The other day, she did rip up her Kylie posters; it

helped a bit. Released the pent-up tension,

like some binge. She is fed-up with counting

"points" and wondering if skipping breakfast,

lunch and dinner for three successive days

again, might not entitle her to a Fun Size

Mars Bar.

Fun Size? King Size is more fun, any day!

Yes, this is most definitely to be her last year,

as a devotee of Slimming World.

"Believing"

Darkness is closing in on me.
I long to glimpse some light: be free.
I could submit, but don't know how.
I have to keep believing now.

Each day seems longer than the last -
haunted by nightmares of a past,
from which I must escape somehow:
I have to keep believing now.

I tried to commit suicide.
I nearly got my wish, and died.
I've come this far.  Not too sure how.
I have to keep believing now.

Stay close to me, and I will try
to comprehend the reasons why.
It's time: I must move forward now.
I have to keep believing now.

"Efexor"

When they prescribe it, be aware -

and contradict them, if you dare.

They'll represent this drug as great.

Efexor makes you put on weight.


They'll put it down to myths and lies.

They'll claim you eat too many pies.

Before long, fat will be your fate.

Efexor makes you put on weight.


"The newer drugs are not so bad."

I fell for that one. I was had.

Say, "No," before it gets too late.

Efexor makes you put on weight.


Insist on Prozac. Maybe then,

you will remain size eight or ten.

Although they make the drug sound great,

Efexor makes you put on weight.


At first you might feel better, true.

Yet, would the Evans range be you?

It's crap: Efexor is not great.

Efexor makes you put on weight.

"My Extra Head"

Latest side-effect:

I grew another head.

The doctor said that

the reason for this

development was

definitely not

the drugs prescribed.


No, it was due to

the fact that I

had clearly always

had these dual-headed

tendencies. Perhaps

this was due to heredity?


In any case, it was

my problem, not hers,

apparently. In fact,

according to my doctor,

I would have been a

two-headed freak all along

were it not for the

otherwise

symptom-less illness,

ot which head loss was,

after all,

a common feature.


The illness that

now, happily,

their drugs had

cured entirely:

Lucky me! She wondered

why I didn't jump

for joy. Oh boy!

I feel so bloody uncomfortable,

with this second head -

but I have to learn

to live with it.

That's what my doctor said.

"See You Around"

Take me in; then, take

me out. Is this

what we're all

about?

Taste it; hate it;

spit it out.

When this goes too far,

too fast,

see you around.

"Candle in a Dark Room"

I visualise a candle in a dark room.
Could you be the one to see me through?
It is nothing special that you say -
nothing particular that you do.

Try to visualise a candle in a dark room.
Tell me, baby: Can you feel it, too?

"Another Day"

I must not wallow.

We all travel along

the same narrow path.

Sometimes, things do go terribly wrong -

but, although we will often wish that we did not,

we know that we have our reasons,

and the tenacity, to carry on.

"Going Home"

She has reached the end of the line (change
here for...)
and now she's on her way back home again -
home,
to her special place
inside. Couldn't face travelling alongside
another tall and handsome
stranger - going for another tall and handsome
ride. She's going home: end of the line.

"Tess"

Tess, she may have felt

momentarily relieved,

when Angel Clare confessed, to her, his sins.

Her own offence,

logic led her to deduce,

could not be any worse, for

      'tis the same.

Oh Tess, you foolish girl. Unfeigned

naivety always was uncool.

The pattern remains the same; always

will do.

      I forgive you; now I ask the same of you.

      While we were apart,

      I was human too.

But, darling, don't you know? How could you

not see? "Human" is synomymous with "man"

in this context.

Angel C.'s "sins" were

conquests. Call it sexual

discrimination, if you will.

Women always get the worst deal.

"Being Honest"

I've suppressed my feelings.

I've hidden away for too long,

feeling ashamed and afraid.

Now I am being reborn,

and some of that deep sadness,

that loneliness, inside of me -

it has finally gone.