Tag Archive: Death


The song of sweet everglade….

The light is glinting
off the blade,
Our game
my dear sweet everglade,
Gagged and bound
and roughly tied,
The emotions in your eyes
the perfect tide,
Dear sweet everglade
your skin stained red,
The simplest touch
and your sins you’ve bled,
The erotic dance
as it moves down your skin,
Your feverish glow
ignites me from within,
My beautiful everglade
on those chains you pull,
They hold you aloft
expose you so full,
Your breathing is ragged
watch your chest rise and fall,
Your life it is slipping
muffled moans you do call,
Not long now sweet everglade
just barest breath,
Your opening to me
your finest moment in death,
The chains they jerk once
and then relax in the silence,
The light leaves your eyes
such pride and no violence,
I love you sweet everglade
your preciousness gifted to me,
I watched the weight of the world leave you
now dear everglade you are free….

.x.

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Peter….

Peter leads me to thinkinģ….

  How do you feel about death? No one likes it obviously and we all avoid it….
  My stepdad died yesterday…. There I said it. Just like stating some non exciting fact. The rational part of me says “so” and “ignore it”. Yeah I know that’s stupid. Peter was a really nice man and it’s really sad. He had had treatment for cancer and yeah….
  Now you may think well why are you writing here and not comforting your mum?
  That’s easy…. I don’t do death. I don’t do extreme feelings, damn I struggle with normal feelings. And I don’t have anything remotely what you would call “normal” relationship wise with my mother.
  But death…. There is a reason behind why, when someone I care about dies, I just shut myself off and refuse to accept it. (There is a difference between knowing and excepting).
  Go back to when I was 12 an a half and I  ran away from home, tried smoking, shop lifting, stealing and well let’s just say I learnt alot of “illegal” that I would put into practice frequently for the next 5 years.
  I was with my second set of foster parents and struggling with the person I was set to become. I hated myself and everything reminded me of my past. My biological brother lived with the same foster parents and I couldn’t deal with the fact that I had seen what had been done to him. He couldn’t speak out. I just shut out what had happened to me, that’s life and  some men are like that (my way of thinking back then). But my brother, (who has disabilities), where was his voice? I was 6 when we were made full wards of the court.
So all these feelings, plus all the hormones and the fact that most girls, most children full stop, start to go through a very tough time at that age. I wern’t in a good place.
  The third time I ran away, I remember my foster brother bringing me back, well dragging me home. I come in the door and my foster dad is real mad. I’d never seen him mad before, not like that. Now. I can understand he was hurt. But then? Nope. I remember him saying “you wanna leave? You wanna leave? Well get out the fucking door!” The next day a social worker came to take me away. It was what I wanted. But I never forgot my foster dad’s face. He couldn’t even look at me and now I know it was cause I hurt him.
  Time moved on and he got really ill. That December he died. My “new” foster parents wouldn’t tell me till after Christmas.  I remember standing there with this big stuffed toy rabbit I wouldn’t part with, and them saying…. We have something to tell you. I said, it’s ok I already know. And they said know what and how? He is dead I said. He died before Christmas. No one told me. I just knew.
It was in that moment something inside me broke. That was it. I realised I loved and thought of him as my dad. There is a poem on here dedicated to him. Just the one. I struggle to say his name. I can think it but my lips get stuck and my mouth doesn’t move. I knew he’d died but my mind cut off….
  Since that day, I can’t cope with people I care about dying. My thought process cuts out and it’s like yes I know they died but I can’t process they died. Odd but yeah.
  So back to now….
   Peter died and I can’t even ring my mother to offer sympathies.  I can’t do it. I tried. But no. Does it make me heartless? Probably.  Does it make me horrid? Yeah I guess….
  Me and my mother don’t have a relationship. Both her and my father’s “parenting” are the reasons me and my brother grew up in care…. In my honest opinion when I read about parents doing that sort of stuff to their kids in the paper I think they should die. But I also know that my mother lives in her own world and doesn’t understand she did wrong. My kids don’t come with me when I see her. And her family swept it under the rug , like me and my brother are just some dirty little secret.
Is it any wonder I have issues?
So Peter died yesterday, and he was a really nice guy. Not like my mother at all. I wonder how she’s coping? I don’t know…. but I do know I don’t wanna think about this…. I can’t think about this…. time to. move on….

.x.

Zieda….

 
    What do you do when you receive bad news? How would you react if someone you truly cared about passed away?  It’s not really something we think about until we have to face it. That’s what I think anyway….
    Yesterday evening my mobile rang and very unusual my 11 yr old son picked it up, he puts it on speaker just like he always does and the person on the other end says give the fone to your dad. He was in the kitchen with me. She says I’ve got to tell Nem something that’s going to upset her. I don’t remember the rest of what she said as I knew….  I wouldn’t take the mobile from him. I burst into tears. I don’t do well with emotion.  I grabbed my jacket and purse and walked out the door I don’t remember going to the shop. I don’t remember buying cigarettes.  I realised about an hour later that I was smoking and about 2 miles from home and still the tears were falling. I don’t smoke unless something is extremely stressful then, smoking is my release.
    I came home kissed my kids good night laid down with the girls until they were asleep and thought. I sat in the front room for hours and thought. I went to bed at 4 this morning. I woke at 7:20.
   So many of my happy memories as a child begin and end with Zieda. My granddad.  He lived a long time.  He saw alot in his life. He met all the great grandchildren that I gave him. As I grew up in care and spent many years with family out of my life, I can’t begin to imagine how everyone else is feeling….
    After our parents, who must be going through a personal hell, a never ending rabbit hole of emotions, comes us, our generation in the family. My cousins and I. My cousins grew up with our grandparents.  They were a constant in their lives….
    I can’t begin to imagine what they are feeling, what they are going through…. Where I, through practice over the years have learnt to bury and build walls to blank all existence of whatever upsets me and just be left with the lost emptyness. I don’t want/refuse to accept the hurt this is giving. I’m not immune to their feelings and I’m sure they must be feeling a hundred million times worse. A hundred million times more lost….
    My thoughts and feelings go out to them. I’m so very sorry for their loss….
    I just don’t know know what to say….

~ ·· ···· ··· ~

Empty footsteps
upon the hill,
Silent marching
picturesque in the still,
A heartbeat devoted
to times gone by,
All that’s left is the memory
captured in minds eye,
Serve your country
serve it well,
You don’t grace us the horrors
you smile never tell,
You say its alright
it’s ok not that bad,
Your wife she collapsed
your friends all so sad,
It’s gonna be ok
shit happens I’m living life you said,
And now the truth is we’d sell our souls
to have you here and not dead….

.x.

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