Life as grief

The dictionary definition of grief is this: '1) Deep mental anguish, as that arising from bereavement. 2) Annoyance or frustration. 3) Trouble or difficulty.'

What I interpret from all of these meanings is a lack of finality. A lack of real explanation. What these definitions say is that, this is how you might feel after losing someone that you love. I believe grief to be a state that you enter, and never leave. Grief is like turning over your pillow to get the cold side, and finding that it is baking hot.

When someone close to you passes, people have this habit of telling you that things will get better with time. What they don't tell you is that with time, memories become even fresher and your pain eats away at the core of you. What is it that makes accepting death so difficult? This learned attachment to people around us makes us resent the inevitable.

How are you supposed to grieve? If it is merely something you feel, then how do you express it? You don't. You become inward and cold, distant and quiet. Because why should you have to feel this way when all you did was love? It's so consuming that, when a certain amount of time has passed, you don't consider it to be grief anymore - it's who you are.

I bet we all feel like this, we all notice that something is missing and we pretend that we don't know what it is, because then we would have to open something up inside ourselves that we would rather not. I just want to say that grief is universal and that we all harbour these feelings because we think that they matter only to ourselves, and maybe they do - but we should share them nonetheless.

And so I will start - on this day, a year to the day my Granddad Ken passed away, the man whose very image stalls the air in my throat, I am writing him a letter. The only way I know how.



Dear Granddad,

I love you. A year ago today, your light was put out and I am still struggling to cope with your absence. I cannot think of you without getting upset so I try not to - I'm sorry.

When you lay there so calm, I had no clue how you were feeling. I can still hear the sound of you breathing and it haunts me from time to time. When you first went, I was angry at you for a little while, because I know you felt me squeezing your hand and begging you to stay, but you didn't. I know that was selfish of me, but who would want to lose you?

I miss your scent and your perfect rice. I miss Saturday nights sat up watching old boxing videos. I miss you.

You leaving has left a big gap in my life between me and everything else and it makes me scared. You know that I want to make you proud, you always said I did and I hope I still do.

I love you to the moon and back, until next time.
x

Making love

I set the mood. I light the candles. Burn the incense. The lights are dim and... soomething sweet is playing in the background. Maybe, like tonight, it's some Jilly from Philly. Something with a lot of piano. I'm preparing myself for the magic. (Maybe some sax in there, too).

So, I sit back and relax every part of me that I can. That feels good. Good in my skin - and now I feel ready to seduce... to touch that smoothness with my words and, complete it. Make it whole. Move my fingers over the surrface I am about to cover with my everything. Not a single part will be untouched by me, I want to give it everything I have tonight.

I want to be opened out and emptied. I want to be stripped naked. I want to be taken over by my own desires. I want to get... those... juices flowing. In and out and all around me. Working myself up and letting out all those frustrations.

The release makes me throw my head back, it's almost too intense. Too good. How do I process everything? And I just can't stop. The music that was in the background, is now in my head along with all those thoughts. Damn.

I love being this lost in my own passion. Uncontrollably lusting over... well, the thing that I most connected to. Who knew that putting pen to paper and scrawling my thoughts could feel so good? I am unashamedly allowing my mind to make love to this notebook that I enticed into my lap, using this pen that I carefully selected and hold with such certainty.

I set the mood... to write.

Prototype

The one. The prototype. The person that ignites fear in you when you lock eyes and they hold their gaze. Eyes burning to you, but it feels so good because you know that look is only for you. So intense you want to withdraw completely and escape. Run away from them just so they can pull you right back in like the first time.

So caught up in their essence you have forgotten who you are. Their touch is on your tongue and your buds are numb for it. And when you daydream about how they kiss, touch, taste, feel... it's all so vivid and real that you feel the tingle in your tummy and your shoulders drop to relax, because they've got you.

Your music becomes a part of how you see them now. When you trace your fingers over their body, you're writing out lyrics which are synonymous with how you view them, and how you want them to view you.

Your own anticipation overwhelms you. You don't like feeling so consumed, but you do. This is your way out of reality. Your thoughts are scrambled and every day life seems so daunting if it doesn't involve them. And you wonder if they're experiencing the same feelings that you are and if that is why, when your lips lock, you feel so complete. Passion surrounds you both, you're over indulgent, and when the two of you are as close physically as two people can be, it still isn't enough.

You're almost in disbelief. How is it that lips can feel so perfect against your own? And how is that hands, like your own, feel new every time they touch you? Make you pulsate. Steal your sensibility.

Everything is them, and they truly are everything... that you wished for certainly. Exclusively your idea of perfection and all yours, isn't that what we all want? Need? The prototype.

WOMAN

W - We are what we are. Whipped into shape and worn down. Wilted, but strong-willed, and we continue on our journeys, unmindful of our own struggles because we don't have time for sympathy. We are women.

O - One. We all are. Too much to get over and yet only we know, only we acknowledge our history and our present. And they all look on at us - the mothers, sisters, daughters and friends. They look on at our ways of life and they cast their eyes and judgements all at once, the blame game.

M - Man. We don't despise you, for you are part of us. What we want more than anything is for you to drink from our womanhood, our very essence, absorb it with your minds and love it. Us. Understand our meaning and our minds and make yourselves at home in our motherland.

A - And yes we all are, active. Autonomous, an entity of our own, not seeking validation or approval. Moving with the ages and with grace, we assert ourselves now. Act upon our desires, and aspire to be... more than you ever hoped we would.

N - No more of this. Not another word. Know that we dont care for your nonsense anymore because know exactly who and what we are. We are women. One. Woman.

(I performed this piece in May at my friend's event called The Scratch Night, in Birmingham. Check their blog out too http://maiacreatives.wordpress.com/)

Meditations

Incense fills the air. I can feel the delicate clouds of smoke passing through all areas of my physical and floating along my brain, tickling my heart with its overpowering thickness and depth. I am so aware of my body, with every breath I can feel the smoothness of it without using my sense of touch. As I breathe out I can feel the hairs stand up and catch the incense smoke. Not to miss a single bit, this is the greatest high. It's in my head, in my heart and all over me. Badu is singing to me softly in the background, something about how love can make it better... She's right. She's faint now, I can hear and feel my heart beat in my eyes. My breath is so silent I'm not even sure I'm breathing anymore. I have left my body, I can see it and feel its light and, using my mind's power... I am freeing myself of the negativity which dims it. The leeches of life, the darkeners of light, those thoughts which douse my flame. I am sucking them in, and blowing them out. I am powerful in this state, I am invincible, I am aware. How is it that I can know my body so well without being inside it? I have opened myself up and emptied myself out. I feel free, elated, careless...

This is everything, this is the ultimate high.

Loneliness loves company

Loneliness is a distant friend. 

it's there when you least expect it to be and every now and then it pops back into your life at the most inconvenient times, but in a strange way it's a comfort because you can always rely on loneliness.

You don't want it around but when it comes around you realise that it never really left you and despite that sadness it brings with the friendship it also brings you hope that consistency can be found in other states.

That same consistency can be found in people, in love. Wouldn't that be a nice surprise? If the adamance of loneliness and it's commanding presence was echoed by your surroundings and the people you love. In fact, love and loneliness are closer than we think. 

Their fingers are entwined, those fingers are cosseted in your mind and that is where they breed sadness. Because love is beautiful, but unrequited love loves company - that company being loneliness, despair. And that loneliness is always there. The distant friend. 

Is there a way to end this friendship? Will self-love take it's place and eradicate it's existence or, will it linger on? Waiting until you're vulnerable to surprise you again, catch you off guard...

At least it's consistent. 

Smile

Isn’t it amazing how many different meanings a smile has? In what situations do you smile the most?

The slight parting of the lips as they flatten out and reveal your teeth, or not. We wear our smiles like jewellery, it’s often used for costume and we only bring it out on occasion. A real smile.

Your smile speaks volumes because for every emotion or circumstance there is a different smile. I think that we wear our hearts in our smiles because no matter how much we try to control and lock away our emotions, a smile reveals all. The smile that is wide and unconscious, revealing all of the imperfections you find in it but as a gesture is entirely warming. The smile that is pursed, tight-lipped, offered as a pleasantry in company you’re not quite comfortable around but the lack of sincerity is so obvious, it is reciprocated anyway. The smile that is dead in the eyes – as though paralysed from the nose up, only your mouth smiles because this smile isn’t for you, it is for other people to see that you are OK, the ‘don’t worry’ smile that we all think we can pull off.

My favourite smile is the one for me. Head bowed slightly, in thought about what is, what isn’t, what could be and all in its beauty. So engulfed in thought and contemplation that the smile occurs long before I acknowledge it but smile even wider when I do. The same smile that I pass on to people in the street, as though it’s a game, with a faint hope that they will continue to share theirs. The type of smile that makes your body warm. You can feel it exercising your cheeks. The peak of your cheeks forming two bumps in your vision, eyes glazed and bright. Your head follows the direction of the corners of your mouth and rises ever so slightly so that the light catches your chin and nose perfectly.

What a difference a smile makes. 

I am flesh

- Like most of the writings on my blog this is another mediocre one (apologies)... I don't like parting with some of my best pieces because they're personal but this is kind of a first draft of a poem I have since been working on for a while. The message is pretty self-explanatory I think.

I am flesh, just like you.

When I hurt my pain is common,

My tears salted,

My heart heavy.

My ethnicity: does it matter?

I darken in the sun,

The cold prickles my skin,

The wind tangles my locks.

On one side,

I am a “black” woman,

With intuition, pride and seriousness.

The embodiment.

On the other side,

I am a “white” woman,

With sensitivity, openness and warmth.

The embodiment.

On my side,

Human.

Mind, soul and body.

The truth.

The sides try to split me.

Choose one, be one.

I am one; me.

Mixed race – more than this.

Because both make a whole,

Both are me.

Accept this – or don’t.

But this one is not changing,

Because just like you,

I am flesh. 

Growth (I think)

- This is just a sort of run of thoughts. I was going along with whatever I was writing. I haven't looked over this since I've written it so excuse any mistakes. I think it might be better if they were left alone so that the moment isn't spoiled.

Pull/push

Take/give

Undeniably my whole soul is in transition. I thought I had found a sense of peace within, for the first time in… never. I stand and I am. These layers which cover me, protect me, the real me. They’re changing. Can I do anything about it? (More to the point, should I?)

Does my exterior influence my interior more so than the other way round? What my eyes feel and what my body sees. Do these things compromise my inner? Or does my inner overpower everything which stands before me? Balance. I need it again. Can balance be overthrown? There are times when I feel that I am balanced and that I am the most powerful being in my whole world but then this is sometimes consumed by my surroundings. Hurt and pain… destruction. Cause me to rebuild. Am I right to conclude that in my rebuilding, I am trying to regain balance? Or is it my balance which causes me to rebuild in the first place?

I’ve observed growth. As though I have stepped out of myself and looked back over my journey so far – I can see that what stands before me now is strong. Not perfect, nor what I ultimately hope to be, but strong nonetheless. For many reasons which I need not explain. Is this what pride feels like?

Life picks at you in so many ways it’s hard to keep a consistency. Make a figure eight. Stir and stir. Thicken. Mould. Define it. Define you. Or can you? Is it the way you speak, the way you think or the way you handle situations? The way you deal with your problems and the way you deal with other people. Are these the things that define me, personally? I wish I could pin it down to one thing because working out where I end up might be slightly easier – but I guess it is the not knowing which keeps me going.

My soul knows no boundaries. Where my mind works with logic, my soul demands the control – it takes me wherever it wishes, purposefully or not I am not sure but this is the growth I am observing. With every day I am coming into my own. Facing obstacles here and there which throw me off course slightly but I get back on, I keep going. I think this is what makes me proud. Sometimes it takes a change in you for you to appreciate where you have been and where you are now. A lot of the time we overcompensate for our mistakes by not recognising our successes as a way to balance it out and take away some of the guilt and regret. It doesn’t work like that. That’s what I have learnt. By depriving yourself of your own appreciation you do not allow room for growth.

I let go a little bit. Forgave a little bit. Channelled my energies more appropriately. Simplicity. Take it back to a moment where you can remember being truly happy and try to recreate it now in a way which is more fitting to your current situation. That’s what I recommend. But who am I? And what am I? A mere individual trying to find a pattern which suits my soul. And my pattern may not suit you, but I know that we relate because our common goal is love.

When I learn something, whether it is about me, my world or the world I feel like it is my duty to pass it on. I feel it is everyone’s duty. “Knowledge is power” goes the cliché.

(I apologise if this lacks structure, I’m running with it)

Something in me just clicked – I think I have pinpointed what it is that allows you to have inner peace and balance. When you stop moving at society’s pace and start moving at a pace which is tailored to your needs and desires, you learn that the world around you is there to be enjoyed and not just lived in. That’s when you gain a peace within because there is no force working against you (time)… because everything is in your own. (I’m not sure if I make sense, I feel as though my thoughts are becoming more and more unclear as I go along). All of these things are part of my growth – part of why I exist in this present day and the person I am for it.

I’m not sure how I feel about life just yet. That’s something different. Life is bigger than me (though it may not be). But how I feel about me has changed dramatically. It echoes through my very being. From my core, my soul, to my mind and my eyes to my smile. You can see it. I can see it. The eyes of a young woman who is finding her purpose and loving (even loving to hate) every moment of it.

LEAVE ME ALONE

Female

Femininity at it’s purest

Carry yourself “correctly”

Be what we want you to be

Suffer under patriarchy

Have your opinion but risk not being counted

Independence/dependence

Equality/love

Make your decision.

Young

Grow up, why don’t you?

Mould the future

Next gen.

We’re relying on you.

But you’re oh so disappointing.

All of you.

Our fate is in your hands.

“hoodlums” v “intellects”

Make your decision.

Mixed race

Black or white?

White or black?

What ARE you?

Do you have an identity?

Embrace yourself

“best of both worlds”... are you sure? (what about my world?)

Make your decision.

My decision is... human. Now leave me alone. 

...guilty.

I am guilty.

I haven’t been selfish enough. I have given too much, loved too hard, cared excessively and I have forgotten about myself. As females, we are socialised to be caregivers, to put others first before ourselves and provide support to others in any way we can. Some females have already figured out that sometimes we have to be selfish, and most of the time, it is okay to be selfish. I am on my way to not only acknowledging this, but living it.

People assume that being selfish is a bad thing. If someone is to call me selfish, my first thought is that I am offended. Why? What is so wrong about putting my own needs first? Absolutely nothing. I am my only constant in life, I am the basis of everything in my world. If there is a problem with me, there is a problem with everything else in my life because, no matter how hard I try, my own problems cannot be solved by caring for someone else as a way to ignore and “cope” with the original issue.

If I have security and love within myself, I do not need to seek acceptance from others, I understand the importance of my own needs and wants. I value my own feelings. I place myself above everyone else. Caring for me first does not mean caring less for everyone else in my life, and this is something I struggle with. Damn socialisation, I didn’t ask for this.

Everything begins with me. Learning to love myself is a daily challenge, but one which I have entered wholeheartedly. It is so much harder to accept my actions, thoughts, choices and characteristics than it is to accept my physical appearance, because for so long I haven’t been thinking of myself first. Maybe I have been a coward and have purposely done this to avoid truly loving myself. Do I fear myself? Do I fear the person I will become if I truly love myself? Do I fear the person I will become WHEN I truly love myself and I place myself above others in my life?

It often takes a huge wake up call, a slap in the face, so to speak, to fully recognise where you are going wrong in life and although mine came from an unexpected and unwanted situation, I am so grateful. I know that for those reading this, this seems so personal, but I know that I am not the only female who is on this journey.

I lost myself in ignorance. Did I ever HAVE ‘myself’? That is the question I should be asking. My progress is astounding and for the first time, I am honestly proud of myself. I know that I am a beautiful person, but loving myself needs to extend beyond this, I need to feel confident in my abilities, in my love and in my own stability. Only then will I be able to apply myself fully and recognise the importance of me...because I am everything.

...now

I am a young woman in a big world, with dreams and ambitions. I said I didn’t want to be a cliché. Can you hear me yet?

We are evolution; don’t disturb my peace.

I can only provide insight into things that I know and considering the immeasurable ‘all’, I know very little. I can make you question however, everything that is visible. That is the power of me, you and everyone around us.

I live in the present because this is the only place that I exist in the physical. My mind and soul may venture into unknown possibilities of the neighbouring past and future from time to time, but reality says I am a figure in the present. Don’t forget to live. I cannot fathom the concept of living in the future, because this is all I know. I shouldn’t need to elaborate. Granted, my now decisions will impact my future but if I live right and think right now, my future will form itself and I shall live in it when the time comes.

I’m far too busy living to cry about the unknown.

I am a realist/optimist/opportunist/everythingist neatly sewn into one soul. I believe my success is measured by my self-fulfilment, which comes from reaching any goals that I set out for myself. Money doesn’t make me feel successful; it merely allows me to live in this capitalist society under pressure. Money is a thing. I am a mind and soul trying to be. If greed is what drives you, your want to live happily will never be fulfilled because your want to for more will always outweigh it. Distortion and dilution victimise our generation. Don’t stunt your own growth by following a path already set out for you, because that path will only lead you to your beginning, with no enlightenment.

Who said I was right? These are my thoughts and you are welcome to them, don’t dispute them ‘cause my soul isn’t interested. Understand growth before you judge it and abuse it. Appreciate now because it is yours to claim. Not everything has a price and you should appreciate the things that don’t.

This is me now, not yesterday or tomorrow.

A Dedication

There are so many things that I cannot explain, but I can provide you with endless comments, anecdotes and insights.

I don’t know why it targeted me or why I allowed it to. In fact, I don’t even know how it all started. One day I decided to sign my life over to Literature.

Though I did it indirectly and unknowingly, I still did it. I have never looked back. Literature has never treated me badly, so I will not allow a bad word. I don’t want to over-complicate things here, I simply want to state.

This is a dedication, in it’s truest form... to Literature.

I’m partial to negativity aimed at my owner. Everyone can identify themselves with a piece of Literature, there is something out there which stands for every individual. You don’t have to want it to stand for you, it just does and with acceptance comes understanding, in that order. Literature is one of few constants in this world, and everyone likes something to rely on. Literature is that glance that speaks to you in a firm way. You don’t have to know what it is to know what it means. With one thing comes another and nothing is alike.

Literature has seen everyone through an experience. To assume your exemption would be to ignore your own being. It doesn’t have to make sense, it creates the rules and you’re simply a follower. A cherished one, I assure you.

This is a dedication.

When I cannot give anymore, and when I feel like my mind’s capacity to mind is overflowed with nothingness, I turn to you. You turn to me! We turn, and never turn away. This insistent binding of you and I on every separate occasion, is simply that... separate. The layers of relationship I form with Literature each time I trace it with my ears, eyes and mind are significant to my character.

I can sit and admire for hours. Literature is my idol. We are Literature’s children, so this is a dedication.

Don’t turn away and shrug as though you don’t recognise; Literature is the lady who gave you your mind.

To know me...

To know me, is to understand my love. To understand my love is to appreciate that fine divide between complexity and simplicity.

Some words, phrases, sentences, need not explaining further.

Mr. Optimism carries my heart in the pocket of his corduroy trousers. As he walks, runs, hops and sits my heart bounces around inside there, complacent in the frivolous bustle. I like it. Whilst Mr. Optimism teaches my heart to extend itself to the more pleasing outcomes, he also teaches it realism. Don’t slow down, don’t dwell too much. Enquire and hope, move forward.

Mrs. Cautious holds my mind’s hands as we walk together in satisfying embrace. (I say satisfying because; sometimes I wish I could rid of her and form a secret love affair with Mr. Careless). Oh what a life. They say it is mind over matter, but it is matter over mind when Mrs. Cautious leads the way. ‘Don’t do that’ she says, ‘think of the consequences’, ‘what about everyone else?’ Suddenly overwhelmed with her tedious teachings and extravagant morals, I give in and my soul comes second... sometimes.

Ms. Meaning has enraptured my soul and I don’t want her to ever free it. Lately, more than ever, I have been enticed by Ms. Meaning, stealing me away from Mrs. Cautious. I don’t mind though, I’ll happily go wherever Ms. M wants me to because I know I’m sure to have fun. She gives me this free feeling which is neatly locked with a shadow of purpose. Purpose which never hides and is shamefully brazen, but still elegant and reposeful. The intricate relationship Ms. M and I share is one which I cannot explain. She encourages expression and provides me with clues, for which I have to give my own explanations.

I can say that three work in perfect, ignorant harmony... but I would be telling a big Mr. Lie. They are in constant competition, battling to overtake. I love all. My three loves give me diversity in their glory and unknown. An imperfect alignment that works so conventionally. Contrasts within similarities.

It works for me, because I love this way. 

the painfully obvious

My skin. Smooth, new flesh – a golden, pale brown complexion. My face. Round, full of life.

My mind. My most beautiful asset and the one I care for the most. This one teaches me how teach. Ironic. Uses my eyes and ears as it’s tools of perception and uses itself to interpret, understand. It guides me through my days, it grows, it changes, it is in constant transition. Never have I seen it this way. The mind is so magnificent my words do it no justice.

I’m looking at everything. I am noticing delicate and intricate details that didn’t show themselves to me before. I see myself as singular, one. A product of my time simply adapting to change everyday – whether I am succeeding or not I cannot tell – time will show and prove my strength...or lack of.

The will. The will to continue this expedition. This journey with it’s unknown destination which picks at my core and gives me indifference. Leads me down routes I would never have considered had I known the consequences. Foolish. Learning.

This feeling of...this unknown feeling which gives my mind, my hands and my heart the urge to give myself through my words. My mere and simple words so obviously inferior to so many others...I give them nonetheless. Their significance alters as they leave me...’for better or worse’. More for my own benefit than anyone else’s. I enjoy them. Wanting to give more but my fear of giving too much and losing myself is far more overpowering than my ever so simple want.

I find solace in words, in feelings, emotions, thought, music. A natural lover. You can interpret in your own way, I really don’t mind. Take what little I give to you and use it as your own – I share for you to care. I’m not sure how powerful or influential my words are, if at all...but please don’t let them go to waste.

My style. I choose to give.

My mind, so elegant. Everything so natural, not forced. So new. Appreciating my mind, what do I give back? What do you give back? I give my words back, some stimulation. Literature, love, music.

Guitar strings softly pulling, softly melodic. Tranquil. Grateful. The cotton of my shirt, soft and fitting...but not closing me in. Freedom to give.

Freedom. I feel free in me. In my words and my thoughts because I’m not obliged to give, hence why I do.

‘The hardest thing is to have a good man after you’ve had a bad one.’

Try...the hardest thing is to give after everything you had has been taken.

Everything you worked for, you lived for, you stood for. Stripped. Naked, ears pulsing, overwhelmed. Where has it all gone?

You build, you create. Give yourself something so that eventually, you can give willingly again. But heal first, before you give everything away and someone takes off with it all.                 Vulnerable.

Learning, loving, knowing how to give and share. Keeping your most sacred thoughts and feelings to yourself – between your pen and paper – give the rest.

It’s free. 

A state of...

Are all of the thoughts we project our own? A mass so heavily influenced by exterior factors. Our own thoughts and emotions become overwhelmed by the excess of information we receive.  The capacity to digest and understand what is going on around us; this absorption may often cloud what we are really thinking and feeling. Does this indicate that the recognition and acknowledgment of the presence of other’s thoughts mean that we adopt them as our own?

Can you clearly distinguish between which thoughts are yours, came from you and which thoughts have been planted in your mind? Surely a thought not shared, but forced on to you, is one which can easily influence you in a way which you may not even think is possible or even be able to comprehend. Every day we live our lives we are bullied and beaten by the words and thoughts of others, so much so, that we simply may not be mentally able to keep a clear mind, space for ourselves.

Space for ourselves, in our own minds. The thought of the absence of the presence of such a thing is just unthinkable.

I sit here and write my own thoughts consciously, certain that what I’m writing is my own when subconsciously; these could be the thoughts of another.

Thinking is a constant. You feel, you think. You think, you feel. 

My letter to life.

Dear Life,

Thinking about when our journey will finally end, when you will leave me for someone better, younger and more beautiful. I’ll be alone, lonely, singular. I do this all for you. Will I ever be ready to see you go? I often question myself and my ability to progress, whether I will fulfil everything that is necessary before I must say goodbye?

Biology robbed me blind. I want to remember the exact moment you found me, but we know the memory does not stretch that far. All I know is this; you were there before anyone and throughout my years you have not left my side...thankfully.


My love for you is unconditional but you have bought to me the most grief, pain and hurt. In fact, you have bought every possible negative emotion to me. Tortured my mind, body and soul with your poisonous intent. Damaged my heart and my character. You have pushed me back, prodded me hard in the left side of my chest with your long, strong index finger. I used to hate you, sometimes I think I still do, but then I treasure the fact that every day you become more and more exclusive to me. 


I’m not grateful that you abandoned some of my loved ones, that you stopped loving them because it suited you. Do not try to justify your actions – I don’t need that.

I should thank you for your lessons, your blessings. You are my favourite teacher – nobody can do it the way you do. It is your art and your craft. Your knowledge is immeasurable and you share that with me every day. You teach me things I can’t learn in books or through my peers. I adore your lack of structure. I adore your ability to roam freely and adopt yourself to others. Your honesty and brutality are what make you so magnificent. You give me love.

Sometimes I stare into the darkness, suffocated by silence...and wonder if that is what it would be like without you. No laughing, loving or sharing. Just darkness, immobility and the overwhelming absence of sound. Interjections. You have so much substance, to see into your core – I am truly not worthy. You humble me, I owe everything to you. What’s mine is yours. 


Every unique situation you assign to me, good and bad, I know I have no option but to see them through. I'm filled with emotion, anger, when I witness people so evidently ungrateful for your presence. Used to be. Can you blame me for wanting to hold on to you? I want to keep you prisoner, but you’re far too strong and independent for that. 


You give me the motivation to keep writing, giving myself. 


Science does you no justice – it excuses the emotional responses to your existence – I have so much to say. You took my heart on that cool evening and beat it, rhythmically. Things fall apart. Why will you leave me? I don’t care for the when, just the why. You gave me understanding...and I thank you. You know I am grateful. Do you appreciate me too? Everything you have given me - priceless. You can stay, I won’t leave you I promise. 


With my pen and my paper, I write you, breathe you. 


Tears fall at the thought of your presence and I am weak. You make me so weak. You make me so strong. You make me. You wake me.

Our relationship is too complex, too complicated for others to grasp. They wouldn’t understand our bond, too strong. Keep them safe. Everyone has a right to you, stop abusing it.

We love you

I love you

You’re mine

Stay a while

Love always, Lauren x

Untitled? (I don't know what to say)

Too complicated to love? Food for thought. Love to live, live to love. I don’t want to be a cliché. Picking up the pieces of your past to create a foundation for your present and a platform for your future. Apologies. Kisses in the summer and yearning in the winter. My mind is like, like, like, leaves on an autumn afternoon; a diminutive tornado before your eyes. A whirl of red, yellow, brown, a little green. Me. Thanks. Can we have silence? The silence of life. Memories; beautiful and grotesque - dancing underneath my scalp on cold Sunday mornings. Representative of whom, them or me? I carry my body, who carries my soul? Hope. Telling a story with your eyes, not your mouth. Creativity and beauty too overwhelming for attention - sad. The brazenness of your presence is so attractive. Funny, that.  Looking around there are so many clones and it’s upsetting – upsetting to see people who are all replicas of each other. ‘Dare to be different’. Hypocrisy is so hard to avoid. A confused generation where morals are regularly beaten to a pulp – destroyed and lost in translation to a point where they simply cannot be recovered. THE world is a sad place in retrospect; YOUR world is what YOU make it (or is it?). The influence of others will always be a person’s downfall. Wisdom comes with experience, not age – you learn from your journeys, the people you meet, the things you see. To learn you must apply yourself, the ability to learn isn’t given. Words are heavenly. Literature personified would not be physically ‘conventionally’ beautiful – that is far too cliché. The beauty of literature personified would be somewhat anarchistic because words inflict emotion beyond lust and admiration. Excuse me and my opinions, or rather, don’t.  I don’t want to be excused or dismissed. I want to be heard. Let my voice be the ‘rebellion’ of the 60s. Listening/Expressing/Listening/Loving. Time is a curse of life. So many lessons to learn, is there enough time? I can’t answer so many questions but I love to ask. Unanswered questions allow my mind to wind down streets, roads, cities unheard of. H o w ...? 

Raheem

He made you as his finest piece of art,

Crafted you, perfected you and handed you to the world.

With the world, you shared your beauty,

With the world, you shared your heart.

A caring soul, your smile was unforgettable,

Your presence was a present, I’m grateful.

Watch over us all, as we live our lives,

We promise to never forget you.

For how could we? Our beautiful Raheem,

Our darling, our sweetheart, our angel.   

(A simple, short, sweet poem, in the loving memory of my darling friend Raheem. May he Rest In Paradise)

Appearances

Be free. Easier said than done. We live in a world where appearances are the most important thing. The outer shell is what counts, what people see with their own eyes and hear with their own ears. Not necessarily physical appearances but appearances. How we appear to others. So what of the people with depth? The introverts; too solitary for public expression and the extroverts; often misunderstood for too much expression. Where can we find the even balance? Where can the people with depth go, to express themselves freely? Ah.

Appearances. Some are so shallow; too captivated in the world of others and not enough in their own that they forget their own meaning, their own purpose. When people become too reliant on how they appear to others they lose their sense of self and act in ways which only appeal to the shallow world. Where are the people with depth who don’t look for acceptance but instead, look for ears, eyes, noses and mouths to connect with? Ears, eyes, noses and mouths that EMBRACE the depth of another being?