How to kill an artist

There is a broken bridge in the creative heavens

Where creators steal other worlds

Make them their own and change things

Make them straight when they ought to be curled

It’s a tragedy to see it

When a creator can’t create

For they need to take another’s work

To put food on their plates

How proud do they feel when they do it?

Does it feed their soul?

I live in doubt of the truth of that

If I may be so bold?

How hungry is the creator who takes another’s art?

How starved and deranged are they? 

If they could eat another’s heart!

For I have seen it happen

The scope of vicious duels

Of two creators in battle

For one who won’t use their tools

And I have seen the tragedies it causes in their lives

As depression rips them soundly, as though they’re stabbed with knives

They can’t live with what they do and they know it’s wrong and bad

But they can’t help it really and that’s what makes it sad

To kill another artist for the want of fame and gold

It pounds reality into me

And makes my blood run cold

I shall become a bore

I’ve screwed up in a major way

Running truths off my tongue like an ever flowing tap

Drowning the people who listen to my words

Dragging them under the currents of my despair

Till there is no one left to care

My tongue will be the death of me

Always yapping about this and that

Thinking people can cope with that

But they never do

One day I’ll learn to be mute

Then I’ll be a mystery to all

Holding my tongue

Maintaining a wall

Till perhaps one day I won’t be lonely anymore

Just someone who hardly speaks about herself

A bore

Mirror from Hell

I never felt I was beautiful

I used to pretend I believed the lies

When others looked in awe at me, with their eyes opened wide

They tagged me beautiful, gorgeous, goddess and all the fancy names

Never once did I believe them, even though I was once vain

It was all a game to me

A game of “let’s pretend”

Perhaps one day I’ll believe them

Let’s try and set the trend

I did my hair and face up, but I felt like I was a clown

I wore a smile on my face, but in my heart I wore a frown

I stared in the mirror to try and see, what others thought they saw

But all I saw was flab and guts and pimples and all the flaws

I couldn’t understand what the heck they saw in me

And still to this day, it puzzles me

Though I’m not like how I used to be

I am heavier and I have aged

I’ve white in my head of hair and the light in my eyes has disengaged

I had let myself go completely, for I thought why bother now?

I’ve passed my best and what’s the point?  Fat stupid cow!

But you know, I had a glimmer of hope and it came to me

To pick myself up again

Preen myself and see!

Could I trick myself to believe, that I am something good?

And that I’ve had it all along, though see it – never could!

Can I be so bold to imagine, a life where I agree with you?

That I am a beautiful goddess and I can see it too?

Because right now I don’t see it

Though my eyes are opened wide

And I am staring down the mirror

And I’ve tried and tried and tried

I can’t see the Venus, I can’t see the Belle

My mirror comes from a circus, a circus from Hell

I don’t know why I can’t see it

I don’t know what is wrong

But I know I will keep trying

Maybe I’ll come along?

Who knows one day I’ll see it

But till then I sit confused

And my ego sits all battered, beaten and bruised

Whilst I keep on staring in the mirror that’s from Hell

And wonder why I don’t see the true me – I wish someone could tell

And till then I will keep on trying

To see myself in a better light

Though it’s a real big struggle right now

A historically epic fight

I won’t give up like I did once

I will keep on till I drop

Because I can’t keep seeing the lies can I?

The penny’s got to drop!

The writer’s sword

How very cutting is a writer’s words

Which sword do they wield?

A tough muscle of a tongue

Where many a heart has been killed

The writer shies not from truth

Their words bite like a determined croc

Each has a loyal following; each has their own dear flock

What next shall a writer say?

One can never tell

But dear hearts sit in hope or wonder

Will they be bought to Hell?

I am a devil of the night

My life is like a butterfly

Everything I touch crashes burns and dies

When I try to make things better

Things only get wetter, soaked in the tears of the universe

It’s as though I am cursed

I don’t know why things are this way

I hope I will know some day

But now I am scared to reach out

For my touch feels like a clout

Yet it was meant to sooth

This is the truth

I didn’t mean to curse you with my presence

I guess it’s just my essence

Perhaps mother is right

I am a devil of the night 

Burned for knowledge

The woman in white was burned

Into a raven she turned

With knowledge as her power and truth in her wings

She knows the lies that the adversary sings

Protected by snakes that do not tell the lies

Guiding the children as she flies

The scarecrow tries to stop her and break her wings

But her truth is always heard when she loudly sings

That all is not forsaken!

Land of the mortal blue

In my garden I play with the blackberry dragons

They sing songs to me

In my garden I swim with the mermaids of my pond

They sing songs to me

They sing “we know you’re not free, we will keep you company”

They know what life is like for me

A prisoner of mortality

The fairies too they sing their songs

They say we will protect you from the wrongs

The satyr too, sings a song

About justice and freedom and truth

Drink from the fountain of youth and you’ll be free

Come and dance with me

Says he

And I do

And I am released from the deep blue

And I am free again

And now I’ll mend

Because I am forever young and happy

True

Now I am a part of you

My fantasy land

And I feel grand

Because I have left the land

The land of mortal blue

And I’ve learned that all the magic is true

They didn’t think I was playing right

I think they thought I wasn’t playing right.

But tragically I was.

Someone wanted to play a game on twitter the other day with their followers, but I guess nobody believed I was playing properly because nobody answered me, everyone bypassed my answer.  I am not bothered by it, in fact when it comes to truth questions, hardly anyone believes me when I tell them the things I’ve gone through.

Used to it.

The game was two truths and a lie, so I told them this.

First thing – I have broken my leg and walked on it for 9 months without seeing anyone medical about it.

Second thing – I have survived a bomb explosion.

Third thing – I am a model.

For your information, I am not a model; the other two are sadly true.

I broke my leg when I got out of the bath awkwardly around 16yrs ago, it was extremely painful and for months I couldn’t rest my calf on anything and had to sleep with a cushion under my rump to keep my calf from touching the bed.  My mum wouldn’t let me see a doctor about it, around nine months later the doctor accidentally knocked into my leg on his swivel chair and I screamed.

He thought I was overly dramatic until I explained what happened to me several months earlier, then he sent me for a precautionary x-ray and found I had been living with a break for all that time and that they want to rebreak my leg to fix it properly or I could have ongoing issues all my life.  My mother wouldn’t let me opt for that, so I have ongoing issues all my life with that. 

I also want to say there was another incidence where I broke several ribs and again, I wasn’t allowed medical help. I wanted this to be my third option – where I would have said, I broke one rib once, it would have been a lie as I broke several all at once. But I guess people have a problem with macabre realities.

The bomb explosion was 200 yards from my house and broke all the windows; I was sitting 2ft from one of those windows at the time.  It was a prime location for IRA attacks.

I guess some people just can’t believe a person can go through so much?

Nobody believes the broken doll, of course, she’s just an attention whore!

Happy reading! 

My dreams are truth

Dreams fade into nothing as I wake

I hate waking up to this reality its fake

I am who I am in the dream world

But here when I wake, I am lost and twirled

I can’t be me when I am awake

To be so would be a mistake

People rant and jeer at me

Who do you think you are Queen Bee?

The dreams are my reality true

I can be whoever I want without judgement from you

Dream time is the only truth

Here in the awoken world is untruth

I can’t wake until I sleep again

So I can be me and mend

Say goodbye to the blue

Life is a crying game

So many tears to name

But life isn’t pain

You are just drowned in the notion, it’s all the same

You forget the joys and the happiness too

You have no clue; the key to joy is you

What do you think?

What do you know?

Why are you shadows when you should glow?

Why do you swim in the rivers of pain?

When really life is a game, you need to learn how to play!

All it takes is a different thought

Not what you’ve been taught

You have to remember yourself, be true

You’ve lost yourself and you have no clue!

Think of the opposite to what you do now

It really does work after a while, you’ll sail!

Into the sea of happiness

Into bliss away from the piss, to joy!

Oh boy – look at what is waiting for you!

Say goodbye to the blue and let’s sail!