Posts Tagged ‘ Pain ’

What Do We Do? – Poem

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually laugh. Usually play.
I fight against it. Fight for control.
The phone drops, the control clatters to the floor with it
A storm begins and flood defences fail
Sandbags wash away, barriers collapse
The tide comes in, the rain pelts down
Flash of light. One. Two. Growl low within me
As the darkness dawns, floods flow higher.

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually play. Usually laugh.
The storm sets in on my heart and I sink lower
Rain is rising, carpet comforts me, prevents my heart drowning
And then his arms, I grab on for my life
He’s my swimming aid, my rubber ring wrapped ‘round
The thoughts set in as selfish sobs escape
I think of them, yet I fear for me
I mumble and stumble, he cooks and cares
What will I do without you?

What do we do? Usually drink. Usually talk. Always laugh.
Mind is vacant, needed that way
Need to be empty: No thoughts, no feelings, no tears
I walk the streets of youth, eyes filling, near spilling
With each step, I pound the concrete hard
My memories of me. Of us. Of her. Banished.
Repeat the words, they’re all that exist:
What do we do? Usually drink. Usually dance, usually… Bubble.
Keep on and on, nearly there now.
What do we do?
Block everything else, nothing exists.
Only the words.
Usually dance. Usually drink.
Autopilot, these streets are mine.
What do we do?
Keep going. Nearly there.
What do we do?
Few more steps, keys in hand.
Usually – home.
© May 2008. The italics are “taken” from a single titled Wearing my Rolex by Wiley, which was released on 5th May 2008. It is used without Wiley or his record company’s permission, for the purpose of this poem and the original line of the song is: What would we do/Usually drink, usually dance, usually babble. It was the song I was listening to on a journey and the only thing that stopped me completely breaking down, alone in the middle of the street. The babble/bubble thing is just me being unable to hear the words clearly enough, but I like the bubble part!

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Amputating the Old – Poem

One day, it was so very simple,
A little nick was all it was,
It barely touched the surface,
A fleeting glance.
There was no blood drawn.
Over time, its roots grew deeper,
Scabbing and crusting over and over,
Becoming engrained and permanent,
A familiar scar.
It was built now to last.
Only rarely can it happen,
Such an accidental contact,
Has such an impact on your health,
A friend’s smile.
What was it like before the mark?
Once in a million, is healing,
All it takes is one little bug,
To gnaw and attack, wear it all away,
A fiendish turn.
Now the wound’s open once more.
Opening wide, the bacteria reproduce,
Serving themselves and eating their surroundings,
And the smell is pungent,
A festering time.
It’s all turned sour. There’s one path ahead.
Owing nothing to modern man,
Medicines and salves are no cure,
There’s only one solution, away from all this pain,
A fiery pain.
The festering, rotting, once-loved scar,
Needs amputating before it spreads.

© 29th December 2011

It’s Going To Hurt – Poem

Peering over the edge and all I see is dark,
Carefully I lean, trying to see the bottom,
It’s all black.

Deep down there, anything could be alive,
Or dead. All I need is to cross the small gap,
I can do it.

The grass doesn’t grow this close to the edge,
Nothing grows within the darkness despite the dank,
It’s just rock.

Crumbling rocks underneath my bare feet,
My toes grip around the dusty remnants,
Long since gone.

Deep slow breaths, building my courage tall,
Close my eyes and just have faith that I,
Will make it.

Flying over the edge, my wings make me soar,
Over the darkest hole and I can see freedom,
Almost touching it.

Burning like Icarus under the heat of the sun,
I plummet and fall, fingers wildly grasping out,
Hold on tight!

The grass is dead, the rocks are weathered,
They break and fall apart under my grip,
Falling down. Down.

Further and further into the dark, lower and lower,
There is no sun, there is no light, there is no life,
Except for me.

Rushing of air as I fall far too fast deeper down,
Soon enough I must reach the bottom, crashing,
Crunching flat.

Regularly on this journey I do travel, wandering,
On the past few, I’ve made it to the other side,
Without any harm.

Not for a while have I plummeted so far down,
To come out on the other side of the world,
And begin again.

Yearning to take flight with outspread wings,
The breeze against my face as I soar higher,
Not fall lower.

The fall is not so lifeless as body parts reach out,
Bloodied stumps point out, lifeless eyes search,
Looking down on me.

Disembodied voices laugh and cackle loudly,
Echoing in the barren air, bursting my drums,
All in my favour.

The Haves stare down, revealing their flights,
Parading it around without a care in the world,
For the Have Nots.

They made it across the voids, made it higher,
Fleeing their nests and becoming a Have,
I remain Not.

Just as the flower wilts without the water,
I, too, am losing my petals, my feathers,
For the Flight.

The darkest bottom is fast approaching,
This time is going to hurt,
I know it.

© 5th July 2011.

Four Simple Letters – Poem

Four simple letters, four simple words.

Perhaps you’re lucky,
And have your dreams,
Instead of fighting daily,
Never quite getting there.

Luck or hard work elevates,
Or at least the piggy nose,
Such is life, they say,
Sorry what? they think.

Feeling below par, beneath all,
And without a drop of luck,
Dreaming dreams of high,
Eventually, right?

Happens it might not,
Or that no one cares,
Perhaps some understand,
Even in their fulfilment.

© Persephone M 16th November 2011

I Hurt You/You Hurt Me

You’ll never know the pain you caused me,
How your words hit like thunder, shocking my heart,
Deafened and pained, the tears rained down my cheeks,
As the realisation hit me: I hurt you.

But then the thunder stole itself away, hidden but not forgotten,
As a new, sun-less day dawned upon me and me alone,
The joy dried up, the excitement evaporated as you did it once,
And did it twice: contradiction.

Placing all the others, every single one under your umbrella,
You left me in the rain despite my apologies and pain,
I had only seen mine until you snuck out your words,
And now tables reverse: You Hurt Me.

(C) Persephone M December 16th 2013.

I thought my TTC journey caused the bitter loss of friends; so does succeeding.

Go and have twins

The fosters have literally just left so excuse the bad language and bile about to come.

The stupid bitch who collected them told me to go have twins now seeing as our house is empty and because my mum will miss the two little fosters.

Fuck you.

You’ve never had other people’s children live with you for over a year, tried not to but still managed to fall in love with them.

You’ve not seen the stress my mum’s gone through being a single foster parent to two under fives.

You haven’t sat there watching as everyone falls in love with two children, fearing that you’ll never have your own.

You haven’t been told that you have unexplained infertility and might never give your husband a child or your mum grand children

So don’t fucking tell me to have twins to make my home full again. You had your own children and now get to do over with these. I get a shit load of absolutely fucking nothing.

Too Many Cooks

My last post on the foster kiddies we have was one written in frustration at social services who can’t seem to communicate or even make logical decisions. Until we discovered the true extent of the issues with the court hearing and how everyone involved had been mislead (because the grandparents, parents and us as the foster carers believed the case would be over and done with by now), the majority of my frustration on the matter was actually with the grandparents.

They are the prosepective soon-to-be special guardians of the two youngest children, the two that my family foster. Now, the children’s family is kinda complicated. There are three children, all under the age of 6 and each with different fathers. The eldest, 6 year’s old, is going to be allowed to move in with her father with whom increasing contact has been occurring in the past year and contact with the mother is agreed upon; I’m not privy to the frequency, but both parties (parents) have agreed. Nothing has been decided about contact between this eldest child and the two younger siblings. Which is something I find frankly disgusting of social services.

Meanwhile the two youngest, 5 and 3, are being considered to live with the youngest’s grandparents. Of course, them having different fathers means that the grandparents are not related to both children. I’m sure lots of you think that its fine because it happens a lot in step-families, but it’s not that simple at all.

For ease, I’m going to refer to the two kiddies as Cat and Dog. I mean nothing disrespectful to either, but Dog is cuddly and loyal, loves eating and has the biggest, wettest, soppiest kisses ever. Cat, on the other hand, can function fully on their own, doesn’t form attachments and can perform to the crowd to seem completely different and lovable, but will scratch you at the first chance. So, Cat’s older and the grandparents involved are not Cat’s, they are Dog’s. I repeat though, that it doesn’t necessarily matter that there’s no blood linking them because it happens all the time in the modern step-family. As long as everyone involved loves the children, that’s all that matters.

Until you realise that ever since Cat’s father arrived back on the scene (he’d been absent Cat’s whole life and Dog’s father was the active father for both), Dog’s father said he was only interested in Dog. Some might find this harsh, that for 3-4 years this man had been the one and only father both children knew and now he’s turning his back on the one that isn’t biologically his. In his favour, he knew that the biological father was on the scene and wanted to get to know Cat. He also knew that his chances of getting custody of his child was easier than custody of both. It may not have had anything to do with not loving Cat, at least that’s how I see it – he did it *for* Cat.

Yet Dog’s grandparents are still seeking Special Guardian status of Cat. Every other day the grandparents get both kiddies for 7 to 8 hours where all they seem to do is take them out and visit cousins and other family members. There are two main problems I can see with this. Firstly, there’s no guarentee that the grandparents will get guardianship, so all these people they’re spending days with, they might net ever see again. Obviously, they’re also not even related to Cat and most of them aren’t biologically related to Dog because grandmother is his step-grandmother and the “cousins” are hers biologically. This just leads to complete confusion and exhaustion for the kiddies, being paraded around 101 people every other day.

The second main problem with this is that the grandparents are spending the days acting as grandparents and having fun with the kiddies. How are they getting to know them in normal circumstances, mundane day-to-day routines if the grandparents are being fun? As Special Guardians, they cannot be grandparents, they have to be parents and at some point they have to face this reality and not just spend 8 hours a day treating them to family day trips.

Last week, Cat was finally able to have a second visit with their father, because social services keep failing to arrange the meetings which is awful given that Dog’s dad no longer “wants” Cat (I say “want” because I honestly believe he’s doing it for virtuous reasons and if Cat’s father were not on the scene, he’d still “want” her). We informed the grandparents of this and they were totally shocked. They had no idea that Cat’s father was involved, that if they get Guardianship he’ll be involved along with the mother. They had no idea that their own son did not “want” Cat. Will they still want Cat if their own son doesn’t? Why should they try and keep their son’s family together by having both of his children when, as far as he’s concerned, his family is only Dog?

And his new child that Dog isn’t even allowed to know about as per the Word of Social Service Gods, yet they can be introduced to a different “cousin” every day, but not Dog’s own half-sibling. I have no idea how the grandparents are keeping that to themselves, perhaps because they have nothing to do with their son (there’s clearly little communication) and maybe the only reason they want Guardianship of Dog (and Cat) is to get one over on their son.

I fear that if they decide they don’t “want” Cat, because their son doesn’t, that Cat will be heartbroken upon losing Grandmother, Pop and all the new cousins. Especially if the grandparents are successful in getting Guardianship of Dog because then Cat will lose Dog, too.

The Social Service Gods should really have placed more rules and guidelines on everyone involved so that even more people didn’t get involved. These two kiddies are going to become even more scarred by all of this.

~ Persephone M