Anybody Listening?

I don't want to make this blog too much like my original website, but there are some things on there that I just cannot help reposting as I loved them so much at the time and still do today.  Below is a poem that I posted way back in April 2000. I remember hearing it one day when I was a young teenager, on a cassette my parent's had me listen to (don't ask) and I do not know who the original author is, but I think the message it gives is very potent and still relevant. It didn't come with a title, so I have given it my own.

Anybody Listening?

So now little man your tired of grass
LSD, acid cocaine and hash
Someone pretended to be a true friend
Said i'll introduce you to Miss Herione

Well honey before you start fooling with me
Just let me inform you on how it will be
For I will seduce you and make you my slave
For i've sent much stronger than you to their grave

You'll swindle your mother and just for a buck
You'll turn into something vile and currupt
You'll mug and you'll steal for my narcotic charm
And feel contentment when i'm in your arms

The day your realize the monster you've grown
You'll solemly promise to leave me alone
And if you think you've got the mysticle knack
Then sweetie just try getting me off your back

The vomit, the cramps, your gut tied in a knot
The jingling nerves screaming for just one more shot
The hot chills, the cold sweat, the withdrawel pains
Can only be saved by my little white grains

There's no other way, there's no need to look
For deep down inside, you'll know when your hooked
You'll run desperately to the pusher and then
You'll welcome me back in your arms once again

And when you return just as I have fortold
I know that you'll give me your body and soul
You'll give up your morals, your conscience and your heart
And you will be mine, until death us do part.
~~Author Unknown~~

Princess of Decay - Featuring Cory Eadson

Ever since my journey over to Twitter I've discovered many talented people.  In most cases, not only are they talented poets, authors and amazing bloggers, they are also witty, funny, incredibly wonderful people.  One of these that I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know is a guy called Cory Eadson.  His passion for everything 'Doctor Who' as well as his penchent for things from the dark side has me laughing out loud at most of his tweets.  The other night, I had the priviledge to see one of his poems which he emailed over to me.  I was BLOWN away.  The more I kept saying 'Cory, this is so good'. The more he laughed me off and actually called me 'Daft' at one stage.
Anyway, I thought it was so good I asked him if I could post it here and lucky for me, he said yes.  If you are on Twitter and you are not following @Evermore_Evil then you really need to Follow ASAP!  Also, he is the fastest blogger I have ever met.  Having only started his blog about 3 or so days ago, he probably has more postings in it by now than I have on mine! I've never known anyone to blog so fast.  So for all things 'Dr Who', for more poetry, film reviews and more, please visit his blog here: Morgue of Intrigue

Ok, I'll stop, because knowing him, I will only start embarressing him if I continue to stroke his ego as I am doing, so without further ado, here it is:

Pricess of Decay

October twilight;

A hissing death rattle

Dances through

The brittle ribcage woodland-

Skeleton trees shivering

In the chilling gaze of the moon.

My heart stills,

As I find your place

In this natural necropolis.

A pile of festering

Leaves and twigs-

Dead rainbow colours

Bathed in yellow moonlight.

The putrefying remains

Pulsate and shuffle,

Like a late thing

Brought back to life.

And then you rise,

Rise upwards from the

Putrefaction -

You, the Princess of Decay.

You, with your long, mottled hair,

Like dead leaves clinging desperately

To a near-naked tree.

You, with those hollow brown eyes

That see more than any human.

You, with that smile,

Like a pine-cone opening slowly:

Beautiful, but with sharp edges.

Any whispered words are lost

On the eternal, sweeping wind,

But words are unimportant.

You take my hand

(With cold, cold fingers)

And take me deeper into

The crisp heart

Of this necropolis forest...

Deeper and deeper we go,

The crunching of leaves and twigs

Beneath your bare-feet

Almost drowned by my

Roaring heart.

I want to ask you so many things,

But I am numb from curiosity...

And perhaps even love?

As we reach a moonlit clearing,

And you gaze up at me

With those owlish eyes

And that impossible smile,

I understand.

Of course I love you,

A weary, lost soul saved

By the Princess of Decay.

And as our icy lips connect,

I know our destiny lies

In eternal Autumn.

You and I,

Rotting together

Forever...

Please leave your comments (if you are so inclined) and let him know what you think of this.

Blog soon 

Bx 

Like a mouse in a maze

The city had been home to generations for hundreds of years. Compact and walled, she was considered impenetrable to anyone from the outside. But for the thousands within her walls, just as hard to get out.  Based at the foot of the Tempie mountain, she was a city that appeared to have been forgotten in time.  You would easily have been mistaken if you thought her to have being originally built by a lost Mayan civilisation or perhaps even the Romans. As the city grew in population, so too did the buildings with height to accommodate them.  And for all the citizens that called her home there appeared to be no need to go anywhere else for this city offered everything you could ever need. Amenities, entertainment, beautiful homes.  It had it all.

I don't recall how it was that I was living there, nor why it was that it was being guarded by soldiers speaking German and dressed in black uniforms with medals and stars on their breast pockets and fancy black peaked caps on their heads. I don't know why I knew that we were in imminent danger, nor why the guards were keeping it a secret from everyone, nor why they were preventing anyone from leaving. More frustrating, why all its citizens where going about their daily business, oblivious and careless.  I kept preaching imminent doom, but nobody was listening.


Tempie was rumbling.  I could see the smoke and if you stopped for a second, you would be able to smell the acid and hear the groaning.  All my alarm bells were screaming and panic was setting in.  Yet everyone continued about their business.  My mouth seemed to be sewn shut, because like the guards, I couldn't utter a word.  My eyes were stretched wide in a silent scream and as I dashed up one set of stairs and down another set of endless stairs, I appeared to be running around in circles.  I couldn't find my way out.  And every time I thought I'd found a way, I ran into a guard.  They didn't speak to me, but I somehow knew to try to get past them would be suicidal, so I turned back and sought another way.

Night fell on the city and the sound of people drinking and socialising filled the streets.  The bars and taverns filled and music could be heard from the concert halls.  It was a happy atmosphere all around me, but I knew that it was to be short lived. I knew that everyone was going to die, yet I still didn't raise the alarm. I wasn't able to and I was terrified I would only draw attention to myself.  By now, the main objective seemed to be to get myself out. To live.

The walls of the city stretched high up into the sky. They could easily have been 300 ft high. It had been billed as the safest city in the world and one couldn't help but look at those walls and know that no enemy was ever going to get over them.  What it offered though was a false sense of security because I needed to get out and now all I felt was trapped.  Like a mouse in a maze I kept running, only to be met by either another wall or another guard.

And then I saw it.  A ladder that stretched up all the way to the top.  I started to climb it, higher and higher I went and as I climbed I prayed that nobody would see me.  I kept waiting to hear the scream of a guard shouting for me to stop.  Someone to take a shot at me maybe? But this didn't happen.  Eventually, at the top I reached a trapdoor and opening it, pulled myself inside.  It was a surveillance room.  A German guard sat in front of a bank of computer, studying the going's-on within the city.  He turned to look at me as I stood up straight but only smiled at me.  This left me completely confused.  Why wasn't he reacting?  Why didn't he shout for help? Why didn't he reach for his gun?  I stood motionless in the middle of this room and watched as another guard walked in from an adjoining room.  He too smiled at me and in German started conversing with the one at the computers.  I could not understand what he was saying but somehow I knew that they were talking about me.  My eyes flashed to the windows in this room and I ran over to the window facing outside and for the first time in years, caught a glimpse of the world outside the walls.  It was nothing but jungle. Way, way down below.

Then the second German guard turned to me and said. "It is too late.  You cannot leave." More damning was not his words, but the look on his face.  Like he understood my fear but knew there was nothing to be done and that he had accepted this fate. This is the thought that went through my head as I absorbed his words.  And then I heard and felt it:  The creaking of something in the process of snapping, the whoosh of something flying through the air and the rumbling under my feet .  I ran to the opposite wall and looked out of the window into the city and saw that it had started.   Where buildings had once been ablaze with lights, now they were ablaze with fire. Where people had been laughing and singing, now there was only screaming.  I watched for a few more seconds as more fire reigned down on the city and then with tears in my eyes I turned back to the guard.  He stretched his arm out, pointing to the window as if inviting me to try to escape but said nothing. I ran once more to the far window, peering out, but there was nothing there but a 300 foot drop on that side and I stood motionless, looking out the window contemplating which way I was going to choose to die.

Butterfly Feet - The Fairy Ring Writing Contest

Mommy had told me not to go back to the stream, but how could I resist? Now, all wrapped up in a thick coat, a scarf wrapped tightly around my neck and mittens on my hands, I stood at the edge of the tinkling water hoping to see her again. It had not being my fault earlier today when I’d fallen into the stream.
“I promise Mommy, I saw her, I saw her!” I had protested as she had stripped me of my wet clothes.

Mommy just smiled. Although I am only 11 I knew she didn't believe me.

But I know what I saw and I know I’m wasn't mistaken.

The little dancing fairy had been skip skip skipping across the stream. Her little butterfly feet barely touching the water. Her green dragonfly wings buzzing and I’m sure she was laughing. Laughing at me.
But what was so funny and was that singing I could hear? It had not being my fault I wanted to get closer and touch her little body, to gently lift her in my hand. Little firefly lights twinkling all around me, almost like a dream. But I knew she wasn’t a dream, this beautiful green winged fairy that appeared to be laughing at me.

And then, Splash! And all was gone. The green fairy dancer and the fireflies instantly disappeared. There was nothing but me, dripping wet and spluttering and Mommy shouting and running over, enquiring if I was ok.
I know now that I will come back here, as many times as I must, long after I’ve grown up and am as old as Mommy. And maybe one day I will see her again, the dancing fairy, skipping over the water and laughing at me.

*_______________________________________________________________________*

Do not tremble

Do not tremble, do not fear
For death itself is drawing near.
Don't be afraid and do not cry
The time has come to say goodbye.
Do not worry, please stay strong
We're here today, but tomorrow gone.
Do not be scared, I'll hold your hand
And try to help you understand.
The journey's long, we've just begun
Now everything is said and done.
There's nothing left for you to do
This day would come, of this you knew.
Don't be dismayed of the unknown
For I am here to take you home.
Do not tremble, do not fear
You're not alone, for I am here.

TMI

When I first started doing this blog, the intention thereof was to jot down my thoughts and my feelings about things that were important or that meant something to me. I am not sure about how things work for you, but for me, the mere effort to get things written (typed) down on paper/screen does absolute wonders for me. It's as if I unburden myself of whatever is bothering me, and normally, the sad/upset feelings go away until another day.  Obviously, one needs to deal with some things directly and simple blogging won't take care of everything, but for a way to put things into prospective, this is it for me.

When I first created this blog, I'm not sure what I was thinking.  Yes, I wanted people to read it, but in a way, I knew some things I said here would be personal.  The question of just how much I wanted to share often came up and I have found myself often moving the boundaries.  There are those close to me, who, initially I would not have wanted to read my rantings, but after a while I realised that this was me, warts and all.  So what you see here, is what you get from me.  No hiding.

But how much is too much information?  Where do you draw the line?  I follow quite a few blogs, some of them personal, some of them marketing their work.  Everyone has their own reason for blogging.  As I said before, I use mine to put down in words what I feel.  But what if the reader of this blog could potentially be hurt by something that I've written?  Some things are meant to be private, like a diary, but this has become in a way, my diary, yet I do bulk at some of the things I sometimes have a huge need to blog about.

I guess, I could create another one?  Somewhere only I know about?  But why put something on the Internet that you want to remain private?  Nothing is ever private or hidden if its on the World Wide Web.  So, maybe I should start a written diary?  Something with a lock and key?! 

I am really not liking that idea at all.  

So, tell me please - you, reader - reading this right now, how much is too much information?  Or should this be the place where I lay my soul bare as was my original intention? And take the praise and sometimes, the punches that may come from that?

Bx

Attack!

Last night, wasn’t a good night.  At around 10.30pm I went to bed and as per my usual nightly routine, lay and read a few pages of the latest book I was reading.  I must have started nodding off, like I usually do, and at 11pm I turned out the light and went to sleep.  I have recently had a bad cold, and this time, just like every other time that I have a cold, I am always left with a cough that seems to kick into its worst gear the minute the lights go out.  So, there I lay, coughing and getting more irritated by the minute.  At 1.30am I got up and ventured downstairs to have some cough mixture.  On my way downstairs I noticed Chloe’s light was on.  Chloe is my niece and has been living with us since August.  She had been out for the evening and at the time I had gone to bed, had not got home yet.  I noted to myself that she was home so all was well in the world.
As per our latest electricity lecture by my husband, there were no lights on downstairs, so I made my way in the darkness to the lounge and then grabbed my handbag and dug out my cough syrup and took a good swig of it.  However, the tickle in my throat didn’t immediately go away and I thought it was probably best I just spent another night on the couch.  I know how I would feel if I had to put up with listening to someone cough all night long when I wanted to get some sleep so I thought it best to stay downstairs.
I grabbed some blankets and made myself a little bed on the sofa.  Just before I lay down to sleep, I stared for a few seconds out the window and all seemed peaceful and quiet outside. I was aware of how late it was so decided that the best course of action for me now was to get some sleep and so I lay down and closed my eyes.

Then, I heard voices.

I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I could clearly hear people talking and it was right outside the window! 
I sat up and looked out and there, no more than a metre away from me, with only a pane of glass separating us stood two men. They had come into my garden and were now standing right outside the lounge window and they were talking.  Even though I could hear their voices, it wasn’t clear enough for me to hear what they were saying.
You can imagine my shock!
I quickly ducked my head down and started to creep out the lounge desperately hoping they wouldn’t look inside and see me.
I made it to the lounge door, quickly opened it and headed for the stairs. 
I don’t know why I didn’t think to go for the phone to call the police?  Nor why I didn’t make a dash for the kitchen to get some sort of weapon to defend myself.  Instead, I was adamant to get upstairs and to wake Pete up. 
As I made it across the passage and stepped on the first step, I looked toward the front door and saw that it stood open!  It was'nt standing wide open, only a few inches but the first thing I thought was: ‘Chloe!  She had come in and not locked the door behind her’!
I don’t mind telling you that a panic was starting to descend on me.
I made a mad dash for upstairs, but had only gone up about 6 stairs when I heard a noise and turned around.  The front door was swinging open. They were coming inside!
I watched, horror struck as three, not two guys started making their way into my house and it was only when one of them looked up and saw me that I let out the loudest scream I could possibly make, whilst at the same time turning around and trying to make it up the rest of way to the first floor.  One of the men, the one with shoulder length brown, thinning hair chased after me, but by some amazing stroke of luck, Pete had heard my scream and seemed to know exactly what needed to be done and as the guy with the long hair came chasing me up the stairs, Pete came flying down them.
It was at the stage when Pete wrestled the second bad guy, who had a bald head, to the ground in the dining room that I started to wonder if this was really happening.
By this time, the first guy who had chased after me had caught up with me and instead of dragging me down the stairs, merely clamped my arms to the side of my body and held me with a vice-like grip so that I couldn't move. As the two of us stood there, I became pretty convinced that something was not quite right when he appeared to more interested in watching the wrestling that was going on on the floor in the dining room which we both could see from our vantage point.
The third guy, one with short cropped black hair, was still stood by the front door and appeared to be making no attempt to run away, or save his buddy who was clearly losing his fight against Pete.
 
I took all of this in.  And then, my fear suddenly drained away. I was dreaming all this wasn’t I?

Indeed I was.
 
How crazy was it that my dream picked up from exactly the same moment that I fell asleep, almost as if I never had.  What made it so real was the fact that from wake state to dream state, the scene around me didn’t change at all.
 
Being attacked by three strange men in my own home rapidly ceased to frighten me, and I don’t really remember much of what happened after that.  All I do remember was feeling this huge sense of relief the moment I realised this was all a dream and that the thieves no longer posed me any threat.

Bx

Hurt

Hurt

Goosebumps march across my skin
As I feel my way along the floor
Desperately trying to find the door
Every surface I must explore
Of this dark room that I'm in.

He'd hurt me when he'd grabbed me
For I had not seen him there
His hand striking out, grabbing my hair
My life plunged straight into a nightmare
Fear and dread now my reality.

And then I'd smelt his stinking breath
And though I did not know his name
To him, I knew this was a game
My heart raced, and my legs went lame
And I knew this meant my death

And even though I tried to shout
My mouth would not utter a sound
And lying bleeding on the ground
There's no one to save me, no one around
It was then I felt my world fade-out

And now in the dark, as I awaken
Unconsciously shed tears dried on my face
What and where was this awful place?
And of him there appears to be no trace
Or could I be mistaken?
~Bernadette~
~21/01/2012~

Pajama Club

I may, or I may not have mentioned before that I am a co-author on another blog called the Pyjama Club.  It's a blog that a number of lovely ladies and myself write short articles and poetry about things that are important to us.  We also have a theme week and will then write something on the nominated topic.  The topic this week was pets, and I've just done one on my dog Roxie. I am linking back to it if you want to read it, and perhaps read some of the other great pieces done.  Read it here 'Unconditional Love'

I set myself a to-do list this weekend.  One was to finish off a poem I was doing for Jane Isaac as she has asked me to guest blog for her. (I cannot tell you how honoured I was to be asked that!) and I can now tick that off as done.  I'm not sure if she will like the poem, but I have given her an opt out if she needs it, (I have literally turned myself inside out doing that one!) but if it does get published I will link back to her site.

Secondly was to do a blog posting.   I am doing that right now and have done the one for PJ's.
And thirdly was to finish Jane Isaac's novel 'An Unfamiliar Murder'.  Now, unless I walk away from this computer right now and switch on my kindle, I will not be able to finish it today.  I am only about 20% of the way through, and I have to be honest, I am plenty surprised by how much I am enjoying it.  I'll review the book once I'm done.  At which time, I will rave about it and this very exciting up and coming novelist. 

So, I guess 2 out of 3 isn't bad?  I know I really ought to do more blogging.  Its not that I don't think about it, I do.  And once I sit myself down in front of the PC and start typing, the words just flow freely.  But I am so easily distracted by things such as Twitter and TV series and whatever, that its something I have to physically make myself do.  
Like most people, I can be emotional.  And I always find that I do my best work when I'm morbid or emotionally upset about something.  When I'm happy etc, its just that little bit harder.  I'll try sort it out!

Bx

The Versatile Blogger Award

Well, imagine my excitement and bewilderment last night when I was informed I had been nominated for the ‘Versatile Blogger Award’.  A huge grin appeared on my face and I hurriedly tried to find out everything I could to see what it was I could be winning. I say ‘could be winning’ when indeed I ‘HAD already won’ but it took a few tweets and a few re-reads to finally get it!  I was having a slow night ‘brain-wise’ last night.  So, needless to say, I was ecstatic to hear the news and couldn’t wait to get in front of my PC so I could do my bit and spread the love.  So, thank you so much for the nomination Rod , you are an amazing gem I’ve recently had the privilege to get to know and I haven’t forgotten my little Pingu project today. 

Ok - here's what a versatile blogger should do upon receiving the award. As mentioned above, I was nominated this award by Rod Tyson.  Please check out his amazing blog here: http://rodtysonblog.blogspot.com/ You can also follow him on twitter on @rodtyson100

Now please do the following:

1. Nominate 15 fellow bloggers for The Versatile Blogger Award.

2. Add an image of the Versatile Blogger Award.
3. In the same post, thank the blogger who nominated you in a post with a link back to their blog.
4. In the same post, share 7 completely random pieces of information about yourself.
5. In the same post, include this set of rules.
6. Inform each nominated blogger of their nomination by posting a comment on each of their blogs.

The 7 random things about myself are…..ummm ….

1) I have a few random obsessions…One of them is my obsession with the story of the sinking of Titanic.

 
2) Another one of my obsessions is my morbid curiosity about serial killers.  I will devour any bit of information I can find on them.

3) When I was a teenager, my mates and I used to break into empty houses, plug in a telephone and phone random people all over the world.

4) I once got struck by lightening, through the ear piece of the handset of a telephone. 

5) I see the occasional dead person and a 12/13 year old ghost girl currently lives in my house

6) I have seen the movie Titanic 21 times!

7) Gregory Peck - the actor,  is my cousin – something like 5 times removed.

 
Nominees – Please do take the time to check these out.  They are awesome.

Caffeine’s not a crime - http://www.janeisaac.co.uk/blog/

Dronezone - http://daily-dronezone.blogspot.com/

Just Thoughts - http://neats-thoughtsandrambles.blogspot.com/

The Feckless Goblin - http://fecklessgoblin.blogspot.com/

Where the Streets lights go - http://wherethestreetlightsgo.blogspot.com/

Just Jammin’ - http://jamititanium.blogspot.com/

JD Rocks - http://jdhallrocks.blogspot.com/

Letters from Jersey - http://lettersfromjersey.blogspot.com/

Paranormal Wire - http://paranormalwire.blogspot.com/

Bella Street, Romance with a touch of weird http://bellastreetwrites.blogspot.com/

Spit Toon’s Saloon - http://spittoonssaloon.blogspot.com/

The daily sagacity - http://thedailysagacity.blogspot.com/

The Guerilla Poetess - http://guerillapoetess.blogspot.com/

Thoughts from me - http://kasilou.blogspot.com/

Andrew Simpson Says - http://www.andrew-simpson.com/