Anita

Writing that stream of consciousness poem reminded me of a book I read when I was 18 – “The Bloody Chamber” by Angela Carter. I had to study it in my English Lit class and I loved it – the writer took fairy tales but subverted the roles and twisted them. I wonder if you have ever read it?

What if the protagonists of fairy tales and well-known children’s stories were the villains instead and we were wrong about them all along?

Joe

Anita

I’m having fun getting back into writing these again. Part of me wants to dig up all the notebooks I’ve kept over the past 4 years possibly to share online but another part of me wants to have another one of my bonfire “cleansing rituals” and burn them. It all seems raw at the time but when I look back at it, it’s like it was written by a different person or it just brings up all the bad feelings from that time.

This one is called The Experiment.

nobody can ever know
what went into this
so mad
so arrogant
to assume
that we can create life
in our own image
control life
playing god
and creating monsters
and it’s funny
how it always ends up
being a freak
being an abomination
when they get it all from you
byproducts
of everybody elses worst parts
a walking contradiction of sorts
you’re not human
you’re grotesque
you’re hellspawn
you’re unholy
you’re ungodly
it’s always it
and not them
they stapled it together
but they don’t want
to accept responsibility
it’s all on it
and not on them
they created the monster
they thought
they could control life
but
you don’t control a monster
a mutant
an entirely alien life form
spiraling out of control
on a roaring rampage

Anita

The Experiment was inspired by another book I had to read back in English Lit class, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. This was more about societal expectations and just expectations in general, represented by the different body parts being assembled and stitched together. A bricolage of different contrasting information and rules. They say one thing but do another, or then do a complete u-turn and then say the complete opposite thing.

I always enjoy reading your interpretations, Anita.

Ode To The Beautiful Shiny Happy People

a haze of neon signs
passing headlights
blaring dance music
vapid soulless mechanical
overpowered car exhausts
from cars
driven by fowl-mouthed
boy racers
the smell
of fried takeaway food
vomit
alcopops
police and ambulance sirens
cigarette smoke
boys and girls of the night
the beautiful
shiny happy people
party animals
they don’t come out
until the sun has gone down
vampires
the living dead
with no souls of their own
hoping
to claim another soul
to own another soul
to take it’s place
boys
swaggery
sneery
canine-like
reeking of Paco Rabanne
reeking of bloodlust
slicked back hair
bloodshot eyes
their gaunt looking face
like a diseased human rat
they have no honour
they have no respect
they puff
on vaping machines
like they are human nuclear power stations
they don’t even have to try
pitted against
the other dogs
they bark
they bite
the girls, they see
they sniff out
they treat their girls
like pedigree chum
like dog food
the girls
atomic peroxide
heavy make-up
vodka smiles
the boys and girls
always in competition
to see who can be
the loudest
the funniest
the biggest
the craziest
larging it
they only live at night
their life
is a neon-covered fantasy
with artificial lights
their life
is one massive rave
one massive party
pulsating strobe lights
pulsating plastic party tunes
for pulsating plastic party people
life is a huge party
where they assemble
where they feast
on chemical liquids
where they sneak
forbidden candy
when nobody is looking
and then vomit it all back out
in a grimy toilet cubicle
dancing
drinking
let’s see
how many likes
we can get on this photo
which looks
like all of the photos
we have ever taken
sunlight beckons
they stagger back to whence they came
weakened
sore bleeding eyes
the living dead
cower away
from the sunlight
too wasted
too medicated
too diseased
to care

More delightfully dark and twisted stream of consciousness stuff because I love delightfully dark and twisted! It just flows out and the more I write, the more ideas I get and the more inspired I become. I’d really love to do something which involves more writing and more wordplay but combining with artwork as well…

Truth Spits In Your Face

Some people
They have everything
In their own minds
They are royalty
Spoiled little princes and princesses
Who deserve all the good in this world
In their minds
They are perfection
They are the shiny happy people
They are the lucky ones
Boy do they like to show it
With their gold
With their achievements
With their careers
Their beautifully expensive clothes
A living walking breathing photocopy
Of a trendy fashion catalogue
They show and tell their lives
Through their smartphones
Through bloodless plastic shark smiles
The lucky ones are happy and healthy
They are pure as the snow
Free of corruption and sin
God loves them but nobody else
They aren’t affected
They aren’t afflicted
With inner disease
Why would they
When there is nothing beneath the surface
Wait
They are not human
So they wouldn’t understand
The affliction
Underneath their human disguise
They are snakes made from plastic
You and I
And everybody else
We’re beneath them
We’re below them
Because we don’t have it all
We don’t have a hope in hell
Know your place
Because they spit in the faces
Of everybody
Having to clean up after them
At the first sign of weakness

But just remember,
Your towering ladder
Your stepping stones into the sky
Nobody reaches the top
Nobody gets to heaven
It’s a risky business
When you are so high up
Because it’s a long fall
And a long way down.
Nothing
Is ever going to bring you to the top
You will never find your storybook ending
Your happily ever after
And you
Are not untouchable.

They will swarm in their mob
And spread disease about you
All over the streets
After shooting and stabbing you in the back
After tearing you to shreds
Like rabid wolves
Just for not being like them
They will come for you
To crucify you
To nail you to their dartboard
We are freaks
Heretics
Lunatics
Who deserve to be locked up
And burned at the stake
They hold the power
When they point the finger
Drive them away
Drive them out of the town
But there’s nowhere to go
Nowhere to escape
There’s no magic beanstalk
To take me away
There’s no giant peach
There’s no Hogwarts Express
There’s no alien space ship

Through their lies
Malice
Their wholesome image
Of how they are such nice people
They cast doubt
All this time
I’m having imaginary conversations with them
Pretending that they are human
Pretending that they are friends
Pretending that they are the good guys
It’s easy to see things for what they really are
When you step back from the bigger picture
It’s been a whole year
Since we last spoke
If you could call it that
Because apparently
I’m not allowed to speak
Unless through a self-elected spokesperson
And even then
They decide what should be spoken
I’ll be back to get you
Some nice sunny day
And you will wish
You never crossed my path at all

I smirk and sneer
And spit
At the faces of those fools
Who think they have it all
My captors
My oppressors
They underestimate me
They thought
I was a puppet
So rigid, easily controllable
But my nose will always stay the same
Because I only speak the truth
I’m not your ventriloquist dummy
You don’t get to speak for me
Decide for me
Control me
I cut the puppet strings a long time ago
Words speak truth
Flames
There is purity in fire
Burning away all their sin
They burn up
When you reflect the mirror right back into their faces
An uncontrollable vessel
They say never to open Pandoras box
For it contains all the sin
All the disease
All the misfortune
But it also contains truth
And we can’t have that in the world, can we?
Because if truth were to exist
They would have to be held accountable
For their crimes
Wicked deeds
It must be awful
For the self-righteous
When they realise
They aren’t at all innocent
Because sinners can always repent
Can’t they?

They look in horror
And shock
As I walk over to their weak frail bodies
Lying on the floor
Caught in my trap
Like fruit flies and other worthless insects
In a spiders web
You can have all your poison back
You can have all my poison
My shame
You thought
I was just some worthless docile little boy
Without a mind to call his own
Didn’t see that coming, did you?
Too stunned
To even utter a word
They squirm
They deny
Even in their last breath
They are the innocent ones
No? If that’s all you’ve got
Then you can
Go To Hell

I guess I’m worried that I’m painting myself in a really negative light here on the forums by writing all this really bitter twisted vengeful stuff but it’s really cathartic and I’m in my element when I can just pour out without worrying about all the ensuing ugliness.

Anita

Interesting, this: “I’m having imaginary conversations with them/…Pretending that they are the good guys”- this makes me think that part of you believe the message about personal worth. Clearly, at the least, you once believed it. Who hasn’t.

I can’t help but have imaginary conversations with these people, where they finally shut up and listen to what I have to say instead of talking over me. I know for a fact that I want nothing more to do with these people and I’ve been avoiding them like the plague for the past few years but sometimes I just can’t help but wonder what it would be like if we still met up.

“When truth spits in your face” and this post is an expansion on the post I wrote about wanting the last word with the toxic frenemy; it’s about the same group of people I spent time with but I never really felt part of that group. Originally we were all a massive group until one of the other participants persisted in pressing my buttons so I got into a really ugly confrontation and called him some really colourful four-letter words. Button Pusher, his roommate and my roommate formed their own clique from then on and I got accused by The Frenemy of creating a divide within the group – so it’s my fault that I told Button Pusher to back off because he was making me feel uncomfortable and bombarding me with deeply personal questions? I did ask him politely to stop what he was doing to begin with but he took offense and swore at me, which elevated into an extremely ugly verbal sparring match. Even then, I was the one being told to calm down by the others and not being allowed to explain myself.

Regarding the false belief that I am unworthy for not having what they have – that’s more like their false belief, not mine. They have nothing that I want. They went out of their way to make me feel unworthy for not having the same things or aspirations as they do. Not wanting the same things they want. As if somehow they expect everybody to have the same things or want the same things.

“Aren’t you going to the gym” Uh no, do you think I need to go?

“Aren’t you coming with us to the football match?” Uh no, does it look like I enjoy sports?

“Aren’t you going to get your haircut?” My hair is okay as it is, thankyou very much.

“That’s your phone? That’s so old!” Oh yeah, because I’ve always judged a persons worth by what bleedin’ phone they have…

I ended up with the other half of the group by default but I just felt uncomfortable and suffocated around these people. They were constantly bitching and gossiping about one another, and just constantly whining about everything and they believed that they deserved the best of everything, which just really irritated me. The other members of the group were quite conservative and religious and I never felt like I was able to express my own views or opinions for fear they would react badly, because they acted as though everybody should have the same beliefs and opinions as they did (but I guess it didn’t matter, because according to them I was a devil worshipper because of my appearance and taste in music). I think at that point I firmly decided against organised religion, and that I was agnostic.

The placement ended 3 years ago and we’ve gone our separate ways – they all seem to be in great graduate-level jobs in law/ICT/whatever and I’ve been mostly unemployed/sometimes freelance/volunteering/warehouse work for an evil bloodthirsty corporation which shall remain nameless/warehouse work for a lesser bloodthirsty parcel delivery company/depressed. They have been trying to organise group reunions and I’ve had to make excuses to get out of going to these reunions because I dread the thought of being asked “So what are you up to? Are you working?” I’ve destroyed my old phone and the simcard so that there is no chance in hell that they will be able to get in touch with me now. I know I said I wanted to have the last word with The Frenemy and I have destroyed his phone number so there is no way I will be able to do that now. I think I do still have his e-mail address. I could send him an e-mail telling him that I’m not happy at all but how is that going to help? He would probably not read it, just dismiss and deny everything and slag me off even more to the group “Joe is an absolute headcase, he has some serious issues, bla bla bla…”

• This reply was modified 8 years, 2 months ago by Joe.

“Seeking”

we were never
going to be the best
of friends
polar opposites
but we’re both
so stubborn
so proud
so set in our ways
i’m glad
things are good for you
i hope
all your dreams come true
you have nothing
that i want
except
for you
to let me off the hook
not everybody is like you
not everybody wants the things you do
i don’t know
what made you
so highly strung
and you
don’t know
what made me
bitter and twisted
we don’t know
the entire story
we only think we know
but we don’t
i have
imaginary conversations with you
where we can put the world to rights
put aside our differences
i wish
we could talk
face to face
no interruptions
no insults

you once said
that there’s more to me
than i let on
i’m not willing
to show you
i think there’s more to you
than you let on
but you divert it all
when you’re the one
trying to break in
it’s funny
i know nothing about you
all i have
is a vague picture
that i’ve been painting
you keep telling me
how to live my life
but you need to know
i don’t suffer fools
i wasn’t born
to live up to you
everybody starts off
with a blank slate
for anybody kind enough
to give me the time of day
you pushed my buttons
i had to keep from exploding
for the sake of everybody else
i gave you the benefit of the doubt

never said i was perfect
i’m the first to admit
you hold us all
to high standards
you are quick
to point the finger
you are quick
to discuss my fate
with your jury
you’ve had your way
trapped me
silenced me
suffocated me
stockholm syndrome
in spite of all this
a tiny part of me
wants to believe
you mean well
you do it for my own good
in spite of all this
a tiny part of me
wants to believe
that you’re a person
just like me
your own ghosts
your own demons
your own wounds
in spite of all this
you’re not all that bad
even if your ugly side
is louder

out there
be monsters
i’m well aware
you don’t need to remind me
because my battles
are mine alone
not yours
for the fighting
not yours
for the taking
in here
be monsters
why can’t you see
that i don’t need you
to save me from my sins
why can’t you see
that i need to learn the hard way
because if things were easy
i wouldn’t learn a thing
nothing
ever makes it all go away
no magic wand
to erase all the corruption
you might fool others
you might fool yourself
but you don’t fool me

it’s been a year
since we last spoke
your words still ring
on a vicious repeat loop
haunted
like a vindictive ghost
all i want
is freedom
i can’t even look
at you anymore
you’re just another ghost
in another photograph
another fowl reminder
i have to keep you
at arms length
i ran away
avoiding my day in court

my business
is with you
and you alone
you only want to talk
with your execution squad
at your side
so what say
we settle the score
one on one
face to face
for old time’s sake
you bring your pride
i bring my shame
you can condemn me
all you like
kick me when i’m down
spit on me
hate me
but all that i ask
is that
you bloody well listen

Anita

I always enjoy reading your thoughts on my poetry/ramblings. Alas, a new development on this saga has occurred;

Just when I was ready
To free myself
Forgive myself
Forgive you
Bury the hatchet
Bury you in ancient history
By some freak accident
You phone out of the blue
Life has a nasty habit
Of sending me more ghosts from the past
When I am about to walk away
I hope
I worry
That all the other ugliness
That all the other nightmares
Don’t come true
But I take this
As a sign from the universe
We have unfinished business
And I have a bone to pick with you

You’re stubborn
You’re a fool
You don’t know how to take a hint
You’re a glutton for punishment
Just like me
It’s time you were told
You caught me off guard
But I refuse to let you win.

Been avoiding you like the plague
But I’m not running away
Let’s just skip the formalities
The backhanded insults
And cut to the chase
We have a score to settle.
You best make one last stop
At the last chance saloon
We can have a stand off
In the street
You can bring your cronies
But I will bring
An army of me.

Lay it all out
Give me all you’ve got
Do your worst
Because I’ve been hit before
Because I’ve heard it all before
When are you going
To get it in your head
I do not want you anymore
I do not need you anymore
You cannot hurt me anymore
And when are you going
To get it in your head
That I never forget?

Anita

Those “ghosts from the past”- if you wanted to forget, or to move on, how would you stop those ghosts from the past from reappearing in your life, I wonder.

Avoiding them like the plague. Deleting all evidence of their existence and all evidence of time spent together. Deleting their contact information so that there is no way for me to ever get in touch with them. I never even gave them my new phone number either. Little did I realise that they still had the house number and this person rung up the other day, just when I was making a conscious effort to move on and focus my attention on other things. I had even stumbled across Mel Robbins on Youtube – https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCk2U-Oqn7RXf-ydPqfSxG5g/featured and her 5 second rule, and I wanted to start applying that to my life.

There was backhanded sarcasm between us but mostly the conversation didn’t descend into another verbal sparring match. He had been talking to the other people of the group, “being all nostalgic about the old days, we should have a catch up, bla bla bla….” I think I have mentioned this before but the thought of meeting up with these people used to make me feel sick to the stomach. I was caught off guard by this whole thing and I said I might be up for meeting up – I hate that most of the time I psyche myself out to tell people what I really feel but when the time comes, I just can’t. Part of me does want to go just to put this whole thing behind me but the phonecall has just reopened the wound and made me feel bitter and torn about lots of other things besides this. I just hate the fact that he rang the house phone and that my dad answered (he never asks who is calling, just thrusts the phone into my hand).