He could see
and feel
a slavering beast
He could smell it’s
breath
see it’s sharpened
yellow teeth
It wanted him
to do
bad things
It felt like the
Devil with Hate
Not his usual state
of being
but any Angel
with wings
was going to be too late
It said that nobody nobody
gave
two shits
And do everyone a
favor
Go ahead
slit your wrists
It’s your specialty
how you play with me
with mind
in motion
and bodies in ecstasy
Charged
Divine
your laugh trapped in time
Secretly, you practice
your lines
A mirror glance
poison flows
those eyes watch with compare
assessing what you
haven’t got
collapsing in despair
And everybody
Knows….
Me doing my thing at the Dargaville Club in Northland NZ
There’s something about me that I don’t share much with my readers. Besides singing covers in a band called The Ready Groovers Band, I also write original songs with one of my very accomplished guitar playing members.
Something amazing happens up there on stage. Not every time we play, but sometimes, and it only lasts for the song, sometimes only part of a song, but a bubble seems to surround us. A bubble of energy. A buzzing, heightened feeling of a musical euphoria. It’s harmonic bliss – brief but so fulfilling!
We rehearse every Wednesday and gig every Friday, at this stage. I write music on Mondays and practice everything by myself in between.
Music has been my invisible hug, my permanent sounding board, the never-ending tissue, and my joy!
Welcome to my musical journey – even though I’ve been on it for 30-plus years!

You never quite
got to be here
You never quite
got to breathe in air
I never quite
got to touch
your face
take you home
show you
your place
I never quite
got to watch you grow
I never quite
got to get to know
you,
your love
I never quite
It’s your ManSkin
You’ve draped me in
Folded tightly within
Your clasp
Where your love for me
and
Where my love for you
Will always be within
Our grasp
It’s your ManSkin
As I inhale you in
All of you
Pulling on my Heart

No matter what you’re gonna say
I’ve gotta try and stay away
to keep my heart
my heart
You scream into my brain
like an uncontrolled speed train
I’ll go insane
I don’t even know my own name
No matter what I try and dream
you make me feel I am unseen
and it just stays the same
in the common denominator game
So we’re wasting all this time
ignoring all the signs
we sit in freeze frame
it just stays the same
I’m the common denominator
in the common denominator game
Somehow you get through – it’s not even that you learn to live with these things – they stay in our lives forever as part of who we are. In fact these are the things that make us who we are. They used to say this kind of suffering was character building. That may or may not be so, for me, it allows great reflection and understanding of my capacity to love and give love and in turn what it means to lose that.
One of the annoying things friends and family expect, is for you to “get over it” after a certain amount of time – whatever that time is. But there is nothing to get over. You can’t just imagine it’s behind you – things are not behind us, they are all a part of us. We carry them with the sum of ourselves. Maybe by putting things behind us we let our guard down, we love too easily again, we get hurt so much more because of that. Taking the good and the bad experiences is what makes you the person you are. Are you a fighter? Do you run away? Are you persistent? Do you give up? Whatever you do, you have to live with it – you don’t learn to live with it – there is no manual. You have no choice, choice has been removed from this section of your life and a loss of some kind has left a crater and a giant rock in the same place. Luckily the giant rock plugs up a lot of the feelings for a while – this is often known as shock. Eventually the putridness of your trapped feelings in this hole in your heart starts building up a mass of toxic gasses which must be expelled. This build up, over any period of time (as long as it takes you), causes a massive explosion. The giant rock is blasted apart from the hole in your heart. The tiny splinters of angst, hurt, devotion, honor,disbelief, love and any other betrayed related feeling you can imagine, is dug deeply into your heart and mind. Each little splinter of that pain has barbs of doubt, guilt and confusion holding them in place in your heart. And we can’t let go or it can’t let go of us or we don’t give ourselves permission to keep moving forward even though we are cemented in that time of tragedy and know that’s impossible, isn’t it?
The hard part is learning to navigate around these losses, grievances and betrayals, eventually like a powerful river we keep flowing around these rocks of hurt that seem like they will never shift or move. But they do erode – the erosion is so subtle and slow we don’t even notice and so it is, I believe, with tragedy, loss and grief; be that for a living being or a relationship of any kind. Loss leaves a big hole and a giant rock that you drag around with you all the time. Afterwards we question everything said and done, what could have been different, the “if only’s” and the “what if’s” with hopeless, empty dreams. Nothing can be changed. It is what it is, but I know I fight against this too, even though I understand the futility of the fight!
I think only in time will I manage to erode down that rock of loss, will I be able to take the sharp edges off and flow a little easier around the things put in my way that I have no way of changing. Perhaps time won’t heal the wounds, but perhaps time allows my river of life to smooth the edges of hurt. Perhaps it lets me build up strength so that I can push past that hurt easier, every time I have to go past that hurt again. Because it doesn’t go away….
I was reminded to clarify this, by a comment and I thank you; this is how it feels to the person who is so broken they can’t see any future or hope. Of course there are so many more options than suicide, but to the suicide victim there is not.
It hadn’t been a long time – only a matter of months, you could count them in days if you had to. But it felt like centuries. I missed my boy – he was loud and large in my little cottage, but now everything seems too large, too empty and way too quiet!
So landing in Sydney I couldn’t wait to see him and get a giant bear hug – his hugs are the only ones that are like that for me. It’s something very definable, tangible. Anyone else could give me a giant hug but they will never measure up to my son’s loving arms. I have never been a “clasp-hugger”, y’know, brief – per-functionary. There is no point in displaying affection if you don’t mean it. So yes, maybe he has only known how to hug like that – I love that about him. A helluva lot can be said in a hug. And hugging my son at the airport for the first time in ages was like a relief almost…a sigh of thank you Universe – he really is all good! He looked and felt healthy, his hair had grown even longer and his smile beamed across the crowd of anxious collectors. He stood out as if he was the only one in colour and everyone else was black and white.
I know I maybe could be describing everything else – and I’m sure it will come out, but my holiday was really about filling up my soul as a Mum. Spending time with that beautiful little spirit I had nursed, guided and shoved into this lovely young man in front of me, that I am so proud to call My Son.
It’s 22 past 2 What am I here for? And can’t I leave?
But do you really want to? I have to go
Are you clear in the sight of all things? I see nothing I feel him I need to –
No I have to go!
I don’t want to be deserted Well I want to be the deserter – It won’t hurt so much
It’s not that I’ve forgotten you, sweet angel of mine, it’s that I just lost myself for a little while. You’ve been there so strong and true. Your arms swallow me safely and I’m grateful, so grateful for you. I couldn’t even see your pain because I couldn’t see through mine – the deep dark cloud of despair. I know it’s not forever, but at the moment, a day is a lifetime
For Jay, my nine year old son (at the time) who had to live with me being there, but not there, for nearly five years. I remember just about nothing of that period of time due to the heavy medication I was on. In the photo above he’s twenty 🙂
Scribble me
into your life
Pen me
into your mind
Feel me
in tactile braille
So I can read you
if I’m blind
Then, touch me with
a purity – like
a crisp white paper sheet
Write me
into a love story
Our blending ink –
A story complete
I had to do six months of research on suicide once. I’m not going to get into statistical mumbo-jumbo in this piece, this is about my experience during this time and what I felt and understood from that experience.
Sitting at my desk for at least eight hours a day, reading about how people had chosen to end this lifetime, was alright for the first 2 or 3 weeks, I think. I looked at it as a job and that I needed to provide the most comprehensive, yet detailed report on what was happening to our community in our district. I wanted to find answers and resolutions. I wanted to give it my very best for those who had left and for those who had been left behind.
Now part of being able to do this type of work is being able to distance yourself, compartmentalize and focus on giving your full attention to the job at hand. That job was to look at the past 5 years of coroners’ reports on suicide. This ranged from a ten year old hanging themselves from a washing line, to a couple in their 80’s who decided to leave together. Naturally, the older the individual and especially there being two of them, that was almost comforting, darkly romantic, but that was as good as it gets. The child and everyone in between were just tragically sad and seemingly so unnecessary. The information in the reports contained everything and I gathered something like 900 suicides and the individual information on a spreadsheet I designed.
It was a very in depth piece of work and very tolling. After those first few weeks, I found I was taking some of these individuals I had been digging around in, with me. Back home with me. It started with me feeling like someone was looking over my shoulder while I was working. No one was, but it became very awkward. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling. This went on for weeks. I felt like someone was not happy with me digging around in their past. Some people had been from a criminal background, a few had been child molesters, they had been related to their victims. Not nice people but I was not doing this to judge, I wanted information to help. Many had just been overwhelmed with financial stress, a too demanding life, a hopeless situation.
Then one day, after spending my working day feeling like I had a bunch of suicide victims hanging around me, that feeling then started following me. I had a little two door car. As I drove home, I felt the car become more and more crowded. I turned the music up, opened windows. Nothing changed. I couldn’t wait to get home and get out of the car. Pulling up into the driveway I saw my flatmate outside mowing the lawn. I got out and felt better, we chatted and I went inside. I felt a little better when I was around others but I didn’t want to tell anyone what was going on. When I climbed into bed that night I asked those lost spirits to leave me alone. I had thought about it and figured that these people’s spirits may be trapped here for some reason. I didn’t know why and I didn’t understand how I knew this was the case, I just knew.
I felt that being so personally involved in each individuals’ death had brought these spirits close to me, not all of them – but somehow these guys had become trapped or lost on an earthly plane. I made a decision to do something crazy – or what may be thought of as crazy by others. I was at home alone one weekend and I could feel the heaviness of these souls around me. Something compelled me to go outside and look up at the sky. It was a cloudy, drizzly day with a bit of gusty wind. The trees rustled around us and I felt the need to speak out loud to these souls. I said to them that I understood that not all of them had done the right thing here on earth and had left so much heart break and devastation behind. But there was a light they needed to find over there. I said I forgive you – I didn’t know who or how many there were but I told them they were all forgiven for everything and needed to go towards the light. I kept repeating this, looking up at the iron grey sky. Then all of a sudden I felt a sudden lightness. The sky didn’t open up, no lightning, torrential rain or blasting wind – they just seemed to move away from me.
I kept using this solution to help those souls move forward each time I felt someone around me. I had to wait to get home so that I could be alone and in the quiet – oh and keep it a secret, until now…
I woke up early one morning, as per usual. I have a weird sleep pattern due to medication and pain so it was about 4 am. Turned on the TV, said hello to my little bunnies, Miss Hunny Bunny Bumps and Wally and made a cup of tea to take back to bed. I watched Amy Schumer and something else…I think Murder made me Famous – I can’t exactly remember but I was in a cheerful place and not exactly engrossed in what I was watching at the time. So typically I picked up my laptop and started opening up the usuals; Google – email, WordPress etc.
I’ve been on WordPress for two years in March 2017. I am pleased to say I have only ever had one other situation similar to this and that was when I first began, but on the whole, I have met beautiful people who all have things/demons/relationships/life/death/guilt etc to deal with – just like everybody else.
Yet this morning someone unpleasant had visited about 5 or 6 poems and written some nasty shit on them – just negative, angry, hateful. Now I don’t tolerate hate and I certainly don’t want my blog that I write with truth and heart to be connected to that hate, so I had to block this person. Before I did that, I went to go and see their blog to find out what kind of person they were before I did cut them off. The blog I visited was full of negativity and darkness, degrading, nasty stuff. “I don’t give a fuck about anybody and Fuck you all” were the repetitive take-away messages of the day, every day. I read one of the pieces written all the way through, by force, as it was painfully boring, poor grammar and spelling – but most of all, just not what anyone wants to hear! But I afforded the blogger the return bother and time in reading it, as they had bothered to read and comment, although negatively, on mine.
The post was telling people basically to keep their nose out of other peoples business (this had also been said on one of my poems as well as it was bullshit and I was fake), anyway, this is what they were spouting about on their own blog. Keep out of my shit and don’t fuck with me! were also threats I received on my own poems…weird – I thought they were my writings and thoughts/experiences anyway! So I wrote a comment on the bottom of the post and said it was wise to take one’s own advice and that I was sorry they were so pissed at the world. The End. I did not get angry or upset or take these foolish words to heart. I did not respond with hate or vengeance or retaliation. I did not bite – they went away….there’s something in that….
Please don’t pick me
not again
I’m terrified
so frightened I can’t
breathe
It hurts and I can’t
see
through the tears
I don’t know
I’m crying
Universe,
Please stop me
now
before it’s too late
and time
steals you away
from me
too brief
too painful
this I can’t do
Please,
Please Universe
don’t pick me
Crimes so heinous
have made you famous
While your victims lie
deep in the dirt
Your name is remembered
with murder it is tempered
Those left behind in a life
drowned with hurt
Your face is well known
a killer repeatedly shown
The victims in photographs
quietly inert