Thursday 16 September 2021

A 90's RAVER at 3am

An abandoned warehouse, beat deafening, coloured lights flashing,
her brain in overdrive.
Departing in her lycra gear, utterly bushed
from eight hours of non-stop raving. Outside
the street lamps are unsteady, dancing crazily.
The sidewalk rolls and ripples beneath her feet.
As usual, she throws up: curry, wine,
and a hash of cocktails slapped on the asphalt.
Why is she leaving alone again? Tears well up.
Tonight, she'd hoped, someone would be her rock.

In the taxi, inching through
the still busy streets of Chelsea,
a torrent of thoughts, mostly unwelcome.
Rebellion takes over.
This is her life!
Eighteen is an age for fun, not for hard work -
that can come later. Much later.
Her parents are wrong.
She is not accountant material.
It really is time she left home.

That place has become a tomb. Suffocating.
She is interred in it, feels like the living dead, yet
fear of the unknown seriously holds her back.
Such a dilemma! Hard boozing
has become her ally.
It delays the the inevitable, makes life easier to endure.
How she envies her brother,
a successful artist, living his life his way
with no strings attached -
in total freedom and with no pressure to prove himself.

How wonderful to be free of parental domination
and be left alone to make his own choices!
She, on the other hand, is made to feel beholden:
the dutiful daughter, expected to follow
in Daddy's footsteps - someone to proudly parade
before envious colleagues. His carbon copy.
But, this morning, there is change in the air.
Today, she will begin
the life she has always longed for.
Today, she will tell them exactly how she feels.

The taxi draws to a halt. The house is lit up
and she's aware they're waiting up. As usual!
Today, she won't accept the lecture with downcast eyes.
The alcohol in her blood empowering her,
she enters by the front door. Their faces
forewarn of what is to come.
She's been dominated by control freaks for too long.
Their eyes are flashing with anger. There is no consideration
for her wishes, her feelings. She observes
the hard faces, fuelled by one-upmanship...
                                                                               for the last ever time.

Four more days of holiday, followed by two hospital appointments, then hopefully back to some semblance of normality!😉
Thank you so much for your patience...and your kind support 😊😊

Saturday 4 September 2021


Yellow mustard fields. 
The sun-baked earth
with it's mosaic cracks:
parched, barren, like
my thoughts - overheated.

Brain shorting out. Lazing
with the languor of the idle
below blue sky's great arc,
while white limbs turn red
then brown as last winter's leaf.

This could be idyllic, this choreless 
Sunday: ice lollies in the freezer,
Chardonnay cooling in the fridge -
oh if only I weren't too lethargic
to move - only a lover could rouse my senses!

High above the Swifts reel,
their cries piercing. On unseen thermals,
a Red kite glides then steeply dives -
some poor unsuspecting rodent dies -
and I, heat mellowed, detached, simply observe.

Now increasingly dazed
as sunstroke threatens, cognition
like scrambled egg, 
I drag myself from UV assault
and dive into ice cold pool.

Well, a girl can dream, can't she? 😉

I am taking a couple of weeks' much needed holiday, so will catch up with you all as soon as I possibly can. 😊

Have a great weekend guys  xxx