Hopelessness

image  from here 

Hopelessness Acrostic.

Hope left with not even a goodbye

Off  it  went  regardless of my  cry

Paralyised with fear unable to fly.

Ever ready  to  surround  me

Loneliness  grabbed me so I could not  flee

Eager  to entrap me in it’s hold

Sinister  horror  surrounds  me whole

Slipping ever  further  from reality

Never knowing  if  ever again I will be free

Endless  questions  beset  my mind

Smothering me with hopelessness unkind

Sinking  deep into  the abyss, lost alone death  would be bliss.

Three Things Challenge #156

Welcome to The Three Things Challenge.
Every day Di at Pensitivity101 said “I’ll give you three words or things that will hopefully trigger your creativity.
No need to use them all if you don’t want to, simply read the prompt and see what comes to mind.” Today’s words are.

Head,Cash,Worry

As usual everything was spinning round in his head. The lights on the machine took over again, he was lost, drawn in. There be no reprieve no escape until the cash was all gone. The whole month’s salary wiped out. Nothing left for food, bills, the children. He might be lucky, he felt lucky so for now why worry?

Apathy.

I walk the earth, caring for none. Travelling by stealth at night, avoiding the sun
hand.

You pity me, that’s just grand

Wandering your world at will,

Hospitals and morgues I am happy to fill.

No feelings for you pitiful lives.

Your problems mean less than a bag of knives.

I spoil your days with bad news,

Cancer, dementia and murderous baby blues.

I am the dead look in a prostitute’s eyes,

The funeral of each soldier that dies.

I am the bomb, the bullet and grenade.

The million dollar deal on which someone will renege .

I am the loss of innocent child’s limbs.

I am the suicide bomber’s blinding belief.

I am this world’s broken, dieing of grief.

I am the filth you fear so much

The sleaze and the open legs you dare not touch.

I am the disease that stalks you at night

The slash of a knife in a drunken fight.

Your worst, greatest and last no hope

The the scabby hands that grope.

Around in your homes, schools and playground.

I am all that is your worst nightmare

I am the wrongs that you have no intention to repair.

I am Apathy.

**********

It only takes a few good men to do nothing and evil will win.

The Madness of doors.

The talent Geoff LePard posted about an exhibition he visited at Tate Modern. The exhibition was of the work of Dorothea Tanning. I was so taken by what Geoff had to say about his visit not only the artwork but also an over heard conversation in the cafe. You can read the post here. The Surreal in the Here and Now.

Below is one of Dorothea’s paintings it really took my eye and I had to write a mirror Etheree about it. This is just my interpretation, I am probably well off of the mark. I don’t care because it spoke to me. So thanks to Geoff we have.

The madness of doors.

Mad

You say

I am mad

This demon here

Knows better than that

I just gave birth to it

Don’t dare look at me like that

Mad, no I have opened the doors

Madness lies in closed doors, teathered souls

Clawing at the wood screaming to be free.

Don’t approach, this fruit of my womb may bite.

If you disturb it, it will take flight

Madness lies that way you must know

I’ll not take your food or drink

It will sully my milk

My child needs to feed

To sate it’s greed

I know I

Am not

Mad.

******

The painting is by Dorothea Tanning. It is called Birthday, 1942, Oil on canvas.

I wrote about a birth before I found out it was actually called Birthday.

Homeless at Christmas

Where is she going and where has she been.

She is the most hopeless soul you have ever seen

Why is she out there why so alone .

Does no one miss her, has she no loving home.

Where are her parents , her teachers and friends

Is this all that is left to her, is this hopelessness where she ends.

Out in all weathers, aimless, sharing a bench with the old men in the park.

Scrounging for coffee and scraps of food from the back of the restaurants after dark.

Her Mother’s boyfriend was too fond of her. Her Mum to frightened or to busy to care.

Her teachers too busy didn’t notice the signs. Lost weight and dull eyes, loss of all flair.

It all came to a head when Mum found her with HIM in bed.

Mum wouldn’t listen to a word that she said.

He had raped her, she had pleaded her case .

But her Mum had screamed at her and then slapped her face

So now lost and lonely with no where to go

She wonders the big city her fears in full flow.

No one to love her no one to care she is homeless and helpless and underage.

Already she is changing , she has stolen for drink, her life’s spiraling downward and her head’s full of rage.

Why had Mum not listened , why had Mum let him push her out

She lost and she is hopeless prey to demons and doubt………………….

Image from Pixabay

“The poor are always with us” this is an old saying. Sadly it is very true and these days we are seeing more and more people sleeping rough.

Even in the small town I now live in I see more and more people sleeping rough. By homeless I don’t just mean men we are seeing more women and boys. They are getting younger.

Have you heard of Crisis at Christmas. You can either donate your time this Christmas this year or your money. Here is their Link.

Lune Day Three : Despair

At Kat Myrman‘s suggestion,along with Jane Dougherty, I’m trying out the Lune form this month. The Lune is a three line poem, either 5/3/5 syllables or 3/5/3 words.

I am holding on

By a thread

Why’s life a sad song

Twittering Tales # 78 . 3/4/18.

This is my entry Twittering Tales

The brain child of Kat Myrman of Like Murcury Colliding.

Why was he alone there should be a hundred souls here. The last transport was now. Everyone had left months ago leaving the final few to shut down the planet. It was dark and acid rain was falling. 9 o’clock the email said, he got his mobile out to check…. nine AM…. Nooo!

(278 Characters)

Homeless At Christmas

I  originally wrote  this in  December  2013  but it is  still relevant .

Image  found  here 

I hope it won’t snow this Christmas it’s one of my biggest fears.

It was so bitter last year even thinking of it makes me shudder and shed a tear.

They won’t be eating Turkey with all the trim

Unless they find a charity shelter and they can get in.

The people at the shelters are angels from up above they give their time and plenty love.

They really are saviours they really do so much good.

They give warmth and comfort and Christmas dinner and even  Christmas pud.

OH! why are they out here I hear you say

There are lots of reasons, have you got all day? Dave got made redundant the bills he couldn’t pay So the bank stepped in and took his home away.

His wife could not stand the B&B that the social offered them

So she took the children off to live with her mum so Dave won’t see them again.

image  found  here 

Jen, she was cheeky girl always having fun

Staying out late and playing up in the end it got too much for her mum!

After a big row one night  in the summer she asked Jen to go,

So she is struggling along out here now,when your homeless it is amazing how fast your friends all go.

image found  here 

Rob well his story is very sad,

It all started with his drinking then he discovered drugs he became violent and everything turned bad.

He fell out with his mother’s boyfriend who told him he had to go

And then threw him out into the December  snow.

The reasons are legion you can take your pick,

People  who  loose  their jobs  because  they became  sick

From parents who can’t cope

To addictions that make you loose all hope,

Parents or family who beat you, family who will not stop at a touch

They want you to give them way too much.

This may all seem morbid this may all seem too sad

I hate to tell you all, things can be so very, very bad.

People young and old see their hopes and dreams unfold and vanish in clouds of smoke

As they end up on the streets lost and without any hope.

So enjoy your Christmas parties, your families and your Yule tide fare

But as you raise a toast remember the homeless ones out there .

 

YOU  CAN DONATE  OR  HELP HERE 

 

Christmas Lies Bleeding

Image  found  here 

 

It  is gathering , it is growing  as it does  this time of year.

It is clawing my guts  out, as it shuffles  near.

It is spitting in  my face  and  screaming in my ear.

I am being wrenched  apart happy Christmas  my dear

 

Nobody ever does anything for  you..

Do you really believe that  crap is  really  true

Na  it couldn’t  be anything  you do…….. could it?

 

It always  happens at Christmas I have  to ask you why .

Why  take it up and screw it up, watch it bleed gasp  for air  and die!

Go on, make your selfish demands on me ,

Make  me  make the choices I never want ..never  set me fucking free.

 

Nobody ever does anything for  you..

Do you really believe that  crap is  really  true

Na  it couldn’t  be anything  you do…….. could it?

 

Bleed me  cut  me throw me in the gutter .

Make  me choose what I do not want, what the fuck  does it matter.

No doubt  you will relent  ungraciously  then be

The biggest  martyr you can, and blame your grief on me.

 

Nobody ever does anything for  you..

Do you really believe that  crap is  really  true

Na  it couldn’t  be anything  you do…….. could it?

 

Yes I bloody hate Christmas.  All it brings  is grief, arguments  and hurt.

Under  the pretence  of rejoicing many a  poor soul is being dragged  through  the dirt!

Adverts on the TV  show perfect families  enjoying the festive fayre.

It makes me want to choke  I don’t believe it, and I  think it so unfair

To ram  these lies of “happy happy times” right  down our throats .

It is just another bloody day

Everything that’s wrong still there  beneath  the  sugar  coat.

They’ll still be  there  tomorrow and  not  magically  go away

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A rework  of  a poem  I  wrote  for  NABLOPOMO back in  NOV 2013

Please  excuse  the language   and  remember  it is  a poem.

Not now but soon

This part of Ronovan writes Friday Flash fiction . here is the pingback to his page and the rules

The challenge this week is to take the title of a favourite song  and write a story from the title.
I chose Not now but soon , by Imogen Heap. You can hear it here.  If you wish.

———————-

Not now but soon.

James  was always busy, always in a hurry. He never had time to play with children or even finish a meal with his wife.
Work was demanding, it was important. Think about it, he would justify it to himself, if he did not work so hard they would not have this fabulous home. Every year they had at least three holidays abroad and it was not cheap boarding the kids to that private school .

Gen sat in her kitchen with a cup of coffee. All alone as usual James had left early on a business trip, the children still at school for another week.
She had asked James to stay and have a serious talk but had only got the stock answer from him, Not now but soon.

Gen felt the emptiness of the house engulfing her. She looked across at the pile of Christmas decorations in the corner of the room. She wept at the thought of decorating this empty space not a home not anything.

James passed through security at the airport heading straight for the gate. He decided to ring home to say bye to Gen and remind her to collet his suit for Thursday.

Gen was heading up the stairs when the phone in her pocket rang. ‘Hey babe’ he said, have you got my suit yet?’ She replied in the affirmative! ‘And my shoes’ he asks breaking in to a run.
Not now but soon he hears Gen say.
He stops in his tracks and asks her what did she say? The phone is dead, she has gone!

James settles on the plane slightly irritated by Gen’s reply about his shoes. Well it will just have to wait until his return Wednesday night.

Gen lies in her perfect bathroom light streaming in onto her face. Her eyes are closed. All her pain is slipping away, the bath water is red, the bottles of tablets empty on the floor next to the Whiskey.
Am I dead yet she wonders , calmly she knows not now but soon.

James dashes in Wednesday evening grabbing his suit from the hall he runs upstairs shouting to Gen that they must talk , not now he is running late but soon yes soon.

In the bedroom he sees his shoes laid out, he breathes a sigh of relief. Wondering where Gen is he could do with a sandwich  before he leaves.

James enters the bathroom and there she is …….
__ __      __  __      __ __

This my first attempt at flash fiction so any comments welcome. Thanks.