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.

Thursday photo prompt spectral #writephoto

This is my entry for Sue Vincent of Daily Echo #writephoto.

Rules and Pingback Here

There it stood, in the early morning mist. Nothing but a shell, no heart or soul left. The mist concealing the true horror of what was left. Even after all these years I could hear the crackle of fire and the screams of those trapped inside.

They had built the house here in the middle of nowhere to impress on those incarcerated in there, even if they got through the locks or the bars on the windows that there was no where to go.

I had been there ten years before James arrived . He was so beautiful, in soul and body. He was a nurse on my wing and I soon fell in love with him. He, to his credit, did take over a year to fall for me. Yet fall for me he did and we planned to leave the house and be together forever.

We bided our time, this was good because we needed to lay our plans well.

Finally the night we had decided upon to leave arrived. James finished his shift at 11pm and he came to my room where I was packed and waiting.

James had everything planned to a tee. We were to leave as the staff handover was taking place, he had already made his excuses to get away without attending the meeting.

All went well and he hid me under a blanket in the back of his car. We were three quarters of a mile away from the hospital when he spotted the fire. I begged him not to stop I begged him to drive on but he told me to stay hidden in the car and he left me.

He ran back to the hospital and I followed him. I never saw him again, he died along with everyone else that night. No one survived, no one escaped. It took the fire brigade an hour to arrive by that time the screams had stopped and only one wing of the building was left ruined but standing.

I come back here every year on this day, the day the fire happened. I only wish the fire had not spread so fast, that the fire had not killed the electricity that locked the building down…that they all had died.

As 11.15pm arrives I see them coming out of the ruins they all walk hand in hand past me. I reach out to touch James, as I do every year, but he doesn’t look at me. Over his shoulder he calls, “I forgive you.”

I know I set the fire too well.

Sunday Song Lyric:Madness

This week HelenVahdati has set us the prompt to find a song about madness. I have spent the last three months teetering on the edge of madness and depression.

So I gave it some deep thought and came up  the wonderful Alanis Morisette and her fabulous version of Crazy.

Rules and Pingback Here

Alanis Morisette Crazy

Lyrics from A to Z lyrics

“Crazy”

In a church by the face
He talks about the people going under
Only child knows…

A man decides after seventy years
That what he goes there for, is to unlock the door,
While those around him criticize and sleep…
And through a fractal on a breaking wall,
I see you my friend and touch your face again,
Miracles will happen as we dream

But we’re never gonna survive unless
We get a little crazy
No we’re never gonna survive unless
We are a little…

Crazy yellow people walking through my head.
One of them’s got a gun, shoot the other one.
And yet together they were friends at school
Ohh, get it, get it, get it, no no no!
If I were there when we first took the pill,
Then maybe, then maybe, then maybe, then maybe…
Miracles will happen as we speak.

[Chorus]

Crazy…
No no, we’ll never survive, unless we get a little…bit…

In a sky full of people, only some want to fly.
Isn’t that crazy?
In a world full of people, only some want to fly.
Isn’t that crazy?
Crazy…
In a heaven of people there’s only some want to fly.
Ain’t that crazy? Crazy, crazy… crazy…

[Chorus]

No no, we’ll never survive unless, we get a little bit…

Evil Stalks.

Image Found Here

Jessica

For  the longest  time  the child  had  gathered bones  and dead insects.

Body parts she  cut  from animals  so  she could learn  how  they  worked .

Not  dead  animals  the  organs  had  to  be alive  and pumping

Warm and  growing,  breathing , flowing.

It  had  started  with  a bone  collection  but  she had  needed  to have  more knowledge.

She  gathered  spiders  and  insects  from the hedge .

Soon  cats and  dogs went  missing , they’d disappear?

Her  mother shut  her eyes  to what  she guessed, keeping  silent her fear.

The  child  spent  less and  less  time  at home

She  preferred to be in the woods foraging  on her  own.

Then  the odd  baby   disappeared  from  it’s cot

The  need  for  learning   was  all that mattered  to  the swot.

One  day  she was gone,  she  did not  return home

The  child  had  decided  it  was time  to roam.

With  necklaces of  eyes  and  ears  and trinkets  made of  bone

She traveled  the word  her  skills to  practice  and hone.

Image Found Here

 Lock  your  windows , close  your  doors

She  is out  there  crossing  fields  and  moors

She is  bigger now  and  stronger

Only  harvests  what  she needs, keeps her donors  alive  longer

What  made  the child want  to  kill  this  way

The  thirst  for  knowledge  one  might  say.

Or  maybe  pure  evil invaded  her  whole

She  was  such a  beauty  in  body  but not in soul.

Beware  when out on  day or  night

Beware  those eyes  so angelic  a sight .

Run from the clink of bone and tooth

She  will not  spare  you  and  that is  the truth!

                  ☠️💀☠️💀☠️💀

Above is a little bedtime story I wrote in 2015. Hope you enjoy. 💜

Just Jot It January: Sane

THIS IS  PART  OF  LINDAGHILL’S  JUST JOT IT JANUARY

Today 10th  January  is  Sane. The  prompt  is  from  John W. Howell at Fiction Favorites

Pingback

Rules

 

Sane

 

 All depends on the  amount of pain

To decide if you are quite sane

Are  the  nightmares that  you hide

That which keeps  your eyes wide

Dark shadows creep near

Sanity or fear

Black dog here

I am

Sane

 

Frustration,madness

google images

It rages in my head the hunger for it goes unfed. It crawls around in sludge like an almighty dread, it screams and and groans and claws at my head.

The need, the greed consumes me, it ripples through my brain pushing pulling to the brink of pain. To lift me high then dash me down again . They crawl and grab they lung and stab. Body to body soul to soul they creep through my head writhing, grinding ever faster to reach their goal.

They flounder they grapple they bite and they suck , they cry and they scream and they curse at my luck. The sword fights the cross and cross starts to burn and fight thunders through my head and Oh! how I yearn.

To be eased, appeased , sated and pleased. Not baron dried out and  teased. It is eating me up and it wont let me rest I need it I want it I demand it this is not a request. It is driving me mad it is making me sad I am upsetting my friends and strangers think I am mad.

It is gnawing me, goring me, splitting me in two and they will all creep inside me what on earth can I do. HELP ME, help me I am going mad oh! just forget it it’s all so f##king sad!

 

 

Lifes Confusion

photo credits http://stuffkit.com/

Riddle, riddle has the cat found a fiddle or is it a violin? Riddle,riddle the cow is in a space suit suffering from original sin.

Humpty Dumpy took up cookery  he was all excited. He burst into tears when he was invited.He heard he couldn’t make a cake without breaking eggs, it only confirmed his worst fears.

Little miss Muffet  sat on her tuffet eating Humpty’s cake she put in her thumb and pulled out a plumb and that was not her first mistake. The little dog laughed until his sides ached.

Skipperty, slipperty the floor boards are rickety and little boy Blue had put on weight. Since he’d met simple Simon and they’d mugged the pie man crashing through floor boards was their fate.

Ding a ding dong the old woman sang a song , climbing the walls in her mind. The children were driving her mad.She hit a few and sent them crashing screaming and shouting that her old man was a cad!

photo credit http://stuffkit.com/

I riddle , riddle my whole life is a fiddle not knowing what is to be done. But tell me now why your laces are undone my diddle dumpling son John.

Fly high skies,mind the custard pies if left too long they attract dirty blue flies! So rockaby  my baby on the tree top. Who the f**k put you up there! If the storm rages you will fall and I will be arrested for neglect so damn it all!

 

 

Journal For Poetry Challenge#7 15,01,2012

 Journal For Poetry Challenge#7 15,01,2012

Sir Herbert Edward Read (1893-1968), the poet and critic, was born in Yorkshire in 1893.

His college studies, at Leeds University, were interrupted by the outbreak of the First World War, in which he served with the Yorkshire Regiment in France and Belgium.  During his service he was awarded the Distinguished Service Order (DSO) and Military Cross in the same year, 1918.

He continued to publish poetry for the remainder of his life, his final volume, Collected Poems, being published in 1966. Knighted in 1953 by Churchill for services to literature, Sir Herbert Read, who married twice, died on 12 June 1968.

###############################################################

Herbert Read (1893-1968)
“The Happy Warrior”

His wild heart beats with painful sobs,
His strin’d hands clench an ice-cold rifle,
His aching jaws grip a hot parch’d tongue,
His wide eyes search unconsciously.

He cannot shriek.

Bloody saliva
Dribbles down his shapeless jacket.

I saw him stab
And stab again
A well-killed Boche.

This is the happy warrior,
This is he…

##############################################################

The poem shows the dirty horrible side of war. The blind terror, the mental agony the mind so numbed with fear that the soldier  slobbers un- known. This is what was laughingly known as the happy warrior, this happy band! So sad so very sad.

Poetry Challenge #7 is to create a journal of links and your reactions to poems by established (living or dead poets.) Details are here.  Example response is here. Mr. Linky for Challenge #7 is directly below: