More on Walt plus others blogs

will be but excrementitious.

This was the picture I used for this line of the poem. I still don't really know what excrementitious means as it doesn't seem to be in any dictionary but is obviously based on excrement so this was the picture I chose. There is something strange about this poem, almost haunting but could have an evil undertone - for me so difficult to read. Is is about inevitable death and god and love or is it about someone taking anothers life because they think it is the right thing to do or they think it is right. I would love to know if anyone is reading this blog if they have an opinion.

And on this point and I want to talk about my friends latest blog entry at

http://curiouslyspeaking.blogspot.com/

the one entitled Happy Birthday. This is an amazing entry. So honest and warm and really made me want to cry but in a good way. I hope she means me when she is talking about her friends even though I almost not dare to think that. I remember when we first met she seemed to have real issues about friendship and told me that she didn't really keep friends. Me, in my inevitable way, thought that meant that she didn't really want to be friendly with me outside Uni and that would a some point just walk away for reasons I might never know. In fact I remember thinking at least she was honest enough to say this might happen.

But this has not happened and we have been friends for a while, I guess 3 or 4 years and are now considering returning to Uni to do our MA's, although probably on different courses. It was so lovely to read her honesty and warm. I remember when we first met thinking that she was very guarded and appeared a little afraid of her feelings. (I have told her that and I do know that she may read my blog! - Hi RC if you do read this) and thinking that I am too emotional for her - I probably still am but we found a way to cope with our differences. She has supported me through so much both at Uni and since and I hope I have supported her too. Anyway just to say I guess, what a brill blog and mainly what a brill friend. I love you (not in the Katie Perrie way, cherry chapstick) , but in the true friendship way. Although the does beg the question would I snog her??? Perhaps more on that another time.

And work

Another day at work, but then the weekend. Hope the day goes quickly and the weekend slowly and maybe the newspaper will have a new opportuntity. But if not this week then maybe next.

And I want to tidy my house, sort out some paperwork and letters, maybe a bit of gardening, kick back and watch TV, walk the dog, play Wii fit, laugh, make love and be happy. Not bad for a weekend!!

Maybe more today - later

Today is National Poetry Day

And I feel I should post a piece of poetry in order to celebrate this. But which piece. Another spike or maybe something else. Yes definitely someone else.

Conservation Piece

The countryside must be preserved!
(Preferably miles away from me.)
Neat hectares of the stuff reserved
For those in need of flower or tree.

I'll make do with landscape painting
Film documentaries on TV.
And when I need to escape, panting,
Then open-mouthed I'll head for the sea.

Let others stroll and take their leisure,
In grasses wide up to their knees,
For I derive no earthly pleasure
From the green green rash that makes me sneeze.

Roger McGough
Collected Poems

A poem dedicated to my beautiful little dog Dobbie who appears to be allergic to grass - it makes her little belly sore and red and she keeps chewing her feet.

And the second is by a poet that I am just discovering. I used this poem for a piece of Uni work and it has always impacted me even though I am not sure I truly understand it. I used it to make a visual web site linked to a piece of fiction about a mother and daughter.

To One Shortly to Die

From all the rest I single out you, having a message for you,
You are to die - let others tell you what they please, I
cannot prevaricate,
I am exact and merciless, but I love you - there is no escape
for you.

Softly I lay my right hand upon you, you just feel it,
I do not argue, I bend my head close and half envelop it,
I sit quietly by, I remain faithful,
I am more than nurse, more than parent or neighbour,
I absolve you form all except yourself spiritual bodily, that
is eternal, you yourself will surely escape,
The corpse you will leave will be but excrementitious.

The sun bursts through in unlooked-for directions,
Strong thoughts fill you and confidence, you smile,
You forget you are sick, as I forget you are sick,
You do not see the medicines, you do not mind the weeping
friends, I am with you,
I exclude others from you, there is nothing to be
commiserated,
I do not commiserate, I congratulate you.

Walt Whitman
The Complete Poems

I want to know more about these poets works.
I want to feel more.

Another hideous day over

Well I have got through another Wednesday. And yes it was pretty bad. It is very strange to have to work in a building with someone who will not respond with me in any way. When I am instructed, ney, ordered to stay down the other end of the building in order not to offend her. Well guess what (excuse me for this) bollocks!! I did speak to her, even though she didn't respond and I did try to just do my job as normal. But God was it difficult. All day I had this nagging tightness in my chest, like a heavy pain of anxiety that just sat there and 'plugged' at me all day. And then I got a headache, a guess it was a stress headache and now I am just thoroughly knackered. Oh well another one over. Next Wednesday will be the same, then the next should be ok, then two more to endure and hopefully it will be all over - until she returns. Of course the decision has been made for me I must leave, I must move on and find something I can do, enjoy, give me some flexibility and a reasonable wage. Hey easy then - not.

Today was my last session on CBT therapy and it went well - I have definitely started to feel better but the million dollar question is can I manage without my sessions. They have helped me understand much about myself and my illness and what has changed since I was last ill five years ago but they have also been an outlet, a place to release the stress of my work situation and without that next week and am concerned at how I will manage. I realise that the situation is not my fault - that you can't make people be kind and compassionate - you can't make people like you - only just get through life the best I can.

Never mind the weekend is nearly here and that is always a good thing. I can make it through the next two days and then rest and sleep and do lots of housework and tidy the garden and write letters and and and. Do I really want the weekend to come?

I really need to read a good book. I have finished a couple recently and haven't started to anything new and I need to. I must sort through my 'books to read' pile and pick one I fancy. Maybe something not too heavy and not too long. Maybe that is not the best reason to read a book but it is an ok reason because at least I am reading something.

Anyway my bed is calling. See ya.

It's wednesday again

Am I the orange or the tomato?

Another Wednesday - another day to endure at work. Strangely I almost want it to be so horrible that I have to leave, so horrible that the excuse is made for me. I suspect that is not going to happen - just this terrible grottiness until the end of the month and then the dread until 'her return' and waiting for the boss to say something vaguely horrible but nothing you can actually pin on her. Oh well - another day another dollar - isn't that the saying.

But on a good note, yesterday ended up ok. Mainly it was just me at work and I had a nice day. Me and 'my lady' did stuff and poodled about. We did try to go for a walk but it rained. That was the story of my life yesterday. I was in complete anxiety and dread and it went ok. So maybe that should tell me something? Not sure what but something.

Slug Stick

On the beach today I saw a stick that looked exactly like a slug. It was brown and slimy and thicker in the middle than the ends. I had to kick it with my foot to see if it was a large slug that wiggled and slide away. Or a stick. I was so disappointed when it just rolled, stiff and stick like, away down the dunes.

Dih

More Spike and me

OBERON

The flowers in my garden

grow down.

Their colour is pain

Their fragrance sorrow.

Into my eyes grow their roots

feeling for tears

To nourish the black

hopeless rose

within me.

Nervous breakdown

Bournemouth

February 1967

Confused Brain


I hope this is going to be a better day
than it feels
I couldn't sleep for worry
Then I couldn't wake my mind.
Am I well at all
Or is it just my brain confusing me.

Hopeless person

October 2008

Dih

Floor face

Jesus in the toilet

I wrote this first draft of a poem (and yes I am going to be brave enough to call it the start of a poem whilst visiting to my friend Becky today). I think it will need work but here is my first scribblings.

Jesus in the toilet

In my friend's toilet
just above her cistern
sits a picture of Jesus.

A rectangular picture of a man
in a mock wooden frame
who looks like the global iconic image
of Jesus.

This man is caucasion and bearded
with piercing blue eyes
that follows my descending underwear
and taunts my streaming bum.
He stares at me whilst I wee.
As I urinate into the bowl
I feelthe eyes burning into my back
and assessing my bits.

My friend says 'It's not Jesus.
It's just a man with a beard.'

And wonders why her visitors have
such a obsession with the painting
in the toilet
But if all of us think it is Jesus
staring down from above the cistern
Then might it be Jesus
and a man with a beard.

Dih

I hope I can make this better but if anyone is reading this blog I would love to know what to do to make it a poem. What to do to make it better?