I write best when I'm struggling

Hey there guys,

I realise I've not published any poems for a while, and this is because I write better when I'm having a tough time. Recently I've actually been feeling pretty good (the meds I'm on have been helping) so my creative juices aren't flowing so much as when I was having a rubbish time. I'm going to try and channel my positive energy into some writing after Christmas but yeah, expect some more poems when I have another dip!

Alley-cat xx

Mostly chaotic.

Confused, convinced of their reality
Snippets of lucidity, glimpses of normality
Mostly chaotic, tense like a spring
Waiting to pounce, for the fight bell to ring
But are they really confused?
Or are we the insane ones?
Going about our repetitive routines like clockwork
Again and again and again and again
Raking in flimsy paper with such urgency
But they're just numbers, digits, nothing's free
Or is it, when they talk nonsense though
Do they know something we don't know?
When they scream or shout or rave-
Are they really the ones we need to save?
Don't laugh or ridicule them
Don't scorn or pity them
For they are not insane
They are beautiful.

© Alice Daley 2013

F.R.O.G.

Why did God make us so fragile-
With our skin so paper thin?
Maybe it's so he can smile
When we fully rely on him

Why did God make us so vulnerable?
So easily distracted; we succumb to each whim
And then we realise we're not fully able
And we fully rely on him

Why did God make us so small-
Like tiny soldiers made out of tin?
Like skittles, knocked over by a ball
Until we fully rely on him

God is our strength, he fights with us
God is our shield, he fights for us
God is our armour, he fights through us

© Alice Daley 2013

Psychosis. An Acrostic.

Pretending, fake voices, liars are lying indeed

Sometimes, always, don't know what's real

You can't understand, because you don't see

Choice? I have none- these voices control me

How am I supposed to ignore them?

Oh they're taking over my mind

Screwing with my thoughts, I see snakes

I see figures, stalking, waiting for me

Sometimes, always, don't know what's real

© Alice Daley 2013

Brown pages.

This book has brown pages, recycled paper
I wonder what you used to be?
And how you came to be, the one who comforts me

Were you perhaps, a cardboard box?
That packaged children's building blocks
Or maybe the label for some socks
Or a party mask in the shape of a fox?

Maybe you were a toilet roll tube
Or a magazine full of bums and boobs
What if you were an important document?
Tossed aside without a second thought
Amongst junk-mail, takeaway menus

A treasure lost, a birthday card
From a long lost relative
Though they searched long and hard
You could not be found, recycled paper

I wonder what you used to be?
And how you came to be, the one who comforts me

© Alice Daley 2013

Dormouse.

She's like a sleepy dormouse
Aroused from his winter nap
The pills render her helpless
Dependant on others for everything

She sleeps like a dormouse
And doesn't make a peep
The drugs have crushed her spirit
Taken away her independence

She's almost thirty, a big girl
But still very much a child
Clinging to mummy tightly
Like the first day of school

She speaks like a dormouse
Timid and shy, silently living
Whilst the tablets take away her fire
Her soul slowly melts away

My little dormouse friend.

© Alice Daley 2013

Barry.

Barry is my wardrobe
I like him very much indeed
He's soft and dark and cosy
He provides the the seclusion I need
A warm, small space to sit and think
To contemplate, or to hide
To fervently write, or calm me from the brink
of breakdown, still the turmoil inside.
Barry is my wardrobe.

© Alice Daley 2013

Eyes.

Won't you please open my eyes
Please, take off your disguise
For I am blinded with emotion
Release me, give me a sight potion
A spell so the fog can clear away
A charm to help me see the day
For what it is- an opportunity
Controlled by some great entity
But I am blind- I cannot see the light
For fear has shut my eyes so tight
I'm scared to peep, in case I see
Something evil, chasing me
So when the scales fall from my eyes
Please, take off your disguise.

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Why do I write?

Why do I write?
I write because nobody hears my voice
Why do I write?
I write because it helps me make sense of the muddled words in my head.
My half thoughts- fledglings.
Why do I write?
Because if I help one person it will be worth the aching wrist, blistered fingers, hours of mental block.
Why do I write?
I write for my life, I write for my sanity, I write for survival.
Why do I write?
Because I haven't the confidence to act, or to talk aloud. My poems are the script to my life, the footnotes of my entire existence. Alice.

© Alice Daley 2013

Sadness is not depression.

Sadness is not depression

Sadness is an emotion
Depression is a disease

Sadness passes in time
Depression deepens in time

Sadness has a reason
Depression strikes without cause

Sadness is curable
Depression is terminal

© Alice Daley 2013

Paranoid.

They say I'm paranoid
And I'd agree with them
But is that bad?
Better safe than sorry
Right? Right?
You're watching
Watching me
You know me
My every move
You follow me
So I'm paranoid
But better safe than dead
Right? Right?

© Alice Daley 2013

Attention.

Shouting loudly
Screaming noisily
They crave attention
They get the spotlight
All eyes on them
I sit silently
My mind is rotting
I do not shout
I do not scream
I am not superior
Just different
My comfort is
In pen and paper
Not humans.

© Alice Daley 2013

Simplicity.

I wish I could write songs
Simple songs. Love songs.
With simplicity.

Beans on toast songs
Happy songs with happy words
Silly songs. Just simplicity.

Two-a-penny songs
Childish songs. Funny songs.
I wish I could write songs
With simplicity.

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Unwritten.

Blank pages
Unwritten
No story
My story
Undone
Rewritten
Scribbles
On canvas
Prologue
Epilogue
My story
Splattered
Across pages
Blank pages
Unwritten
Remoulded
Retold
Remembered
Whispered
My story
Undone
Rewritten
Autobiography
Of my life
Scrawled on
Blank pages
Unwritten

© Alice Daley 2013

Present.

My past is not the problem
My future's still to come
At present the voices scream
They shout and scare me
Echoes from my past?
I don't think so
My past is irrelevant
My future's uncertain
But the present is tough
My wrist aches
Churning out meaningless words
Whilst the voices ridicule
The snakes writhe around me
This is not due to my past
And if you help me, it will not be my future
But it is my present
And I don't like it
Please help me
Please.

© Alice Daley 2013

Blood.

Blood oozing, dripping from new scars
New stories, blood flowing,
Blood cleansing, endorphins rushing,
From brain cells, spirit crushing.
Clean blade shines in the night
Sweet, sharp silver refuge, my hero
Release me briefly from my torment
Addicted to the pain,
Those perfect ruby red beads of anger, loss.
Shameful but true, near death moments-
They keep me alive.

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Down and out.

Worn down
Tired out
Deluded and disillusioned
We wander
Ghostly steps through spooky woods
Our haunted past follows us
And we wander
Called on by our delusions
Worn down and tired out.

© Alice Daley 2013

Lonely.

Lonely.
The people here are lonely
Shadows searching for light
Lonely and alone
The people here are crazy
Clowns waiting for the night
Alone and abandoned
The people here are lost
Trying to find their way
Abandoned
The people here are abandoned
They're here to stay.

© Alice Daley 2013

Poison.

They are trying to poison me
Toxic. Poison.
They put it in my food
Toxic. Poison.
I cannot trust them
I am not safe here
They are trying to kill me
Toxic. Poison.

© Alice Daley 2013

All that's left.

Motionless, emotionless
My soul is a numb shell
Ice cold, lukewarm like tepid acid
I could bleed and I wouldn't notice
If hell froze over, would you be there?
As tears become icicles on my face
I look to the skies, their cloudy wisdom
All rebuke me, land and sea
This rotting corpse is still breathing
Can't you hear it screaming?
Begging for mercy,
Release me from this torment
Dear God above, save my soul
For compost or gold, it's all the same
To me, but it's worth more
Than my tormented remains
The tatters of one once strong
Are all that's left.

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Private.

My pain is private.
It's not to be exploited
My pain is private.
It's not to be laughed at
My pain is not your pain
It's different and strange
I can't understand your pain
I don't expect you to understand mine
My pain is private.
Leave me alone with my pain
Don't coax it out of me
You'll only spread it about
Whispered rumours on the breeze
Smirks and sniggers; I'm on my knees
My pain is private.
Leave me alone
Get out of my head
My pain is private.

© Alice Daley 2013

Reality.

What if my reality
Is not your reality?
Does it matter that I dream
Or is it wrong to be free?
Who can say what's true-
Can I? Can you?
We cannot, it is beyond us
Too great for our simple minds
In complex time, we ponder;
Who, why, what and where?
My reality is kind and gentle,
But what if yours is scary?
I cannot know, though I try.
If all this fades to dust
Who cares what colour the grass is?
Gentleness becomes contempt
And we rot in the lies
The bile of a generation
As we fade out to black
And my heaven,
Is not your heaven.

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Expression. An acrostic.

Express yourself, they say, for it is an-
X-ray into the soul, a window into the mind;
Perforation of your privacy
Report-writing, note-taking;
Even what is said in confidence is documented
So I shut my mouth with fear
Sew it up with silken lies
I won't let you in, not into my world
Only if you promise to keep it to yourself
Never trust a know it all- they tell it all as well.

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Disorder. An acrostic.

Disorder- that's a joke!
I'm not mad, no not I
So my dreams went up in smoke
Of course, now I want to die
Records hold the key to time
Don't you get it? I'm as sane as you!
Every word, straining to rhyme
Ricocheting, into the blue

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Dissociation. An acrostic.

Drifting away
In limbo
Slipping away
Sliding from reality
Only human
Clinging to reality
I can't hold on
Attack my senses
This fog goes on
It never relents
Only human
Now my mind fragments.

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Obsession. An acrostic.

Oh gosh, not again, playing with my head
Brain won't rest until order is restored
Selfishly protecting those I love from harm
Endless rituals to perform, or else-
So many possibilities, what'll come to be
Suffocating in my obligations
I cannot breathe, it is disordered
Oh gosh, not again, playing with my mind
No rest from my cruel master.

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Suspicious. An acrostic.

Suspecting the worst, always afraid
Under the influence of fear, like a spell
Stuck in this world, this reality I've made
Preoccupied with fate, my mind's unwell
Intrusive thoughts, whatever you say
Can't cope with your lies, not today
I hate the way my mind runs away
Overplays, overthinks, turns the colours grey
Understand, this is not my choice
So deeply afraid to raise my voice

Link Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Depression. An acrostic.

Down in the dumps doesn't begin to cut it,
Every day is darker than the last.
Plagued by thoughts telling you to kick the bucket,
Rejected by men who can't see beyond your past.
Each moment- harder to cling onto reality,
So tired, cannot move; comatose.
Searching for something, desperate to retain your sanity,
Incapable of living, life is an overdose.
Only way out is down, all around is black.
Never waking up, never coming back.

© Alice Daley 2013

Anxiety. An acrostic.

Always watching, waiting. Across my heart; fear splattered.
Never safe, Never free; peace shattered.
X marks the spot; don't dig for treasure, dig for purpose.
In my nightmares, I hide- I can't help but feel nervous.
Every second, tapping- checking. Can't you see my life, it's wrecking.
Twitching, flinching, can't keep still. But-
You don't notice, 'cause hiding takes a lot of skill.

© Alice Daley 2013

Insomnia. An acrostic.

Insomniac. Hypochondriac.
Needs to sleep. Don't want to hear a peep.
Settle down brain. From your thoughts refrain.
Oh no, no, the night is for thinking.
Moreover, over thinking, not blinking.
Never get my beauty sleep. Ugly one lays counting sheep.
I count them like ghosts. Empty wall posts.
After all, who needs it anyway?

Listen Here

© Alice Daley 2013

Consequences Part I

‘Snap’
My heart thumped in my chest, like a caged beast desperate to escape. Her eyes flickered, teasing me the way a feather will taunt a kitten. ‘Please be okay, please be okay.’ I chanted the mantra under my breath, over and over, every bone in my body aching with worry as I watched the damaged branch splinter and bend, groaning under its own weight. Seconds dragged by, each one seeming to last an age. I took another breath in and struggled once more to free my trapped legs. Pain raged through my limbs like a wildfire, starting in my spine and rushing down to my fingers and toes. I watched her, helpless and alone; there was nowhere to turn. Gasping, I had to keep my eyes open as the huge branch swung alarmingly towards the car. I tried to distract myself by going over the day’s events in my head; counting, listing, putting the chaos in order.

*

‘Honey it’s 6am!’

Groaning, Rob rolled over in his bed, reached out his tanned, muscular arms and embraced his petite, yet very loud fiancée Tina. Sleep was still upon him and he kissed her plush lips softly with his eyes still closed.
‘Eww, baby! Don’t do that- you have morning breath.’ She whined in a vague, faux-American accent.
‘What?’ He grunted, one hand scratching his left buttock, the other gently massaging her delicate shoulders.
‘You’re going to be late for work.’ Her tone was icy, unappreciative, and most of all; controlling.
‘Chill out babe,’ Rob wasn’t in the mood for her dramatics this morning, his head still ached from last night’s drinks with the lads, and he had a long way to drive Mrs McDevon today. She was off on her fourth cruise of the year; ‘only the Med. this time, times are getting tighter for us all, you know.’ She was flying from Heathrow, over 200 miles from her large, detached town house in Harrogate, North Yorkshire. She was to be picked up at 7:30 on the dot, no nonsense.
Elizabeth McDevon was one of Rob’s most regular customers, and they often joked that he might as well be her chauffer. Although as she pointed out; he’d never be able to afford a house in the town. She was a proper woman; a retired governess and a war-widow. ‘I’ve learned how to look after myself so I don’t need any of your new-fangled advice, thank you.’ Despite being an admirable eighty nine years of age, she still took great pleasure in spending her father’s inheritance on lavish holidays to exotic places. It wasn’t any of Rob’s business of course, but in his own private musings, he suspected that Mrs McDevon was trying to escape from something.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Rob half-heartedly made approving gestures towards Tina’s outfit for the day; a tight, fuchsia-pink two piece suit complete with flamboyant frilled blouse and heels Rob thought even giraffe’s would struggle to walk in. Yawning deeply, he brushed off the death stare Tina was giving him and shuffled into the bathroom in his tartan carpet slippers.

*

A warm sensation soaked through my lap; I didn’t dare look down, but a faint odour of urine confirmed my fears. Locking my eyes onto her limp body, I knew I had to stay awake. As I recalled what I could of the accident; questions flooded my mind. What was she doing, out alone at this hour? Why had there been no lights on her rusting pushbike? She couldn’t be much older than fourteen, could she? I shouted once more, ‘Help! Help! Is anybody out there? Help me!’ Deathly silence. No reply from the cold, dark trees or the winding, desolate road. ‘It must be below freezing,’ I thought with increasing concern. I felt so powerless; I just wanted her to be okay. ‘You have to stay awake,’ I told myself angrily, ‘you have to keep yelling for help.’ Glaring at my useless mobile phone, rage welled up inside me and I struggled once more to free myself from the wreck. The agony took my breath away, and I decided it was best to sit still and keep shouting.

*

Lilly woke early; after all it was the first day. She’d slept restlessly the previous night, and the ‘worry worms,’ as her mother had called them, invaded her dreams. Slipping out of her Egyptian cotton sheets, she pulled on a well-worn, lavender dressing gown over her paisley pyjamas. Loosening her wild flaxen mane from its plait, she tiptoed into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face. It didn’t go the way it went in the television adverts and she ended up dripping all over the cork floor tiles. With a heavy sigh, she glanced up at her reflection in the small mirror hanging above the sink. She’d never been happy with how she looked; her face seemed too narrow, her eyes too big, her mouth too wide and as for the freckles- yuck! Her hair never did what she wanted it to; it seemed to have a life of its own. She wondered how long she’d be at this school, whether they’d been studying the same material as the last one, or maybe the one before. Would she make friends? Would they stay in touch when she inevitably moved on? Probably not- she was always forgotten eventually.

© Alice Daley 2013

Cruel Words

This poem is to all of you out there who've been bullied, abused or put down. Bullying is such a massive issue and affects so many people in really severe ways.

Don't listen to them,
They don't know you,
what you've been through,
They'll never fully see.

Don't let their cruel words hurt,
they only bark like dogs.
Their harsh words mean nothing,
zero, zilch, naught.

My love, you are amazing,
my sweet, you are strong,
you are kind, you are good,
you are perfect to me.

So don't take any notice,
of what those idiots say,
because you're beautiful, you are
in every single way.

© Alice Daley 2013

I feel so poorly

This poem is about a day in the life of someone with severe M.E. Not all my days are as bad as this but for some this is the harsh reality of every moment.

Even my teeth hurt, my pain is top to toe,

from the constant ache at the back of my head,

to the stiffness in my ankles and feet.

I cannot move, my legs are paralysed,
dead, numb, gone, like two lumps of meat,
sometimes my whole body is impossible to move.

It's too bright, the light burns my eyes,

the sounds rattle my skull, make it stop please,

it's too loud, I can't take any more.

My brain is foggy, words don't make sense,

I can't follow a line of thought yet my mind is racing,

Too much going on, I feel so confused.

I feel so poorly; sick, dizzy and horrid,

even laying totally still, breathing is exhausting,

thinking wears me out, will it ever end?

© Alice Daley 2013

The edge of the water

I wrote this poem one beautiful summers evening whilst sitting on a rickety old jetty on lake Taupo, New Zealand.

The edge of the water is calm,

The edge of the water is tranquil,

The edge of the water is my space,

To look, to listen, to think.

The water birds gently glide past,

The boats cruise by with ease,

Making waves in the cool water;

Ripples on the glass.

I sit at the edge in the quiet,

I lie at the edge in the still,

I rest at the edge in the silence,

In the warm, summer evening.

I ponder the meaning of life,

I think a billion thoughts,

I write out a thousand words;

These things in my head.

Down here I forget my toils,

Down here I forget my pains,

Down here I forget my struggles,

And I breathe deep.

The edge of the water is calm,

The edge of the water is tranquil,

The edge of the water is my space,

To look, to listen, to think.

© Alice Daley 2013

Hello Friends!

Dear friends,

This is a blog where I can share my more creative work with you; my poetry and writing. I'm not the best poet in the world or a world-acclaimed writer, but I enjoy it and thought since many of you read the poem I posted on my main blog; M.E. and my battles, I'd set up a special blog just for my writing. I really hope you enjoy reading my work.

With love,

Alice

xxx

© Alice Daley 2013