So it’s that time of year again, bereavement day, I think we’re at 6 or 7 years since I lost my mum

I guess this year in particular is special, just basicly due to everything leading up to today. I’ve been doing a lot of therapy and the like throughout this whole year, getting more help then I ever did but especially as of late it’s been casting a blazing light over my upbringing and childhood in general, cos y’know it’s therapy so of course it has. I’ve found great comfort as of late in expressing this with the ‘ol poetry, like about being disappointed my mum didn’t stand up for me from my abusive dad, y’know pretty standard stuff for a boy in my position :L and I guess that’s weird cos I’ve just submitted and taken to the opinion of you have respect the dead in every way, just view them as angels, be standard sad every now and then and get on with life. In a way this was like a bind and didn’t allow me to grieve properly not like I have been this past year. Sounds like sprialing down the rabbit hole but I know I’m healthier for it

But I guess the frustrating thing is expressing that causes people to jump the gun and assume a lot of things, like I won’t be sad today because I hate my mum and curse the very soil she’s buried in, but bereavement isn’t that fucking easy or straight forward. A lot of these frustrations about my upbringing is flat out due to absence, that’s where a lot of the anger for her comes from. She died without answering for herself or even knowing that she did anything wrong cos fuck I didn’t know I was having a shitty time when I was a kid or a teen why would I? In that environment you don’t know any better cos it’s all you know. That’s a really hard thing to swallow when your becoming more mentally healthy and it becomes more apparent your upbringing was kind of abusive, you just wanna get mad and demand answers, why she let my dad treat me how he did and why she never stood up for me, but you can’t there’s no one there to yell at or get mad at, nothing! That’s what these OTT poems I do on this blog about my mum are for, just a way of venting that anger out.

But here’s the thing about that, for me to be so angry I have to feel betrayed and If I just hate my mother now how can I feel betrayed? Don’t feel like that about my dad cos he’s lived as a cunt and will die as a cunt. But of course I feel so mad cos I do love my mum and miss her so much, it’s just baffling in my family’s little abusive circlejerk that any criticisms laid on a person means your going against everyone and everything. Cos duh right? Hearing them criticisms puts them in the spotlight and maybe makes them realise they arn’t the greatest family members themselves. But why do that when you can make the ‘difficult’ child shut up?

Like I guess what I’m getting at, it’s kind of sad I have to keep every member of my family away in order to grieve properly, in my way that’s kind of disappointing. Also that having that angry feeling doesn’t mean you don’t miss or love someone, having someone be absent really can just fuck a person up like that and sometimes it’s not as straight forward as worshipping them as a god or condemning them to hell. You flip-flop between both as any human would, and that’s normal and it’s okay just give the grieving the room to do so and do NOT by any means judge them or try to silence them based on where on the scale they are. They just need time, we all do

No You’re Right, Danny’s Just Moaning

To tell you the truth romance is just the easiest route
So that Danny can feed his hysteria the diet it needs
The voices that used to guide him have gone mute
He’s a scared little boy lost in London
Under the cover of darkness, eyes blindfolded
As the tarmac behind him starts to collapse
You better chart your own course Danny
Straighten up and fly right on pure guess work

Danny’s like a dog looking into the restaurant
Seeing Natasha and Benni share a vodka and coke
Danny starts to feel a twinge In his chest
Angus tells him to stop moaning and man up
Danny hears Terry complain about Mothers Day
Kerry runs off to V Bar without saying goodbye
Danny just wants someone to talk too
Johnny rings his dad from the pavement for a lift back

You see all Danny wants someone to come up from behind
Lock their fingers around his chest from behind
And to tell him that there’s no need to fear the silence
To tell him everything’s fine like a good mummy should
To tell him that they’re proud like a good daddy should
Henry just wants a bitch to suck him off
Henry sneaks out back, but he won’t be alone

Oh Danny would love to see if they could cope any better:
If they couldn’t ask mummy to raise that ego
If they couldn’t ask daddy to close the wound
And their cries left unanswered as the bounce of the walls

Danny wonders out into fields of green
Clutching his last can of Stella
Danny collapses outside his mothers grave
Before he drifts into another world
He quietly utters the following words:
“Where’s my mummy tonight?
I just want to hold her tight”
and with that Danny eyes start to close

*Written For National Poetry Month 15/30*

26/03/06 > 03/04/10

I sit in the aftermath of a rotten moment 
Bathed in the darkness of modern designs 
Head perched in hands my mind fades back 
And I move my head to your direction 

I could swallow domestic sadness on any other day 
But on the eve of parental celebration I do struggle 
The guest of honour was never expected to show 
It still seems impossibly so 

I’m sorry I never think of you, as much as I should 
But I never had the heart to do so before 
Somehow if I tilt my head towards the heavens 
I think my words reach you, where ever they go 

I’m sorry I never speak to you, as much as I should do 
It’s not as if I couldn’t speak about you 
I’m sorry I moved on too fast, the others needed me too 
Stability is the only thing I could do 
I’m sorry if I kept it all to myself, no one would see me through 
To be a burden is something I won’t do 
I’m sorry if this all isn’t needed, but I felt I had too 
On the eve on a day dedicated to you 

I’m sorry for the sharpness of my tongue; I pardon myself for my French
I’m sorry for the distance I keep; I know you wouldn’t agree with it 
I’m sorry for my wild instincts, your furniture deserves better 
Even if you can’t hear, I feel I should’ve still 
There’s still a while to go, I still couldn’t do you wrong 
I only hope 

I’m sorry for every time for the times, I’ve moped about all day 
I know you’d kick me for acting that way 
I’m sorry for how I tired to soften the blow, and kept you away
I just wouldn’t know what else to say 
And I’m sorry it took so long, for even through song to say 
As we slowly approach the month of may 
This is the last time I’ll use you now, to vent my selfish ways 
I promise next time we’ll talk on a good day 

I’m sorry for the sharpness of my tongue; I pardon myself for my French
I’m sorry for the distance I keep; I know you wouldn’t agree with it 
I’m sorry for my wild instincts, your furniture deserves better 
Even if you can’t hear, I feel I should’ve still 
There’s still a while to go, I still couldn’t do you wrong 
I only hope, I don’t disappoint you anymore 

Just cos I never came through till the end 
Don’t think I never loved you 
When I forgot to call you back when I was out 
Don’t think I never loved you 
When I locked myself upstairs and refuse to come out 
Don’t think I never loved you 
When I freeze at the sight of tears 
Don’t think I never loved you 
When I stayed downstairs when I heard you moan 
Don’t think I never loved you 
When I didn’t cry when it was all over 
Don’t think I never loved you 
When I saw that smile on your passing face 
I knew you finally found peace 
And when I grinned after I left your room 
But it was only cos I loved you

Dedicated to ma’