we met in London
I was going crazy there
he took me to Spain
and dumped me after a few months
I thought I would die without his love
so I contacted him
we wrote for a few months
but now I don't care about him anymore
(I'm in the throws of an anxiety attack, and this was all I could manage.....sometimes I just get overwhelmed with anxiety - let's hope it goes away soon - I'm trying to distract myslef)
....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
(i can't manage much of anything when anxiety strikes. so that's very good. anxiety ends up coming out like this for me: fck,sht,gdmn,fkng,fckr! No vowels, it's a mess. Hang in there.)
I feel better already......I'm so strong pearlmutt.....but it's cold.....and instead of steak, I'm gonna cook muffins and egg......I jus worry about the whole shebang sometimes.....it takes over.....it's hideous!!!!
....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
sunlit wooden floors,
sunlight filtered by dust and cloth,
sets the scene for this reunion of two friends,
scented by water stained drapes,
still life cold colours of blue hued prisms,
this is the time to write of a life..
your life, my good friend,
the life you decided to end.
scattered images of loves gone bad,
i try, i try to feel with your family so sad,
needing answers i cannot provide,
i ask questions to which i know answers,
your wife is sad,
saddest is her crying,
to think of you,
lying..
your last call was to ask what should be done,
as if it were some new kingdom come,
as though you were unique to this world,
in such some way you had more fun,
entitled to the lead role in a play,
as if you ever had some way,
you anger me with your obvious deflections,
as you were a social liberal with bad breath,
and your love's last intent
was a beautiful girl
who loved you
and i have no
sorrow
left
inside
of me
for you
Down the street you can hear her scream youre a disgrace
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
Thank goodness someone knows the difference between a postgraduate degree and a post-doctorate! Some people have been elevating my credentials. I'm a supposedly mature masters student and I do want to do a doctorate afterwards if my brain doesn't seize up first. I'm studying literature in Britain and India in the period 1800-1990, and this evening I'm currently reading Kanthapura by Raja Rao as well as re-reading some post-colonial theory and criticism by Homi K Bhabha.
Comments
I was going crazy there
he took me to Spain
and dumped me after a few months
I thought I would die without his love
so I contacted him
we wrote for a few months
but now I don't care about him anymore
(I'm in the throws of an anxiety attack, and this was all I could manage.....sometimes I just get overwhelmed with anxiety - let's hope it goes away soon - I'm trying to distract myslef)
and ISN,
IT'S A BEUATIFUL DAY . . . .. . . . . . . . .. .!
sunlight filtered by dust and cloth,
sets the scene for this reunion of two friends,
scented by water stained drapes,
still life cold colours of blue hued prisms,
this is the time to write of a life..
your life, my good friend,
the life you decided to end.
scattered images of loves gone bad,
i try, i try to feel with your family so sad,
needing answers i cannot provide,
i ask questions to which i know answers,
your wife is sad,
saddest is her crying,
to think of you,
lying..
your last call was to ask what should be done,
as if it were some new kingdom come,
as though you were unique to this world,
in such some way you had more fun,
entitled to the lead role in a play,
as if you ever had some way,
you anger me with your obvious deflections,
as you were a social liberal with bad breath,
and your love's last intent
was a beautiful girl
who loved you
and i have no
sorrow
left
inside
of me
for you
As she slams the door in his drunken face
And now he stands outside
And all the neighbours start to gossip and drool
He cries oh, girl you must be mad,
What happened to the sweet love you and me had?
Against the door he leans and starts a scene,
And his tears fall and burn the garden green
I write down good reasons to freeze to death in my spiral ring notebook. But in the long tresses of your hair--I am a babbling brook.
I checked you out so to speak, and I saw that you are working on your masters.
What are you learning about?
so the buddha of suburbia, good, great, bad, or just plain fun?