Zylmor, Dromdrevc and life as it is

Writing - both fiction and non-fiction, really bad poetry, photos, paintings and stuff


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Nov 20, 2008

Wasted


girl -
Look at your face
can you see it?
death as the mask
Pale, lifeless, gaunt
Tired, hurt, bruised
what point is pain?
girl -
those drugs you take
don't make you good
scratched bleeding arms
take over body
invade the brain.
When did you feel?
girl -
you are a waste
messed up big time
home is cardboard
in shop doorways
dirty blankets
will you take help?

Nov 19, 2008

Let Me Fit In

Let Me Fit In
“Mam, It’s so unfair. All the other girls will be wearing them. I hate you.”
The words spat with venom, her hands flailing Kayle turned, marching out of the kitchen, stomping upstairs to her room, slamming the door. The sound of her throwing herself on her bed and pounding her arms and legs resonated throughout the house.
Her mother, Laura, turned off the potatoes steaming on the cooker top and slowly slumped into a chair at the kitchen table. The same table she had helped her daughter as she struggled with long division and fractions. The same table that had hosted Kayle’s thirteen birthday parties. The same table that she sat knitting cardigans and singing lullabies to the sleeping Kayle she rocked at her feet. The same table she had washed and changed her as a baby when she had first come into their lives. She had arrived at four weeks old, just as a temporary foster child but the right family had not been found for long term care and she had never left.
She was a very poorly baby and was in and out of hospital, it was over a year before Laura discovered Kayle had been born addicted to heroin. Her only link to her past was monthly visits by her birth mother, Cora, and although Laura welcomed her into their home and gave her minute details of Kayle’s progress the visits petered out by Kayle’s third birthday.
As Laura reminisced, she wondered could she have made Cora feel more involved. It was Laura who could remember Kayle’s miraculous first step, her first beautiful word. Her eyes welled as she thought of these precious moments, she was so proud of her. She hadn’t anticipated this unruly brattish behaviour that marked the beginning of teenage rule in the house, she was deflated, expecting her home to be immune from pubescent tantrums, and she was hurt by the words and actions of her most beautiful gift.
How to go forward from this, were her views too old fashioned? These hot pants that Kayle wanted to wear to youth club on Friday night were they really appropriate and she, Laura an old fuddy duddy. Would Kayle’s life suddenly become as golden as these lame (lam- ay) high cut shorts? She didn’t want to suggest to her daughter that the world perceived girls’ attire as a statement of their willingness. Most of all she wanted Kayle protected, from predators, from unwelcome stares, from drunk teenage louts and she admitted to herself she wasn’t ready for half of Kayle’s butt to be on show for anyone, no matter what fashion and her peers dictated.
She went back into her thoughts and wondered when would be the right time to give Kayle the whole truth about Cora, her real mam. She had to be given information that she would need for adult life choices, as an ex-addict albeit without choice she would have a predisposition to addiction. Cora had died three years ago from an overdose of sleeping tablets, speed and cocaine and Laura had taken Kayle to the service, they were the only mourners and it was expediently quick.
During Kayle’s life Laura had pieced together a jigsaw of Cora’s progression into the horrific existence she then had; Up to the age of fourteen she had been the model child, her dad was an Anglican minister and she had joined in with church life, enjoying choir and leading Sunday school for the under fives. She was invited to a party at a friend’s house but after the party had finished she had been brutally and repeatedly raped by boys she went to school with. The reason, because she had refused alcohol unlike the rest of the girls and resisted joining in spin the bottle. It was a punishment for non conformity. The boys didn’t get arrested, charged and she would have seen them each day at school so she didn’t return. From that moment she had quickly spiralled into a drug fed world, firstly prescription drugs, and later speed, E’s, finally arriving her new saviour, H. Anything to obliterate the memory, her family had tried to understand but as time passed she stole from them, and the parish and they left her to live as she then wanted. By the time she became pregnant with Kayle she was injecting into her chest and barely noticed her growing bump.
Laura sighed and turned her thoughts to Kayle once more, rising she went to press the button that would alert her daughter by means of a vibrating disc that Laura was coming up to her room. She would calmly sign out her messages of love and hope, she would tell her, Cora’s tale onto Kayle’s hand, whilst cradling her tiny frame and looking into her blank eyes, born deaf and blind with stunted growth, Kayle was her miracle child and no scrap of gold fabric was going to breach their relationship, a compromise would be found.
Ross is very much his own man, at 21 he is a slim athlete with a shock of blond mohawk. He organised his own 21st party and invited his friends from college and old friends from boarding school. At my suggestion he opened the invitation to his cousins, none have bothered to reply to him, messages via third parties to me have come, finally a reply direct to me from an email I sent months ago.
I am glad he has friends that he can rely on, the very few grownups he invited have all had to decline, even his own mother needs to be in two other places tomorrow evening, but I am making the effort and turning up to support him.
I met up with him today as he had a specialist appointment in the hospital where I work, he had wanted me to go in with him but I was too busy, I managed to get the end of the conversation and everything was well. Another specialist accosted him on the corridor and asked was he coming to him or was his brother due, in his own inimitable style he replied " No, it's my brother, keep away from me!" His brother had forgotten his appointment and will have to attend next week. Joy, joy, joy, no mother should have to force eyes open in order to put drops in eyes. Am I glad I am leaving that hospital.
Getting back to Ross, he gave a speech at a disability conference on Monday, he said he got rapturous applause and an invitation to try out for a track team. I am sure if I had been present I would have cried and made a total show of him. Lucky for him I was busy - again.
When did I decide to be busy - even as I write this I should be somewhere else, I remember scoffing at Bridie, my friend as she just went from place to place late everywhere but with such beguiling excuses you couldn't help but forgive her.

Ross is 21 on Saturday, I created him 21 years ago. He is and will always be my greatest accomplishment, but what he accomplishes now is down to his own grit and determination - no one would dare call him a vegetable in a dark corner and get away with it now - A doctor once said that to me in his presence, how she lived past that sentence I have no idea

Anyway to Ross - Cheers Darling - I love and cherish you and am really so very proud of you. My next story is dedicated to you, son

Nov 18, 2008

Obliteration

bad man came calling

gave me grief and some

new order said share it

trouble no go way

annihilation

hit him hard, alarmed

shame killed him

stone dead, cheers


Nov 17, 2008

Daddy Die



Daddy Die

crematorium
in restorium
daddy gone
entomb none
image dad
mourning lad
faces wreathed
last he breathed
stoked chimney
full gurney
daddy missed
flock dismissed
wake begins
lad tailspins

Nov 16, 2008

In The Beginning Was The Word



The plan is I tell stories. Some will be real, some will be fictional, some will be loosely based on something I have read or seen or an image I can't get out of my head. It will also be the story of my journey as I become a commuter junkie, living in Kerry and working and in digs in the week in Cork. This will also be my repository for the arty photos I try to create, at the moment I working with water, the movement of it, the swirls, the noises and the destructive influence this gift of life creates.
I don't always have a lot of time so I am not commiting to a daily blog, it will be however and whenever I can make it, but I commit to a once a week creative writing spluge and a photo. The picture above is me taking a shot of St Finbarr's Chuch in Gougane barra. There is a reason why some people are behind the camera, and I perfect this statement.
I have been inspired to start a blog by a Ben Elton book, "Blind Faith" which introduces us to a post apocalyptic London that is run via the internet by people purporting to be of faith but really is just an excuse for indecent living. I can understand the premise and the theme, but the exposition was unexciting, having read 1984 as a child it took only a little time to work out the twists that were going to occur. Even to the end when I knew he had to get someone to activate the virus. I will never write as well as Ben on paper but in answer to the need for privacy as opposed to revealing all in the name of 15 seconds of fame. I hope I find a happy balance that will neither be too private nor too verbose