To blog, or not to blog? That’s quite a question.

With apologies to Shakespeare, here’s my take on a smattering of great writers. The Bard himself, trawling for ideas, getting known. The Blogging Beast. Dickens, the ultimate showman and self-promoter. Why travel extensively to reach hundreds when you can reach the world at the press of a key? His novels were published like modern soaps – short episodes ending on a cliff-hanger. Perfect for a Blogging Diva. Walt Whitman, man of the world, man of the universe; blogging into the dark nights reaching fellow souls, speaking of their pain. And wanting nothing back. The Wise Blogger. Kafka, using the Blog as pivotal to touching a disembodied society searching for answers to which there are no questions. The Humanitarian Blogger. What’s your take on your favourite writers as bloggers? I’ve been blogging now for five days – that’s hours and hours at the computer to produce a dozen posts. But I’ve also been learning and refining. Not just learning the mechanics

read more To blog, or not to blog? That’s quite a question.

My life in words

I think in verse. Not always. Not every day. But – I think in verse. when I’m distressed when I’m heading to shutdown, but more especially meltdown when my head is just so full of STUFF that I can’t get my thoughts into coherent speech when my fear, anger, self-loathing take hold of my being when I need to order my thoughts before they lead to self-destruction That’s when I think in verse. And I have to write it down. I have diaries and journals and notebooks spread over many years recording my anguish. Sometimes with an image. Sometimes scrawled page after page. Sometimes just a few lines. Usually it works, helping to dispel the negatives inside my head. Distilling into a page or two feelings that would take minutes and hours to express verbally. When I’m feeling OK I don’t write like this because there’s no need. I’ll still write, and I rarely re-draft, it’s still cathartic, but it’s

read more My life in words

Triggers: a poem about sudden changes

What pulls the trigger, flicks the switch?

Turns me into devil or witch?

All that’s positive, all that’s good

banished to hell and bathed in blood.

Search for balance, search for worth,

ways to banish the inner curse,

seek the good of self before birth.

Before rejection – before the pain

before abuse and negative gain.

When evil rears its ugly head

all positive thoughts remain unsaid:

no happy heart, no peaceful soul

no reasoned mind to deflect its goal;

darkest thoughts in darkest cell

no glimmer of light within the hell;

no breath of air just stifled heart

no wings of hope for new-born start.

All efforts now to begin anew

wearying, crushing, exhausting to do.

Tears come far easier than resolve ever does

cutting or overdose a much better option;

so lonely inside myself, hating what I find,

inadequacies of body, inadequacies of mind

can’t look forward, don’t want to look back

don’t want to face all the things that I lack.

Where is the me that sees what is good?

Will it come back before blood is spilled?

Why just the me that knows all the ills?

When can I banish the me that kills?