Get up

Warning: Bad language and lots of rambling through out.

That’s right Guys and Gals, I apologise now but I am in a right two and eight at the moment. I’m on a roller coaster ride that I’m struggling to get off and I fucking hate roller coasters. Why; you might ask, probably cos I fear for my life; I would answer. To prove my point, there’s been a few break downs over here with some dire consequences.

If you’ve read my two previous posts you may well have felt the bad vibe radiating off them, like uranium rods from Mr Burns’ Nuclear Plant. Well this one is the high on my roller coaster ride and when I say high I mean screaming like a little girl to let me off.

I didn’t want to write anything lately (again) feeling the way I do. I felt guilty about the fact that my moods, my manic fucking monkey banging around in my head are probably as severe as being hit by shit off a fan. You may stink for a while but it ain’t life or death.

Thanks to a conversation I had with a friend today, I’ve straighten my twisted mind and decided to go all out. So this one, third time to charm, is a poem I wrote a couple of years back. I revised it and posted it last year but this is the original uncut version. I’m hoping this purge will calm me down a bit.

Get Up

Get up off your ass

It’s time to fight

Fight for your fucking right

Be who you want, show your might

 

Get up off your ass

It’s time to fight

Fight for your belief

No matter what, don’t bury your grief

 

Get up off your ass

It’s time to fight

Fight when you’re down

Get the fuck up, don’t be their clown

 

Get up off your ass

It’s time to fight

Fight for every breath

Your lungs will burn but no time for death

 

Get up off your ass

It’s time to fight

Fight for your life

And however you want to live it

 

Step back and relax

The fight is done

You’ve won

YOU FUCKING WON!

 

Copyright © JRFC September 2017    

Image from Pixabay 

Triggers

Downer day again, I confess I’m in a real grump. My Mrs keeps telling me that ‘I’m not happy unless I’m moaning about something’. Maybe she’s right… What am I saying she’s always right LOL. It’s just; when I see ‘things’ that really get on my nervous they set off my inner Hyde.

Brain disengages, mouth takes over and the rest is history.

Even though the moments aren’t good for my health or my families sanity there are occasions when it just feels right. Not my actions, they could be better handle (for today’s society) but that single moment when it begins, the single thought that chafes my ass, in my mind makes my feelings justifiable.

Some think I’m just too sensitive and need to toughen up, change my way of thinking and my reply to them is normally profanities; I do like Hyde sometimes.

I can feel my ramblings are on the verge of ranting and I don’t want to waste your time so here’s the poem, I hope you like it. I hope get it.

Peace.

Triggers

I wish I could know the triggers

That set’s me spiralling

Into the ‘D’ Word

Setting off my Hyde Mode

Riding the crest of the wave

Not being able to see, not wanting

To see the devastation

As the wave crashes over the scenery below

 

I wish I could know the triggers

A clue, a hint that would help me

Draw my head back in

Before it pops and starts to sin

All over an unwelcoming crowd

Caught in the blast radius

Of my atomic wraith

No four minute warning

 

I wish I could know the triggers

Or do I?

Maybe I don’t know because

The self in me protects

Flight or fight

Injustice, hypocrisy, untruths

‘Fake News’

Just leave me and my triggers be!

 

Copyright © JRFC May 2018
Image from Pixabay

The Jekyll and Hyde in Me

So here is the second part of my duet and quite ironically how I’ve been kinda feeling over the last few days. Ask my Mrs, she’d be glad to testify to it LOL.

The Hyde in Me

There are times when a little psychosis

Just gets the better of me

It maybe those video nasties

They just seem to fill me with glee

 

I’ve been known to get a little nutty

And what makes it worse, I confess

I like how I feel when I’m off my head

It helps to relieve my stress

 

I’d be well placed in the type of home

Like the Addams’ on TV

I should put myself up for fostering

I’m sure that they’d agree

 

The veil of red mist starts to fall

I spark, go into overdrive

Shouting and cursing to those in my sights

As the monster just comes alive

 

The idea’s that move through my mind

Brings a wry smile to my face

Thoughts I must not utter

But send me to a happy place

 

Scenario’s play out like those movies

My imagination light’s up with glee

And faces both present and past

Are removed demonically

 

Ideas of fright and horror

Nightmares without a face

I hide the Jekyll in me

May be scary, but I love this place

 

Then I came down, the mist clears

I’m no longer the lunatic Hyde

Woke up to the collateral damage

Fell to my knees and cried

Copyright © JRFC June 2018

Little Bastard

Over the years my home has been a bit of a menagerie to many a critter. We’ve had rats in the cavity walls, mice in the kitchen, wasps outside our bathroom, birds in our attic, cats roaming our back yard and foxes on our hedges. Oh and Ants… The fecking ants.

My recent rodent problem was what got me think up this poem and by the way, they really do stink up the place if they die inside the house.

Little Bastard

Came in through a hole the size of its head

Scratching around while I’m in bed

 

The five inch beast that sounds like a monster

Will it break through the bricks and mortar?

 

Just nodding off and then the squeak

Wakes me from me precious sleep

 

It’s giving me night terrors, fuelling my anger

I’ll put holes in my walls with a heavy sledge hammer

 

To find the little bastard that’s making me crazy

I’ll catch that little fecker and show him no mercy

 

I can’t cope any more, I’ll bring the house down

That rat’s gonna get it, I’ll be wearing the crown

 

That’s the first blow and there’s the third

Keep running, I’ll catch you, you little turd

 

I’m in blind panic, he keeps getting away

I’m so desperate, mayday, MAYDAY

 

Holly shit, what have I done

My house has gone… little bastard won

 

Copyright © JRFC April 2018
Image from Pixabay, modified by JRFC

Poison

Question: What do you do when you’re stuck in a space occupied by insecure, gossiping A-Holes and there’s no way out?

Answer: Write a poem about it.

Yeah, I’ve been in these scenarios and what’s worse is when their gossiping about people you know and have to keep your mouth shut under pain of; well, bad things happening. It’s these times when other kinds of scenario run through my mind and I get all Wes Gibson from the movie Wanted. Know what I mean? Yeah I know you do.

It was one such time that made me write this little Ditty. An idea of thoughtless madness typed in a frenzied compulsion and oh boy did I enjoy it.

I hope you do to.

Poison

I find myself bending my mind to find

The reason why

People get metaphorical head kicking’s

Without knowing

By the snakes in their pit, all confident and

Sickeningly conspiring against their next victim

Just a little touch paper

I’d light up their words and listen to them

Burn in the backs of their throats

Chocking on the charred consonants and vowels

That make up their poison

Copyright © JRFC April 2018
Image from Pixabay, modified by JRFC