Poetry

Silent scorn

Silent scorn, the page’s torn

It sits unsent, unwritten, unthought…

Atop her chest, a weight it rests

Feelings she has often fought

Correcting talk, perfecting walk

Approval always pending…

The apron ties, judgmental sighs

Bitterness descending

No way to win, words under skin

Punishment delayed…

Silent scorn, the pattern’s worn

The game is lost before it’s played

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crap I say, entertainment, life

The relief of plastic chaos (or why it’s okay to lose your lid)

Living life in perfect order

Glasses neatly in a row
Deliberately placed in order of size

Colourful cups and bowls, the plastic Ikea kind (I’m certain it’s important to clarify this) stacked into the most logical of towers, biggest to smallest, a teetering rainbow of absolutely intentional order.

Perfectly organised cutlery drawers…..
dividers firmly keeping the wooden stirring utensils from liaising with the garlic press
or getting entangled with the chopsticks.

Forks on the left. Knives on the right. Spoons in between.

Oh the joy of emptying the dishwasher with military precision!

Small glasses – front and centre, left side of the right hand cupboard

(Upside down to avoid dust collection)

Large pot – under the medium, below the small, beneath the very smallest. But next to the colander (It has holes, it’s different and requires its own system of organisation…)

Painstakingly folding the washing, matching up the socks as though they are married and the law expects it or indeed their very happiness depends upon it!

Towels. Foot mats. Hand towels. Face washers. Know your place in the cupboard please and stay there. Thank you

Have you ever wiped up spills from around the gas flame?

….even as the soup is still simmering above it?

As if the need for tidiness is so urgent that it couldn’t possibly wait for the meal to be done first.

Photo frames symmetrically and deliberately arranged. Always.

Minimalism
Cleanliness
Order
Control
Tidiness

And then……

…..there’s the plastics drawer

Nearly a metre deep, wide and long and filled to the brim with absolutely joyous clutter.

Tupperware containers, mismatched lids, drink bottles, banana scented lunch boxes, jugs, square containers with long lost lids waiting for left overs so that they may fulfil their life-purpose, red inside green, big stuck in small, all the unmatched lids ….and the smallest of containers scattered at the bottom of the pile because (all sense of order long since neglected) they simply fell through the cracks…..

To be able to retrieve an item from the dishwasher and, based purely upon the fact that it is constructed out of plastic (and not metal or ceramic) ignore the overwhelming urge to maintain order and simply throw it – quite literally, haphazardly and effortlessly (still wet and upside down) into that drawer!

It’s almost as if permission has been granted by some magical power, that this drawer will remain the one and only exception to the “rule”

The rules that never go silent….never ease up

I daren’t allow my life to become unruly
I daren’t ponder the possibility that my house could actually become disorderly
I daren’t consider, not even for the briefest of scattered moments, ever becoming a mess myself

But, the plastics drawer?

Yes.

That’s perfectly fine for it to be the one and only total lost cause to tidiness and order.

Indeed…..it is necessary!

crap I say, life, Poetry

I’m an asshole too, just a slightly more enlightened one

“To feel safe in our own skin
To feel sure of our own convictions
To feel strong amidst the chaos

To see things as they really are
To be a part yet be apart…”

Tonight it became crystal clear to me, in my post work-dinner semi-tipsy state…feeling lost and far from home surrounded by would be friends and accidental potential accomplices, that people are, to be perfectly honest, when all is said and done…
(how do I put this without offending?)

assholes

Not intentionally, not even accidentally but simply because we are wired that way.

Now, before everyone gets all up in my grill telling me what an asshole I am for saying that….(ironic much?) please remember…I said people….and last time I checked (although it has been a while since I last looked, so who knows…it may have changed) I too, am a “people” so I include myself in this truthful – if somewhat derogatory -generalization….

We bitch, we moan, we find fault with every thing and everyone. We take sides,we power trip our way in and out of things, and when all is said and done we try to act like we aren’t in fact just desperate human beings waiting for a moment of recognition and understanding.

Yes, even sweet lil ol’ me!

Tonight though, initially entranced and tempted by the endless stories of “she did”, “he said”, the power struggles and personality clashes I soon witnessed a strange thing happening….I didn’t buy in to it! I didn’t take sides, I didn’t feel hate for those around me who were so ugly in their efforts for peer domination. I didn’t feel a need to save anyone. I didn’t blindly take on board others negativity or defend my position even when provoked. I let the various bad energies around that table moan and sigh, clash and battle, escalate and crash…and I just witnessed it.

I was comfortable in my own separateness and my own complete humanness that allowed me to simultaneously be a part of the scenery and yet apart from the scene.

Oh, the joy of being able to choose silence! Oh the bliss of peaceful surrender and the blossoming of inner quiet……..it’s like wrapping your head in bubble wrap and just vaguely being aware of all the negativity surrounding you. You can still see it’s happening, you can hear the muffled ugliness, but you are unable to contribute or even completely take it all in…

What a relief!!

To realise that it doesn’t HAVE to be a drama. It doesn’t have to cause chaos or disharmony in your world. It really can just “be”…..

I feel totally liberated!
And do you know what? I might just make this a habit!

Oh, but don’t worry, I’m still very much capable of being an asshole.

I’m just choosing not to be.

Life’s so much nicer this way…

Mandy xx