Out of Darkness

Out of Darkness
Originally uploaded by Bella the Cat.

Strip Club

Strip Club

In a room off the street we wait
We prop up the bar, awaiting the entertainment
They seem to come from nowhere like insects swarming
When the rock is lifted. They are only half-alive
In this dark universe
They certainly dazzle me
With their magic words
And distorted imagery

Incantations that dance before our very eyes
And the slow striptease begins and the nakedness
Is worth waiting for. Their soft skin yields
Beneath our imaginary touch.
We salivate
They are collages
This as paper
Held together by glue

Headless, for we never see their faces
We only see their skin as it glistens
Beneath the hot lights and we are bewitched
By this strange and erotic world
We are vampires
We set upon them,
Longing to consume
Longing to devour.

And there are magic mirrors all around
We look and as our reflections rebound
We see something we’ve never seen before
We are pure. It is she who is the whore
We emerge reborn
Gratified and cleansed
Briefcases in hand
We return to real life.

Stop Screwing up Our Language

T-Shirt Design:, accompanied by the words: Liberal doesn't sound so good these days, so the lefties have made up a new name for themselves--Progressive. Um, no. I still call myself a Liberal. A classic Liberal, as defined in The Oxford English Dictionary. Look it up - if you possess a copy.

Suck on that!

Pre-Rapaelite

Pre-Rapaelite
Originally uploaded by Bella the Cat.

My idea of true beauty.

The Polymath

I photoshop her hair red
For this was what she
Was always meant to be
Copper-coloured hair
Framing an alabaster face
A picture trapped in a frame

'She's a beauty,'they say
A picture that was torn
Down from the gallery wall
By one long gone bitter beau
And they all move in to protect her
One Angel on either side.
they grasp her hand
And lead her away

And, suddenly she is flying
Out of my screen.

A Sea Change

MB - the Marxist Revolutionary decided to rip apart other people's genuine sadness at their loss of a pet.

His first comment - 'Surely, it had to die sometime'

This was a rather brutal comment to make in the midst of their loss: 'Surely you knew that cats die?' NO shit. Sherlock. Later on MB was suggesting that people who were so emotionally effected by the death of a pet should be deprived of their basic democratic rights - 'It worries me that these people are able to vote' I responded by writing 'Yes, because people have feelings'
I was tempted to go on to point out that an absence of feeling is a symptom of sociopathy.

(Which is off because that's the insult he has a tendency to use indiscriminately.)

Projection?
Anyone?

City at Night Captured Within Blurred Vision

DSC00080
Originally uploaded by Bella the Cat.

In Silhouette

He stands out in silhouette
Against the monochrome backdrop
Of the maudlin day. His knuckles whiten
As he clutches the broadsheet closer
Thin, frail, stooped but something-
Some stubborn fragment
Of his former self remains, hidden
In a place that will always be
Remote and inaccessible to me.

Oh! I've woken up again! O dear!

Valentines Day is over, over, over. I got a single red rose from my Secret Stalker. (Or maybe it was someone I knew, just to inject some 'romance' (P*U*K*E)in my reclusive life style.)

Why do we fall?

Something is going on inside me. I sunk down in the red velvet sofa and sobbed and sobbed until there was nothing left inside me. After the choking, gulping, sniffing had stopped and all traces of tears had been washed away, I shut the noises/voices/screams/whispers firmly back into my head again - into that black, velvet box that is locked tightly. That Black Box is full of terrors and fears. In the background the turntable was playing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Perhaps that was a mistake.

Pessimism is passive nihilism.
And this anxiety is a noose around my neck

Fish

Fish
Originally uploaded by Bella the Cat.

Seven Second Memory

Goldfish quiver, slivers of orange
Flitting through the clear waters
Of the aquarium. That is their world

Their universe and everyday
Everything renews itself
For this is the beauty

Of a seven second memory
We who are beyond the glass
Enjoy no such luxury

We are colossal, clumsy beings
Burdened by our history
Weighed down by mortifying recollections

Of impropriety, of careless conduct
Of unwitting vulgarity
Conscious of our essential inferiority

We are taunted by our own lucidity
And we eye those nimble creatures
Beyond the glass with a kind of strange envy.

Mad, Bad and (Quite Possibly) Dangerous to Know

'Don't tell people you have a mental illness,' s advice I've received more times than I care to remember. That's all very well but when you're depressed to the point of catatonia then someone is bound to notice. I feel the need to explain the context of yesterday's post. I became embroiled in a debate on *the forum* about anti-depressants. A poster responded by asserting that SSRI's are frequently prescribed to 'mask' problems that occur in everyday life. I tried to explain the difference between endogenous and reactive depression. Alas, I fear my efforts were in vain. I have no doubt that a minority of incompetent G.P's do prescribe anti-depressants inappropriately. Every medication has its side effects and every medication has horror stories associated with it. But the fact remains that they can and do save lives, regardless of the avalanche of media hysteria surrounding this issue.

On a lighter note, I wish to apologise for my shameless display of poor netiquette - i.e. my failure to respond to people who have the courtesy to comment on my blog. I will try to be a little less negligent in future.

Diary II

Diary II
Originally uploaded by Bella the Cat.

Schoolgirls In Red Shoes

School girls in red shoes, empty-headed,
Devoid of principles. Sapphire eyes flickering
Golden manes glowing and I remain
Their devotee as I struggle to see the world
From their perspective. I covet their luminosity
But their hard gaze falls upon me

Sharp as pine needles embedded in the skin
I grow red as an overboiled lobster
I turn and flee, and their laughter pursues me.

Online Tantrum

Threw a bit of an online tantrum on *a particular forum* at someone who implied that those who suffer from depression are merely lazy:

Well, I wouldn't have minded being left out of that. Depression is a legitimate illness, just like physical illnesses such as diabetes or asthma. Without anti-depressants some of us probably wouldn't even be here. It's the stigmatisation of mental illness that prevents some people from seeking help. (Often with disastrous results.)

Did I go too far?
Perhaps.

Moonlit Night

Evergreen

Sheltering beneath the evergreen
From overcast skies and shadows that stalk me
Seeking solace from my own sterility
Nursing woes monumental in my eyes only
Silent and surly I await the end
Of these daylight hours. I beat my fists
Against the stubborn hugeness of this
Endless afternoon, cloudy and unclear
Mirrored in the single, all-encompassing
Dark eye of God. I hold my breath

I rest my head against the burnished trunk
I grip it with my tarnished talons
I am an honoured guest in this green house
And these fiends in my head scream
But are driven away for they have no place
In this secret emerald world. The leafy curtains
Of this tree surround me. It is my friend -
This magnificent, benevolent living thing
I accept the gifts its verdant spirits bring
As something within me begins to sing.

Faith Versus Freedom

I must stress that I rarely watch daytime television. (You don't believe me, do you?). However, I will confess that I was channel hopping on Friday when I stumbled across a programme entitled Make Me Perfect, screened by ITV1, chronicling the extreme makeovers of fifteen women who despised the way they looked. They were each given extensive cosmetic surgery over a very short period of time. I found the whole format profoundly disturbing and wondered at the irresponsibility of the cosmetic surgeons participating in this venture. As my old art teacher used to say: 'There is no true symmetry in nature and there is a kind of beauty in imperfection.' Is there going to be a series devoted to men who are dissatisfied with their appearance?

Somehow I doubt it.

Among other disturbing events that occurred over the weekend were the demonstrations in London against a Danish newspaper that had the 'audacity' to print a cartoon depicting images of the prophet Mohammed. (PBUH or whatever). Firstly, since when was an entire nation responsible for the editorial policy of a single newspaper? Secondly, non-Muslims are under no obligation to adhere to the laws of Islam. No arrests were made in spite of the fact that certain people were carrying placards calling for death to the 'infidels'. The right to protest is inviolable in any democracy but incitement to commit murder is not. I wonder what would happen if I took to the streets and protested every time someone insulted Catholicism. I'd never get anything else done.

Off to consume a slice of toast buttered with lashings of Lurpak.

Another Year Over

The Voyage Home

I clatter in my shell
A monumental madness
Descends and I emerge
Then I enter the zone
Inhabited by my clone
Crossing the waterway
That lies between us
Laughing as I embark
On the long voyage home.

Helpless

A friend from college - F - telephoned yesterday. Like me she has a number of fairly serious mental health 'issues' and (also like me) she has difficulty articulating her needs. I suspect she isolates herself too. She was in a very distressed state. 'I'm afraid. I'm so afraid,' she kept repeating. I couldn't do much to help as she is 100 miles away in my 'home town' of Birmingham. (Not Alabama). She told me that she had complained of the debilitating side affects of the psychotropic drug she had been prescribed - Stelazine. It is a 'first generation' neuroleptic/anti-psychotic. It is not as sedating as Chlorpromazine but it has equally horrendous side effects. I was on it for a short time in hospital and I remember stiff muscles, aching limbs and prickly skin. Instead of weaning her off this medication F's psychiatrist cut off her supply. I advised her to ring her GP's surgery and call out the duty doctor. I suggested that he/she should prescribe something/anything to combat the withdrawal symptoms F was experiencing. (Something her psychiatrist should have done in the first instance.)

But, ultimately, all I could offer was empathy
And that wasn't nearly enough.

Current Mood: Irritable and short-tempered.