Empty bottles fill your yard.

 

 

I sometimes sit at the kitchen table and just listen.

From here I am perfectly placed to hear the echos of

your childlike shrill as you protest in a drunken haze.

‘No, i ain’t ‘aving dat.’ I can hear your tears at the back

of your throat, you’re dragging them across your tongue

forcing them to fall, but your eyes remain dry. I have to

remind myself that you are my age and still living

like a child. A child lost somewhere in adult form among

the empty wine bottles and powder topped classic books.

I shiver at the very thought of such disrespect. But you have

been bred on disrespect and you shrug  it from

your sullen shoulders leaving behind that chip. I hear your

mothers stomach before I interpret her words, deep and

ragged she pushes them out with force from deep down

inside. Her profanities are laced in decades of hardened

fat, a vile stench clinging to each word as though it were

a dagger aimed at your back, to sit quietly alongside

the others she placed there. ‘He’ is a soft mumble of words

that match his smile. The gentle calm as he slowly sips on

red wine or vodka or gin or whatever it is you have dished out

into those overused glasses. One becomes two and his

eyes glaze, three becomes a line snorted in full view,

four becomes the anger in those piercing blue eyes.

Five becomes the thunder that rattles the walls as Mother

dearest sleeps. Six and he is heard. Seven and she sleeps.

Eight and a tornado rips through the room. The callous shriek

of who loves who more, ‘stupid, bitch, cow, slut.’ the lamp

is smashed, his voice gentle but his movements heavy.

Your eyes are no longer dry. You will scream as you always do

frustration spilling onto your bedroom walls. ‘Out.’ she’ll

scream her belly roaring. In the morning you’ll gather up

the remains of proof of who she loves more, as she sits

on the phone to her precious. Her sneers a nagging rumble

of the hunger she has to defeat you. I sometimes sit at the

kitchen table and listen as you repeat history, again and again.

 

Karen Hayward © 2016

 

Vomit filled streets.

The morning call of savage seagulls tearing at the remains of a vomit filled carton of cheesy chips and some old guys home made mayonnaise. That white salty sauce laying impotent spewed across the cracked concrete as these vultures scream into the empty skies.

These are the roads that I grew up on, threw up on, screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Ratgulls flapping away their disgruntled annoyance as the dustbin men screech into the road leaving a scented trail of rotting food, sweet and tangy clinging to the salty air long after the men tired and bored have finished retelling the seedy details of their sexual adventures.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

The hustle and bustle of a day in the town. People wandering mostly they frown. Cars speeding by for a change in the route, the boy racers, girl chasers all of them familiar faces.Honk once for salute, honk three then flee coming back soon to see if i’m free. Still the days came and went much most the same not a day of those years did I ever think lame.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

The days end, heavy sea mist rolling through the streets cleansing away the Saturday blues. Promises of sex whistling on the clouded air, the deep scent of lust clings to your hair. Cider the choice of the little girls voice. Giggling as they march to the piss filled huts where the guys sit and wait for the girls they will fuck.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Names blazened across the magnolia wall. I was here. Right here drunk and fueled by teenage hormones as the police car came screeching by. Watch this you whispered i’ll pretend to cry. Five in the morning why are you here? What are you doing with these cans of beer? There’s always a fall guy and that was never me, I simply can’t lie as the officers said there’s more you can be.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Vomit stained shoes and fog filled memories that haunt us still to this day. We lost a few good men along the way. Forgotten souls I see them still as the sea mist crawls through the streets of hell, snaking through their blood and the piss where they fell.

These are the roads that I grew up on,threw up on,screwed up on.

These are the lanes that I traveled in vain, begging the lord to please keep me sane.

Karen Hayward ©2016

 

Bullet point your entire day…I want to cry!

  • Search for my broken headphones, only one ear works which is perfect as my daughter talks to me constant and its important that she always knows i can hear her.
  • The girls are happy, I have the next lot of jobs to crack on with but i decide to pause and watch a video someone has shared with me. I get a couple of minutes in and the girls want to go into the garden. I agree to have a coffee break then get out of my pjs to take them in the garden. My daughters anxiety means she wont go out there alone.
  • I stop for a giggle with my daughters besty, she is a sweety, we make up songs about cheeky smiles, and rhyme words, she is great.
  • I don’t get a quite coffee. In fact it went cold again. I give up and drink a glass of water.
  • I realise I should probably brush my hair! Ha ha!
  • Gave up on the video for now and decided to listen to a couple of songs on youtube, that was ten minutes ago, still haven’t heard a whole song though.
  • Still thinking about ‘fit for purpose.’
  • 2:24 pm https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NPcyTyilmYY    I love this song.
  • Am hugely aware at this point that I have the least exciting life ever. In fact I think bullet proving your entire day is bat shit crazy!!
  • Okay took girls into the garden, we all went down the stairs on our bums 🙂 can’t lie that was fun!
  • Once out there I decided to sort the fall fence panels and stuff that had been blown about in recent storms. I managed a couple of panels before the girls realised I had been right and it really was very cold and very windy outside. So we all went back in doors again!
  • The girls are now playing. So housework again! How the hell do 2 adults and one child make so much washing up? I ask myself this question daily. In fact a few times now I have considered hiding all but one each of everything, that will teach people to reuse and wipe up themselves!! Ha ha who am I kidding, just means i’ll be given cups of tea in a cup that is an inch deep in grime…yeah hubby i ain’t silly, i know you don’t use a clean cup!
  • Listening to some Green day, it’s a Green day kinda day.
  • It’s only just after 3 in the afternoon and already darkness is falling on us. The lights are being switched and switched off again in that awkward well, the light don’t help kind of way. The wind is really picking up and beginning to howl through the tree’s and slam into the windows.
  • 3:30 pm am feeling tired now. I want to go sleep. In fact I want someone to come make me food and then I can go sleep 🙂
  • 3:38 pm Hubby has awoken and agrred to give me a few minutes to finish writing a poem, with head phones on and music up loud. This for me, means cutting the world out completely so I can hear the words :). Best get writing then!
  • I managed to 3:45 pm the poem I wrote was good, im happy but it needs more work.
  • I grab dinner out the freezer and stick in on then do my third washing up load and grab the washing from the machine and stick another load on. I need a pinny to wear so I can truly fit into this marvellous role of housewife!
  • Dinner is cooking, the girls are playing I work a little more on the poem. Whilst stopping to sweep the floor and change the cat litters.
  • The besty has to go home now 5:00pm so I help her to gather her stuff together and get her boots on. I want to steal her pink furry monster style hat.
  • We do the stairs on our bums again and I think about how wonderful children are.
  • Dinner is served and I clean the table down.
  • We all sit at the table, it’s nice.
  • Hubby and daughter watch Man of Steel so I can have time to myself. I do the online food shop and spend a few moments finally watching the videos shared to me, i’m glad I watched them :).
  • Spend some time thinking.
  • Decide I need to speak to a friend, so ask him for advise.
  • wash up, again!!
  • Tidy away ems toys. It’s now 7:36pm. i’m tired, tiredness is kicking in, I keep resting my head on my hands and closing my eyes for just a second. I can’t sleep yet.
  • I still need to put the girl to bed, then we have her routine then story time, then snuggle time.
  • I still have to tidy up the living room, iron clothes and put them away, tidy her room, and clean a a couple of other rooms.
  • I want to be sat in a room reading.
  • I want to be exploring the suggestion.
  • I want to be listening to music.
  • Daughter will settle around 10-10:30pm by which point I will be exhasuted, but finally able to sit down and know i wont be distrubed. Hubby is working again tonight.
  • Once as daughter is sleeping I will try to grab a few minutes to myself.
  • This post idea is shit.
  • I hate seeing how non stop I am!!
  • I need to read the book I got on mindfulness!
  • I need a hot drink.
  • Think I need to get a life!!
  • Am starting line dancing in a few weeks 🙂 ha ha

ok writing this post as sent me a little crazy, I need to do something. That was a really pants kinda post, I know already what a bullet point of my day is like lol but I can see how it made me think a little deeper about my surroundings, so maybe a good thing 🙂

Coke and wine.

I hear the wine flowing and the glasses chink

as you miss the table and hit the sink.

Mother and daughter addictions together

thrown in the garden whatever the weather.

You talk above the same old songs, and I wonder

if you know that your behavouir is wrong

or that there’s a rat in your kitchen running a mock

it’s a matter of time, tick fucking tock.

As predictable as the sun that moves the dial

smeared face and blood shot eyes is your style.

Mother dearest your spirit is broke

I saw this in your face the moment we spoke.

Fuck this and fuck that ‘cos the world is so screwed

but you never consider that the problem starts with you.

Ten green bottles sitting on the wall

every single night I hear them fall.

A knock at the door and the bed springs go

Daughter dearest, do you think we don’t know?

You sing as it moves to cover the sound

to hide the white powder,  another round?

Your a tight knit unit all full of love

broken souls that are fucked up and stuff.

Excited greetings and laughing galore

filling the glasses who wants more?

Voices go up voices go down

I can actually hear when you’re wearing your frown.

The music begins and everyone sings

till the spiteful tongue brings out its sting.

Tears are falling and the mask no longer fits

true colours shining none of you give a shit.

The lamp is broke, the glasses shattered

not that any that truly mattered.

You scream you push, so much pressure

you lose the very thing you pretend to treasure.

Flashing lights and a friendly face

an easy call for them to trace,

again today, again tomorrow

mother and daughter full of so much sorrow.

 

Karen Hayward ©2015

 

 

 

 

Long Gone.

Long gone are the days that turn into

the nights that turn in to the dawns.

With a tipple of choice and drunken slurred voice,

the air becomes chilled and slightly moist.

Long gone are the nights that I went with out rest;

the meat market trend of who looks the best,

those were the nights that I truly detest.

Long gone are the heels and the pretty short skirts,

and the constant worry of flirt or not flirt

as ogling men peered down my shirt.

Long gone are those days,

when i’d stay out late to play

closing my eyes where ever I lay.

Long gone are the days when I ran in that race,

people were lost without a trace

as they tried in vain to keep up the pace.

Long gone are the nights when my life was so lost,

when I risked everything each night not knowing the cost.

Long gone are those nights,

for I saw the light,

and it gave me a sight,

a reason to fight.

Long gone are those nights,

long gone is the fright.