7: Part.05

Lust is Lust as Lust is all things

Lust is Lust in its purified simplicity

Lust is Envy in its covetous jealousy

Lust is pride in knowing you own the devotion of another so completely

Lust is greed in its selfish need to feed every intimate desire so rambunctiously

Lust is gluttony over and over again as you partake of its delectable offerings insatiably

Lust is wrath in the sweet raking of nails down sweat streaked backs when conjoined blissfully

Lust is Sloth as you lay entwined in slovenly embraces, the afterglow of your union dancing like fireflies in a frog’s belly

Lust is Love in every intricately intimate little emotion gleaned as your eyes rove that favoured face in the heights of your ecstasy

Lust is Life in its hunger for more, the more you have the more you require so you seek to acquire relentlessly

Lust is Lust as Lust is all sins


7: Part.04


I am the wrath of ages

I am the rage of kings

I am the fury of fate

Pleasing with the punishment of pain and suffering


I was born burning

As I was born to burn

Lay waste to all in ashes

And make the world an urn


Scream patience to my converted

But they will never learn

For to feed their sorrowful hatred

Is all they will ever yearn


“Don’t Tell Me To Calm Down!”

They take refuge in the sanctifying fury of my flame

Their tempers sweltering ablaze

As they find a hapless victim to blame


Let envy feed your vanity

Let sloth weigh down your soul

But I shall consume you eventually

When rage devours you whole


Now my sweet sister pride

She likes you arrogant and blind

But I love your eyes wide open

As you destroy in you the kind…


Patient, tempered and sweet

Leaving only the hate and the mean

Those angry, selfish, seeds of me

Those very delectable tools I need


To burn your souls to cinders,

Leave you molten and without mercy

And watch you conform to my creed

Every hate-fuelled act filling you with vengeful glee


Save but for me

Hell Hath No Fury,

Threats of its eternal torment

Naught but meaningless futility


So burn dear child

Drown willingly in me

Let your fury run wild

For now and all eternity


I am the wrath of ages

I need no other names

I shall burn foreverlasting

And nothing can assuage my flames


Vivette (extract), by Andree

A hundred other mornings echoed, as my feet touched the kitchen floor. Moving from memory, I dumped cigarette ashes and washed empty wine bottles. The mess was easy to clean; it was the remnants of shallow conversations from fleeting relations that wouldn’t wash off. I opened the balcony doors for fresh air and fed the neighbor’s cat a small bowl of milk.

“Vivette, make coffee,” she grumbled from her bedroom.

I listened to them laughing. Little was missed through the thin walls of our small apartment. Moments later my mother staggered in wearing only a slip. “Pour me some of that” she said as she sat down at the table. It was hard not to admire the symmetry of her bold features. Her full lips came naturally in a deep red most women had to pay for. Her large brown eyes stared somewhere in the distance, as she ran her hand through her short thick auburn hair, it fell framing her face, as if it knew its job. Despite her beauty, it was bitterness that defined her. Life’s disappointments had left her hard. I regarded her disapprovingly, but like the wall that kept her detached, I was invisible. The toilet flushed.

“You’re up early.” I wasn’t used to seeing her on a Saturday morning.

She motioned her head towards the bathroom, “He has to work today,” she said lighting a cigarette. I didn’t want to know his name or what he did for a living; relationships were like jobs to my mother, frequent and self-defeating.

The smell of sour milk arrived before he did. “How about some of that coffee?” He seemed to think I was the regular waitress at the local café. I tried not to notice him sitting there immodestly in a worn t-shirt and pants he hadn’t bothered to fasten. The hairs from his armpits blended with the ones on his shoulders and chest. Like the primitives we’d been studying in biology, he hadn’t evolved far from his ancestors. He lit a cigarette with one hand and slid the other between my mother’s thighs.

“You have errands to do, no?” It wasn’t a question.
“I need some money.”

My mother looked at the man. “Give her money.”

“Why the hell do I have to give her …?” The look on my mother’s face was enough to stop Cro-Magnon from questioning any further.

I turned my head towards the windows, as if the warm rays offered an escape. I could hear my grandmother’s voice, “smile to the sun if your spirt ever needs lifting, of all the darkness we create, the sun never stops shining.”

“Yah all right, here.” He said throwing some money on the table “Bring back the change …”

“And don’t forget my pills,” she added.

As I left the apartment, she was leading him back to her bedroom.

Post Strike Exhaustion Disorder

PSED, or, Post Strike Exhaustion Disorder, may strike you today, be warned.

It is of two kinds, that as suffered by individuals without any pre-existing physical or mental health condition, and that suffered by those with pre-existing conditions.

Diagnostic Criteria of PSED

At least one of the following essential criteria needs to be met

Individual walked an excessive amount due to the tube strike
Individual suffered more than usual duress getting onto, and/or on, alternative methods of transport
In addition, 5 or more of the following must be experienced

Sore feet
Aching ankles and calves
Thighs that hurt upon crouching
Had to nap yesterday afternoon or evening
Wobbly feelings in the legs when attempting to walk today
Random attacks of rage when someone mentions tfl, tube strike, or tube drivers, or a tfl union
Overwhelming urge to lie down and sleep all day today
Headache from the pressure of walking on hard pavements
Feeling low and tearful today due to running on adrenaline for most of the past two days
Worry about making it into work the next few days
Obsessively checking tfl status updates, Twitter feeds etc
Rants on tfl’s Facebook page
Wishes they could claim compensation
Those with Eating Disorders, Mental Health conditions particularly those with a mood and anxiety component, heart conditions, Diabetes, Arthritis and Rheumatism are particularly vulnerable to this disorder, which typically has an acute presentation, but may be complicated where the health effects are long term, and/or the individual has a trauma history.

Complete bed rest is recommended, with plenty of fluids, and adequate nourishment encouraged for excessive calories burned [those with Eating Disorders may need encouragement with this.]
Any medication for stress may be helpful.
Safely expressing anger and other pent up feelings is also encouraged.

By Katie

Review: Scotland’s Stories of Home

Chronicles of Tania

Scotland's Stories of Home
Scotland’s Stories of Home by Alan Warner
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Some great short stories. I liked the pot of soup reminding of home, the horrid rainy day out leading to meeting her future husband and Oor Street which I enjoyed reading aloud to sound like a Scot! I never spoke Scottish before. With the help of phonetic stories, I sounded Scottish! Hilarious! It’s good to try out with friends.

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Review: Elizabeth Is Missing

Chronicles of Tania

Elizabeth Is Missing
Elizabeth Is Missing by Emma Healey
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I really liked the book at the beginning when Maud was getting confused and driving the police, her friend’s son and her daughter mad with her “Where do you plant marrows?” and “Elizabeth is missing” as a way of trying to figure out and communicate how her sister died after the war. Towards the middle of the book I was anticipating what kind of mishap Maud’s disintegrating mind would create. By the end of the book, it was getting ‘sameish’, predictable and I was getting impatient to find out how Sukey died and who killed her, but the mystery remains open-ended.

It’s a great perspective of a character with Dementia and I do empathise with those who have this common condition. Ordinary things are so hard for them and the book expresses that well. The book displays ‘showing’…

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