unrest

Women whirl
in flutters of white,
Men stomp about
in bleak suits
Music stops.
Air
grasps
throats.

Led into a hall way,
fester with doors.

The doors
thrust open.

They enter church

The Illness of society

Haven't written anything for a while but decided that there is something worth while to rant about now in my opinion something is seriously up I think I might be losing it. Well I always find it healthier to write about it but too be honest its been really hard even writing up my feelings let alone talking about them to anyone ...

I'm personally really struggling with my temper with everyone and everything, the job center well especially at the moment. I feel I have little to strive for but really want to keep on going in the right direction and get a reasonable job. My efforts are slowly paying off as I'm getting interviews and applying for 5 jobs a day but its ridiculous how much competition there is out there and the job center are no help their just demeaning everyone further with  the new system of punishments and constant sanctions. We need encouragement, unity and respect not intimidation.


In the past year I have been constantly humiliated does my qualifications and intellect even mean much anymore? Its sickening when they put everyone on the most senseless work fair placements which are just another technical word for slave labor. However okay not all courses have been bad and some of the work I have done has been beneficial. I have really enjoyed my experiences at Citizen Advice Bureau as I love helping people and want to continue doing it for the community.


My temper at this real inequality is really getting to me on a personal level as I'm sure it does with everyone. My parents have advised me to see councilors on many occasions but I have always been either too ashamed or too stubborn to seek any real medical help. After being sanctioned for 4 weeks with little money my depression is well starting to kick in again, I have struggled with insomnia, anxiety attacks, paranoia and been heavy drinking too from which most of my family have already confronted me about. I'm even having the heavy fits which I feel I need to see the doctors about personally as they make me feel even more withdrawn and frustrated.


Could this just be the illness of society nothing even feels right. I feel constantly over worked  by the job center applying for the same jobs day in day getting nowhere and worst thing is I even sometimes struggle nowadays to do the one thing I love sometimes which is write poems, I feel deep down my idealistic passion and feelings are not totally burnt out yet but being drained by the endless existence of boredom and repetition Alright sure not everybody is expected to agree but most people can vouch this system is just unfair and damaging to the community.

The Globe

Hoping to go on another poetry night on the Thursday coming this one is down at The Globe Pub one of the great landmarks that is still going on strong in the very heart of Leicester surrounded by the brill alternative clothing and CD shops down on silver street probably one of my fave streets to walk down just because of the interesting things you find there. The Globe pub is just classic it was one of my fave hangout spots to drink and chill with my university mates and the dinners were brill too I couldn't believe the nerve of some people slating it a month a go that was not on!!!

But the truth is far sadder is Leicester really losing that quirky / uniqueness which made it bearable to live!!! In some cases yes because where are all the brill rock and music clubs/ pubs nowadays with the economy being worst than ever we are really losing out, even smaller great independent businesses such as domino's toy store are being forced to close down which really set warning bells off for me straight away. In other ways no because there are more tolerance and freedom within tight knit groups and people are far more accepting of disability, mental health ect which is brill definitely going to celebrate mental health awareness week next month its a really important to accept the help when you need it, being diagnosed with dyspraxia, ocd and anxiety paranoia wasn't often that easy to deal with but I think its great that I have met so many nice people who are helping me to deal with this every day there are still the odd occasion I'll turn to the bottle, or try and keep everything in but its great that friends can often understand and be there for me when trouble happens.

Anyway rant and deep convo over time to discuss my plans for Thursday hoping to read another two poems haven't decided yet which ones that'll be my job tomorrow but really looking forward to reading again hoping to see everyone out for support and a few beers.

Pride

Had a wicked afternoon yesterday at the Leicester Pride its so great how diverse our small city can be and how great gays, bi, transgender are accepted in the community. It was a real achievement when the gay marriage bill was finally enforced, a real victory for us all  but during the event it was great to meet so many new faces, I got the chance to have a look at some of the funny sparkly hats and there were a lot of loved up couples and smiles which made it so worthwhile, I was a bit gutted not to walk in the parade this year but with my knee's getting gradually worst just couldn't risk that but maybe next year however moving on from the depressing stuff it was nice to meet up with my mates having a few beers chill out at Vicky Park and listen to songs from the main host was brilliant she was so sassy and I loved the funny innuendo's I was laughing at everyone of them then dancing along to Abba and just having a blast. Later on went over to my mates pride party (a real inspiration with what she is going through at the moment) and well... just generally causing lady mischief  and talking bout guys.

I'm back!!!

Been on and off the poetry scene but no one can keep me away for that long hoping to keep on writing away got high hopes more than ever in writing an short anthology unsure when the date of the final product will be finished but at the moment just trying to edit bits while I have the time!!! Job hunting has been very unsuccessful applied for admin and marketing jobs but no luck and things in the news are depressing me even more as I'm living off a tight budget very much artist style at the moment helping my boyfriend while I can whose definitely my Ying to my Yang! Love him loads and helping him to promote his rock band and get him the gig he so rightfully deserves. Things have been very unpredictable more up and down but I feel I'll get there in the end.

I finally managed to get a poetry night down at The Font Pub  in Leicester yesterday which I was really happy about met loads of cool people and read out two of my poems Nightmare In Nottingham which was more of a nostalgic look into the night where me and my mate was stranded in the streets, now how that happened was a real funny story and something we can never forget.  It was quite difficult to write and read to the audience but I felt I did it justice as it was a personal poem and can remember laughing at bits which included the *t-shirt smelling of cider, vomit and cigarette stains* but also brought back more the traumatic side of feeling the cold and not wanting to ever sleep or leave the place behind. The other poem I read out again a very personal poem was called Love With No Rules, which I have also read at The Western pub  and The Sound house venue a few weeks a go which was a cracking night too. The poem was intended to be sonnet on how I was feeling about my mate at the time but I just couldn't get the words down to key. I tried to focus on the feelings of taking things with caution and trying to back away from this idea of loving your best mate a concept not worth taking the risk. Some of the more emotional parts included ditching the sonnet style and writing what felt natural to me which included the growling and paper ripping something which I thought would show the frustration and add humour to the piece.

But on the whole the singers, beat boxers and poets were superb and I couldn't be any happier sitting in the quiet pub surrounded by candles, lovely people, chairs and my fave pint of Guinness beer so I'm going to come back to The Font next month for another poetry reading but my current poetry night coming will be in another fortnight which will be on the 10th September down at the Soundhouse, catch me there if you can. Check out my Facebook page.  https://www.facebook.com/pages/DemonCloverPress/150349578418935?fref=ts for updates, pictures and video's.

Romantic Short: Blood Wine and Cigars

I know that you are always with me. I follow that scent, the calm folded crisp smell of cigars lit on the rainy morning in the streets of Calais. I pass through the art galleries, boat docks, pubs, markets and old churchyard buildings. That scent again? It draws me in and embraces me close into secluded streets. I see friendly faces wearing the same weepy eyes and bright smiles every day. They were buskers, street tramps, just in my eyes fellow lost rebels who I admire. They haven’t yet given up even now their naked without luxury, starved of food and clothing they wander around building up a new home every day. 

Every time the buskers see me they each greet me in turn shake and kiss my hands. I drop a penny down; they play out their beautiful music and sing their songs into the early hours of the evening. The air of the night is surrounded with the distinctive smell of cider and cigars. Outside the docks of boats the pub is festered with local communities drinking and talking about previous nostalgia. People laugh and cheer at the buskers who come into the pubs and applaud even louder when each of them comes on stage. They play, they dance, they rant in their own unique way in time to the guitar and banjo. When the evening is finally over music and laughter without question just stops, I can hear those... heavy awkward whispers, muffled voices and coughs of things left unsaid. At that point each of the smiles of the lost rebels fades out into the night, they know they must face and enter that filthy alley alone forced into the solitude of old cardboard boxes. I thought they did a splendid show and award them money and praise in return some of them come up to compliment and kiss me again.

The next morning I visit the library to indulge in my long lost passion of French poetry but I keep on getting distracted. I pick up on that very dangerous scent of cigars, wine and … aftershave. It was just so intoxicating, the fuel I craved. The aroma got stronger outside, something was around me. I was feeling that someone had just touched my breast, pinched my nipples then started to bite, caress and kiss my back but that feeling had quickly faded out.I sat down, unable to detect anything. I open up an loaned book of poems by Christina Rossetti. Before I could read her first poem, a written letter had fell to the floor. It was encrypted in my name with a place and time. I begun to read it out aloud as if it was some fairy tale enchantment.

The cigar smoke started to rise, embrace and surround me it filled my eyes again. A young man appears at my feet. He is erect, long black hair; smile cheeky but eyes concrete and dreamy when magnified they melt into a fire. I gaze into his piercing green eyes; I can already feel my body heating up and chest feel tenser. We start to greet each with a handshake, he grabs my hand and begins to put each of my fingers into his mouth. Straight away I could feel this urge to share everything with him to plant that warm kiss onto his lips. We start with talking for hours about our previous past, poetry and art. I read out some of the poems in French and he was translating them for me. He asks whether I would want to go Paris with him; he knew the best historic sites to take pictures and then without any hesitation he flashes out two train tickets. A charmer no less, but I feel drawn to follow him hoping he would lead me to more adventure. We both catch a train together from Calais to Paris. He takes me into the French café near his apartment we end up drinking coffee together out in the balcony. He drove me around in his car; we end the day with having a great picnic of red wine, sandwiches, cakes and croissants out in the jardin. We end the first evening having a smoke or two out in the beautiful countryside air. He drops me back to my villa and kisses me slowly on the ears then begins to whisper softly the words k.i.m.m.y into my ear. I could feel the last of his words really start to linger, the final words before leaving me and promising to meet up the next evening outside his own apartment.

I came out the next evening wearing a tight red frock and bright red lipstick on the stoned cobbled streets. We both embrace each other with small kisses on the cheek, walking down with our tongues tied in knots and arms locked together to the local tavern drinking more wine. When it finally got late I was allured to follow him into his apartment a classy one bedroom with a double bed, rose flowers on each window ledge. There is another classy rose wine bottle on the table and a room of old books. We sit on the sofa watching movies, eating chocolate and sipping on wine. My head begins to spin, lose some focus. Could this really be love or was this just another drunken lusting daze? I droop to his shoulders; He recites bits of his own poem, I can’t help but stare into his deep eyes when he reads them, I look up again at his moist lips when he reads out aloud the final words. I yearn to snog him or for at least him to make that first move. I feel dizzy and high on red blooded wine and cigars. I could then feel him starting to kiss the temples of my neck and feel his soft teeth mingle and bite leaving small indented marks on my neck. I draw even closer towards his mouth; I can feel his beard tickle me. I love to taste him, love that aroma! He tastes of dimly lit cigars which mingle with my fruity perfume. At this point I feel that the ember inside surround and heat up my whole body. I want him to really light me up so I can explode into them blue flames. I begin to clench up my body as he bites my neck, we both kiss frantically. He whispers into my ears and begins to nibble on them. We end up huddled up together in bed! The window reflects that the sun is approaching, he sits on top of me staring at me blankly in silence. He takes time to admire my calm sleepy concrete clay features.


He knows that when the sun comes up that everlasting rainbow of color we created together will begin to melt and transform back into monochrome. It just comes to the end. we know we can not argue, we must leave each other. I know I must say the two forbidden words. The very two words that turn me back into this empty corpse. I hate them; I greet him with a long lost embrace, the in-completed hug and the final words to end everything! Bon- Voyage At the same time trying to hold myself together, I leave on that last train, feeling tired and drained but only for a second. The whispers of his voice fill up the station crying out… KIMMY, kimmy... kimmy! . They echo out and embrace me again, they always make me smile.

I catch the last train back to Calais then head off home to stormy England. I never feel sad to leave him or the place behind because I will always remember him. Just as any dying whisper, music of buskers, words of a poem. The bond you share is never really gone it ignites again to finally burn on eternally.

Just Desserts

Everyone in the local village pretty much from the first day at working in the bakery nicknamed me Sarah even though my real name was the much grander... Sophia. I had lived in a very rich family back in Italy. Dad was a prince but chose to retire because he was close to death. I was meant to be in the first in line to the throne but I was beaten by none other than my younger step sister Violet Ann. She always had what was mine! I could not stand her anymore and decided to go over to England and learn a trade to make a living for myself. The first day I moved over to England I chose to leave those pretty dresses be hide me!I wore t-shirts and old jeans to blend in. The English people are totally oblivious and that’s how I like it.

Every morning I opened the bakery the fresh smell was of bread and cream was heavenly! I worked hard from morning to night, selling cakes was a tough job it was sad to part away something you just made but I knew it would have a good home! I couldn’t believe my luck though when one of my wedding cakes was chosen in the Daily Mail’s Cake Competition. I was so excited! well I was...  that was when I saw the name of the buyer Violet Ann. I couldn’t believe that woman had found me all the way in England. She demanded the cake had to be made by next morning because she was to be married to Larry in the afternoon. I had no choice but to agree to her proposal especially since it was my only and best chance to get even!   

Next morning I just finished constructing and decorating my beautiful tower, the cake was spun in sugar, and cream with strawberries on top. It was my very own bit of heaven.  The strawberries were a fresh blood red. I kept dipping my finger to taste the cream, it was so addictive! At the same time I could feel a horrible feeling in my gut because I knew the cake wouldn’t really be mine. Violet and Larry were waiting outside the kitchen to purchase my cake; I could see Violet’s beautiful mango dress with feather bow tassels. She always look so elegant; a quaint doll shape of a woman but this was all just an act to seek attention. I knew her pretty life all too well.  I knew her secret; she couldn’t hide anything from me.  

Once we held an auction because dad and mum wanted to sell and auction their valuable items which was one of those family traditions! Me and Violet were meant to guard the items to make sure no one robbed us. However one of mum’s Egyptian rings was taken that day! My parents blamed me because to them... I was the irresponsible one! ... I was the oldest one! I found out Violet’s dirty secret though. She wore that necklace whilst she slept and she was indeed the thief that day.   Now she has come back to finish the final job and take away my valuable creation, well ... that is what she thinks anyway.  Her husband Larry was pretty much a simple old man, he was plain, grey haired and in a monochrome suit. I do not wish to hurt Larry because he is a very sweet and honest gentleman. I really feel that he is the idiot for falling for that bitch over there, when he would be a much happier man with me.

I knew Violet was pacing up and down outside the kitchen; she looked as though she was having a fit. This was excellent news! Then she stubbornly knocked on the kitchen door and said:

           “Where is my cake, hurry up... darling!”

      Her words hit hard. I could feel their bitter taste in my mouth.

         “It will be finished soon, be patient... honey!”

I could feel myself slowly losing control for the first time; I pounded the flour with my fist, battered the dough with the rolling pin in quick rhythmic pulses. Each aggressive swoop was calming. There was no way on earth she would get my cake too, even if that was to do the unimaginable... sabotage my own creation. I took away the fresh red strawberries and planted black ones around the cake. Found some curry sauce from the cupboard and spread it around the cake as icing and finally sprayed fermented milk as the cream. Violet took the cake and didn’t even bat a eyelid as I closed the door behind her. I couldn’t stop laughing because I knew her day will be ruined, it will be over for her in a matter of seconds... when that bit of cake touches everyone’s lips.