Poison Pen Letters to Myself Read online

  WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT

  POISON PEN LETTERS TO MYSELF

  Romany is a compassionate, spiritual author, whose wisdom extends far, far beyond her years and touches the heart of all who have shed tears for the sorrows life brings, and laughed in hope of that better tomorrow or maybe the day after. This is a guide of immense power and love that we may all be more thoughtful and aware of what lies behind seemingly random or unfair events that in fact are our greatest teachers.

  Cassandra Eason, Author of The Magick of Faeries and The New Crystal Bible

  Romany’s poetry is personal and provocative. It is at times both brutal and beautiful, and this book takes the reader on a winding emotional journey. Despite the private and personal nature of much of her work, these poems do not exclude the reader – instead her style of writing allows you in, lets you walk within her words and interpret them in ways which are relevant to your own life.

  Arietta Bryant, Author of Ramblings & Rhymes and Circles of Sacred Laughter

  This anthology of poetry reads like a fragmented autobiography, stitched back together by a skilled hand to create a story of life, love and faith. Standalone poems speak simple truths; the collective speaks a wider story of becoming. Well written, these words tell a tale, give a lesson & speak to their reader through the simple words and the more complex intonation of phrase. A journey is had, through the poet’s eyes; for the reader, the writer and the players involved; it reads like a novelised, journalised roadmap of the human experience. Even for the non-poet, this anthology is well worth a read – one can speed through it; half reading, half experiencing; or savour each poem alone. Either way, it is written with such fervour, time seems to stand still while the words leave their mark.

  C.M. Mitchell, Author of the upcoming Oakwood Collection of novels

  A self-effacing, insightful and wonderfully authentic document of a poet discovering her voice. Anyone who has ever taken a good look at themselves will find something here that speaks to them – there is honesty, catharsis and ultimately beauty on almost every page.

  Laurie Goulding, Editor of Mark of Calth and Gotrek & Felix: Lost Tales

  Poison Pen Letters is a consuming and compelling collection of raw expression. Within its pages we are drawn into a world of uncomfortable truths about both ourselves and the society we live in; the author addresses a number of topics which as individuals, we often choose to avoid. It was not difficult to find myself identifying with the text, which depicts the journey of an individual who has struggled through some of life’s most difficult challenges and has found herself enlivened and empowered by her beliefs and the relationships made along the way.

  There are also some further hidden meanings within the text – which will be evident to those who follow the same spiritual path – and wonderful motivational poems near the end of the manuscript, which give credence to the undeniable power of belief.

  Vikki Bramshaw, Author of Craft of the Wise and Dionysos: Exciter to Frenzy

  First published by Moon Books, 2014

  Moon Books is an imprint of John Hunt Publishing Ltd., Laurel House, Station Approach,

  Alresford, Hants, SO24 9JH, UK

  [email protected]

  www.johnhuntpublishing.com

  www.moon-books.net

  For distributor details and how to order please visit the ‘Ordering’ section on our website.

  Text copyright: Romany Rivers 2013

  ISBN: 978 1 78279 520 9

  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without prior written permission from the publishers.

  The rights of Romany Rivers as author have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Design: Lee Nash

  Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

  We operate a distinctive and ethical publishing philosophy in all areas of our business, from our global network of authors to production and worldwide distribution.

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  Unexpected

  Red Letters

  Before Bedtime

  Home

  Vale of Tears

  What Have I Become?

  Bitter

  If

  Our Millennium

  Smiling Again

  Green upon Black

  Desert Tongue

  Remote Suicide

  Without a Trace

  Infernal

  Never Mind

  Return to Sender

  Keep Searching

  Moral Masquerade

  Question

  The Pulling

  Primal Torture

  Brandy for Brian

  Stitches

  Blind Eyes

  The Freak

  Prove Your Point (Carry On)

  Tribe

  Goodbye

  Once Upon A Time…

  June

  On Reflection

  Addressee Unknown

  Dedication

  Universal Self

  Dear John

  Fat Happy Pre-packaged Dreams

  I Pray

  Scrying

  Destiny

  Sleep Deep

  Lake of Unshed

  Passing Through

  Musings

  Undine

  Uncertain

  Hope

  Unconscious Creativity

  Late

  Listening

  Beyond Tomorrow

  With

  This Light

  Woven

  Rose Petals

  My Faith

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  I believe that it is always important to say thank you, so this is my simple note of gratitude. Thank you to everyone who touched my life, inspired my mind, and walked my path with me. Be our encounter creative or destructive, those moments have made me the woman I am today. Without you all, I would not be.

  To my Husband; for promising on our wedding day and every day since to believe in me even when I doubt myself.

  To my Son and Daughter; yes, your Mama really was young and foolish once upon a time. No, that does not mean you can make the same mistakes – go and make your own.

  To my spiritual sister Arietta; for the tea, and for the sympathy, and for challenging me…

  Introduction

  The words in these pages were not written for mass consumption. They were not artfully crafted for reading aloud in dim rooms to a soundtrack of clicking fingers and Parisian style applause. They were not intended as political statements or a way of reaching other wayward wandering souls. Over the last two decades they were poured, purged, scribbled and spat onto scraps of paper, napkins, backs of hands, into empty pages and blank spaces of other books. At times of sorrow, frustration, confusion, acceptance and joy the words made sense of the mind’s muddled meanderings. I make no apologies for the words that appear here. They are true to me, as simple and as intrinsic as the blood in my veins, the marrow in my bones.

  Feast upon them at your leisure. Devour them, spit them out, dip in and taste them on your tongue. Be they bitter or sweet to you; know only that they have certainly improved with age.

  Romany Rivers

  Unexpected

  The words came suddenly

  In a rush

  All at once

  Like an unexpected orgasm

  Surprising

  Exciting

  Relieving

  Releasing

  I did not realise
just how dried up I had become

  The river of emotion contained within

  But you cannot contain a river without

  Turning it into a dam

  So

  Was I damned?

  No

  I was paused

  On a brink

  Holding the potential

  Before everything tipped and I

  Became

  A

  Waterfall

  Full of the kinetic

  Unexpected

  Red Letters

  Trampled and trodden on, left lying on doormats. Tossed onto tables. Crumpled in coat pockets. Unceremoniously stuffed into the darkest recesses of overfilled handbags. Unopened. Unheeded. Most certainly unwanted. Not forgotten, but studiously ignored. The first one can be ignored, after all these things always come in threes. The third one, well, that one may be a problem. A little bit more serious. The first one? It is not really a warning, more of a nudge. A gentle reminder. There is no time, no resources, no need to worry about it right now.

  If someone asks, deny everything. No responsibility. No liability. Plead ignorance. It never happened. You never got that warning. You didn’t know there was a problem. Of course, yes, you really should be keeping a close eye on matters, but life is so busy.

  Smile. Play make believe. Pretend there are no issues. Consciously ignore the warning. Subconsciously prepare your reasons, your excuses, your denials. If someone asks, get ready to fake it. Always be ready. Always a little on edge, a little defensive, a little ashamed that your inability to manage things has come to this. A red letter.

  If someone asks, shrug it off. It is not a problem. It is something that can be dealt with later. Really, despite the evidence, you have it all under control. No need to worry. Everything is fine, just fine.

  But no one asks.

  No one notices.

  No one really cares.

  It is just one warning, just one red letter.

  Before Bedtime

  Sadness is a funny little thing

  It sneaks around behind the sofa

  And curls up in your lap when you relax

  It gets heavier as the lights go down

  Until you are afraid to move

  Just in case it wakes up

  Instead you let your legs grow numb

  Your arms melt into your fingertips

  Your head tips forward like a forgotten marionette

  And you stay always

  Curled around the pain of the weight held near the butterflies

  Tomorrow you might open your eyes

  But tonight is just fine……..

  Home

  Outside

  Under the wide black starry skies

  Barefoot

  Weeping as my veins take root

  This blackened town

  Nothing nowhere

  Rusted crown

  Someone somewhere

  Was I christened a someone

  To no-one

  In particular?

  And it all comes down to fear

  Fear that no-one really cares

  If I fight to make my way out there

  Or if I bleed to death standing here

  Vale of Tears

  I watched the shadows creep as I listened

  And when you listened to me

  I felt like I had finally spoken

  The words washed me dry of tears

  Emptied me

  Black and hollow

  It felt like a night of confession

  A night of soul searching

  We searched

  But the soul I lost remains with you

  My heart

  Hollow without you

  Nothing

  But a vale of tears

  What Have I Become?

  What have I become?

  A stale heart with luke-warm blood

  Muddied knees and frozen tongue

  Bloodless, tearless, blackened, numb.

  Mirror, mirror, tell me lies

  Say I’m young to the eye

  For I am not to question why

  Simply born to do and die.

  Bitter

  Windows like warm firelight

  Draw my bitter curiosity in

  And I stand in sullen emotion

  Seeking every sin

  I will take you home

  And take you in

  All in sullen emotion

  All in sweet sin

  Open the door for me

  I lost the key

  Open the windows then

  Let the noise drift to me

  See me standing

  Too afraid to knock

  Smiling on the outside

  Laughing at the lock

  I will take you home

  If you lose yourself in me

  And I will let you go

  When I have what I need

  Lose yourself in me for a while

  Leave you with the image…

  …of my smile.

  If

  If I fight hard enough

  I don’t need to fight

  And if I learn enough

  I don’t need an opinion

  If I shout loud enough

  I don’t need to be right

  And if I fake an identity

  I don’t need to be anyone

  I would bleed myself to sleep

  and still never know

  I would drown myself in books

  and still never know

  I would pick apart my scabs

  and still never know

  I would lose myself in smoke

  and still never know

  If I work hard enough

  I don’t need to work

  And if I search everywhere

  I don’t need to seek

  If I suffer for everyone

  I don’t need to suffer

  But if I am just human

  I am weak

  I would stuff myself with food

  and still never know

  I would make myself so sick

  and still never know

  I would sink a bottle

  and still not know

  I would scream at the voices

  and they still won’t go…

  …If I…

  Our Millennium

  They sit like little zombies

  Eyes glazed with TV death

  Their digitized heart beats

  Their microwave breath

  A wasted muscle flutters

  Caught and woven into the web

  A brief mental struggle

  From one not assimilated yet

  Technology spreads like fever

  Children born with the bug

  Unholy world wide communion

  The new never new enough

  Tomorrow’s world yesterday

  Armageddon come and gone

  The living dead in unsocial society

  This is our millennium

  Smiling Again

  On the outside looking in again

  Smiling through my secret pain

  What am I doing here

  But wearing masks and facing fears

  Longing for the past

  Times that never last

  Understanding more

  Learning less

  Never feeling of the rest

  Smiling again…

  Reaction learnt

  No reason why

  Only realised on goodbye

  Smiling again…

  Green upon Black

  On days like these

  I can only see

  Green upon black

  Hatred turns my cheek

  So that I can’t see

  Behind me

  The past at my back

  I look ahead

  To a future dead

  I wish I were too

  Though I am linked to this life

  My blood in you

  Peel my eyes from your beating heart
r />   Feel the sharpness there

  Pluck my fingers from your eyes

  See my self abuse

  I’m too tired to hate

  Too fired up to be calm

  Too angry to die

  Too self piteous to harm

  Too twisted up in emotion to see

  Too trapped in my mind to ever be free

  Too much

  Too little

  Too soon

  Too late

  I want to curl

  In the womb of depression

  I want to tear

  My way out and destroy

  But I

  I

  I am

  So

  So tired

  So tired

  Desert Tongue

  Motherhood and mayhem

  Please find the words to tell them

  Desert on my tongue

  Rain in my eyes

  Brotherhood and bitches

  Turning rags from riches

  Dying for my truth

  Living their lies

  Simply biding my time

  Riding out my crimes

  Holding it all in, running blind

  Howling at the night

  Hiding from the white light

  Keep calm

  Carry on

  Tow the line

  Bleeding hands

  Hold shattered dreams

  Watching all the fractions gleam

  Knowing they are pieces of my life

  Now I wonder how long I can

  Hold this nightmare in my hands

  Without the effort weeping me dry

  No, just leave me alone

  Remote Suicide

  It’s been so long

  I’m just sitting by

  Watching him watch me

  As he damages my life

  I’ve tried to cope

  Leaving him to rage and cry

  Knowing that the truth to me

  To him is an elaborate lie

  I wonder why

  He acts like the moth to my flame

  Without A Trace

  The world is crashing down

  Tumbling years

  So loud I cannot hear my screams

  Torn from old dreams

  Ripped from my very soul

  Left as a gaping whole

  Even though the end is near