Never felt this giddy
Just standing up, like a born
Again teenager-clutz, the arms
And legs are too long, gangley
Gawking as more bits tumble
From sprawling too-wild move-
Ments, the same again as always
Just little ole me, yet standing
Up makes for such a butterfly-
Swirl, stomache-churning bowl-
Me-over experience that I forget
To duck and bang my head, against
What? I don’t know, yesterday,
Today, tomorrow, me, myself and
I all melting into one big morass
Of unsolved riddles, rough and
Smooth waves alike breaking across
My bow, furrowed in concentrated
Coolness, mustn’t lose this tight
Grip I have on letting go, like new
Rider learning the ropes, letting the
Horse take control, trotting by gentle
Nudge instead of yanking the chain,
Reins loose in hand, fighting the urge
To try too hard, so hard just to sit
Still, not just when it’s low, when all’s
Brought down close to zero or less,
Below the plain of common consciousness
Shared depression, we’ve been there,
Done that, got the t-shirt, but no
This is something completely
Different, giddiness of teenage
Second time round, smile inside
Daring the world to bring me down
This is me standing, one foot at a
Time, one limb outstretched as my
Esteem and self climb, up from the
Ground, where I have stayed for so
Long, this is only the beginning,
Teased by song, the tuning forks
Inside have begun to chime, this
Is it, the true beginning of life’s
Hard climb, momentum built, breath
Held close inside, the moment to
Come, book, self, child cried out,
To start here and now feels just so
So right, the beginning again,
This time it will all work out,
Because it has to.
Tag Archives: life
it’s just plain taxing…
I have to warn you – this will be a rant (hence the ‘category’ of ‘rant’).
For those of finer sensibilities, or who prefer to only read the less rant-acious blogs, turn away now. Read something from the ‘poetry’ category, take up table tennis, or learn the ancient martial art of navel-gazing (one of my favourite ‘down-time’ pastimes).
Still reading? Cool. So here goes.
First the facts:
1. I am a single full-time working parent.
2. My daughter lives with me 7 days a week.
3. I earn more than 44k a year (whoopti-doo, I hear you say. Just bear with me, this is all going somewhere.)
Now the punchline:
1. I presently get £80 a month ‘child tax credit’. That is the full extent of the financial assistance the government (which I have paid for during my 15 years working in England) gives to me. £80 per month. That’s it.
2. Because I earn more than £44k a year, I will lose my £80 per month child tax credit come June. That’s right, all gone. Supposedly, I don’t need it anymore. Thanks coallition government!
3. If I lived with a partner with both of us earning £44k (total annual household income of £88k) we would together receive £160 per month child tax credit, even after June. Nice, eh?
So, according to the government, the magic number is £44k.
And if two people earn less than this live together, they need financial support from our tax money, whereas I don’t (I do not take home anywhere £88k, although it would be really nice if I did!).
So there you have it.
Oh, and the coallition government also brought a stealth income tax increase in during this year, meaning someone earning more than £40k pays an additional £100 per month in tax… Because we can obviously afford it.
Where is this money going? I hear you ask.
Better schools? More libraries? Higher paid doctors and nurses? Public infrastructure? Paying the needy or elderly to be able to live better?
Nope.
This money is the debt we inherited because some idiot in the previous government (Brown…) decided it was a good idea to blow your and my money on failing banks. “Good money after bad money.” Interesting decision.
So, fundamentally, I lose £80 per month, Hounslow closes 8 out of 10 libraries (four of which were either just refurbished or rebuilt in the last 12 months!), we lose police, schools lose funding, local communities and charities lose funding, to line the pockets of already rich bankers.
The same bankers who gambled and lost our money in the first place. (Note, they did NOT lose their own money at all – neither the first or the second time, because most high-end bankers pay next to nothing in tax – 20% at most on maybe part of what they earn.)
That’s all.
Screw the working class, the middle earners. Tax them harder, remove their benefits. Let the gambling continue in the markets. (And before anyone self-righteously accuses me of cashing in on the scramble for cash then stabbing those gambling ‘heroes’ in the back when it all fell apart; I did not ever buy any shares, aside from the “option” to buy shares of a company I once worked in which was actually part of the pension scheme.)
And of course hike up the cost of commuting, electricity, gas…
I don’t want to pay for some gamblers to continue to burn our world economy.
Rant over! 🙂
Back to happy self.
Back to rewriting. 😉
Til next time, keep breathing easy,
mE (Em)
grey hairs
To punch a wall,
Light a cigareete, deep
Breathe, inhale, feel
The burn bite deep in
Throat, taste the sour
Acrid smoke, nurse the
Bloody knuckles, and
Wonder where the basest
Emotions spring from, within
This chest, from under breast,
Deep inside the core, need
I say anything more?
What caged lionmonster
Paces within, growing older
Days shorter, growing double chin,
The tea-time Sunday of life’s
Short weekend, the 30’s half-
Way done, teens long past,
The forties bearing down, all
Too fast, hair thinning, greys
Sprouting, don’t know about
Innings, yet it’s been a good
Outing, so far, not so bad, yet
Somehow still quite sad, not just
What I’d hoped for, yet more
Happiness than ever had, this
Stillness, a dream, this patience
Like steam from the shower,
Leaving skin soaked clean through,
Not half of life lived, the yoke sat
Quite skew, dragging half of me
Down, no lower than ground,
Which in my own personal health,
Is as good as could be hoped
For lower than that I have been
For so long, that ground level is
At least solid, something strong.
A place to stand, but not for
Long, for the changes that
Come, as we grow each old tonight
Bring the dawn of a new day, the
Taste of the future, though teasing
Still bright, blinding me to my
Own, still feeling for what is right,
Striking out on my own, no fear
Is the only way forward, for fear
Is the ultimate leach of the soul,
Crippling our very being through
Unfair weight and poor sight.
This is not the end, nor even
The beginning. This is the middle,
Time to start building. Foundation
Is strong, bricks easily formed,
Mortar of tears thickened by years
Of being bourne.
And me in the middle, still young,
Laughing, as the walls of a new
Place grow all around, this is me
This is mine, it is home which I
Have found.
Home, to build
On finally solid ground.
i do not know
…if we’re truly aware
That each time we cross the road
Stepping out into that vast abyss
Of today and forever tomorrow, if
We truly understand the gravitas
Of the step we take, that we
Ourselves, are trusting in faith,
Believing in the base sanity of
Others, putting our hands in the
Lives of total strangers, as if
It were the most natural thing to do
Yet at the same time, each day
We bitch and quarrel, love and hate,
Judge and are judged, by those
Same people, friends, family, total
Strangers, in front of whom we place
Our lives, every day, as if it were the most
Natural thing to do, as if the madness of one
Small moment, a shuddering nerve-ending
Misfired synapse, could not plunge
Their foot to the floor, and all of our
Hopesaspirationswishesdreams
Vanish in instant blackness, the
Echoes of crying voices, twisted metal,
Broken bones and forgotten dreams,
Lives changed for those involved, forever
For those who watch are involved as well,
All just a momentary lapse, a shuddering muscle spasm,
A foot slipped from break to gas,
Moment frozen in time, the scene
Painted like an illusion on the minds
Of those who cannot stop it,
Even those involved, once set in action
This thing cannot be undone, and so
We stand and watch, or sit and cringe,
Or take the hit and fall, each one of us
Changed irrevocably and forever,
Telling ourselves that we will be more
Careful ourselves next time, or
Damning ourselves for a lapse of concentration
Or taking the hit and praying to live.
Yet time passes, not much really,
Just enough though, and we are left
Stepping thoughtlessly into the street
Putting our faith into total strangers,
People we would not invite into our home,
Into our lives, for we do not know
Them, instead we put our lives
In their hands.
And we are the sane ones?
Site redesigned, ebooks online…time to get back to writing!
I find myself checking my download count for the three poetry books I have published so far, like an expectant gardener watching his crops turn from seedlings into blossoming fruit.
It is difficult not to feel a shade excited by a ‘good’ day of downloads. The danger is, of course, that I’ll be down in the dumps after no or low downloads.
More interesting, to me at least, is the fact that I need the feedback of people choosing to download my books to feel better about my writing…or do I?
Truth be told, I have probably spent more time mucking about with my blog (thank you Adam for making it look so good…on Monday this week – I’ve probably already wrecked it by putting up ‘halfway’ decent graphics – sorry man!), checking my download count on Smashwords and generally not doing what I should be – which is rewriting my Killer Application book.
It is way too easy to get distracted. The procrastinator kicks in and tells me all is well – I still have six months to get it into second draft shape. Yet that is a goal I set so as not to put too much pressure on myself, an arbitrary goal to say the least. Yet it is counting down towards me and I have lost a bit of traction on the rewriting. Not a bad thing – distance may give me a better perspective, yet I feel it is not the right time for perspective. The danger, of course, is slowing down too much…or is it?
I wonder if all artists, writers, creators feel this way. Maybe this is a common theme – to keep the pace up while not burning all of the energy at once. It is a hard balance to strike – between sleep and writing. Seeing as this is only my ‘hobby’ (until I publish Killer App and start to actually ‘sell’ books instead of give them away), I guess I have to take the balanced view.
Oh to be able to spend all of my time writing – what joy, what excitement, what unbelievable bliss! I envy you, full-time writers, I really do. I am sure there are issues with it, but as Terry Pratchett once said, “Writing is the most fun anyone can have by themselves.” It is true. Nothing I have ever done on my own aside from writing has given me so much joy and satisfaction.
No, this does not count ‘raising children’. That is not done on your own, even as a single parent like me. That is done with the child or children – they are as much a part of the ‘raising’ as we parents are. In fact, I’m pretty sure my daughter raised me as much as I her. 🙂 Thanks Sky!
Anyway, I’ve decided to go away and stop mucking about with my blog, and the store I tried to create, and the ebooks I keep playing around with (oooh oooh ooh, I’ll just waste another three hours placing the new logo my mate Adam created for me for Darker Zeus on my ebooks…and create a new anthology of free stories…NO! Get back to work!).
Sometimes we have to be the disciplinarian. I think parenting others (children, people you know, your own parents) is easier than parenting ourselves.
Do they teach classes in ‘parenting yourself’?
Til next time, adios and good luck in all your endeavours!
Em (mE)