palicedotorg

Prince William

To take on something

Like homelessness

This is how I

An intuitive feeler

1% of the population

Feels about it

You cannot not get

Political

About it

When people need

Love

Healing

Therapy

Shelter

Animals

People

Care

Trust

Specialist treatment

We have to go above

And beyond

To truly understand

The reasons

The heroine addict

Behind homelessness

So this is the trip

I went on

First

Brown

When you cook it up

On your dirty single

Mattress

In a squat

And inject it into

Your veins

Running through your

Blood stream

Every worry

Every concern

Dissipates

Distillates

Filtrates

And disappears

From your body

When all you feel

Is pure bliss

Sinking through the

Floor

Swimming through every

Cell of your body

It isn’t sex

But it feels safe

For a moment

Lost without time

No problems

And no fear

The trip of all trips

Transcending dimensions

A potent mix

From the universe

Of plants

The affliction

Of the addiction

Takes hold

As moments pass

For I have no judgement

When you would do

Anything

Anything

For that next hit

With your skin

Crawling

And itching

You run

Steal

Break the law

Beg

Yearn

For the money

For that bit of brown

Maybe it’s crack

Maybe it’s smack

Anything to take the

Memories away

For I’ve slept rough

Lay next to tramps

The homeless

Spent hours

And nights

With them

Trying to understand

How they feel

Why they are on

The streets

My heart beats

With an ability

To sense

And go through their

Lives

Witness is not experience

Sympathy is not

Empathy

Their stories

I hold dear to my

Heart

The alcoholic

He’s in his sixties

White beard

Unwashed

Bad teeth

Can’t remember

The last time he

Washed

And that first sip

Of the spirit

Whiskey

And the feeling

Of that state

When the alcohol

Works its magic

Whether he pisses himself

Ends up in the gutter

Vomits over himself

And the pavement

Nothing matters

Because of the pure

Ecstasy

He feels

Escaping reality

Into sleep

Oblivion

With no care

In the universe

For he reached the

Gods

Before passing out

I met this guy

When I caught the end

Of an AA meeting

He’d been clean

For 46 years

Said he loved alcohol

More than

His wife

More than his life

Itself

That is how it feels

The girl I used

To see

At Clapham Junction

When I was

Coming back from

Work

Skinny to the bone

I asked her what she

Would like

She always wanted

The cherry icing bakewell tarts

Anything to feed her

Her story matters

They all do

So the abused

The different reasons

For ending up on

The streets

Sexual abuse

As a child

The guilt

The shame

The confusion

The fear

Some become sex addicts

Themselves

Others carry the

Memories

They flee to the

Streets

Where survival

Of the harshest

Cold

And weather

Conditions

Is better

Than any memory

Cold to the touch

Your eyes tell me

Too much

So many different reasons

For homelessness

The mental illness

The neglect

What they have witnessed

So there’s this Irish

Guy

Let’s call him Jo

His father’s a gambling

Alcoholic

Who beats up his

Mum

He has a sister

Jo runs away to

Dublin

Aged seventeen

He finds a stray

Dog

Who really found him

He can barely read

Or write

Cannot articulate

How he feels

Pale

Skinny

Green eyes

Green veins

The way people look at

Him

When they walk

Past him

The pity

They feel

He doesn’t know

The word

He just knows

How it makes

Him feel

He sees people

In smart clothes

Girls his age walking

Past

Looking at him

With sorrow

Someone gives him

50p

And another person

£1

He buys a can of coke

That pours through

His body

And it feels

Like pure medicine

A rush of sugar

To his brain

Jo is completely broken

He can barely feel

Most of the time

He is so cold

He forgets what warm

Feels like

As the hours

Pass like years

And the years

Pass like centuries

Someone from Shelter

Speaks to Jo

‘We’re gonna help you

And find you

Somewhere to live

With your dog’

The flat is freshly

Painted

With a cupboard

A single bed

And a window

Looking out onto

The street

Jo gets diagnosed

With PTSD

What does that

Even mean?

The flashbacks

He experiences

Wake him up

In his sleep

He thinks about

His sister

He receives

Therapy

But we know what

Jo needs

It’s beyond therapy

He needs to be

Held

Loved

He needs to feel

Safe

So Shelter help him

Find a job

At the local newsagents

He learns how

To work the till

There’s this girl

Sophie

Who works at the

Newsagents

Too

The way she looks

At him

If only she

Knew

Gradually, Sophie

Starts speaking

To Jo

It takes time

But they get to know

Each other

Sophie comes back

To Jo’s flat

And she holds him

When he shakes

When he cries

When he screams

Jo feels like Sophie

Is an angel

Who was put on this

Earth

Especially for him

Homelessness

Prince William

What a task

Mammoth mountain

To take on

Soup kitchens

Shelters

Supported accommodation

Mental health

Severe trauma

I respect you

So much

For doing it

Your mother would be

So proud

There are some, few

Who would prefer

To be on the streets

As that is their only

Way to deal with

Reality

But many

Really do need and want help

We need resources

Funding

So much specialist treatment

To tackle this issue

Above all

We and they

Need

Love

But need will always

Be greater than love

Lack of judgement

Understanding

Listening

And accepting

Our differences

Is crucial

I’m with you

On this one

Wholeheartedly

Fortitude, magnitude

And circumference

Encapturing these never

Ending lives

For sacrament and

Solitude

Dancing through

The equilibrium of time

When I’m galloping

Across the desert

With my blue eyes

Persian metal mask

With the bar between

My eyes

Where is he?

And then there in

My mystical visions

He’s standing in the

Middle of the desert

On the sand

Bare feet

In a blue turban

What is it that you

Need or want?

So I bring him a horse

Through another galaxy

Door

We strip naked slowly

And make love

All of my dreams, fantasies

And visions

What are the Gods

Trying to tell me?

Is this my brain’s way

Of protecting myself?

Another vision, he’s on the

Motorbike

In that spiked leather

Jacket

And I’m behind him

With my head nestled

Into his shoulder

I’m in my leathers

I swivel round and

Straddle him on the bike

My land of dreams

I’ve taken you to my

Paradise

With the mountains

And the gorilla on top

With the blue butterfly

Atop its shoulder

The trees and mud

All around us

Walking into the lagoon

Of water

Naked, bare

With the waterfall

Falling down on our

Naked bodies

Connected tantrically

Sexually

I have only taken one

Other person there before

You can take anyone

You’re there

When I’m 17

And you come into my

Dorm

And get into my bed

You kiss me and make

Love to me

You’re healing me

Is this Eros?

What is going on in my

Mind?

Isn’t it hard to find?

When you’re separates

Creating different art

But there’s a part

A roll to play

Stay away

And my God I will

And am

Yet you keep saving me

Giving it to me

If this is all my spirit’s

Work

And yours

And your spirit’s not

Connected to your body

Do you have any idea

At all?

Let the rain bless your lips

My soft skin

And pulsing hips

This celibacy is

Pure

I only need myself

Right now

For my spirit guides

And angels

Have my back

Their delicate wings

Holding their magic

Powder

Does the blue butterfly

Only mate with a blue

Butterfly?

Or do different species

Of butterflies

Mate with each other?

Butterflies and fears

Through all these years

I’ve travelled through

Your life

Time’s gone by

Please stop asking me

Why

When I need to see someone

I know I need to see someone

But that is not what you want

Unhealthy?

If only you knew

Holy Mary Mother of God

You gave the Virgin Mary

Your donkey

For we trade

Mary Magdalene

I truly felt that crucifixion

Pre civilisation

The rocks billions of years

Old

The energy of animism

The moldavite to help you

Sleep

The many moons

Across the midnight

Galactic starry oasis

So I’m a whale in the ocean

Pangea

Lucy, the oldest soul I know

My friend

Ocean eyes

Reptile fingers

With the plants in the

Water

The way whales mate

From sea to land

Dinosaurs

To birds

To apes

Gorillas in the midst

And the monkeys

Animal Kingdom

Should there be a

Hierarchy?

Do we need this class

System?

If there were no public schools

And we all started

On the same level

Invested in state schools

For children to have

The playing fields

The education

The mixed schools

That everyone deserves

Wouldn’t the system be

Fairer?

For I’m privileged

But one of the reasons

I under ate

Apart from being in love

Was because of my

Privilege

When I was learning

About starving children

In Africa

And there were girls

In my house

Whose parents

Were splitting up

One girl was bulimic

I was the one people

Turned to

Talked to

An unofficial therapist

Why was I so lucky?

So I had safe foods

Foods I felt safe eating

I do not see it as an

Eating disorder

I’m really done with

All these diagnoses

They’re just different states

Of mind

A revered shaman?

A chosen one?

Who knows? Maybe

But maybe here in London

England

We don’t recognise them

Where are our saints?

For we have many

Sinners

Rishi, I’ve been watching

You

And the decisions

You’re making

What about the animals?

What about the pollution?

The oil spills

Your economy

Is too important to you

For you need water, right?

You need medicine

You need food

You need light, fire

You need your wife

Your life

But you cannot see

What I can see

The scientists are screaming

It is a climate emergency

Yet because your house

Is not on fire

And you are not drowning

You simply do not have

The empathy

Capacity

Ability

To feel, truly understand

What if feels like to

Lose it all

Everything

You need

Your greed

The disabled are crying out

The NHS is on its knees

And you want to privatise

It

Make it a business

Yes it needs to be run

More efficiently

But if you sorted out

Your budget

More efficiently

And saw healthcare as an

Essential need

You would understand

Why tax payers money

Should fund the NHS

There are environmental

Laws that need to be

Made

Globally

Please, Rishi, focus your

Mind

On what is needed

Raw sewage in the ocean

Who allows that?

Noam Chomsky’s

Green New Deal

Read it

And weep

I pray for change

Because you have

No idea

What’s coming

Buenos Aires, Argentina

2002

I was 19 years old

My niece Camila, Cami

Was only a few months old

I remember looking at her

As a baby

And seeing stars in her eyes

My father had found this

Alternative therapist

Who had a technique using

These prongs

Stroking along my back

To try and aid my development

Apparently through the birth

Canal

Through my youth

I hadn’t progressed usually

Hence, my childlike

Personality

I started drifting

Floating into psychosis

So from memory

This is what happened

I was standing in

The middle of the square of

Plaza de Mayo

And I had this

Revelation

Which I will never forget

All the time zones

Were going on around me

At the same time

I could see

People

In glassy spirit like

Form

Walking through buildings

Through bridges

That weren’t built in

That particular time zone

It was the most incredible

Revelation

I think I have ever witnessed

Everything

All time

Going on at the same

Time

Yet the magic of it

Was the present

And the present time

Zone

I could see in physical

Form

So the concept of

Multi dimensional time

My mathematical

Theory

Of TT (Pi)

TT (Pi) = T + T = Two time zones

The circumference of a circle = 2TT(Pi)R

The circle representing

Time

There is a madness to it

A tangent but also in

Maths

And its origins

What does the circle

Represent?

What is TT (Pi)?

I know a guy

Who knows TT (Pi) to

I think

96 decimal points

Each number and the way

He remembers the numbers

Is that each number

Represents a girl he knows

So for example I could be

Number 28

And the way he remembers

The numbers

Is the order in which

He places us in his

Brain

So to continue the story

I started travelling

Through all the different

Wars

Like I have said

Psychosis

Can be the most incredible

Rarest dream you have

Ever had

Or your worst nightmare

This is where it can be

Your worst nightmare

So for context

I am in Argentina

With my parents

And sister-in-law

At the time

My brother and

My baby niece

And we are travelling

By coach

My mother put a piece

Of chicken

In my mouth

And it was there

12 hours later

For I was catatonic

But this is what I experienced

While I was going through

Catatonia

I was in Russia

During the war

It was so cold

And the war was going

On all around me

So when my father

Was asked to show

His passports

I was afraid

Because I was time travelling

Through different wars

I can see the Russian fur hats

I can feel the icy air

Due to having had

So many lives

Being such an old soul

I was perhaps

Going through

Every life

Of course my family were

Notably alarmed and

Concerned

We got to Iguazu

Falls

I remember the waterfalls

And the spiders

But of course

I wasn’t present

My sister-in-law

Having studied psychology

And my mother

Felt like I needed

Medication

But this medication

Was not medicine

It was truly damaging

And it was interrupting

The process of my

Psychosis

But you can understand

Why they felt like

They needed to give it

To me

It traumatised my brain

Disorientated me

In the middle of the night

I tried to go to the

Bathroom

But I was so all over

The place

I peed on the floor

I’m writing this to try and

Explain how awful these

Medications are

I became incontinent

So they had to get me

Adult nappies

I was dribbling

And was in a state of

Severe disability

We were flying back to the UK

And my mother

I think due to embarrassment

Was trying to get me to stop

Dribbling

I was in an adult

Nappy

I couldn’t control my body

Afflicted by this poisonous

Medication

I think it’s the worst

Medication

I have ever taken

I don’t know its name

My sister-in-law

Got it in Buenos Aires

My point in writing this

Is to try and explain

These psychopharma

Medications

Are not medicine

They have too many damaging

Side effects

To be labelled medicine

Primum Non Nocere

The Hippocratic Oath

Of medicine

That all medics must

Take under oath

First Do No Harm

Big pharma

You have created pure

Harm

Blood money

Damage

My purpose is to teach

Professors and doctors

About where they have

Gone so drastically wrong

There is a way to treat

Psychosis

Perhaps with sedatives

Like herbal nytol

Anything natural

Plant based to aid

With sleep

In a safe environment

Even in some cases

Where the patient may be

Violent

Give them sedatives

Because these anti psychotics

Are interrupting a vital process

These patients need

Healing

Therapy

Regression

Medicine

Plants

Individual nutritional

Diets

‘Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food’

‘One man’s food is another man’s poison’

For millennia

We have dealt with

Mania and psychosis

We’ve burnt witches at

The stake

We’ve chained people up

We’ve put people in strait jackets

We cuffed people to beds

We’ve given people lobotomies

We’ve given people ECT

We’ve pinned people down

More like you have

Not me

I never would

Harm a soul

Yes there is clinical depression

The doctors make claims

Like a chemical imbalance

They talk of Serotonin

Dopamine

But there is not enough proof

Or evidence behind their

Claims

Do the work

That is the truth

When you look at DNA

Genetics

Biokinetically

There is a movement

A reason why one gene

That may be genetically

Carried

That if triggered by

Stress or lack of sleep

For example

It can lead to psychosis

But these genes have multiple

Purposes in the body

If the spirit is not

Connected to the soul

And you are not protecting

Yourself properly

You get too close to the

Light

Dark entities, forces, energies

May pass through you

Causing possession

I have witnessed a patient

On the ward who was

Lying on the ground clearly

Possessed

Shaking uncontrollably

No anti psychotic will

Heal that

In fact the opposite

The Exorcism of Emily Rose

It is explained in the film

They cannot be exorcised

Or healed

If drugged

Or on medication

There is a massive difference

Between schizophrenia

And schizoaffective disorder

And everyone’s mind

Is individual

So categorisation

Is not accurate enough

It’s like a mathematical

Equation

A certain combination

You have to treat the

Individual

Schizoaffective Disorder

Can often be a spiritual

Illness

I have noticed that

Symptoms of

Bipolar

And schizophrenia

It is not about the diagnosis

The flawed psychiatry

It is about what is going on

In their

Mind, body and spirit

We need to become more holistic

Think outside the box

To heal your patients

When medically, scientifically

Your understanding of the brain

Is so primitive

You need to think in

A different way and

Actually learn

From ancient wisdom

And other cultures

The answers are there

But I’m afraid

The west

Has gone so drastically

Wrong

With their arrogance

And lack of humility

Wipe the slate clean

Learn from the damage

You have caused

Of Prescribed Harm

Like PSSD

Permanent damage

No sexual feeling at all

Can you imagine?

Look these people up

I truly feel for them

Anti depressants

Which I have never taken

I have only taken

Anti psychotics

But recently

During my withdrawal

I have felt brain damaged

I can heal myself

But they have damaged

My gut

My second brain

My memory

My physical body

Causing a huge amount

Of weight gain

That is not healthy

This is far too long

But my scars have a story to tell

Pray well

James, Annelie, Aunty Jane, Joy, Granny Lulu, King Grandpa, Suzie, The Mercury Man, River Phoenix, David Bowie, John Lennon, Prince, Amy Winehouse, Iris, Grace

and countless others

We’ve all experienced loss

We’ve all experienced grief

When you’re surrounded by

spirits

When you can sense and

feel their energy

Or sometimes their distance

Knowing they’re not far away

Just somewhere over the rainbow

I’ve shed waterfalls of tears

When it comes to loss

James, diagnosed with

Schizophrenia

But such a beautiful soul

I remember biking to Hurlingham

With you

Singing Bob Marley songs

Whether you fell or jumped

It doesn’t matter

Because I know you flew

Those visions I get of you

On the other side

In a boat

On the water

Coming to see me in bird

form

Walking on my own

And telling me to look back

To see the perfect rainbow

You were such a beautiful

writer

Such a delicate energy

I still feel you sometimes

But the distance feels greater

Annelie

We lost you to alcohol

But those piercing blue eyes

And white blonde hair

Your art on the walls

in Vermont

The colours you used

Telling me how you were

feeling

I spoke to a guy in AA once

When I was leaving GA

He said he loved alcohol

more than his wife

more than his life

The Buddhist monks created

alcohol

The spirit

When it takes hold of you

The affliction of the addiction

Feels stronger than you

That’s when you need

Your higher power

To surrender

Step 1

of the 12 Steps

‘God, grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot

change

The courage to change the

things I can

and the wisdom to know

the difference’

Annelie came to see me

as a bird in Vermont

She told me to look after

her partner

my uncle Tom

And I will

Aunty Jane, without you

I wouldn’t have my flat

So I am grateful to you

Every day

For your kindness towards Will,

Laura, Mill and me

Without child

We remember staying with

you in Croydon

Your dogs

Your sandwiches

You turning up four hours

before Christmas lunch

It was hilarious

But we loved you for it

Running down to see you

in our pyjamas

After opening our stockings

You were under 5ft

I think your growth was stunted

When Grandpa lost his leg

In the war

The shock

We miss you

Joy

What a magic sister you were

to Granny Lulu

In the end you lost your

mind

to Dementia

But I could see you were

just in your own world

And I drew comfort in that

Granny Lulu

What a gift you had

It’s in your blood line

With the name St Clair

Your gift was strong

Thank you for all the love

and memories with Grandpa

In Portugal

In your flat

Watching Little Lord Fauntleroy

My Fair Lady

These films had a big impact

On my life

You always gave me such

wise advice

You battled Osteoporosis, had

a quadruple heart bypass,

several strokes

Having to learn to walk

again

Yet you never complained

Had a unique relationship

With each of your grandchildren

and Cami

Your great grand daughter

King Grandpa

Cami gave you that name

And boy, it suited you

I remember you sitting at

the head of the table at

Jules’ for Sunday lunch,

Christmas, any occasion

Becoming more and more

outrageous as the years went

on

The way you cared for Granny

So much love and devotion

You taught me so much

about your relationship with

Granny

A champion 100 yard sprinter

You held the record for 50 years

A fantastic rugby player

You joined the Grenadier Guards

And danced with The Queen

Fought heroically in the

Second World War

Losing your leg

On that Fateful Day

21st March at noon

The same day and time

That your uncle, Geoffrey Bassett

Lost his life in the First

World War

Who you were named after

But you continued on

With style

Marrying Granny

Giving birth to your two children

Michael, my father and Julia

Running a successful drinks

company

You brought us so much joy

and laughter

We still love you

And sometimes I sense you

At the most random of moments

‘Love you darling Al’

You never seem that far away

Suzie, we never met

But Tom has told me

You were the most incredible

healer

With a rare powerful gift

Your husband told Tom

You still continue your

work in heaven

And you really do

People like you are rare

gifts

That graced this earth

We are all fortunate due

to your powers

You seem to continue on

And we are forever grateful

The Mercury Man

Where to begin dear Freddie

My Rock God

Your power on stage

Your pace

Your skill

Your voice

Your laugh

I remember when you came

through briefly

Telling me I was born to

be on stage

I’ve never forgotten

And continue to learn

from everything you achieved

in life

Taken by Aids

But your last song saying

The words ‘ I still love you’

Well I still love you Freddie

River Phoenix

What a life

What a soul

Not sure who it was who

came through

Some kind of connection to

your spirit

Looking through my photo

albums

Teaching me how to cry

When I was at Drama

School

Telling me all your siblings’

names

So many visions

So many stories

Who knows what it was

But it felt so real

And the revelations were

incredible

David Bowie

What an artist

What a revolutionary

Your music

Your make up and costumes

‘John, I’m only dancing’

Leads me on to

John Lennon

One of my favourite lyrics you

wrote

‘Why do you think you’re

here, when you’re everywhere’

Everything you achieved with

the Beatles

and as a solo artist

I remember the time when

you came through

When your son Sean

was writing Friendly Fire

My favourite jeans

and t-shirt

I was often barefoot at

that time

Such creative times and

memories

You were shot

Taken suddenly, unfairly

But your work lives on

Imagine, that album

Along with Queen got me

into writing songs and lyrics

Prince

What an all round genius

of a musician

I am learning more about

your work, your moves

and what you did

recently

My brother was always a

big fan of yours as is Tom

Amy Winehouse

Where to begin

You achieved so much in

such a short space of time

Your soul voice

Your unique nature

Pretty sure it was your

guidance that led me

to meeting someone

that night

Always there sometimes far

Sometimes close

It was the drugs and drink

that got you in the end

part of the magic 27 club

You will always be remembered

Iris

What a friend you were to

Cami

Taken too young

So many rainbows

So much light

Such an incredible spirit

You are sorely missed

Taken by a tragic accident

Grace

The only sister to three

brothers

You died at seventeen

I’ve never cried so much

at someone’s funeral

It’s been fourteen years

Since you died

Such a beauty

An amazing swimmer

So creative

I remember that time

a bird came to my

window sill and I felt

it was you

I love your family and

your friends

Your grace lives on

There are so many others

We have lost along the

way

Everyone can relate to

grief

They are not far away

Some people we have lost

in life

People drift apart

But we carry on living

Almost in parallel lives

We are all a lot closer

than we realise

no need to ever feel

alone

We care

Any they’re just over there

I was born 30th September 1983

I’ve dreamed to dance

Dreamed to act

Dreamed to sing

Dreamed to write

Dreamed to film

Dreamed to run

Dreamed to win

You asked me to perform

Something I don’t take light

Needing to learn my lines off by heart

And deliver with ease

Poetic performance

So here’s my life simply

I was born and schooled with privilege

Got diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder at 17

My life changed

Friends fade

Learnt who my real friends were

Got a secretarial diploma

Worked in property

Spent my twenties in NHS psychiatric wards

Being sectioned

Taking them to tribunal

Winning each case

Studied advanced personal training, nutrition, obesity, pre and post natal, arthritis, osteoarthritis, osteoporosis, Swedish body massage, sports massage and injury

Worked in a gym

Studied to be a doctor

Got 100% in my maths exam

It was the 2008 recession

I quit after a year

Working for a commercial real estate company

Helped out bands

Made a few plans

Worked for a Private Equity firm

Learnt what was private and understood why

Broke down in 2017

Exhausted

Pinned down

Injected again

Missed my brother’s wedding

We’re super close

Him and me

Met my boyfriend of 5 years

He has disabilities

There are struggles

But there is joy and love

Worked in retail

Learnt why I never wanted to be involved in the retail industry

Unless it was ethical, fair, sustainable

The consumerism, amount of clothes and pace of new lines concerned me

The plastic packaging destroyed me

I left

I’m now a part-time nanny

I work with Jazzi Sirius

Who I think is rare, beautiful, unique and talented

Above all empathetic

I feel protective

I have my low phases and high phases

Schizoaffective Disorder is part Bi Polar part Schizophrenia

You want to talk about mental health

There needs to be more focus on severe mental illness

Forget the stigma

I get why it’s there

We fear what we don’t understand

But I’m not afraid

It takes a lot to scare me

I think about people without running water

People who pick tea

And the coke trail cost of life

I think about the climate crisis

Greta Thunberg is my hero

I also like Amal Clooney’s work in human rights

This is more like prose than poetry

But if I’m gonna be a headline act

I need to be honest and open

Cards on the table

I’ve had a pathological gambling addiction, promiscuity and compulsive overspending on one medication

Weight gain on every other

I’ve had sexual dysfunction

I’ve never taken anti depressants

Medication should be your last resort

The system’s broken

I have many friends with severe mental health conditions

Personality disorders are a separate entity but they need help too

There’s no time for discrimination

Black lives do matter

The dairy industry can cause huge suffering

When I go into a supermarket I get overwhelmed

Thinking of every human worker

Primary, secondary and tertiary industry

Religious delusion is common in psychosis

So is grandiosity

Understanding leads to acceptance

I don’t let my diagnosis define me

It helps others more than me

I’ve been writing my life story since I was 17

I’m now 39

My dream is to make it into a film

I have ADHD

It affects us all differently

I have comprehension dyslexia

I run, I play tennis, I am captain of my hockey team

My family mean everything to me

I don’t underestimate their support

I see and know others from broken homes

I believe it starts before conception

I have no children for reasons mentioned above

But I love children

I think there are too many of us

But I think Mother Nature always finds a way

I don’t think it will be easy but we’re in this together

And if we’re on the same page

I’ve got your back

If I learnt this off by heart

And didn’t forget my lines

Maybe there’s hope for my damaged brain

Memory’s a muscle

I can be lazy

I’m in awe of dancers

I was told I was a Russian Prima Ballerina in a past life

I remember spinning on stage

I have an affinity with certain classical music pieces I remember dancing to

A nurse in the Second World War

An effeminate Persian masked prince

Who kept his identity a secret while dancing

And would gallop across the desert

I get visions from my past lives

Going all the way back

I’m open to your views and opinions

Easily swayed

I have innate confidence

My self esteem needs work

I find it hard to let go from people I shouldn’t have in my life

I’m not married

Freedom and peace are two of the most important things to me

My favourite things in the world are sleep, dancing, travelling in many senses of the word and sex

So there we have it

Stream of consciousness

I wrote this in 10 minutes

At 04:49 on 17th December 2022

For tonight

I’ll put it on http://www.palice.org tomorrow

Dream to Live, Live to Dream

Peace out dudes ✌️

There was a young girl, aged 6, who went to Wimbledon Park with her mother. Her mother was playing tennis with her friend. This little girl asked her mother if she could go and play in the playground. She got on her bike and rode to the playground. She decided to go on the swings. She loved swinging on the swings, the feeling she felt of the wind swishing past her swinging back and forth was such a liberating feeling, it made her feel so free and alive. She was a friendly girl who liked company but she didn’t have anyone to play with. She saw some older girls, they looked about 14, on the merry-go-round so she decided to get off from the swings and walked over to the merry-go-round. One of the girls had dirty, blonde, slightly greasy hair with a bit of a wave to it and it was tied back. When she spoke to the little girl, the girl noticed she had one black front tooth. The other girl had long straight, dark brown hair. The blonde girl was sitting on top of the merry-go-round while the other girl was going round the merry-go-round but on the other side. They got chatting.
‘We’ve got a den. Would you like to come and see our den?’
‘That sounds exciting, yes please’ replied the little girl, ‘But I’ll just have to go and ask my Mummy if it’s ok.’
‘Ok’ said the girls.
They walked out of the playground and around to the side of the tennis courts with the little girl walking her bike beside her, holding the steering handles. There are many tennis courts at Wimbledon Park and the little girl’s mother liked playing tennis there.
The little girl left the big girls and biked around to the gates of the tennis court where her mother was playing.
‘Mummy, I’ve met some girls in the playground and they’d like to show me their den, please can I go and have a look at it?’
‘Yes, ok but make sure you come back here.’ Her mother said to her daughter and then continued to carry on playing tennis.
‘Ok Mummy, I’ll come back here.’ She said.
The little girl jumped on her bike and biked round to the other big girls filled with excitement and curiosity. What was this den? Where was it? What does it look like? How cool that she’s now with two big girls and they’re being friendly to her and making friends and want to show her their den.
The little girl walked with the two older girls through the gate of the park and past the other tennis courts and they followed the path round to the right past the courts near the tennis court office. Then the girls led the little girl up a path to the left the other side of the park. The little girl wheeled her bike alongside her holding the steering handle bars. She felt safe with her bike. They then veered off the path to the left and walked towards a tree which had long flowing branches which flowed down to the ground covering the whole tree so you couldn’t see what was behind the flowing branches and its leaves. The blonde haired girl led the way and walked towards the tree, pulling back some of the soft flowing branches and walked inside, underneath the tree with the other girl. The little girl left her bike just outside the long branches and went inside the enclosure of the tree.
The two big girls looked at the little girl and said, ‘This is our den.’
The little girl seemed unsure. Something in the air had changed.
‘Do you know why we’ve brought you here?’ The blonde girl said to the little girl.
‘No’ said the little girl, feeling a little bit scared now.
‘Because we like beating people up’ the blonde girl said.
An overwhelming feeling of fear and danger swept over the little girl and she felt truly scared and unsafe for the first time in her life.
Then, the girl with long dark hair went outside the tree, picked up the little girl’s bike and rode it off the grass onto the path and was riding it back and forth whilst keeping an eye on the tree.
The little girl looked at the big girl who had dirty, greasy blonde hair and a black tooth and her teeth that were a bit crooked. She now looked mean and nasty and quite determined. Her whole personality and kindness seemed to have vanished and she pushed the little girl over. She fell on the muddy ground which had brown, dead leaves on it. She remembers the smell of the earth and the feeling of the leaves. She brushed the mud off her hands and stood up shaking.
‘Climb up that branch’ said the blonde girl with a strong, forceful nature.
‘No’ said the little girl, frightened.
‘Why?’ said the blonde girl.
‘Because I’ll climb up that branch and then you’ll push me off and I’ll hurt myself.’
The blonde girl walked over to the little girl. As she got closer, the little girl could see how much taller and bigger she was than her. She had this scary, nasty, ferocious look in her eye and she stopped when she was very close to the little girl. Then before the little girl could move, she was also slightly paralysed with fear, the big girl wrapped her hands around her neck and started strangling the little girl. The little girl couldn’t breathe and looked straight into the blonde girl’s eyes with the greatest fear. She couldn’t breathe, she was suffocating. Her eyes went red and water droplets seeped out of her eyes. She coughed, choked but the girl clasped her hands tighter around her neck. The little girl’s face went bright red and the seconds passed by like minutes. She started to fade and thought she was going to die and then suddenly, after what seemed like forever, the blonde girl dramatically let go of her neck and walked back over to the branch. The little girl coughed and spluttered and gasped and took in huge, weaving breaths. To say she was relieved would be an understatement. The blonde girl folded her arms and buried her head into her arms resting on the tree and started to cry.
What had happened to this girl the little girl thought. Why was she so upset? Why was she beating her up? Why did she have a black tooth? Where was her bike? What was the other girl doing biking around outside? Was she keeping watch? What was going to happen next? Why do people do nasty things to people in the world? Why did she feel so unsafe? Why was this girl crying? What happened to her? She forgot to think about herself. She cared about other people so much. It pre-occupied her mind most of the time.
‘You mustn’t tell anyone about this.’ The blonde girl said. ‘You must promise me you won’t tell anyone. Do you promise?’
‘Yes’, the little girl replied. ‘I promise.’
The little girl had recently learnt what promises were and how important it was to keep them and that for someone to trust her and if she makes a promise, then she must keep it. She was a good little girl so knew how important it was to keep this promise.
The blonde girl walked over to her and then walked past her and pulled back the branches of the tree to look outside for the other girl. She was on the little girl’s bike, biking on the path and the blonde girl beckoned for her to come over. When she got there, she got off the bike and then slowly went to the back wheel and started to slowly untwist the plug where the bicycle pump puts the air into the tyres whilst looking straight at the little girl. This hissing sound came from the wheel as the air slowly left the tyre and the little girl knew this meant it would leave her with a flat tyre so she couldn’t ride away. Then the dark haired girl screwed the lid back on the socket and went to the front tyre and slowly unscrewed the nozzle whilst looking meanly, directly at the little girl. The air reluctantly, slowly, sadly hissed and left the tyre leaving it deflated and unusable. She then screwed the lid back on the socket and stood up whilst continuing to keep watch.
The blonde girl aggressively walked over to the little girl and started rummaging through her pockets. She pulled out her tunes (throat lozenges) from her left pocket and her colourful hacky sack. She then went through her right pocket and pulled out her mini Filofax and her pencil attached to it. She then started to look through it. She put it back in the little girl’s pocket which gave the little girl a tiny sense of relief. She threw the hacky sack up in the air spinning the multi primary colours in the air, caught it and put it in her own pocket. She then started to walk away from the little girl but suddenly turned round and pelted the tunes as hard as she could, straight at the little girl and they hit her on her nose. Blood started flowing from her nose and was dripping heavily on her pale pink t-shirt. The little girl picked up the tunes and put them back in her pocket.
‘Can I go now?’ She said with her nose bleeding. She was trembling and so scared. She felt so faint and was so shaky. Her hands had gone pale and cold and they were trembling with fear.
‘Go back to Mummy. But remember….you promised!’
The little girl, shaking, picked up her bike and walked it over the grass and onto the path. It was hard to wheel it as the tyres were so deflated and she felt so weak. This was not a feeling this little girl had ever felt before. She felt unbelievably sad walking away with tears streaming down her face and blood flowing from her nose now soaking her t-shirt. She didn’t know where to go, who to trust, her little world had been shattered, she felt broken and she needed her Mummy.
She walked towards the path that led down beside the tennis office and she saw a man who had just paid for a tennis court walking towards the tennis courts. She thought she could trust him as he had just paid for a court. She went over to him and said, ‘Excuse me’. He turned round and looked at her. He looked so shocked and concerned. Her face was so pale, her nose was covered in dry, crispy blood, her eyes were filled with water and tears were in her eyes and stained on her cheeks. Her favourite plain, pale pink t-shirt was covered in blood and some of it had dried and so was darker in colour.
‘Please will you help me find my Mummy’ she said with a shaking voice.
‘Yes, yes, of course I will, of course……erm…..’ he said looking around aghast. ‘What does she look like?’ He said with great concern and care in his eyes. He looked at her with compassion and sadness. He had no idea what had happened to her but he was definitely going to help this little girl find her Mummy.
He swung his racket over his shoulder and offered to take the bike from the little girl and walk it beside them while they looked for the little girl’s Mummy. The little girl stayed very close to the man, she hoped she would be safe with him but her sense of safety had been violated. They walked around the path beside the tennis courts and through the gate. The little girl was searching for her Mummy with the greatest need she had ever felt for looking for her mother. She had never needed to see her Mummy more than that moment in her life. Suddenly, the little girl saw her mother in the distance wondering around frantically looking for her. She looked so worried.
‘Mummy’ she cried out. ‘Mummmmmmmyyyyyyy!’ Her throat was burning from emotion.
Her mother turned around and saw her daughter in the distance with the gentleman who was holding her bike. She ran over to the little girl and flung her arms around her and the little girl clung on to her for dear life.
‘What happened darling?’ She said with tremendous fear and worry in her voice. She looked at her little six year old daughter and then looked up at the gentleman and said, ‘Thank you, thank you so much’ and he passed the bicycle over to the little girl’s mother.
‘What happened little one?’
The little girl shook her head.
‘What happened darling?’
‘I can’t tell you. I promised.’
‘You can tell me. It’s ok. Trust Mummy, it’s ok.’
‘But I promised and you know what happens when you make a promise Mummy’ the little girl said wishing she could tell her Mummy so badly but she knew she wasn’t allowed.
‘Now listen, I know promises are very important but something terrible has happened to you, somebody’s done something very bad, awful to you and you must tell me what happened so we can tell the Police and try and find them’ her mother said reassuringly.
The little girl burst into tears and through the tears she started to tell her mother the ordeal that she had just been through.
‘Right, we must go to the Police station straight away!’
With fierce determination and purpose, the little girl’s mother swung her racket and racket bag over her shoulder, took the bike steering wheels in one hand and the little girl’s hand in the other and started walking in the direction of the path and the tree!!
‘But that’s where it happened!’ the little girl said again starting to feel frightened.
Her mother picked her up and gave her a big, big reassuring hug that made the little girl feel so safe again. She chained her bike up and then they walked over to the tennis office to find out where the nearest Parks’ Police office was located. The staff directed the little girl’s mother and they walked to the hut where they were directed to go, passing the tree. The little girl pointed to the tree and the mother said, ‘Do you know what those trees are called?’
‘No’ replied the little girl.
‘They’re called Weeping Willow Trees’
‘Oh’ said the little girl thinking to herself ‘That makes sense Mummy’.
When they got to the Parks’ Police hut, the little girl’s mother said, ‘Now you must be brave but I need you to tell the Policeman everything you’ve just told me and exactly what happened’.
‘Ok’ replied the little girl and then slowly she started describing the two girls, what they looked like and what they had done to her.
‘This is happening quite a lot at the moment madam.’ The Policeman said to the little girl’s mother. ‘Only last week, a boy’s arm was broken by some other boys and this kind of thing happens more than you would think, sadly.’
‘Right’ he said, looking at the little girl. ‘I think we need to go in the Police car and look for the girls. What do you think?’ ‘Would you like to do that?’
‘Yes’ replied the little girl, ‘I’d like that.’
This little girl’s favourite programme was The Bill and she watched every programme of The Bill on the TV. She also liked the programme 999. She liked Police cars and was excited climbing into the back of the Police car with her Mummy. She had never been in a Police car before. She felt safe but also eager to find or spot the two girls. The Policeman was very nice driving around Wimbledon near the park and he said to the little girl, ‘See ‘em anywhere? Can you see ‘em?’
‘No’ replied the little girl, so eager to try and see them.
They never found the two older girls that day in the Police car driving around near Wimbledon Park in London.
Eventually, the Police officer dropped the little girl and her mother back at the main gates of Wimbledon Park. They had to walk down and fetch the little girl’s bike which was still chained to the railings with flat tyres. It was getting dark and they both just wanted to get home.
Driving home, the little girl thought about what had happened to her looking down at her blood stained t-shirt and thought about the multi-coloured hacky sack the blonde girl had stolen from her. She put her hands up to her neck and felt around the soft skin and thought how lucky she was that she hadn’t died and that she was safe and back with her kind, caring and strong Mummy but where were the two big girls? What had happened to them? Where were they? Did they have a nice Mummy and Daddy?
When she got home she told her Daddy what had happened and the following weekend she went to see her 8 year old brother who had started at boarding school and she had to tell him too. He looked so worried and upset and she could tell exactly what he was thinking. ‘If I was there, this wouldn’t have happened’ as he always protected his younger sister and they were such close siblings. Why did they have to be apart?
The most difficult thing I sometimes find myself writing is that this little girl was me.
The silver lining is that this true story got me an A* in my English Language GCSE. I am now 34 years old and I haven’t written this story since I was 16.
I’ve always wished to meet the two girls later in life, tell them I forgive them, speak to them, get to know them and find out their life story and what happened to them. I think their childhoods must have been incredibly tough and sadly, no matter how cruel they were on that day to me, I fear the cruelty that the girls may have suffered, particularly the blonde girl’s totally surpassed my experience under that Weeping Willow Tree.

Extract from Our Youth, My Truth by PALICE written on 13/09/18 22:54

Forlorn, simplicit.

I yearn and muster to digest the prognosis of insanity, their words bereft of creativity or enlightenment. Quite the opposite: finite, inconclusive, only spoken from a modern book of cognitive thought but not yet totally understood. A practice, an experiment leaving the mind clear but the physical form unnerved.

Why did Amadeus lose his way? Was it his need for Amadeity? The Yang needing The Yin?

The Kundalini, Chi, Kinesiology, Acupressure or nutritional expertise is far off from this decade. Why money seems to hold us back. The one consumption we made up, play and control but knowing the apparent richest of countries have the highest national debt: the countries rich in Mother Nature’s treasures; we have stripped only to increase that debt further. We leave their land naked but pure for only the devil to see their purity has been greedily chiselled in haste and their debt does not exist and never it shall ~ Impure numbers at best.

What is this need for materialistic gain which will ultimately be our undoing? A pattern stretched far beyond the imaginations of the original sun and moon gaias. To channel the wisdom in Sanskrit of ancient literature from the rarity of air, water, trees, rocks and stars. Where are we heading? I keep telling people, we will reflect upon this time as The Golden Era. We have everything we need, it is that which causes the psychiatric temperament of frustration. When we don’t: it is loved, cherished, blessed, religiously celebrated. Water for example: our purest and best Primum non Nocere medicine which took centuries to bring to purified health. Many countries would die for that luxury yet we do not serve it first in hospitals. The tables I sit at with other patients consuming ill health and the mess we have created on their plates must surely have a connection to the mess in their and their Doctors’ minds?

What about the elements? The fire needed to extinguish the discarded greed of materialism. I could shout it from the roof tops yet it continues to be buried due to the fear the toxic gases and fumes the fire would muster. Not allowing a Phoenix but more a monster to rise from the ashes of our sins.

I see great beauty when listening to our youth for I hear clarity of thought and understanding of their deeds: City Year being a perfect example. Working all hours with no financial gain. Parents indebted to the government for their children’s education trapped by a system we so love to complain about but have allowed to be created generation upon generation. Have we the choice or not? I hear the masses cry, pray, think – ‘There are more of us than them’. Surely there is another, clearer, simpler, better way. A sounder, fairer leader within a team with a network needing each other on an even plain.  Like an Anonymous meeting, we are all and will all be on the same level: when you’re in the gutter, it’ll only be those who know you and that gutter to reach out their hand and pick you back up. ‘Your suit’ Cameron cried to Corbyn. I only wish to remind him of the fingertips that picked that cotton, more distinguished slave labour from an imbalanced, fast paced world that only an insane person might recognise.

Amadeus cries

Amadeity replies

Harmonious Synchronicity that I could only explain in a musical symphony.