"carers" poems
We, the people of this country, in your eyes are:
babblers, bachelors, bafflers, baiters, barkers,
beakers, beaters, brawlers, blamers, beggars,
bloaters, bloopers, bombers, boozers, blunders,
bruisers, bafflers, bluffers, burglars and burners.
That's why you feel compelled to keep your foot on our heads
keep us down, put us down, push us down
subjugate us, belittle us, berate us.
We, the people of this country, in our eyes are:
butlers, bouncers, bakers, buyers, barbers,
cake-makers, delivery-takers, cocktail-shakers,
taxi drivers, cancer survivors, employers and hirers,
music makers, entertainers, window washers, foster takers,
plasterers, carpenters, scaffolders, sparks and builders,
boxers, carers, coaches, tailors, shoe makers,
designers, illustrators, multi-language facilitators,
dog walkers, dog trainers, bikers and cycle couriers,
doctors and nurses and all the emergency services.
We are the People, the reason you are where you are now
you sometimes forget that we exist as people, somehow
locked in your ivory towers with gold plated showers
and MP expenses and investment banker pretenses
this is not theater, its real life drama, its not just a bluff
its time to stand up
and say enough is enough.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
Just turned sixteen
a rage of hormones
erogenous zones
no more sexting
or wet dreams
your sixteen
you have our permission
to give in to your impulses
full submission
your pulse races
no more wishing
release your inhibitions
but before you do hold up and listen.
You can't drink and drive
yet you can think of life
for now any thought you conceive
can legally achieve
a new life you can breed
Should anyone so young have this much power?
to class it as fun and be deflowered
just because you can attain an ********
stand to attention
gives you the right to create perfection?
- when love isn't even mentioned.
Should we raise the age limit?
Would teenage pregnancies plummet?
but you say
they will still do it anyway
regardless
they couldn't care less
do you blame parents?
- or carers?
Maybe we need
a better educational system
to teach them.
It’s the media that feeds
into the body image
a consistent mirage
a constant barrage
of so called celebrities
having *** on TV
With the skinny waist
fake *****
and high heels
what a waste,
you choose
how you feel.
Take time to pause
and hold onto what’s yours
for once lost
you will pay its cost
your virginity
is its own currency
people will value you more
or label you a *****
a **** a slapper
a used ****** wrapper
go ahead tap her
she doesn't care
what you wear
or if you marry
take her cherry.
Just because it has a secondary function
doesn't mean you have to use your junk son.
the next time you get an ********
steer your mind in another direction
or at least use protection
so you don't spread STD's by infection
having *** so young can be tragic
take the time to think
or you may later regret it.
Don't give into peer pressure
Don’t use others as your measure
have *** at your leisure
when its your pleasure
when you're ready
not just because you've been going steady
protect your innocence
remain a princess
pretty in pink
abhor red
so think first
before bed.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
My defensive carer named Alfreido Dimpitt Reemo
You see my nice regular carer, Andrew Williams was sick and didn't want go to work
Which put spanner in the works in the office, and they were wondering who will replace him
So they decided to ask Alfreido Dimpitt Reemo a call, and were happy when he said yes
And they forgot to tell his first client, who can be very confusing in conversation
But they forgot to tell that client and Alfreido turned up at his door
And this was the day that Andrew was going to take him for a walk through the domain
Where the Christmas carols, and Alfreido was happy to take him
And they had a cool time, till the client told him about his old carer who was names Reimo
And Aldreido snapped at him, and his client thought that he doesn't understand happiness
And this made him happier, and he started laughing and trying to joke around with Alfreido
And Alfreido did joke with him, and really they started to hit off
And then, so his client mentioned his old carer Reimo and how much of a **** he was
And Alfreido got defensive, in fact he got so angry he nearly hit his client
And this made his client too shy to say anything else
On the risk that Alfriedo was going to do it again
And he even was afraid to speak his mind, in the risk he'll snap at him
And his client were unhappy about how this carer treated him
Especially when they were leaving the domain and there were some teenagers teasing him
And this made his client think that Alfreido was teasing him with the kids
I know he had issues for what he said, but, he though this was very wrongs the way
His carer was behaving, and every time he mentioned Reimo, in hoping that he would
Joke around with you, he will snap, as if you were trying to rob you or something
So at the end when Alfriedo left, he didn 't know what to do
So he rang up the carers organization and told them why Alfreido came instead of Andrew
And they told him they had no choice, it was either Alfreido or no one
And this client said, ok in the future, I will prefer no one, especially if you send him again
Because he is too defensive, when I mention the name of my old carer
And despite telling him why he snapped, he still felt very unsafe
And said, I want you to send no one, or send no one
Because I felt I am offending this carer with anything I say
And I don't know what I really said, and the organisation said, fine
And Alfreido never saw him again,
And the next time Andrew came, and he was very relieved
And told him that the bad carer has gone, and will never return
And Andrew said, yes, mate, I will make sure they don't ever send him again
Sent from my iPhone
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 5:53 AM UTC
And the Hippy-dippy,
Squeaky-clean -
The tattoo'd-up
And arrogantly mean;
The never-know originality,
Mere followers of others:
Take comfort in crowds,
Talking amongst their "brothers".
Neither God-fearing,
Nor Devil-may-carers -
Just followers of fashions:
The latest and greatest,
Economically-driven
Sheep to a register's beep!
And when they die -
As they must -
To whom do they fall?
And to whom do they trust?
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
countless generations of bards and preachers
and poets and sages
and honorable and revered members
of our respectable societies
countless such generations
have spoken and declaimed
have sung and serenaded
on goodness and cruelty and avarice -
and yet put them in power,
and scrutinize their lives
and their words
become thin
and their lives shallow
and their songs are cherubic lies;
a long line of saints and philosophers
and prophets
and mild-mannered selfless carers
ah such holy stewards
a long line indeed
has nurtured humanity, its sick and downtrodden
and radiates love in all directions
but oh scrutinize their actions and
their motives
their lives are but comic contradictions
pathetic self-delusion;
ah, let me not seek to change the world
but see to myself first
rather than jump into
hot-air sermons and vain exhibitions
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 2:14 AM UTC
Careless days
Ignite
The carers fire
Let it burn
These laughing days
Drown
The tears
In their own salt
Let them drown
Down
Down
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
The screen is our religion,
dreary eyed and mouth wide open we are absorbed into the graphics.
Swirling around us on the the Tv plane are the stories,
“breaking news” we are breaking ourselves,
because the tendrils come shooting out and grasp our brain feeding us poison.
Our soul carers called the democratic love playing dress up,
a wolf in sheep's clothing,
and while they play we are neglected,
bad parenting.
We don't get to play,
we are the ants,
in systematic order, we provide,
the only time we get to play is when we retreat inside our mind.
Then we become the stereotype “ignorance is bliss”
while the world falls to pieces, is it because we voted for this?
Maybe.
We are the ones in control and yet we have no power,
we lounge inside, the clock is ticking by the hour.
The world is broke with each secret kept,
each person pretending that its okay,
while the connected, open minded ones feel powerless and hide away.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
I am a result
Of not two people
I am a result of advertisements
Of politicians
Of company's
Of ideas drilled into my head, by constant repotion and threats from authority figures
I am a result of headlines that scream the words **** death, racesim and terror.
I am a result of built up hopes.
The countless movies that show us heros that conqure the impossible, while slowly walking away form an explosion.
The comic books that boldly display abilitys we then dream of.
Expectations we are forced to have that someday we will save the world.
I am the result of reality hitting you full on like a world saving superman punch,
I am the result of relizing, that there is a 99.9999999999% chance I am not the "chosen one"
I am the result of an enviroment where I have to hold my breath to not let the toxins in
The overdose headlines
The children I see inhaling away there future and when I walk by blowing it in my face
I am the result of an overdose that ripped away my uncle
A world filled with misery and we find this the best way to "cure" it.
I am a result filled with images of diffrent family's breaking apart, leaving broken children behind.
A result witnessing the hurt, homeless and heartless walk on the same ground but don't awknoladge it
The veterans thrown to the streets
The gay pride rainbows coverd in the dark clouds of pregiduce this world is shadowed by
The sour taste of racesim lingering on individual tongues trying to break through a wall of common sense
The weaponising of wonderful wise wishful young children around the world to creat a fearful, fierce, fiery killing machine
I am a result of this world, the mistakes we all make, the suffering we all take, the lives these mistakes put at stake, these wounds that ache, the cusses that spin in children's head thanks to drake, these politicians people see as lying snakes, this earth that quakes, that brings us awake
I am a result, in a world of results
Of hope that one day we can push these fears away
I am a result of an army of dreamers
A horde of lovers
And a croud of carers
I am a result of two people who tried hard enough to make a difference
They are my sheild and my sword equipping me to fight this poisend world
We are what's left we are the dreamers the workers and the lovers and once were done fighting away the hurt, evil,terror and pain,
We can look out on this world and call it
Our result
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
Some people in this life
are here to be looked after
others made to be the carers
I think I am here for the latter
complex minds are born
and clearer simpler minds too
like man and woman
soft and hard
we differ
but in the interchange of time together
grows a harmony
a music of happiness
that forms around ones aura
and makes all things seen through it
beautiful
Margaret Ann Waddicor 10th May 2016
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:07 AM UTC
This fragile body hosts an infinite soul
whose human form may not be whole.
What may appear a tragic rift
is in fact a precious gift
to those whose spirits are attuned.
Extending our own body and soul
to others is what we truly know.
Often outside walls close in
with loneliness and credit cards spread thin,
as advocacy with officialdom weighs in.
But nothing will change what you do,
for this is what carers know.
Each body hosts an infinite soul.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC
As I age I struggle to keep my eyes open
From not having a bed time to wishing I could keep to one
From school to work nothing changed
still told what to do just like I was and will always be
Teachers became my bosses and they will become my carers
I'm yet to hit my mid life crisis but I am already questioning my life
Did I make the right choices
did I meet the right people
did I buy the right things
Could I have done more
Fight for what is right, change the world
A powerful mind but with out the powerful job
a leader without anything or anyone to lead
a thinker without anyone to teach
a creator without anything to create
a lover without anyone to love
The world is not your oyster it's your baby
your purpose for life, the thing that makes it worth living
teaching you new things all the time
So beautiful from the moment of birth and only getting better looking with time
Covered with germs that try to attack it and make it weak
but continuing to survive, fighting back with its immune system
needs your protection from people that mean it harm
so you see the world is your baby, your purpose in life
As we age we re-evaluate everything
our decisions our choices
and at the moment of death we can see what those choices and decisions created
As we age we question
With age we are reborn
A new voice to talk with
new eyes to see things
new ears to hear
all new senses are created when we age, when we question and think
We ask ourselves
Did I make the right choices
did I meet the right people
did I buy the right things
Could I have done more
Fight for what is right, change the world
With age we realise that we are and have
A powerful mind but with out the powerful job
a leader without anything or anyone to lead
a thinker without anyone to teach
a creator without anything to create
a lover without anyone to love
It's not to late, it's never to late
Your powerful mind can change this world
your leadership can lead an army of like minded people
your ability to think can teach those that are not taught
your ability to create can create anything from an abbreviation to a work of art or even create heaven on Earth
your ability to love can save everything and everyone
So to say, a lover without anyone to love
look out your window
look down, look up, look straight out
There is a Universe full of life for you to love
As we age we question everything
we learn new things, see the world differently and hear people correctly
Be more than human
BE GOD
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
When drinking far too much and then some more
Expected downsides documented well
Rough ride in psyche, body, gut, and heart
Specific atrophy in frontal brain
Quick charm and nutty humour now all shell
These changes, bad alone, but all combined
Resulting rolling snowball to a curse
No more the looming risks are sharp perceived
No more a likely readiness to change
Slow-building damage cures cannot reverse...
*The body
then the brain
then the readiness to change*
In adding to the insults body-wise
Dear close relationships will suffer ill
And ringing loud the chant of "change yourself"
while far and getting further from the change
All options feel like holds against thin will
The heavy stigma punches surely down
More evidence for judging soul as dirt
Not worthy of the care or patient time
That social justice would dictate for all
No room for being tricky, lost, and hurt...
*The stigma
then the hurt
then the treating you like dirt*
And even those with training in support
Will waver, shifty, turn their gaze away
Unable to identify the soul
That suffer-trembles underneath the mask
The clowning chaos, drink-besmirched display
And carers left to weep and wonder why
Should care be so impossible to give
Your daughter damaged, injured in the fight
With drowned despair and stigma-staking rage
Sad, wounding warmth that shame will long outlive...
*The weeping
then the care
then the shaming and despair*
"We just can't help if you can't change yourself"
So in this caring, wounding, weeping storm
Just conjure up the readiness to change
Or cede to judgement, shifting gaze, and blame
Feb 17, 2025
Feb 17, 2025 at 1:00 AM UTC
I do not kiss where I can ****
Just as I do not repose where I can rule
All I'll say and all I will
To the carers that are so cruel:
I never kiss where I can ****
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 9:58 PM UTC
Oh little one,
Your heart died so young.
Life can be a pain,
And you were stung.
You sought happiness,
In the arms of your own.
As joy did not exist
In the heart of your home.
Your carers,
Were made of stone.
Flashes of anger
Turned you cold.
But through this,
You continued to grow.
Be proud,
Little angel,
You have won this alone.
Jan 4, 2024
Jan 4, 2024 at 11:35 AM UTC
The carers of clock tower.
Dark this morning.
Mornings lights switching on as work motions, the end of night.
Going into the city,
Spying twitching curtains, of forward moving city lights.
Smoke hangs grey in the cold air above the refinery.
An early photographer catches the lights in his lens.
Sadly, a dead fox curled up on the carriageway greeting eternal sleep.
Foxy for one escaped daily drudgery.
Greeted by overnight headlights.
He bade the world a perfect goodnight.
And so my daylight came.
From the night bus, I stepped into day.
From the kerbside my day was done, someone cleared the fox away, his vulpine body was gone.
(c) Livvi
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 4:05 PM UTC
Oh Lisa daughter of the fallen,
Come hither so I may bless you
For what you give with your
Carers’ hands and gentle smile
Is greater than imaginable.
I thank you with my frail heart
And my thin hand and voice
You came to me on Easter Sunday
And again on Easter Monday
Bringing your gifts.
Love Mary
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 7:00 AM UTC
A broken home,
Mothers ******
Schizophrenic father,
Forever arguing.
Alchoholic parents,
Supposive "carers",
We may seem happy,
But I promise you, we are not.
Suicidal daughter,
Her body she slaughters,
With blades and bleeds onto her mattress.
Youngest sister,
Always missing,
She's always so angry,
This is not a family.
We go on,
Day to day,
Arguing away,
Portraying ourselves happy,
But dying inside sadly.
What happens behind closed doors,
Will never be revealed,
The floor gets wripped up,
And the ceiling caves in.
Suicidal daughter,
Cuts herself again,
Before getting the rope,
And standing on the chair,
She writes some notes,
Then burns them,
Never to see her "family again".
She takes a leap of faith,
Into hope and grace,
Of a new life,
And a new happy family.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 12:22 PM UTC
When we meet again
It will never be the same
In the arms of Lord Jesus
From the moment you leave us
Life can be so unkind
When dementia takes your mind
Slowly dismantles your world
Mother to five boys and a girl
But now in silence most days
When I speak you have little to say
You struggle more to take medication
Memories of dad you no longer mention
With food you now eat much less
Carers now help you each day to dress
It pains me each day with what I see
As I can see, I'm slowly losing you and me
Nothing will mend my broken heart
You are my world that's falling apart
When you leave it's to a better place
Our Lord will give you a warm embrace
Just remember when you look down up above
I always cared and gave you a sons true love
There is nothing I can do about floods of tears
For in my heart forever I hold you dear
Just remember mum through good and bad
The happiness as well as times when sad
For now by your side forever I will stay
Until your starlight fades away
Till one day all life comes to an end
Poetry I will write till we meet again
And until we meet again
Life will never be the same
8/11/2015
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
you see when i lost my first and only full time job, at the canberra rex hotel, and dude back in those days, it had a cafe and a pool deck a restaurant and a bar and bistro out the back, apart from getting teased in the way i did, i really loved that job, so much in fact, when i was laid off i was very depressed, and dude, i could've had depression, because the whole atmosphere changed, o got ****** into the dianetics cult, where i was made to believe i had a fucken full time job, and i had mates i hung around dickson with, then i tied up a boy, and i lost touch of my mates since then, and my paranormal voices, got me on the straight and narrow, i was seeing a psychologist, but i stopped seeing them, big mistake, because i feel happy now, with carers and psychologists, maybe i had depression, maybe i have 3 mental illnesses
depression from losing my only full time job
terretz syndrome from my drinking days, i yelled every swear word under sun
schizophrenia my silly delusions i get
is it possible i can have three mental illness's, is it possible
that is why, i am cronus, ok
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 5:11 AM UTC
three 8.5% oranjeboom does that to you,
in between several whiskeys,
you end up derailed somewhere in the mind,
you end up writing really crazy ****
but of course in relation to past experiences,
being told to dig up baby potatoes
in an allotment patch filled with weeds,
taking some home on the sly,
while watching “here by the grace of god”,
ok honey, just say it, retards, on a day-trip,
drooling, taking out their genitalia and laughing
being herded like cattle by the carers
because their parents have died, the ones
with down syndrome
being the most intelligent of the lot,
a little spark in them still there -
because you weren’t the one who’s intelligence
was insulted and told that this is
adequate psychiatric therapy -
but indeed it is, here in england, perhaps
not as bad as the great american pharmaphilia
(excessive pharmacological prescription;
will the big buck ever buckle? who knows:
but i do know that your brain will end up
being a surgical insult to the professions
of psychology: spongy goo tomato purée).
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 8:58 AM UTC
little daddy waddy
******* his thumb
just like a stuck up little brat
i am a man, ya know, run of the mill
though i am penniless, but
that doesn’t stop me from being talented
but dad teased me like a stuck up little brat
is what he looks like to me
yeah, he helped me
but i wasn’t his cool kid, back then
what is wrong with me
to him, i was trying to be a cool kid
dad, to me was a nerd
cause he probably only liked together people
i tried to gain his respect
but i learnt together means theory for *****
i am never going to grow up for dad, but he isn’t around anymore
i am a real real man and dad was like a little baby wa wa wa wa wa
i liked pat in my head, because i didn’t want to pick fights with dad
i was visioning dad as a perfect little gentlemen, what’s wrong with that
i probably hear laughing at my mental health TV station idea, what is wrong with that
that’ll be fun for the poor and suffering to have a mental health TV station
mentally ill people love entertaining
i hate voices in my head saying to rob my stuff
i was a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life
who’s a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life
brian’s a little young dude, who isn’t too woosey for life
ha ha ha, i hear voices of old mates protecting me
they look like geeks who are trying to be like little homely kids
dad never understood that i was trying to be nice
he didn’t understand i liked partying at shopping centres
i wanted to be a real hotshot cool kid, to all the party young dudes, i liked that
i chucked a tantrum because dad wanted me to be with disability workers, i wanted more
ya know mucking around in groups with them, yeah they are nice
but i am an independent artist and writer aqnd youtube entertainer
mind you carers are helping me be an independent artist and writer
i was having delusions that my mates pat and lyle were treating me like a little cool kid, they ain’t my daddy’s though
dad was, i never got on with him, i wish i did
dad tried to say, your one of the young dudes, treating me like him and mummy, i hated that, but i tolerate that now
i heard old mates saying, leave the more big bad brainy winey, your not like us, NEVER
when i committed that awful act on an 11 year old boy, i heard my mate pat say in my head
you are not ever going to be treated like one of US young dudes ever again
the voices say to me, i am a cool kid to the young dudes, but i ain’t better though
then the voices say, ***** are better, i told the voices, i am not a criminal, i am not a pheadphile
i am party loving, poetry loving cool man, dude
the voices can say **** till they are blue in the face, i ain’t getting worried, but the voices are annoying me all day, I HATE THAT
i tried to be a little cool kid playing cool for people going to bed, and dad said, uhhhh! get away from me, kid
dad was a man, and now he’s little betty campbell, see ya betty from cool man brian
you see dad up there in NIRVANA, i am the only disabled person in our close knit family
and you are being forgotten too, in a way, in the cool way, dad did say, he doesn’t wanna be cool
well, this affects betty’s mojo
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 5:06 AM UTC
If you will indulge me, a Story for you:
"Ending"
I’m safely tucked up in bed now. So frail. When I think how fat I used to be. But I’m very, very old. Might even die tonight, in my sleep. Can hear the wind howling outside.
It’s not such a bad place this. The carers look after me well. If I’m lucky they will wheel me into the garden again tomorrow. Hope that wind dies down and the sun shines. Where am I? Can’t recall the name. This Dim Enta thing. So tired now. So tired…
“And wake!”
What? Where am I? On my back! Ceiling. Face! Doctor Sanders!”
“It’s over, Krol, welcome back.”
I remember. Doctor Sanders. I’ve been hypnotised, regressed to a former life. Lived that whole life! And now I’m awake!
Me: “Did I just die there?”
Dr. Sanders: “Yes Krol, in your sleep. Or at least the person you were died in his sleep… But did you get the full life experience this time?”
Me: “Just about, Bob. I can remember back to being about three. My parents, our little dog, a baby sister. Playing with a wooden train or something that you could ride in. But it seems I died in my sleep…”
Bob: “How far back in time was this?”
Me: “I was born mid-twentieth century, not long after the Second World War…”
Bob: “Fascinating. Better get you into Debriefing, before you forget it all.”
Me: “Yeah. It sure was a long life. Lots of history for you. I can’t get over that that was me!”
Bob: “You’ll soon adjust, Krol.”
Me: “That Death thing was scary, Bob. I was afraid of ‘dying’, as they called it, for most of my life. Thank goodness we found a cure.”
Bob: “Yes Krol, things were really rough back then. But come on, let’s get that report of yours done…”
Paul Butters
© PB 13\6\2018.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 6:19 AM UTC