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
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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
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
Poison Pen Letters to Myself Page 1
