Friday, October 30, 2020

disability

  

Free use image by John Hain on Pixabay


there goes that weird woman, the people say
she's curvy, but not in the right way
an imagination that's wild
is all right in a child
but she should know better by now

she doesn't make any money
she walks kind of funny
she has a crooked leg
her kind should be forced to beg
she really ought to know better

I'm spontaneous, she used to say
but the truth is, she wasn't that way
her sense of priorities is bent
the money she brought in was fast spent
because she didn't know better

she deserves to be in poverty
because she can't rein in her anxiety
she should be ashamed to show her face
since she failed in the rat race
she really ought to know better

she's everything that no-one wants
hiding in the house she haunts
anybody so odd
is fatally flawed
and she really ought to know better

how audacious of her to believe
that her suffering should be relieved
she deserves to be shamed
for her broken body and brain
she really ought to know better

~cie~



The fact that people are made to feel ashamed for needing assistance is unconscionable. I worked mostly in physically demanding jobs for 35 years. Now that I am no longer able to work, I am seen as worthless and the process for attempting to get disability is ridiculously long and drawn out. They really do not want to help anybody. 

It is difficult not to get discouraged. Every day I hope that maybe today someone will buy one of my books. But no-one ever does. I'd say I don't know why I bother, but I do. Its because I don't know how to do anything else and I don't like to do anything else. I know, you should do it for yourself and not the money, and I do, but sometimes it sucks when you know that you are just spinning your wheels like a goddamn zombie hamster that's too stupid to realize it's dead.

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The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)



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Monday, October 26, 2020

Ugly

  


Free use image by Artjane on Pixabay

Different is not good they say
And they showed me in so many ways
How wrong it is to be like me
A thing nobody wants to see

"You act so weird," the others always said
Why can't you just be normal instead
Be the same as everybody else
Instead of being your abnormal self

Everybody saw me as the other
Parents, schoolmates, and my brother
Said be like other girls, pretty and sweet
From life I started to retreat

Never have I belonged anyplace
With my odd personality and ugly face
With a physique that is much reviled
I retreated and I rarely smiled

I see now that others are unkind
Mean of spirit and small of mind
Although I am strange and ugly too
I deserve the same respect that pretty people do

The way one treats folks commonplace
The fat, the awkward, those not fair of face
No matter how attractive they are without
Their inner ugliness always comes out

Bullying and ridicule
Makes pretty people ugly fools

~cie~

the numerous not so nice notes
Inspired by an unpleasant exchange with a twit on Twitter lamenting that some large folks don't do their due diligence of hiding and hating themselves and dare to call out the appalling treatment they experience simply for being big, including commonplace psychological abuse by medical "professionals."

Said twit used phrases such as "celebrating obesity" and made a crack about "if these women even make it to forty." 

Well, this 55-year-old fat broad had something to say about that bullshit.

I am a big person. I have an extremely dysfunctional endocrine system. I generally refer to it as a trash fire. My thyroid gland was the first to go kerflooey, committing suicide when I was in my early teens. I had PCOS, and, given the state of the rest of my endocrine system, I was unsurprised when diabetes came knocking when I was forty-nine. If you think I want to hear about any cures for diabetes, save us both some precious time and spare me. Type 2 diabetes sometimes (rarely) goes into remission, like cancer. I'd like that, but I certainly don't expect it. 

I once had a person tell me that if I took cinnamon, I could stop taking insulin. I cautioned them against giving such wildly dangerous advice. If I stopped using insulin, I'd likely be dead within the space of a month. All cinnamon will do for me is give me pleasant-tasting burps.

In any case, regardless of the fact that I have an "excuse" for my size, no-one should have to apologize or explain their physique to anybody. And if you want to crow about "health," spare me. At least be honest about it. It's never about "health." 

The fact that I'm surprised when I'm treated respectfully and not abused by people in the medical profession is NOT a good thing. 

When I'm treated respectfully, I'm inspired to do the things I can to take care of my weird body, regardless of its size. I don't mentally abuse myself and tell myself that I only deserve to be treated well if I'm thin. I check my blood glucose faithfully and inject insulin accordingly. I eat relatively balanced meals and don't restrict food or binge. I am inspired to exercise as much as I can. I wish I could get an upright walker, which would help me take longer walks and would be more comfortable and supportive than a regular walker, but these devices are around $700 and that is out of my price range.

Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where assistive devices weren't treated as a luxury item?

Anyway...

If you think you are "helping" larger people by shaming them "for their health,"

1) It doesn't work like that. If shame worked, there would be no alcoholics or drug addicts, no smokers, and no fat people. No-one would be depressed or anxious. Everyone would be working the "perfect" job, have the perfect marriage with the perfect 2.5 kids, and no-one would be gay. Shame does not work, and a person's body type is more complex than the grossly oversimplified "calories in, calories out" model that is drilled into everyone's head implies.

2) Fuck you.

Read again what I said about respectful treatment.

When I'm treated respectfully by people in the medical profession, I take better care of myself. I don't lose weight, and with my endocrine problems, I'm unlikely to lose weight unless I become terminally ill. Weight loss isn't the measure of health (or worth) that people have been indoctrinated to believe it is in any case.

When I am treated like shit for my size, I tend to starve myself. I berate myself, calling myself awful names. I think that I don't deserve to be happy or even to live.

The words we say to others have an incredible impact.

I remember when I saw the "Let There Be Rock" documentary when I was sixteen. When Angus Young (who is way on the opposite end of the size spectrum from Yours Truly) was asked what he thought of each of the other members of his band, his answers were appropriate. When asked what he thought of himself, his reply was "he's that ugly little man."

I was struck by his response and the matter-of-fact way in which he said it. Even at that age, I realized that other people's cruel words had made him believe this lie about himself. Regardless of his accomplishments, he saw himself as "that ugly little man." I thought this was an incredibly sad revelation.


Angus Young isn't conventionally attractive. He's smaller than the average man. But just because he doesn't have leading man looks doesn't mean there's anything wrong with his appearance. He seems like a decent guy. I'd kind of like to slap the living crap out of the people who filled his mind with the idea that he's ugly. 

In any case, if one doesn't find him appealing, they're not being forced to go on a date with him. 

A hot steaming cup of STFU is a drink that those who think they know best about what other people should be doing or how they should look would be advised to take a good long swig of.


Don't be a goddamn dick. Nobody owes it to you to be what you deem attractive. If you don't like what you see, look somewhere else. You have no idea what anyone else is going through, and your crap opinions and advice are likely to do more harm than good.


Fat, ornery, and done with everyone's shyyyyyt.
(Free use image by Open Clipart Vectors on Pixabay)


Want more fat, angry poetry? Grab a heapin' helpin'!

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The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)


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Sunday, October 25, 2020

Saccharine Compliments

 


Free use image copyright John Hain on Pixabay

the things that people say to me
always come off contradictory
your imagination is certainly flexible
but your credentials are hardly credible

you're a walking psychological disorder
whose house has never been in order
the anarchy in your brain
can only be described as insane

to expand on our point of view
you are chaos through and through
it's hardly a stretch to say
that you should be locked away

oh, but you're an imaginative little tart
they say with soulless smiles and no heart
all saccharine and lies
that cause me to roll my eyes

they look at me with disdain
as if I have no brain
then try to ply me with false compliments
their bullshit makes no sense

I stopped playing by the rules
because I found that rules are for fools
since I do nothing right anyway
I may as well do things my way

~cie~

promptpostorous


Poetry Style
Some crap that I thought up and I made the end words rhyme.
Seriously, I was so not up to attempting to create my own poetry style.

Want more poetry that's just your style? Or my style, anyway.

This poem was posted to these places:

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The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)

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Note
I can't receive earnings per view from LBRY if my work is copyrighted. I've been marking my work as copyrighted to protect myself. So, now I have to go back and mark my work as being protected by a non-commercial share-alike license so my broke ass has a chance to earn from it. Isn't that a pain? 





Saturday, October 24, 2020

Esther Jones: I Just Live Here: OctPoWriMo 24 - Ready to Soar

Esther Jones: I Just Live Here: OctPoWriMo 24 - Ready to Soar: One day I’ll spread my wings and fly away, But not today for I am not yet free. I will be me and leave behind the grey, Over the rainbow and...

Best to be true to oneself, but sometimes it's so hard.

Anxiety

  

Free use image by The Digital Artist on Pixabay

fear
freeze my heart
as you melt my brain
you don't allow me to rest
but nor can I get work done
if I was daring
I would try
all

******

why
why not try
this is what you ask
anxiety the reason
for my procrastination
I fear I will fail
look the fool
me

~cie~

notes
I am aware that the image is visually disconcerting and unpleasant. It is an accurate depiction of the way anxiety feels.

the prompts


http://www.octpowrimo.com/2020/10/octpowrimo-day-24.html

Poetry Style

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Calm down, you can get it here!

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Copyright Information
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Copyright 2020 by Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld

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Thursday, October 22, 2020

Madly-in-Verse: Write...Edit...Publish... + IWSG October 2020 : G...

Madly-in-Verse: Write...Edit...Publish... + IWSG October 2020 : G...:   Cutting straight to the chase without the usual preliminaries, in keeping with the spirit of WEP Lite ... Blind Mole in a Black Hole To be...

As someone who struggles with suicide ideation (the planning part is pretty haphazard and so completion is not likely to be imminent) and has finally started figuring myself out (wish I could have done that 25 years ago), I have some thoughts on the matter.

People like me--depressive and not able to remain cheerful despite others' best efforts any more than I'm able to remain thin despite others' best efforts to shame me into being so--are inconvenient and uncomfortable because we tell it like it is rather than lying with a smile. 

It's likely that I'd always have been a depressive personality. I think some of it is hard-wired, just like my ADHD is hard-wired. But a great part of my suicidal tendencies and self-loathing are due to trauma. I honestly didn't realize this until just this year, and then I started looking at some incidents in my life that I really preferred not to. I opened some old wounds. 

The truth is, I'm no more mentally ill than the next person who has been abused in various ways for much of their life and then had their pain minimized by others. After being sexually assaulted in 1997 and struggling with panic attacks that came one after the other, my own family said to me, "well, you got over this before, you'll get over it again."

In other words, I'm not as crazy as people like to label me, and I talk about my truth. People don't like that. I'll never be popular because I'm not willing to paste a smile over a gaping wound and give the people what they want.



The Colors of a Life (Choka)

  

Free use image from Valiphotos on Pixabay

the leaves are changing
as they do every autumn
to eternity

find inspiration
in the place where I now live
not intuitive

I find surprises
things and events undesired
disappointment comes

people say it's smart
forever follow your gut
I reach for candy

colors of the day
weave into the knot of tears
wrap around my heart

~cie~

prompts


http://www.octpowrimo.com/2020/10/octpowrimo-day-22.html

The title and last stanza of the poem are a nod to the song "Colors of the Day" by Judy Collins.

Get more colorful poetry here.

This poem was posted to these places:

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Copyright Information
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)

Copyright 2020 by Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

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Wednesday, October 21, 2020

Bitter Desire

  

free use image from Pinterest


what is at first delectable and tantalizing
so often turns out to be a bitter lie
wrapped in a creamy complexion
the desire that you feel when you look into eyes 
explosive with all the colors of the universe
turns sour like a stale cup of bad coffee
when you realize that what he feels is not poetic desire
but merely common lust
and you could be anyone or anything
so long as he can grab hold of something
and stick himself in
better to stay home and clean house
clean out your cupboards
your contacts
your mind
of all traces of him
soon enough you'll find
that he was only a cutout prince
waxing poetic about a paper moon
you'd get nauseated sailing his cardboard sea anyway

~cie~

prompt this



Bag more bitter poetry here.

This poem was posted to these places:

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Copyright Information
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Copyright 2020 by Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld

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Tuesday, October 20, 2020

Tattooed on my Heart

  

This is the tattoo on my left shoulder
The picture was taken by my son
You're welcome to use it if you do so in a respectful manner
Not to put too fine a point on it, but if you can't bring yourself to be respectful, you can fuck off. 

my plush, furry friend
how you made this hard heart soft
life coarse and cruel
losing you made me grow cold
although my dead heart still beats

~cie~


You Need the Notes
I really can't abide the kind of person whose first comment upon seeing a picture of someone's tattoo is "ew, I don't like tattoos." I'm quite sure they didn't get the tattoo with you in mind, Sunshine.

I got my first tattoo at 49 years old. It is on my right deltoid. 


To me, it's fairly obvious that a tattoo like this is done to honor someone, which, in fact, it was. But some sanctimonious sort had to point out their dislike of tattoos to show how saintly they are because they don't have any tattoos.

I've known heavily tattooed people who embody what I think are the characteristics a saint should have, such as empathy and tolerance, and people with no tattoos who are caustic and judgmental. I know whose company I'd rather keep. 

When I was living in downtown Denver at nineteen, it wasn't the punks who made me feel so uncomfortable that I spent most of the summer hiding in my apartment. It was the clean-cut guys who thought it was fun to follow me, whistling at me like they were calling to a dog. 

I judge people based on their behavior, not their physical appearance.

To link to more poetical ink, this is the place you should go, I think.

This poem was posted to these places:

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Copyright Information
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Copyright 2020 by Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

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Monday, October 19, 2020

Internalized

  

Free use image copyright prettysleepy on Pixabay

roar of the judgmental voices
putrid and stale as rotting corpse
dark mind

derision dripping rancid hate
couched in sweet social prescriptions
dogma

rough edges made smooth by the tears
falling from my pariah's eyes
guilty

~cie~


Poetry Form:
Synchronicity, briefly.
This poetry type is supposed to have eight stanzas with an 8/8/2 syllable pattern, but I was done saying what I needed to say in three stanzas.

Snag more short, sharp poetry here.

This poem was posted to these places:

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Copyright Information
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)

Copyright 2020 by Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

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My Vlog

 I just started a vlog. 

https://open.lbry.com/@auntciesattic:0/meetcie:f?r=FWDSSwMx4ji9KN6xKv6gE4ZP4TjjrExH

It is the worst content you will ever watch and shouldn't be viewed by anyone.

I am committing myself to creating 5-minute videos pretty much every day. They will all suck. You have been warned.

Sunday, October 18, 2020

A Concoction of Flamboyant Thoughts: From Darkness to Light

A Concoction of Flamboyant Thoughts: From Darkness to Light:   Day 18 #OctPoWriMO2020 One of the ways that works for me to process my feelings is decoration , be it decorating my room, or my work stati...

I actually like cloudy days. I sometimes feel like I'm the only person who does. But I like rainbows too.

Scar Tissue

  

Image copyright The Real Cie
You're welcome to use it, I guess, but I don't know why you'd want to
Please credit me if you do

breathe
I guess
more or less
that's the first step
that I should take to start
the process of rebooting me
use meditation to rejuvenate
attempting to reboot the process of healing
healing the scar tissue deep within me
heal what has started to decay
you can't heal what's rotting
scars never fade
remaining
behind
veils

~cie~

The Nauseating Notes
It was supposed to be a diatelle, but I saw too late that those have a rhyme scheme, so it's just another stupid Diamante. Yes, I suck.


Buy more brooding poetry here

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Copyright Information
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Copyright 2020 by Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld

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Saturday, October 17, 2020

Blow Your Stack Saturday: Big Fat Obsession

  

Free use image from Pixabay

content warning:
if you're offended by cussing
I don't give a fuck

 my blood reveals the faults in my stars
or at least in my DNA
my bones are strong, what can I say
my breath often spews forth in the ragged hacking
of an asthmatic cough
my heart, broken many times
beats strong and regular beneath my sagging breasts
in fact, medical people have commented favorably
on my hardy heart
but in the end, nobody sees a goddamn thing about me
except for my belly
which they've deemed too full of jelly
and my ample ass
so every day when I wake up
the first thing I have to do after taking a piss
is tell myself that I deserve to live
and that I don't deserve to be treated like shit
just because I'm fat
and if your thought starts with "well, if you'd just lose weight"
then you can fuck right off
along with everyone else who ever pounded this hate into my head
because I just did that a lot of times
until my body decided
I couldn't do that anymore
diets don't work
and you shouldn't treat people like trash
even if you don't think they're pretty

~cie~


For more pissed-off poetry written by an angry fat bitch, go here


This poem was posted to these places:

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Copyright Information
The Icky, Sticky, Nit-Picky Legalese If You Please (Or Don't Please)
Copyright 2020 by Naughty Netherworld Press/Poetry of the Netherworld

Reblogging is acceptable on platforms that allow it. LBRY’s reblog function is called repost, which makes things confusing since reposting is considered a no-no on most platforms. It’s fine to share the post using the repost function on LBRY. It is not okay to copy-paste the material into a new post.

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Quoting portions of the post for educational or review purposes is acceptable if proper credit is given.