America a quagmire of debasement with increments of corruption-exploitation and perversion of the human spirit

She thought how life was simple and difficult-why she was here was down to America-the land of the brave and free.

Now she is incarcerated-the crime-getting old-feeble-sick-tired-brittle-dying

The reason behind everything that is ‘for your’ own good is money. It is called cultural cannibalisation-the consuming of the consumable-for ‘your’ benefit-we know best. It applies to anything colonised.

Your language-your lifestyle-your culture is invaded by the stars and stripes. This bottomless urge to hunt down is unfathomable.

As their eyes glazed affirmatively over her -the perfect candidate-house-money-assets and children who wanted her as an hourly visit-they had no choice she just wouldn’t bloody die.

The days lingered and washed each other in an insalubrious stench-the kind that goes up and into your brain-never leaving.


Mercy what have you got there?

NO stop she thought as they rolled her over and sat her in the wheel chair it was bath time.

He was black and strong and new she the other washer was indifferent-she squirmed her eyes held a frozen fear-God help me-kill me.

She looked at her hands resting on the steel arms loose skinned and mottled-good hands strong hands creative hands that used scratch his back and rip him. Hands that cooked cleaned made washed ironed slapped turned a heel knitted jumpers.

‘Ah stop would yeh stop shhhut up now’ indifference said. Pushing her off to dwell in a watery hell-he pulled her nighty over her head-it was light with a front button tie-blue.

As he pulled it up-she saw indifference looking in the mirror at herself admiring her makeup smoothing her hair.

Pulling her arms out-they were thin with wavy lines of the outgoing tide and razor fish brown lumps-he had the nighty to her neck-her arms strong to carry the turf-the children-hold the mule-bring the stones to build a wall-carry the earth-her grey black hair fell around her shoulders-exposed.

Nighty off.

Pulling up one breast with the nonchalance of a child licking a lollipop he rubbed it-then the other one this time he kept rubbing the nipple-he continued to wash her neck and then rubbed the foamy water behind her neck holding her with one arm around her back his hand under her arm pit-washing with the other.

Mercy you must come and tell me you must.


She closed her eyes then opened them.

I’m going to be 91 next month she thought he can’t be 41.

Under and over her breasts he gathered them together like two pearls in an oyster a sensation ran though her-a knowing sensation from years ago years and years and years ago-an out of place defilement but also stimulating those latent long dead senses.

Indifference said ‘you ok there I’ll get the towels back in 10’


He stared at her then lifted a lazy breast  up and licked it-licked its faded reddy brown nipple and jiggled it-still looking at her. Scared and stimulated she closed her eyes.

Maybe he’ll drown her.

He kept doing it then other.

Then he went for the grey tufted thin-skinned hall of ennui with his right hand whose entrance he probed with foamy waves of absorption-thunderous and languid as the sand met the sea on a stormy day.

‘Are you ready there?’ indifference said pushing her way in with towels.




When you sleep it’s death of time for a while-when you are dead it’s time entwined eternally

She knew death temporarily-waking up after her hip operation-a knee operation-a broken pelvis-she was knocked unconscious at least 5 times.

She also knew she was booked for a 2nd hip op in June.

She had been in oblivion a place no one knows but being there is silence. It’s not categorisible it’s beyond comprehension and human knowing-somewhere but where is where-a black hole a subsumption of all external and informational-it is unknown.

Why do people fear death it can’t be bad or good it is silence.

And it certainly cannot be worse than this hell hole she thought.

14 long years here-what exactly was her purpose did she need 1 no-did she have one no-pulled and pushed-force fed-depressed-oppressed-suppressed-rightless-voiceless-ignored-afraid.


Hello Mercy, my friend have you come for me?


Nearer my God to Thee-silently praying in votive adoration-wishing-hoping for Divine Intervention and expiration

When it came to be Nearer to God and the chips were down-others clung on vice like to the old trunk-like larva to a leaf nothing could rip them-him-her off not even hurricane Jim.

She was 91, 92 next month.

Sometimes you would wonder what do grown elderly adults of elder parents want. You’re an adult of 58 years of age maybe married maybe not have children maybe not-but the attachment to this trunk is like a vine wrapped and clinging for dear life.

The time had come-clear darkness and peace forever-the souls’ sanctuary. The flow of energy now drifting off slowly-breath slipping back into the throat and getting caught.

At deaths door. Let me in-let me in she cried in her cortex.

She asked for this moment for many years-how tired she was-how utterly tired of living-everyday waking to that smell-that indescribable scent of death.

“Good Morning”, the blue coated black woman said.

“Why am I still here”, she thought.

Sweet Jesus why am I burdened with this forever life-this never-ending pill popping-needle injecting-hospital attending-doctor fussing God damn life.

What can I do-what did I do or not do that I’m here-still here for others to gawp at and preen me for a day ahead with other decaying beings.

No, you didn’t ask to be born but you were.

You made the best of it.

A beginning-middle-end.

But life is not an ever-ending process-life is to die.

Life Death Freedom

And the business of dying is not allowed as it is a business.

Life and its never-ending extension is now a business. These things don’t happen out of altruism or empathy or compassion all the buzz words.

No, this American dream of never-ending life is about money-jobs-control and the consuming of another at all costs.