This isn't Porridge related AT ALL , but its this amazingly relevant personal essay I wrote some years ago. I'm revising it for a research paper I'm writing. I'll be posting it in 5minutes. Enjoy 🙂
Mother
Potted like plants, we are the roots of your survival and the void in the sea. We are always here but not here at all. Stumble and step, You insult and wound. Stand up and walk, You kiss and swoon.
722: Old Words from Passed Years
"Daddy passed away on November 2nd. I thought I was all right, but this week I haven't gone to school. Next week will be better."
More characters?
I'm not going to lie, I've been supremely caught up in writing and school and haven't been making characters. But I love them. These little collaged people are everything to me. They're creative, thoughtful, provoking, and beautiful. Do I miss them as much as you do?
Coming: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
Trinkets dance as the days roll along. The leaves fall to the ground, Damp and deteriorated Waiting for the winter. The girls ask what vixen I will become But all I think of is the vixen I've been as the third year approaches. It's like Christmas and less like Halloween. New gifts opened and the... Continue Reading →
Leaf: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
Leaf Freshly baked bread dangled before pigeons. The colour orange and its place in the sky. My big forehead and Daddy’s coconut tree. Pears, peanut butter and August twenty-sixth. Happiness, lies and goodbyes. Smiles, frowns and art making. Seductive, fearless, indecisive. Norma Jeane’s Marilyn Monroe. A metaphor for the things alive inside me. Skin, fat... Continue Reading →
Grab a Bowl
This one is for me, and who I used to be.
Haircut: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
Haircut I conquered a fear today, Sitting in a barber’s chair. Amongst pink walls and shanti style, With reggae playing behind my head. The shears pulsed against my skin, Cutting away masks of perfection. Clip, clip, clip. My hair falls to the ground. And I remember that day in the shower, Where my hair fell... Continue Reading →
Mystic: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
A friend of mine was a cancer patient and nearly kissed death. I ask her about her journey, and her scars. And she smiles willingly to share, her experiences. She doesn't drink nor smoke. And never will. But I do. I bought my first pack on Saturday, smoked five and woke up still drink on... Continue Reading →
Grab a Bowl
I wrote a poem in lecture today. Wanna hear it? l/r
Famous Last Words 