East v West

Dear Rusties,

If there’s one thing I hate more than the poverty of the East end then it’s the distressing sight of West end waifs being trailed up and down Byres Road sucking dirty blankets.  The wee souls hide behind them to save being exposed to copious amount of car fumes while being trailed in and out of second hand shops.

Their wee lungs must be bleeding because they then go home to dusty, book-filled rooms where their parents drink red wine and inhale home-grown dried leaves "usually smoked or eaten to entice euphoria." The parents are probably miserable because they carry around all that venom they suppress towards the unworthy, unemployed, underclass. 

The meek, mannerly mites are then exposed to soaring, excess, wholemeal, gluten-free flour while their mothers, high on ‘the good life’, pound dough whilst making home-made bread. Yes!  It’s definitely much healthier for children to live in the pretentious, smug grid that is the West end.

That’s all for today folks!

Rusty X

Dear Hot Ladies,

I have been away for ages because of my incapacitation through this awful thing called the Mentalpause.  My hair has become positively menopausal.  The other night I got up to go for a pee, that's another thing, and as I walked down the stairs a car passed in the street casting a shadow into my hallway when all of a sudden this thing jumped out at me and then suddenly disappeared. 

I checked the doors and windows,  they were all closed.  Taking the phone with me I very quietly crept under the stairs and phoned the police.  When I heard the car outside I crawled across the to door and when I stood up to open it, there it was, the blasted monster,  right in front of me in the mirror.  It was me all the time.  I was so embarrassed trying to explain it to the police.

My hair looked as if I had spent all night backcombing it, and not in a good way at all.  So now, as well as the hot sweats, dry vagina,  brittle nails, memory loss and the time I lose staring into cuboards and drawers I've become scared of my own flipping shadow.

It's not good.
Rusty    

Pets!

The other day we were having a conversation about pets and I said that I'd never had any when I was a child but that's not strictly true.  I remember my first pet very fondly but have never admitted to it before because I was ashamed. His name was Crawly and he only lived for a couple of hours  and even though he was not around for long I felt he was really a part of me.  In fact, in a way, he was.

I remember the first moment I saw him as if it was yesterday.  I was sitting at my desk imagining I was in Africa and the perspiration was running down my neck.  My seat was right by the window and it was roasting hot and my head felt all hot and itchy so I got tore in and suddenly, there he was, all small and vulnerable under my nail.  I flicked him very carefully onto my jotter and he started to run across the lines towards the middle of the page. At first I thought he had escaped but  there he was all snug in the fold of the paper. 

I tried to move him every now and again with the tip of my pencil to make sure he was still alive but was very careful in case I hurt him.  The teacher was really pleased when I asked if I could take my jotter home to finish off the composition.  I know I closed it over very carefully and held onto the open end of it the whole way to the house but when I got there he was gone and all that was left was a little red dot where my Crawly had been.

I was devastated and told my mum and she pulled me over and sat me between....

Women and The Mental Pause: Marriage

Women and The Mental Pause: Marriage: When we were married at first my husband could not grasp the idea of in-laws and would insist on calling my family his in-loves which was ut...

Hello Poets

'Hello Poetry' is a fabulous site where people share thoughts, recommendations and of course, poetry!
Come along and have some fun, read, write and be merry!

Rusty

Hello Poetry! 

Mental Mum!

From cradle to spots we adore them.

We nurture

We cherish

We care.

And then they become all obnoxious.

‘Bout the time they grow genital hair.

It’s like sharing a house with a crossbreed.

A mixture of monkey and snake.

Now, I think that the caring gene’s left me.

I’ve had just about all I can take!

We’re expected, as mothers, to shower, with unconditional love.

When the shower’s a thing they don’t care for.

He’s in need of an old fashioned scrub!

His room is a dungeon of terror.

I’m frightened just passing the door.

But when I do hear some noise I’m so thankful.

That he’s not lying dead on the floor!  

Video Diary

Video Diary

The Mental Pause

You Tube

The Pits!

Because money and food, especially fresh meat, were in short supply my grandpa got my dad a job down the pit but he only went for two days.  He couldn’t stand the dirt in his hair and under his nails and before we knew it he was off again to get work somewhere else.  He fancied himself as a boxing promoter and so he left us there to follow his dream and said he would come back for us when he had ‘made it’.  My mum hardly came out of her room after that and when she did it was only to fight with her mother-in-law and before long we were off, back to the big city.

iBooks-The Mental Pause  

Sorted

Smashwords

I was feeling suicidal and needing to be fixed.

Then I came across this Site

My feeling they are mixed.

The heading I encountered said that death was ‘not a choice’

And it warned me to stay on the page and ignore my inner voice.

Now three days on I’m better and have thousands of new friends

Who tell me to be positive?

The tunnel, the light, the end.

And all that.  

The trouble is that now I fear,

I’ll never leave my room

My prescription is now over due

But there’s no more doom and gloom.

The internet, it saved my life

At least for now I’m safe.

So now when I need cheering up

I go to Cyber space.

Despair

It crept in like ivy and entered my soul

Settling like grey, deathly dust.

I barely recognise the beautiful eyes of my daughter

Sunken into her sad memory of me.

This causes lightness in my chest

Coupled with the pounding of blood it pains my heart

Which is still beating

Just.

We used to share such joy and happiness

Now we all cry alone.

My memory now lives apart from me.

I call upon it now and then to help me understand

The fundamental things I used to do

Like wash or touch my wedding band.

The Mental Pause, Rusty Bernard

The Mental Pause, Rusty Bernard

Hello Again!

Female! 

Or are you asking how do I feel about sex?  I think I understand what you mean, sex in the biological sense.  Well, I think sex is marvellous and has many different purposes.  If you think about it, none of us would exist if we didn’t have sex, eh Tam?

It really is remarkable that it has been about for so long and people are still so interested in it.  Every single person I know has, at some time or another, been affected by it in some way, good or bad.  Some married people I know even seem to still enjoy it after they have children, which will come as a shock to a few, mainly Catholics, who think that the absolute purpose of it is to procreate.

Which brings me to the people who find themselves pregnant and it comes as a big surprise to them.  Have they never looked in a bloody dictionary?  Even the people who see it as recreational should be aware of the literal consequences in case of a mishap.  It is after all ‘an essential element of human biology and psychology’.  I read that in Wikipedia so it must be true.  Why do we indulge in something so important, with such life changing implications, without doing at least a bit of research first?  No, it all becomes about emotion, uncontrollable passion and sometimes even love.

The Mental Pause

Women and The Mental Pause: The Mental Pause

Women and The Mental Pause: The Mental Pause: "Rusty Bernard was born in Glasgow but pretends it's NYC. She has been abandoned by her Libido, hormones and ginger hair. In writing The ..."

The Mental Pause

 The door closes and it's just me, my madness, Tam  and his clipboard.  Come in and listen till your heart is content!

Lulu Books

Women and The Mental Pause: The Mental Pause

Women and The Mental Pause: The Mental Pause: "Rusty Bernard was born in Glasgow but pretends it's NYC. She has been abandoned by her Libido, hormones and ginger hair. In writing The ..."

Women and The Mental Pause: The Beverly Fund

Women and The Mental Pause: The Beverly Fund: "I wrote this poem for The Beverly Fund! As I watch her breathing in her cot, My heart expands with love. She lies there still and beautifu..."

Women and The Mental Pause: About Me

Women and The Mental Pause: About Me: "“About Me” A plain Glasgow girl. An old Glasgow pub. Come along and enjoy. A drink and some grub. This is what I wrote on my invitatio..."

The Beverly Fund

I wrote this poem for The Beverly Fund!

As I watch her breathing in her cot,
My heart expands with love.
She lies there, still and beautiful,
Cooing like a sacred dove.

In recognition of my voice
She turns her tired head
And hears a soft, familiar song,
with words that can’t be said.

I touch her face, so soft and fine
Like parchment lost in time.
It tells a story of regret.
I memorise every line.

Her cells began to multiply,
Now all control is lost.
She never should have started but….

With tears we pay the cost.

Rusty Bernard 2011-03-28

http://www.facebook.com/hayden.xox?notif_t=friend_confirmed#!/BeverlyFund?sk=wall

The Mental Pause

Rusty Bernard was born in Glasgow but pretends it's NYC.
She has been abandoned by her Libido, hormones and ginger hair.

In writing The Mental Pause I have deliberately and cynically rejected the idea of form and structure to create something so damaged and purposeless that I myself have been restored in the process.

The absurdities of Rusty's rantings paint a collage of mocking and often twisted views which reject any rational belief in herself and the establishment.

How much help is given to people with mental health problems before they resort to the ulimate relief. Suicide!

 Rusty


https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0054LNNIQ