Welcome to my attempt to live fully and honestly, to sing out the song of myself, to truly know who I am......

.....either that or the ramblings of a barely coherant, tired out mum of two!!

Friday, 31 August 2007

Princess Diana

Today is the 10th anniversary of the day when two liitle boys lost their mother. Diana died in a Paris tunnel in a car crash.

I remember how I heard the news and I remember that I cried. The tears were not so much for Diana, somehow her life had gone from a fairytale to something more bleak and turgid and now it was over. No, the tears were for those young boys who had always been so close to mum and now would have to grow up without her.

This loss echoed the loss some years earlier of my sister and brought back the memories of another two little boys who would now grow up without their mum. So I wept that morning for four little boys who lost their mothers and all that goes with that.

So here we are 10 years later and still the muck wears on. Those two little boys now grown into fine men wanted to invite their step mum, whom they love, to stand with them and their dad to support them whilre they remembered the one whom they had lost.

The press and some self proclaimed friends of Diana, however, had different ideas and brought up all the angst of the break up of the royal marriage. I would like to think that had Diana survived that crash she would have moved on by now and put the past behind her. It may be a bit of a reach to think that she and Camilla could be friends but I think she had a big enough heart to forgive and get on with her life.

I have never been a big fan of the royals but I have a soft spot fot the younger generation and since it is William and Harry that lost the most it is appropriate that we take our cue from them. They have accepted and love Camilla and wanted her to support them at an important moment.

Now because of the fuss some people have made those boys will remember the mother they lost without the support of the mother they have gained.

Wednesday, 29 August 2007

Explicit! If easily offended stop reading NOW!

Explicit! If easily offended stop reading NOW!
This is a poem by my good cyber friend Prodigal Aspertions on her Dead Daddy site. I love it and hate it at one and the same time. It says everything and holds no punches. You have been warned.


Some men are just mean
pleased as punch to gouge out holes
where there should be none,
at least not yet.

And yet, for some reason,
Little Princess is expected
to burp politely, behind her hand,
never let the gas escape, (Cry Rape!)
“Oh, excuse me, so sorry!”

Do not become, my dear,
so destroyed in your soul
that you will spread your legs
and point, to that spot, (Crotch Rot!)
“Ouch, it hurts me.”

Young Ladies must cross their legs
at the ankles and tuck them, (Fuck Them!)
ever-so-politely to the side
better so to hide
the oozing pain that threatens to
puddle in plain sight.

Him, if you care to convict,
we will feed and water
and send to school
and give recreation, (Abomination!)
and release, fouler than any fart,
to fuck her again by proxy.

Just because he used the same parts
that make love to your darling,
and grow children for your garden,
does not make his act sex.
Talking about what he did is not
like ending prayers with “Shit”
instead of AMEN.


The sacrilege has been done
by that dirty daughterfucker,
gentle nights sacrificed
on the altar of his prick.

So do not tell me I may not,
in polite company,
speak of rape
and incest
and pornography
and the thousand horrors visited
upon a thousand little girls (and
boys, them too,
scionfuckers making this
an equal opportunity tragedy)
don’t you dare.

I am not shutting up!

And upon the tiny vaginas
ripped open way too soon,
by the blood smeared sheets,
baptized with the tears of a thousand nights,
knife in hand if necessary,
to cut out the tongue
of anyone who dares
to silence her and her and all the hers (and
hims, I don’t forget)
I do solemnly swear
I will listen to the quiet words,
whispered into my ear,
as she faces the other way,
because she has been told
good girls don’t say those things (and
big boys don’t cry, now, Son)

So suck it up!

copyright 2006, 2007 by Cynthia Huddleston
All rights reserved.