I am entering my thirty second year of life this year. It’s come around pretty quick! When I was 29 I spent a majority of the time worrying about turning 30. I told anyone who asked my age that I was 30, just so I’d have time to get used to it…I know. I felt like leaving my twenties behind was some kind of death knell of not only youth but the essence of my life. I’ve always gone to gigs, had a touch of punk sensibility, had tattoos and piercings, dressed and dated inappropriately. In my late twenties however my mother took these things as signs I was having an early mid life crisis and struggling to accept my age. She was right in one way, I was struggling, but actually the only constant was my ‘alternativeness’.
There was a small period where I tried to not be these things, tried to be the image of me I thought my job and friends and status needed. But that person was not me and that made me very unhappy. Then 30 happened, I embraced it with a grim smile and an 80’s themed birthday party. It was drunken fun and my family made the night superb. Good costumes by all too!
LIFE BEGINS AT 30
It really does. Suddenly I found myself transformed. I was there, I hadn’t died and nothing massive had changed. A calm descended upon me as I finally grew in to myself. My life started to take direction, I moved away from the faltering bad choices of my youth to clear and self assured life decisions.
I decided to move away, a fresh start perhaps but also as work in my area was scarce. First came a relationship, a non toxic, safe and sensible relationship with a really nice guy. Then came the decision to move to his city, as I already have friends here. Finally I found myself in a new job, a few pay grades lower than I’d like but enough, in an entirely new industry. My health both started to improve but also was treated and diagnosed properly so now I am able to move past previous issues. New but good friends have come into my life and strong bonds have been formed, the distance has tested the bonds of older friends but those that remain I know are true and real and the people that deserve space in my life. I got engaged (something I’d previously thought I’d never do and didn’t want!) and am happily planning a wedding for next year. I guess good things come to those who wait! I am careful to remind myself every day how lucky I am. Work wise I have gained confidence again and gone from strength to strength, learning lots and being promoted until I have landed myself an excellent job. I couldn’t be any happier.
These days I find I cut a more confident swathe through a crowd. I know who I am and I don’t care what you think. When I wore ripped tights, safety pins and caked black eye liner I thought I was punk. I thought I got it. I thought I was free. But now I work for the man, technically the government, because I genuinely believe I can make a difference from within. I wear what I want to wear, some times it’s rockabilly or rock chick, sometimes I wear suits, sometimes I wear hoodies and jeans. I listen to music from every genre with an open ear and absorb art from every artform with an open eye. I’m both more selfish and yet inclusive than I have ever been. I do what is best for me and if something is making me sad or uncomfortable or angry I let it go. I realise how short life can be and I don’t want to waste it. But conversely I am more tolerant of others and accepting of their faults and quirks. I listen to every side of the story and look to compromises when there is no right or wrong. I live my life for me and I try to make it a better place for all those who come along for the ride with me.
I genuinely couldn’t care more if I tried and what could be more punk than that?!
Poem ten- http://napowrimo.com Friday nights alright for fighting,
Cheap wrappers and spilled kebabs strewn the wet cobbles.
An aria of drunken female screeching is set off by the rhythmic shouts of the ‘lads’.
Skirts barely skimming ass cheeks over tan streaked legs,
Rain hits down on cold,goosebumped skin,
running mascara and no coats are regulation uniform here.
Staggering on scuffed cheap heels a girl screams and mourns her lost love.
Her friends pay homage to her pain, passing her some chips and holding back her hair as she vomits.
Rainbow sick that smells like aniseed and sugar splatters the pavement.
Her knight disappears around a corner, yelling his displeasure.
She sinks to the wet floor, avoiding the coloured puddle she’s left by only a whisker.
Discarding their empty wrappers her mates conclude – its time to call a taxi.
Poem Three – http://www.napowrimo.net/
“Want to go out this weekend?”
Same old story, got to work my friend!
Saturday night but Boyfriends with another,
Ah well, I’ve inevitable lost my lover.
Young people everywhere playing hard & fast,
But I’m studying chapter one before last.
Socialisation chapter five page sixty nine
No that’s ‘Life Changes’ it says so third line.
Head in the books I fall into slumber,
Thinking of stress, now whats the page number?
Heads throbbing, close to a nervous breakdown.
Now what I need is a good night on the town.
“Cure for over work, whats in this glass”
Says my best friend bold as brass,
Out with the work and in with the fun,
It’s about balance when all’s said and done!
Poem Two – http://www.napowrimo.net/
Watching the women as they hobble and wobble
in their impossibly high heels,
Stacked skyscrapers beneath cracked dry heels.
See them stagger and gather
their skirts above their knees
as they avoid gleaming puddles.
Giggle as they sway and may
indeed stumble or fall.
All for the relentless pursuit of tall.
Stare as they totter and potter
through store after store
of more impossibly high heels.
Poem One – http://www.napowrimo.net/
Let’s begin at the beginning, a very good place to start.
I need to begin.
Somewhere, somehow, I need to find the strength.
Why is it so hard you may ask?
Because to begin I need to
Embrace the end.
The point of a beginning is that it will end.
There is no point starting
What you won’t finish.
And there’s the rub.
I’m not sure I’m ready to end.
To let it in,
To say what I need to.
I owe you those words that catch in my throat.
I owe myself a chance
to say goodbye.
No matter how hard.
And so to get to my destination, I will need
How many Sunday baths
Will it take?
Soaking away the dirt
And the past.
Until I vow to be reborn, clean and baptised
Into a newer version
Of the same old story.
By: Becky Bite
A quick, furtive glare at the hourglass
is a must I decide as I plait my hair
and shovel on the face I keep for lunching out.
My subtly brown lips smirk as I catch myself
in the mirror. The picture of elegance…I wish.
But as I prepare to leave I consult
my hourglass and stop dead in my tracks.
Where has all the sand gone? I have just half
left but where’s the rest?
Surely I cannot have lived for so long?
Surely I would have noticed life slip by somehow?
I scan the photographic memories on the walls,
searching for an answer,
searching for a hint of time passing, something,
anything, which might make sense.
But the attempt is futile, its nowhere to be found.
No answer, no hint, just so many questions.
And I wonder why the present, which is here, now, this minute,
is all too suddenly yesterday, before, gone.
As I ponder this I notice the black writing of my past
crouching in the corner, waiting to pounce,
perhaps I should leave now say my gold shaded eyes.
I pass by the hourglass and pay it no heed.
For this is today and I live for now.
By: Becky Bite
You pretend you don’t see her
when she stands there in front of you,
when she strips off her layers of dignity
and paints herself with pretence.
You just don’t see it.
You pretend you can’t hear her
as she screams her quiet protests,
and when she throws your memories off the dresser
you try to ignore it.
You pretend you won’t speak to her
so she questions her answers
and when she puts on ideals for you
you fail to notice them.
You pretend you don’t see her
when she applies sensuality and lip gloss
and as her body sings its rhythms for you
you just won’t listen.
By: Becky Bite
There is a girl who cries herself to sleep,
There is a girl who sings and dances in the summer
rain and laughs in the winter sun.
There is a girl who slashes her wrists with daisy
chains and jumps from rose petals.
There is a girl who shoots a shot and watches her
life fall around her feet.
There is a girl who wears long flowing skirts, she’s
caked with thick black eyeliner.
There is a girl who drowns in her own mind
and flies into the moon each night.
There is a girl who stands tall and straight
and wades into the sea.
There is a girl who reads poetry and
understands the world but cannot understand herself.
There is a girl who knows how to be sad
and how to be happy but cannot feel.
There is a girl whose hands bleed with
every breath she takes.
There is a girl who slowly climbs the stairs to
womanhood but hurries towards the ever after.
There is a girl who kills herself with every
word she utters.
There is a girl who can’t see anything as
There is a girl who is always on my mind,
But only in MY head.
by: Becky Bite