Hey everyone!

Long time no post. I’ve been absolutely slammed but while I have a minute or two, I thought I’d check in and let you know what I’ve been up to and let you all know about some exciting opportunities.

Some of you will remember the Letters from Prison Portal here, where Paul and I would visit prison, teach writing workshops, and post their pieces here. This is where PoetsIN was born. Paul and I realised that writing was a form of therapy and the prisoners were reporting astounding results.

After parting ways with Prose, we tailored our groups further with an emphasis on rehabilitation, mental illness, and suicide prevention. We began to measure the outcomes of each session, and over a set period of time had evidence that what we do worked with 99% of the service users. To put this into perspective, CBT in the UK via the NHS works in 48% of the cases they work with. If CBT doesn’t work, the service user is given no other therapy. Talking therapy such as counselling is no longer provided on the NHS because that was only successful 29% of the time, which is way below the threshold of success the NHS will work with.

With our 99% success rate we went to the UK Charity Commission. Wrote our governing document, recruited 5 trustees, filled in a ridiculously long application form to register as a charity, and submitted it. Then we waited.

Whilst we sat thinking of all the things we could’ve included in our application but didn’t, and worrying about all the things we may have done wrong, we carried on with our groups. Expanding them and trialling new techniques and measures of capturing data to ensure maximum impact. We got such good feedback from the prison directors that we were offered a grant from a trust for $50k - before we were even a charity - which is unheard of. Visit www.poetsin.com/testimonials to see what people have been saying about what we do.

Four months passed and we finally received our answer. We’d done it! We were a charity.

Since then we have won three awards. We were named Mental Health Heroes 2017 alongside Talia Bennington, Mental health workshop provider of the year 2018, and Nonprofit of the Year 2018. We have also employed some faces you may recognise. The lovely Karen, who used to design Prose images, the badass Lish, and we’ve just hired a wonderful fundraiser, Pippa. MilesNowhere and Amanda Cary have also joined the family and have been vital to PoetsIN, and my own personal sanity.

We are now a week away from launching online writing therapy groups that people can access from wherever they’re located, along with in-community groups external to prisons across certain parts of the UK to begin with.

We also have a growing Facebook Group (www.facebook.com/groups/poetsin) that is full of old faces from here and new faces from beyond, along with a website that has mental health and writing blogs galore.

We’ve opened our own publishing company, PoetsIN Publishing, that offers the best royalties EVER and any royalties taken by PoetsIN Publishing are all ploughed back into the charity to reach more people who need our help. The best thing about the publishing company is that we want to publish poetry. Many traditional publishers don’t. We do. We are publishing print and eBooks, and have already accepted submissions that will be released this year.

We have a current challenge running for an anthology. Our first anthology open submission call was a huge success and will be published within the next month - we’re just putting the final touches to it. The current submission call is on the topic of addiction, and you are all more than welcome to submit! The more the merrier. Visit this link to submit https://buff.ly/2EdHxwe

Those of you in the UK should come down to our huge all day fundraising event in Camden, London 28th July. It is being held at the iconic Nambucca venue that has housed Oasis, Blur, and many more. We have a full day of amazing lineups from spoken word poets, comedians, and acoustic and indie music. All acts are donating their talents and time to us for free along with many companies who have donated prizes that we will raffle and auction off at the event. We also have a Skydive coming up in September, more details about that can be found on our social networks.

There have been people that doubted Paul and I - along with our mission - but our determination, skills, and experience have served us well, built our confidence, and given a much-needed lifeline to those that truly needed keeping safe.

Setting up a charity is far harder than setting up a business, and if we can do that, you guys can do anything. One word, one poem, one story at a time.

Paul and I both hope you’ll join us elsewhere on the interwebs but in the meantime, write on!

#PoetsIN #PoetsINPrison #Charity #NPO #Publishing #WritingContests #GetPublished #Poetry #InsideOut

I do not know how it could be

No terrible consequence to see

Blood on my hands

And the disgust beneath

Someone else's grief

To know it was because of me.

Life and breath

Beauty and depth

Stolen away

Because of me.

A denial of someone's dignity,

An offense against my own.

I do not know how it could be

No terrible consequence to see

Someone dead because of me.

Depression is a war,

A fight against yourself.

Every word a punch.

Every thought a bullet.

Depression is a thief.

It steals everything from you.

The things left behind,

They trap you in.

Depression is a murder.

It kills who you used to be.

When you look in the mirror,

You won't see yourself.

Depression is a nightmare.

You go to sleep crying.

You wake up screaming,

Into a world of hell.

Depression is an ocean.

An ocean filled with emotions.

But every day,

Your drowning.

Depression is a bottomless pit.

When you fall into it,

You might never come out.

And no one can help.

Depression is a void.

You're sucked in.

But you don’t know,

If you'll make it out alive.

Depression is a war.

A fight against yourself.

You will struggle.

But you can make it out alive.

Please come in, my little friend,

Take off your coat before we begin.

Relax, take a deep breath, we'll be her awhile-

Oh my! princess, what a precious smile.

I have quite a bit of time to kill,

My plans, I hope, will be such a thrill.

Let's jump right in with your darkest fears,

You know, the ones that leave you in tears?

Oh, too much, my dear? Then what about dreams?

Of kings and queens and guillotines.

Or when you're falling and falling, screaming with no sound-

I love that one! Have you dared to hit the ground?

I'm also fond of the one when your teeth fall out- 

Big ol' chunks of chompers- that's gonna leave a puckery pout!

Let's not forget the one when you're at school

Without so much as a stitch; your lithe nakedness exposed by a ghoul.

Do you dread public speaking? Now that's a bitch!

The cruelest of tortures, spawned by some wretched witch.

Picture your audience in their undies, perhaps pray for lightning,

Any way you slice it, tell me it's not bloody frightening.

So now that we're in it, love, and it's sticky and thick,

I want you to tell me just what makes you tick.

You've stayed rather quiet, pet, which is just as I feared,

So say something, Goddamnit! or I'll garrote you ear to ear!

Now I've gone and done it, I've scared you, my love.

But I just need to be part of you, like wings on a dove.

You see, I know you well, sweetheart, I have and always will;

I'm that shadow in the night, the itch you dare not scratch,

      in the heat I'm the sudden chill.

I do hope you're comfortable, my child, for I've planned your extended stay.

As I said before- I've plenty of time to kill- but you'll not be allowed to stray.

Oh, did I happen to mention, my sweet, this just happens to be my birthday!

There was a boy,

But he was too good.

My highly flawed persona could never appeal to him.

There was a boy,

But he seemed too desperate.

Infatuation does not end well, especially when unreciprocated.

There was a boy,

But he was conflicted.

He couldn't choose between me and her,

so I chose for him.

There is a boy who is perfect for me,

But unfortunately, he doesn't exist.

You said I deserve someone

Who could give me the entire world

But you were my world

3/3/16

i overthink things

and come up with conclusions

that scares me sometimes.

i am so creative

when it comes to

imagining all the things

that could go wrong.

Both happen unexpectedly.

Both can knock the breath out of you.

Both will make you look like an idiot.

Both will mess up your clothing.

Both will disrupt your life.

Both will get you dirty.

Both will leave you bewildered,

Trying to figure out how it happened.

That you went from walking normally

To this broken heap on the ground.

With no warning.

And no cushion to land on.

Certainly no one to help you up.

Didn't even put your hands out to break your fall.

Both could leave you bloody and bruised.

Both could leave you with permanent scars.

Both could potentially kill you.

Or hurt you bad enough you just wish

for death.

When walking on a treacherous path,

even though you may be aware of the danger,

even if you take every possible precaution -

Sooner or later, you're gonna fall.

Better watch your step.

{#satire #darkside #prose #morbidhumor-ish ... wouldn't let me # for some reason but I felt it necessary.}

We all have one, even those who've never met theirs, or felt it take over their body and mind, yet it's there all the same; the capacity for evil. I've been in a shit mood since this morning, more things out of my control, making me feel useless and inconsequential. More inconsiderate people making me want to give into the darkness and forego the woes of my compassion.

I hate on myself because I know I can't/won't kill myself... but I'm not so certain I could stop myself if I unleashed my Darkside, given the name Ira when I was about fifteen. So without further adieu; Ladies and Gents, Meet Ira, my Darkside.

Dark is as dark does you self-loathing cocksucker. Oh wait, you couldn't even do that right could you?

You know what happened then and we're not talking about me. This is your chance to post/publish all the crap you spindle into my brain like a devil on my shoulder. So spill.

I would have about twenty words ago, but you kept typing and we both can't type at the same time you fat-fingering fuckless fucker. I guess I've gotten so used to focusing on you I just can't help myself. You want me to spill

I do.

so I will. I'd kill every single half-sack-son-of-a-bitch who gave us an opportunity if you'd let me. Your mother first, fat fucking victim-bitch who couldn't get past her own childhood trauma to prevent you and yours from having some of your own... Her I would have killed slow, bled her out like a stuck pig while she was hopped up on pain meds and made it look like a suicide. Then I'd have controlled your father with his own anger and made him my bitch for fear of the monster we'd become.

Oh and that little cunt on the school-bus in highschool? You shouldn't have warned your mother, you should have hole-punched her in the neck with a fork and painted the bus red like we said we would. You where a minor then and could have easily played the insanity card. I mean, good intentions or not you did beat a tick riddled possum to death and toss it in the woods behind your house, plucked the head off your broken-winged parakeet like a grape from the vine, the female King Snake--

We're not talking about me remember?

But you're my favorite subject matter. I don't understand why you hold us back. This compassion thing is a racket, it only brings you more misery to feed me. You're heart wills you to help your family but I'd kill them all for hindering your evolution. Stop. Or what? I'll delete this whole post.

Fuck you. Fine. I'll tell them, that while you drive and mutter weak comments like "I'll ram this Oldsmobile up your ass" I plot how hard to push the gas to hit the corner of their bumper just right so they'll spiral into the nearest power-pole-- hoping they don't die so they live the rest of their life suffering and laying blame for their own ass-holishness.

Or what about your Grandmother? How many times could we have pushed her down the stairs and given her something to complain about? You're just being childish. Oh, you want me to expose our thoughts your thoughts Ours sugar, I'm a part of you remember...

Nothing?

Ha.

We see the way people treat people and we see how the ruling class treats the lower classes, the way the world runs on such a fragile system of money and we often think we people deserve every bit of suffering we get. We want to embrace that suffering and explore human limitations. We want to experiment on people the way they experiment on animals. We want to watch some of them burn, helpless to stop it, helpless but to watch in a mirror as their own flesh melts off their bones.

Pump them full of designer drugs, alcohol, and sugar until their systems shut down. Drown them in food coloring and preservatives by the thousands. Electrocute them with their profit geared technology in the millions. Force them to eat the fashions they fawn over.

We want to kill a billion strangers and see what parts of humanity show through because I believe it will bring more death, destruction, cunning enslavement and all out misery to marinade the happiness until it sours. Rem on the other hand holds out hope such an event would unite people in compassion-- false hope because such numbers would only unite them against a common enemy.

Fear and doubt are powerful tools to render the human psyche into playdough.

9-11, a brilliant display of misdirection and manipulation to bend a nation to the will of money. War is a business like any other and with me at the reigns we would make enough to play our own war-games with the lives of so-called innocence. Hm. Children perhaps, like dogs, are just products of their keepers. Then again, any child already imprinted with the foul behaviors of their keepers would be just as tainted, like the monkeys in a cage.. second generation offspring following the culture of it's elders, even to beat another monkey to death for climbing a ladder without permission, without ever knowing why.

.. So ultimately, I'd kill them all, save us. We might miss humanity but it's already left so much to remember it by.

Wait, why do we get to live?

I think with the use of some machinery  we could build little mountains of bodies and watch them burn for days like the devastating asteroids they are. If we die too, this tribute to the cosmos can't happen.

Right.. well, in short ... there you have it.

|| another_proser ||