Shankanalia – the shank in your coffin

Back to work – seems an apt time to post up some bloody verse. These happy little Twitter snippets largely cover my experiences dealing with, or rather putting up with / suffering / cleaning up after management consultants.

I’d compare them with homeopaths, but generally drinking water doesn’t do you any harm. Unless you do that instead of taking your cancer meds. Ah yeah – they’re exactly like those snake oil selling bastards: dangerous, irresponsible, well paid frauds.

Do enjoy them with friends or family. You can follow @shankanalia on Twitter too. There’s a bunch of stuff I read for you at:

The Shank in Your Coffin

“Shank me?”
You’ll thank me
When I split your ribs
Pour out your organs
Make a moron smoothie
Feed it to your kids

You Hired Who
Worthless pageant of lies.
To be so gullible?
No child is so blind.
Consultant expense
Talking cock with fellatriste’s mouth
Consultant lies.

Indoor voices, mother-fuckers!
Keep your words to yourself
Nobody cares.
Indoor voices, mother-fuckers!
Don’t make me scream in my outdoor voice.

Missing Statements
The face of adversity
Is blank and empty of thought.
Respect for naught.
Abase yourself
In speech of confusion;
False words.

We’re ready for you
Oh, someone’s looking for you
We’ve moved
Try over there
Yeah we can’t talk to you now
Wait five
Come back later
Who are you?

Raw Love
Oh Pepperami-faced man!
Face of scrubbed corned beef.
Bloodshot skin.
You have a mate:
I’m surprised.
She must like the texture.

Slightly Broken: Counselled

I had my first counselling session yesterday, which was a getting to know you sort of session. No agenda, I was basically given time to babble away for an hour. Which I did. I’ve been trying to be direct – I hate the kind of talking around issues that I tend to do and was determined to cut through at least some of that. I think I was successful. We talked about a lot of the things that I feel I need to resolve: trying to understand my abuser and the truth or reality of the good and the bad stuff that happened; the cycle of abuse; coming to an understanding of what did happen; feeling comfortable with other people knowing what happened to me.

The last two parts are ones I do want to think about – I have a genuine Pandora’s Box, a lovely wooden chest with an envelope that has diaries, letters and photographs in it. I want/need/think I should revisit how I actually felt. So I’m going to open that box in the safe place that is counselling and go through some of the things in it. Eek. Well, that’s the plan anyway. I want to challenge myself. It’s been a long time and I’m sick of my life being affected by events that weren’t my fault and as far as I’m concerned should be relegated to the same rememberings as geography classes in Year 8. That is to say – never. Or rarely; I’ll take that.

My next appointment is next Monday (‘cos it’s weekly…) and so far it’s trashed my sleep this week. I feel pretty wrecked physically already and I’m worried about how this is all going to go. The thing is, there’s never going to be a good, convenient time to rip my psyche open and weep in it. It seems that I’ve chosen now to do so. I’m just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. That’s good; I hate bitching and whining (which is what it feels like I’ve doing.)

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