Why I Created A Patreon Page

The Mouse is going to be very honest, the Mounegative-peoplese feels very uneasy and unsure about this. The Mouse is very uncertain about whether this is a good idea or a terrible train wreck waiting to happen. However, the Mouse has spoken to people, and taken a lot of advice, and that advice was, no harm will come of this. So, armed with this advice, that no harm will be done, Mouse has a Patreon Page.

For those, who like the Mouse, have no idea what Patreon is. Patreon is a website where content creators put their content and people can pay or subscribe to it. It seems to have a lot of “models” making promises about what is in their subscriber section. This makes Mouse uneasy, however, the big advantage over other ways of receiving donations, is that Patreon does not require the disclosure of personal details for a donation be received.

Why you ask is the Mouse interested in donations, Mouse certainly does not blog for the money or isnt blogging to seek fortune. The Mouse worried that people would think this was an attempt to make a profit, really worried, in fact worried enough that Mouse will scrap this if that is what it turns out people think. Instead, Patreon donations are a way for people to say thank you and support not only Mouse’s creative efforts but what Mouse does for the rest of the day. Mouse works in Drug Harm reduction and with vulnerable Children (linked to that). Mouse works for charities and does not take a salary; this means there is more money for them to spend on those who need it. Mouse thinks that every little helps and like everyone there is a mortgage and bills to be paid, and every penny Mouse can make, makes a difference.

Mouse is still not sure this is a good idea.

Patreon link: https://patreon.com/user?u=4146303


A Poorly Mouse Pt2: Shadows of the Past

Poorly Mouse Pt 2:

Thursday is bad day, Mouse has had a string of very painful Thursdays. This particular Thursday the pain was bad, but Mouse had an errand to run, so meeting up with someone who had not seen Mouse for a couple of months was something to look forward to. Sure it was fun, as fun as it could be, but she said Mouse looked pale and drawn. Mouse realised looking in the mirror, pale had become normal.

In the everyday Mouse hears, its good to have you back again, when for that precious time the pain dulls down. And Mouse knows that the pain makes for a shorter tempered much grouchier Mouse, not a Mouse that Mouse likes to be. Pain changes people, it makes them act out of character and be someone they are not. This maybe obvious with physical pain, and with two hospital admissions and a ghostly pallor, Mouse has no trouble explaining the physical pain. Harder is emotional pain, in fact that feels impossible.

Mouse has been trying to be productive, doing parts of bigger tasks or little tasks to make sure that Mouse is not languishing in a big pit of self pity and morphine. Today Mouse decided, for what reason Mouse will never know, to clear out old photographs. The great thing about digital is you can take lots of pictures, the bad thing about digital is that you can take lots of pictures. Another Mouse loves Instagram, posting and following, Mouse loves photography and art so perhaps naturally leans towards the visual media. Today was the easy, get rid of the irrelevant stuff, things downloaded to make a witty comment, or for events long past, erase duplicates and Mouse thought, easy stuff.

Scrolling through the Mouse’s life hurt, not a sharp stabbing pain, more of a slow cut into Mouse’s consciousness. Mouse was able to not relive the moments captured, but even scrolling there was the face of Mouse’s abuser, there were the invisible memories. Mouse knew the story behind the perfect moment, Mouse knew what consequence awaited, everything came back, preverbially flooding back. Mouse felt that urge to be back in those moments, but instead Mouse remembered the thoughts, the emotions, the intentions and the outcomes behind the picture. But most of all was the face, the smiling face, that public façade and show that hid what happened to Mouse.

Even clearing the past away brings the past back to life, it has to be handled. The question for Mouse now is does Mouse delete every picture with his abuser present, not just the ones of her alone, or does Mouse keep some. Some of those days were, happy, and Mouse clings to the happy moments, (even if they were drip fed). Mouse knows what Mouse’s intentions were, and Mouse wants to avoid being bitter about the past. To be consumed by bitterness only hurts the bitter, and Mouse hurting is exactly what Mouse’s abuser wants.

So Mouse deleted a few thousand, memories that the Mouse does not need, Mouse perhaps leaked a little remembering how Mouse had felt about certain previously favourite pictures, and Mouse smiled as more embarrassing ones went to digital oblivion. Mouse deleted friends of the past, in-laws nephews and nieces of the past. It hurt, remembering the betrayal of people the Mouse had helped so much, time as well as money, kindness and friendship given freely without thought of return, paid back with betrayal and lies. Say nothing, reason-past-and-futureperhaps, turn against the Mouse who had instigated so much help for you, why?

That is the past, it is there, it is a ghost that haunts. The past casts a shadow, however much the Mouse refuses to look back, it is there in front of the Mouse. Indeed, this week, looking to the future, the biggest problem the Mouse could encounter is ghosts from the past. Don’t look to the past, you are not going that way, how true, but when you look to the future that past might be in your way too.

The Daily Post: Daily Prompt – Disagree

The Daily Post: Daily Prompt – Disagree


I disagree with Clinton and I disagree with Trump,
Just like I disagree with a particularly smelly pump.
I disagree with hurt and I disagree with pain,
I very much disagree with this filthy smelly train.
I disagree with politics, lies and bluster,
I disagree with all the energy I can muster.
I disagree with cruelty , of course I do,
If you agree what sort of monster are you?
I disagree with this trendy barista’s coffee,
I completely disagree with fake antique toffee.
I disagree with fake people always on the take,
I disagree with journalists and all the trouble that they make.
You’re damn right I disagree with society and all its silly rules,
Just like I disagree with fashion that makes people look like tools.

Most of all I disagree with hate disguising its self as reason,
Hate against people should be a form of treason!
I disagree with prejudice that pretends that its sense,
I disagree with discrimination, equality its pretence.
I disagree with violence and disturbing the peace,
I disagree with wars even in the Middle East.
You can disagree with me with all your might,
As long as we drink tequila all through the night!

642 Things to Write About #3: Decribe a moment your were in physical pain.

642 Things to Write About #3: Decribe a moment your were in physical pain.

Today, yes today, Tuesday the 27th of September 2016, the pain comes in waves. The morphine helps, but Mouse is relctant to use it. Nothing else can ward off the balling up lying shaking.

In that moment, that is from 5 minutes to an hour, pain is not a feeling, pain is a consciousness. Mouse feels pain, sees pain, smells pain, pain intrudes and obliterates. Pain invades Mouse’s brain, Mouse gets confused, it is hard to get a thought to last. Mouse hears his speech slurring and cannot control it.

The pain it sears through Mouse’s detached body, braced tight against the ripping shear burning through Mouse’s very being, the dull thud, the burning tear, every breath tears through, every flinch searing, every thought pounding. Dr’s aske where, and Mouse point’s to where it starts, nothing happens.

Then the pain leaves, not completely, it goes to rest, seemingly exhausted from its assault. Its attack depleting its forces, or maybe it returns to gloat over its haul and plunder from its destruction. But it will return, waiting for something to be rebuilt, something to rip asunder, something to destroy.

Poetry Corner: Who Cares for Me

Who Cares for Me

Intrepid and bold, your story not yet told,
Tender and kind you make Nightingale proud,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Without stumble or hesitation you gave your all,
Stayed up late, rose early to pack them off far and wide,
You cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Worries and fears, and troubled brows,
Love poured out, wrapped them all and kept them safe,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Listened attentively, cleared up the mess,
Drove here and there, more miles than a bus,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Trusted and believed, gave your heart, your soul,
Went without, provided one and all,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

In childhood you nursed your sick,
Washed, clothed, fed, doctor, nurse and punching bag,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Your heart was broken, your trust betrayed,
Tended your own wounds, the scars they fade,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Abused, unloved, and cast aside,
Reliable and steadfast, strong and steady,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Torn apart and broken, tears you cried,
Food on the table, and a shoulder for the tired,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Disillusioned and lonely, never bitter, never harsh,
Still time for others, your home their harbour, their rest, just ask,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

You fed them all, you helped them grow,
On luscious soil, your flowers blossom and shine,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Life moved on, barren but never dark,
The tender touch, the loving word you learned to live without,
Cared for others, never asked who cares for me.

Poetry Corner: Ex

Ex …

You held my hand and stroked my hair,
You stood and said you would always be there.

You kissed my lips and and touched my soul,
You took my all, my love you stole.

You told me lies to put me down,
You smashed my smile to make me frown.

You gave me gifts, built my prison,
You tore me apart and gave no reason.

You touched me tenderly and I let you in
You said the words and punched me with a grin.

You took my promise, my all and all,
You kicked me and made me fall.

You made me a life of suffering and pain,
You even convinced me that I was insane.

You destroyed it all, everything I built,
You made me feel all the guilt.

You walk free your head held so very high,
You never even told me why.

You go, walk on my dear,
You wont know what it is to fear.

You will reap what you sow
You know the truth will bring you sorrow.