Hi, how are you?

I want to be like Cheryl Cole!

2010-12-14T04:49:00.001-08:00

On my way home i stepped in a pile of hair
Cut from the head of a poor girl
For a richer one to wear

Tell me if this is not a case of slaver and enslaved
When the wealthy can have instantly
What for years the poor have saved.

Blinded by camera flashes, celebrity culture
The guilty, vain don't see
They're the worst kind of vulture.

And so neglected, this discarded pile of hair
It would break the poor girl's heart
To see the rich one leave it there.

Pray what use?

2010-11-28T07:59:00.001-08:00

Pray what use to me, the philosopher's stone?
That wretched thing which draws out pain
A life without love, all alone
The prolonging of which is not a gain

So i seek not knowledge of that sacred art
That wise men termed alchemy
I seek to sew this broken heart
To live again my History

A time machine would serve to stitch
The shredded rags of the now
Stained, ripped, torn, the state of which
Cast a constant frown upon my brow

Oh heartless time i offer to thee
My broken heart and heavy soul
If in return you could give to me
The days which once made me whole.

A story in 60 words or less.

2010-11-21T13:15:00.000-08:00

The Text

It was twilight, when loneliness peaks. He was staring at the ceiling thinking of her when a text stabbed him back to reality. She was the only person to have this number! With eager anticipation he pressed the green button and read:

'Hello from orange mobile, you and someone special can get 2 cinema tickets for the price of one.'

oh to bring back last year

2010-11-19T15:31:00.000-08:00

Oh, to bring back this time last year
such joy and bliss
Holding hands down Chmaps Elysses
young love in Paris

But all young love must turn old
and it gathers dust
The summers heat became winters cold
And froze our lust

And i walk in gloom under christmas lights
Now alone and grim
With a dull ache that grips and blights
every ageing limb

And though much time has now passed
As it ever will
My longing feelings do hold fast
For you haunt me still

You

2010-11-07T04:05:00.000-08:00

You are my past, you are haunting my present and your absence fills my future.

You are Paris, Copenhagen, York, London, Stone henge, Stansted, Lincoln, Hastings, Ingleborough, Grately, Amesbury, Folkstone, Battle, Rye, Warrior Square and more.

You are J.D Salinger, stranded on moonfleet bay, only Puk for company, you are Treasure Island, Oscar Wilde, Vincent Van Gogh, Ensore, Gauguin and Cezanne. You are a futurist, you are shockingly new, the curse of the mona lisa is upon me now. You are German expressionism, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner. You are latin America, Tanzania and Tinga Tinga.

You are National Geographic, a Giraffe, Hedgehog, Jack Russell and a Mexican street dog hiding under a bed, teeth bared, curious children trying to caox it out. The tears i hold back as i wrote those lines.

The dirty, loud underground and all the rats within, who are more compassionate than the humans trapped in carriages, tearing through the dark. You are vegan, vegetarian, a hippie painting machine, a liar and a cheat.

You are forgiven. You are missed. The tears, whose siege on my fortitude was not in vain.

You are a tree in Warrior Square gardens, you are the laundrettes, room 410 and 305. The corridor in 305 and the crescent moon outside the window of 410.

You are the number nine, simply because when written down it looks like your name.

You are all of the things i've forgotten to mention. Your Guitar. You are seasons in the sun...or at least you were. My Tivoli duck. Let us hug in a red blanket under the Scandinavian sun.

You are my heart and your absence leaves my life without a beat or the rythm needed to progress with a swagger. So i stagger through these obstacles.
`
You are all of the above but you are nothing i have known before.

You are gone.

If only you were here i could be all of the above too.

What is left for me?

Life is a bed of hot coals.

2010-09-17T04:00:00.000-07:00

Fire walking:

The 'secret' is simply a combination of 2 things.

1) Having a strong mind, it is mind over matter, you feel a slight pain but keep moving.

2) Move quickly, stop to think and it will start to hurt and you will sink into the coals.

If this isn't a metaphor for how to live everyday life then the term 'metaphor' should be discarded from the dictionary.

Indecisive

2010-09-14T07:52:00.000-07:00

How confused the days now seem
they snap from hot to cold
Back again, the sun does beam
yet cannot take a hold.

On the edge of my front door
I have to stop to think
There i stand forever more
I'm always on the brink.

One small step would set me free
but first you must decide
Hot or cold, please let me be
and pick your favourite side.

If cold wins out then fine by me
I'll bear the winter bite
But make your choice rapidly
before day turns into night.

A last goodbye

2010-09-04T11:14:00.000-07:00

What is clearly passion you label rage
and you say i seethe, but i cannot cage
this tempest in me which blows too strong
and so what choice is left, but to just move on?
To sail this ship to new blue seas
to grit my teeth and get off my knees
to enjoy the view with eager eyes
and trace the faces as time flies
for many new ones there are bound to be
to replace the old that mean the world to me.
and If we should meet when our faces are lined
and hours spare we manage to find
then sit with me and i'll keep you warm
in moonfleet bay throughout the storm,
and exchange tales of the last long years
with many 'what ifs' and regretful tears
for the tale of our lives should be told as one
but if you have to leave i must move on.

A detached reply.

2010-08-27T06:13:00.000-07:00

Shun i do not, but i must now leave
You say tis love in you, but i see you seethe,
and tis the temper in you and not the tempest
which, regardless of self talk, you cant resist
and so it rises up and blows too strong
gets behind your sail and steers you wrong.
Your eyes do cloud, but the mist is red,
angry thoughts, on loving words unsaid,
have left you hot, whilst i stand here cold
but i may yet thaw as the year grows old
a stark contrast to the seasons at hand
Autumn and winter, making their deathly stand.
I could not ask you to sit and wait
yet i do beseech you, think of me when you think of fate.

The lover's plea

2010-08-20T07:26:00.001-07:00

I beseech you, Shun me not!
For the love i harbour thee cannot be got
by trivial means or much self talk
and cannot be stoppered like champagne with cork.
For this tempest in me will overflow
and spill from my eyes if thou dost go
And so my eyes become the clouds, dense and grey
That cast a fog upon each day
which obscures my vision and steers me wrong
And the world seems big, a maddening throng.
With such small steps i cannot prevail
to escape this crowd and so i fail
to make small progress every day
and yearn to hear you say you'll stay.

She's the colour of amber tea.

2010-06-25T11:27:00.001-07:00

She's the colour of amber tea
Though twice as sweet to me
The girl i hold dear
and always long to see.

She roams like Ulysses
owns the many seas
and makes me feel freer
than i ever dreamed to be.

Ants

2010-06-22T03:43:00.000-07:00

In life we are like ants, born onto a grassy field of an enormous and some uncomprehensible magnitude. Within this field our goals and objectives that we strive to achieve are placed at random destinations. Some of us are born within easy walking distance of these goals and objectives (those who go to private schools), whilst the majority of us unfortunate ones have further to travel, along ardous routes. It is not, however, just our goals and objectives that are placed on the field, there are a greater number of obstacles and distractions in this field (which we term drugs, beer, fatty foods, entertainment) that we are often held back by.

As each ant slowly travels through this field, getting nowhere fast, they have to choose each blade of grass ever so carefully (choosing one blade of grass will open up different avenues to the one next to it and at the same time burn bridges to goals that the next blade would illuminate). This decision is often hard when we ants don't have a helicopter view of the field and our destinations and goals are not clearly visible. There is no magic line which leads us on our journey.

I desire to gain a greater understanding of what influences our choices when travelling from one blade of grass to another and how people are held back by or conquer the distractions along the way. To this end i one day dream of travelling the world and interviewing fellow ants with questions aimed at discovering these truths. Hopefully with my girlfriend nina! who can illustrate our journey.

Short story/fairy tale/myth, part 1

2010-04-13T17:44:00.000-07:00

In ancient Greece there was once a man who Zeus, God of Gods, loved so much he wanted to do something to please him. Knowing as he did that some gifts go unappreciated he wanted to be sure of giving this man a gift that would be impossible to disregard. To be sure of doing this he called a meeting between all of the olympian gods to hear their suggestions on what to do. As always, the first to speak was the ever aggressive Ares;
'Make him unbeatable in war. He who is feared is also respected, and to be respected by all around you is the greatest thing. That's why we gods demand that humans pray to us.'

'Ridiculous!' Answered Aphrodite, 'it is better to be loved than respected, make a human too powerful and they will exploit that power. Make him beautiful, so that all who meet him love him.'

At this Hades began to laugh in a mocking a way, before speaking the following words; in a voice as parched as desert sand, yet clear and provoking, 'Love? Beauty? What mean these trivial things? What chance do they have to fight off age and death? Age lays siege to beauty as death slays love. Give the man the power to cheat death and avoid me, that is why men envy us gods.'

'Men really envy us gods because of that?' Asked Zeus, 'I think they do, yet only when they have eternal life would they realise its pain! Knowing we are here forever, floating through the universe come unbearable pain or unrivaled joy, knowing we will never die and therefore never truly live! That is no gift.'

Hestia, godess of hearth and home, thoughtfully suggested, 'It is where we live that defines us, if we surround ourselves by beauty in our homes we shall lead beautiful lives. It us that we live here, on Olympus that all humans are envious of.'

'You speak the truth Hestia, will you create a home for this man, here, on Olympus for me? Cybele, will you create for this man a perfect garden? With Grass of such green that takes away the breath, of shades never to be matched on the human world earth?'

'Yes, my Lord.' Answered Hestia and Cybele as one.

When all had left the meeting Hades crept back into the hall of Zeus, anger exposed on his face. 'You really intend to humiliate me thus? You intend to create a home, here on sacred Olympus for a human whilst i am banished and doomed to spent eternity the fiery underworld?'

'You have a duty to do dear Hades, and therefore must remain in the underworld.'

'Outrage! What do you know of duty? You spend your days vainly basking in the false glory that the mortals grant you.'

'ENOUGH' Bellowed Zeus in a voice that made the would make the earth tremble. 'Return to your dwelling place or i shall send you there!'

Next installment hopefully tomorrow, uni and work permitting.

Nostalgia

2010-04-01T15:24:00.001-07:00

I have a memory bank.
But the more riches i acquire for it the more i become burdened with unhappiness and longing. My oldest, fondest memories become lost in an ever increasing heap and spending hours on end trying to sift through them i forget the present as i lose the past. I am alone in my memories, no one has the same memories as me because we all see things differently. We all go through these same emotions but we all go through them alone.

Upon finally grasping a memory of pleasant times i feel sorrow that the time is gone forever and realise that one day i'll miss this very moment looking back with rose tinted glasses. I'm already nostalgic for the past and present and so fear the future will disappoint.

It's these futile musings that hinder my productivity and emotional harmony. The memory bank should be kept empty if i ever want to truly live in the moment. But this means to truly enjoy the present i must, like Orpheus, never be able to look back on it when i'm running through life.

old, relentless reality

2010-02-03T05:27:00.001-08:00

Oh, for the imagined immortality of a child!
Alive, oblivious, running wild!
And old, relentless reality can't keep up
With its icy dagger and its poisoned cup.

But all must stop to sit and think, to take a break
And on that day make no mistake
Old relentless reality will always be there
to chill their blood, and hold their stare!

Formless

2010-01-27T08:10:00.001-08:00

Oh, you formless Frankensteins of now!
Creating, with little regard to how.
Your vile, mutated, twisted verse
carries structure within its hearse

Pretentious Prometheus playing with fire!
You doom your art to the funeral pyre
To be reborn, dada, a childlike form
For it's instant cool to break the norm...

Champs Elysees

2009-12-14T13:38:00.000-08:00

In Champs Elysees sits a man
Who has just one leg
But in his head a master plan
to sit, quite still, and beg

Yet all he begs is bleak belief
that for the poor there's no relief,
The countless cars there honk a sigh
as they sit still and watch time fly

Skinny girls in shades of red
live the dream reality bled
The cheeky youths who clown around
the chubby folk their fortune found

All walk past without a glance
at the one legged begger who sits in France.

Morning Cat!

2009-10-26T04:16:00.000-07:00

Ah morning cat! You mysterious thing
You use the night to roam
& return with the sun, to be let in
to your ever present home

But where do you go when the sky is black?
When the world is turned away
Do you lurk in places the eye can't track?
Back alley's round our way

A life of adventure, danger and dare
Lost to all, but your kind
& to watch you prowl without a care
It's a life i wouldn't mind.

Quiet with you.

2009-10-15T02:59:00.000-07:00

Its all been done and all been said
All been written; all been read
re-cycled music; nothing new
every chat brings deja vu
Lets go out; forget our cares
see leery drunks exchanging stares
& like last week, the same men fight
The same high price; the same old shite
friends i have become friends i had
prolonged silence drives them mad
I do love you, never doubt
but there's nothing new, to talk about
& i'd rather sit, quiet with you
than flee this world, to something new.

Senseless

2009-10-06T04:30:00.000-07:00

I stand in front of starry night
With eyes that do not see
But hear others express delight
At what’s hidden from me

I have in hand a deep red rose
Whose scent escapes from me
I glance around and envy those
Who do inhale with glee

And Aphrodite lays bear and pure
But touch her I can not
And fruitless yearnings I endure
As others have their lot

The meaning of life told to all
But I don’t hear a sound
Others rejoice to hear this call
But I am lost not found

I hold sweet wine from Zeus’ cup
Made of purest fruits
But mouth sewn shut I can not sup
Whilst others fill their boots.

But all the joys and all the fun
i lack from the above
I know that i have truly won
when you give me your love.

London Town

2009-09-26T11:29:00.000-07:00

Where metal and brick cement their place
On bonny Blighty's weary face
And carpets for cars, bikes and feet
carry countless people i will never meet
Where brickwork buildings and metal mesh
will stifle breath and bind the flesh
No friendly face, no hands are shook
All that matters is how you look
London Town, an eyesore metropolis
Buried nature, a grey necropolis.

Halloween, bonfire night and cold, dark nights with mugs of lovely tea!!!

2009-08-31T19:38:00.000-07:00

Fall

Dead leaves fall when autumn starts

Once so green, strong and bright

A million sinking broken hearts

Are set to burn on bonfire night.

And with each leaf, a sighing breath

The tree’s youth hits the floor

Trampled by kids dressed as death

Who come to bang upon your door

Trick or treat they shout as one

And then expect a prize

The mighty oak tree just looks on

As leafy tears leave his eyes.

Wanderlust

2009-08-25T17:13:00.000-07:00

Like a blind man, slowed by care
we tentatively shuffle, too aware
Doom and gloom! It might go wrong
We tell ourselves, and creep along.
Like a Tortoise , within our shell
peeping out, if all goes well

If we're the tortoise, she's the hare
covering ground without a care
To watch her soar; to watch her run
it's clear to all who really won
She'll see it all! All the sights
From ancient ruins to city lights.

She's never beat and never lost
never cold in morning frost
she wraps that smile round her face
To keep her warm in every place.

Always waiting.

2009-08-17T17:13:00.000-07:00

Well, i guess you should never bury your head in the security of other people, no matter how much you're there for them they may not be there for you when you need them. I kind of knew that anyway though...moving on ...a quick post in between looooong shifts at work!! 12-1 then 12-1 then 12- who knows when...sigh. Always waiting for something, until the end of days when we can wait no more.

As a child on Christmas eve
i eagerly await a lie
one that you'd have me believe
As life goes flying by

You claimed we'd lay awake tonight
to catch him creeping around
But as i turn your mind takes flight
and you sleep without a sound

Left alone to stand and fight
I know not who to blame
That cause i laid until the light
I saw Santa never came

& though i envy you your sleep
at least i learnt to fight
and if he comes again to creep
i'll give him quite a fright!

Riding Storms

2009-07-14T16:35:00.000-07:00

Hello, to all of you reading this...all none of you. I seriously doubt people read these things unless you get yourself a following of groupies, i may sulk for i have few. I'll treat this more as a diary from now on, no one wants groupies for diary entries. Well, my habit of burying my head is still going strong, lately i've found a classical piano version of The Doors song 'Riders On The Storm' which gives me goosebumps! Goosebumps the size of mountains, so i bury my head in these wonderful mountains of raised awareness...quite ironic really.
I actually got to ride in a storm for real tonight. I knew the weather forecast was predicting violent storms in my area and i wanted some excitement. So, i waited until the sky darkens and silence lays like a blanket over the land and then headed out to some rarely used roads in the car. Sweet Jesus was i in for a shock! It started as soon as i set off from my house, though just a little rain and a faint glimmer of lightening. I got about 2miles out from the city lights and i was on my own on the road. When i realised i hadn't passes a car in a while i knew i was far enough and at that exact moment a sheet of lightening lit the night sky, so bright i could see for miles! When you experience lightening like that out of the inner city its an immense sight, so powerful. I kept on driving, setting a slow pace to see more of the incredible show. However, i soon got a bit too close. The lightening was becoming more frequent and suddenly it flashed right in front my very eyes! I've never experienced this before, i was directly underneath the storm and the clouds were low, an eerie mist had settled in front of me on the road. My visibility was very limited due to this mist until suddenly the lightening flashed so bright in front of me that i had to shield my eyes and the wind screen wipers were struggling to work fast enough to allow me to see!!! I had a moment of fear, i was miles from anywhere, alone, and driving with terrible visibility, it was a very uneasy feeling and i started to speed up to get past the storm. It was as soon as i sped up that i had a moment of rare clarity.
As a kid if i had been put in that situation i would have loved it, the world was a giant playground where everything was to be experienced and explored. My childhood was such that i felt involved in everything around me and dived into unsettling moments with a naive courage. Sometimes naivity is needed in life, without it we become too calculating, too robotic and detatched from life itself. Luckily i realised this was becoming a problem for me whilst the storm was still raging all around me. I pulled the car over, sat back, replaced my uneasiness with wonder and enjoyed a remarkable and rare experience, i feel all the better for it.

As kids we have wishes that are carefree, spontaneous and we enjoy fearless lifes happily going from one adventure to the next with no stress inbetween. I think somewhere along the line 99.9% of humans lose this way of life. Fear is sold to us by corporations, newspapers, television, governments and word of mouth. Those in power feed off our fear and grow fat off it. Our childhood wishes and dreams and adventures become replaced by questions such as 'hmm, tight budget, whats next...decorate the bathroom, get a new boiler or save for a holiday.' The biggest adventure most get is a holiday to a place which is england but in a foreign country for 2weeks a year. I imagine most people spend 5weeks worrying over christmas and working that much harder for it, and 3weeks before their holiday just waiting for it to arrive and working. So, 10 weeks in the 52 that exist in a year are spent in a slightly altered way maybe...'but it's ok, we're going to a land of sun for 2weeks!!! YAY' they'll say...to which i'd reply 'there used to be sun here too, and extravegant views, but the advertising billboards block out both.' ...and whats on these advertising billboards? Cheap holiday deals. No thanks, this isn't for me at all.

Wishes of the young always take flight
Through a cloudless sky, ample and bright
But age and living will cloud the mind
The quest for more, which we’ll never find
when the day is no longer young
Advertising billboards will block the sun
And the scene is set, artificial night
Where no wind can give our wishes flight

...

2009-06-18T14:52:00.001-07:00

I have a massive and slightly obssessive urge. I want this so bad it hurts and my stomach feels indecisive...heavy, yet hollow and empty. I want to leave the house, through the front door, wearing my dressing gown with the hood up. I want to walk through the dark streets in my area, casting shadows when i pass a street light. I want to be introverted, in a trance, almost to a point where it would seem like a challenge to be dragged back to the harshness of reality. I want to do this, placing one foot in front of the other in a robotic, monotonous motion whilst i let my feelings swarm over me, cloud my eyes and sink my lips. I want passers by to mumble quietly to their companions that i 'dont look so good'. I want to shuffle away to a place where i spent joyful youngers years. I want to get in the middle of my chosen place, let the memories wash over me and shudder with violent spasms of nostalgia. I want to feel all the uncertainty and indecisiveness climbing up towards the surface. I want to feel it, like a lump rising, gathering pace, growing like a snowball rolling, making my face twitch. I want to release it with every fibre of my being. Oh, sweet cathartic joy! I want it to tear my throat and make my voice hoarse. I want it to burst blood vessels as i throw it forward with every furious ounce of energy i have. I want to scream so loud with anguish that my younger self hears the warning and the dread of uncertainty in the air. I want my piercing howl to raise the, fair hairs on the back of his young neck. I want to do this until i am down on my knees, crying with the effort. I dont want to be frowned upon, or thought mad, for doing this. I don't want to be sectioned and drugged until all of the surrounding grey concrete and cold blue steel becomes acceptable again. It isn't right. I vaguely remember colours, smells and elements. I think i remember misty winter mornings, the gentle crunch of frost under boot as i run to school, skidding in the patches of ice. I distantly remember lush, green spring mornings, where the dew from the vibrant grass would seep into my shoe, pass swiftly through my sock and soak my foot. The scent of a heavy shower looming nearer and daffodils and daisy's all around. This was life, there was colour. I want to scream until my guts flow out of my mouth and i spew bodily paint over the concrete and cold steel. My prison is my canvas. This whole city is my prison. Penned in by greys and blues. A man-made, overcast, grey sky. The elite do this because the sun causes irrational emotion, they want our senses to be neutralised. If the environment surrounding us fails to do this they bring the drugs. They come at night. Cloaked in black, needles drawn. Injecting grey fluid into our red bloodstream. No colour is allowed anywhere! But i harbour a secret, i cling to it at all hours of the meaningless day and lay awake in the night nurtutring it. The drugs are becoming less effective. Each time i am drugged its effects are leaving me quicker and quicker. The greys and blues are cracking...but so am i. It's a race against time. I have to find a way out before i am taken. Thats what its called people 'disappear', which is something they do when they show too much emotion. I'm on a knife edge. I want to scream, but i must remain silent. I yearn to rip down the grey structures and tear through the blue steel, but i must remain dormant. A sleeping volcano waiting to scream.

in the blink of an eye

2009-06-07T11:48:00.000-07:00

This first year of uni has flown by! It feels strange packing up my room, lots of souveniers from an action packed and emotional first year! An amazing year to be honest, feels sad to have left my room. Especially knowing that someone else will be enjoying it next year, i will have to come back and see who the new person is

Sick with nostalgia I vomit the past
Sifting through memories I desire to last
But sensing freedom they flee in the night
on the wings of moths they seek out the light
spreading like locusts as moses foretold
they block out my sun and leave my life cold
As i scurry away, under a rock
a new face moves in, where i horded my stock.

Stargazing for one

2009-05-30T10:48:00.001-07:00

And as she turned out the light, she had no choice but to fill the dawn with the dull ache of reality. Now i crawl from my lair, put out my feelers, long for the past and grasp for the future. Though like mist at dawn it creeps through my fingers, so i sit with my head buried in work.

Lost and lazy, stargazer.
Sits on a shelf
green with envy
of the bygone self.

Return of the king

2009-05-17T10:41:00.000-07:00

It was the best of times, itr was the worst of times... depending on your social status of course. We could all do with a second home to bury our heads in right now. Guy fawkes had the right idea, i'll clebrate bonfire night well and truly this year, in due to what was so close to been accomplished not due to the punishment and 'justice'.

London was burning, in a bygone time
Not so now, the flood is here
A city swimming, drenched in crime
...and the weak drown in fear.

Discontent creeps in, alongside mistrust
Cos when the top rains down
the sturdy framework, begins to rust
A penny for a frown...

...the bankers would scream, this was their decree
so Guy Fawkes please return
The bankers mantra's shared by the MP
...so old Guy, let it burn!

Home?

2009-04-09T04:28:00.000-07:00

Well, i'm back in York. It's...wet and grey, yet rather cosy. Although i'm struggling to find things to bury my head in, tried to submerge in my work but suffocated, cloughed and spluttered and ran away red cheeked. Tonight shall be a jolly night, a live band and a cocktail bar : ) Seems strange having such exotic drinks under a heavy, grey sky. Still i can bury my head in the cocktails.

Hard of hearing, with failing eyes
& numb throughout my temper flies
with flailing wings it hits the floor
left behind. I crawl for the door
but once escaped & once set free
back insides where i long to be
broken judgement and clouded mind
a once great deal left unsigned
words not spoken, feelings kept in
brings the silence, that heavy din
of a far off laugh heard before
from that old room
across the corridor.

A modern fairy tale

2009-03-08T15:17:00.000-07:00

For an English project, was quite fun to do.

Once upon a time there was a great wolf, who lived in the city. He was very successful, very strong, very clever and very rich. All of these things are important because living in the big, wild and untamed city can be extremely dangerous at times. He owned all of the latest things, HD 42inch plasma televisions, 4 cars, a motorcyle (though he never used these due to the traffic of the inner city and the fact that he never left the city), suits from Saville Row, anything you can think of he could afford it. But despite all of this he wasn't happy, and couldn't remember ever been happy. Even though he was regarded by most other wolves as the most successful in the city and they regarded him with eyes of green. Even though he was looked upon by most of the girls with eyes that were hungry.
But this did not bother the wolf; he only had eyes for one girl. He was sure that if he had her then he would be happy. The wolf didn’t know her name, so he just called her Little Red Hood (on account of the red sports coat she always wore, with the hood up). The great wolf knew that Little Red Hood had to walk through a very wild and untamed area of the city at night to visit her Grandma; this was the key to his plan. He thought that because he was so big and strong that the girl would want him to walk her to Grandma’s so that she felt safe. With this in mind he strolled up to the girl on the threshold of the ghetto and said: “I’ve watched you before and I know you have to walk through a very dangerous place, would you like me to accompany you?”
The girl looked astounded “Bugger off! You pervert! Why have you been watching me?” She replied, for she was a modern girl and well aware of dangers and how to combat them. And after saying this she began walking off.
Now it was the wolf’s turn to be astounded, he stood gaping as she walked off. After a few steps the girl turned around and looked at him, he thought that maybe all hope was not lost. This however was proven to be false as the girl shouted a warning: “And be careful on your way back Mr Wolf, down that path there is drug addicts who have dirty needles and down the other path there is a gang with knives. Choose carefully.”
The wolf, heart broken and in no mood for dangerous adventures had called a taxi to take him home. Already his broken heart had cost him, and it was going to cost him a lot more too. Every night for a week he went back to the same spot on the threshold and never once did he get to cross the threshold with her. After 7 days of trying he was driven to despair! He started missing work because he didn’t want to get out of bed, he stopped eating because he was always love sick, he stopped exercising because he had no motivation and he stopped thinking because it hurt so much to think. A woman in love with him had once remarked to him: “What nice nails you have!”
“All the better to grasp opportunities with.” He replied. His nails were now dirty and weak.
“What big shoulders you have!”
“Indeed, they can carry the weight of the world with ease.” They were now struggling to carry the weight of his downcast head.
“What calculating eyes you have!”
“They help me see opportunities.” They now saw nothing due to been constantly clouded over and filled with tears.
“What big nostrils you have!”
“The better to smell the success with.” Now all they smelt was his own body odour due to not showering. And all that those big ears were hearing now was power ballads. The wolf was indeed broken. On the 30th day of been heart broken he was fired from work, on the 31st he was evicted from his penthouse and on the 32nd day of heart ache he finally got to cross the threshold. Though not with Little Red Riding Hood, he crossed it on his own as he had to live on the streets in the ghetto due to been fired from his job and evcited from his luxury penthouse. At first Mr Wolf was in dismay over this and struggled to even feed himself. After a few weeks of this Mr Wolf was actually begining to resemble a wolf. Then an amazing thing happened, a man who he had seen sleeping in the park bushes across from him approached. He had locked eyes with this man many times but never knew what to say to him and so never spoke. The man offered Mr Wolf some bread as he said: "Me and some others are building a boat to sail away from the city, would you like to join us?"
"Yes, very much so, that sounds like a wonderful idea." Exclaimed Mr Wolf in reply.
The next day his new friend led him away from the city. It took ever so long to get out of the city but when they finally did and entered a forest, which led down to the river, Mr Wolf was happy, genuinely happy for the first time he could remember. As the sharp rays of golden sunlight pierced the green canopy above and the gentle breeze slightly lifted his knotted, unkempt hair Mr Wolf realised that it was adventure that he had been longing for all along, a real adventure into the unknown and he had finally found it. He had let fall all of the weights and pressures of city living, money was just paper and expensive gadgets and goods were nothing except distractions, that took his attention away from his real desires. With this realisation in mind, along with his new friends he eventually set sail into the unknown wearing the remnants of a suit from Saville Row and genuine smile.

2009-02-27T07:49:00.000-08:00

Studied the environment lately and it just makes me desire a life in the country even more so, and also to travel the world, to see amazing sights before they are torn and ripped and turned into buildings. 'Great' cities, such as London. Culture but no heart, activity with no excitement and interaction with no passion.

Mother Earth

Cars, as tears, make haste to trace
Roads, as wrinkles, which line thy face
and men, with crosses, anger thee
crediting god, for your beauty
and they close your legs to us all
make us pay to answer your call
you are tamed, shamed and made to whore
where bouncers in green guard your door
your bright hair, in which we'd play
aged so sudden, turned to grey
cement and concrete reach the sky,
as nameless grey suits heave a sigh
and your sweet, fresh, natural breath
turns to smog, a stifling death.

New things for new seasons

2009-02-11T09:16:00.000-08:00

Hello there.
Well, Spring is slowly beginning to wake up, which is nice. I hope she's in a jolly mood. With the new season looming i've developed a new musical love...Quran recital vocals. How strange, yet very moving. Maybe now i can bury my head in the Quran! Although i don't get on well with religion so maybe a bad idea.
I can officially say i've given up smoking now, after 12 years of cigarettes spewing industrial like smoke into the land of my lungs. Good that i stopped before my lungs became the ozone layer though :)

New Beginnings and happy times...

Spring Trees

The trunk is the easel, the leaves the art
The former the body, the latter the heart
Neighbouring trees that begin to entwine
To share the sunlight, its clearly a sign.

A perfect picture, a time to begin
To study the world; to take it all in
To dance in the rain; to bathe in the sun
Give legs to ideas and let them run.

2009-02-05T20:16:00.000-08:00

Well, i was most upset when i had to try building and couldnt decide what to use for buttons and some features. All these strikes are making me think of the miners strikes in the 80s. Although obviously they haven't reached the same heights and hopefully they won't. Still they made me think about those times and it has just hit me that it was coal that was used for snowmen, i forgot about that!

A life that was lent.
Britain's going bust
Ruined by the rich
Naïve, misplaced trust
Drove us to the ditch

Clearly the bankers
With bonuses so big
Are worthless wankers
Chasing rainbows to dig

The whole school of thought
Always to borrow
To have what we sought
Forget tomorrow

Well tomorrow came
As the jobs all went
And spoiled our game
Our life that was lent.

lost childhood

2009-02-04T13:02:00.000-08:00

Well, to be fair, it's not really lost. I know exactly where it is, that doesn't mean i can grasp it though. This is because it's in the past. The snow reminded me of been a child, i haven't experienced snow like that since i was very young! It was a wonderful and refreshing feeling to bury my head in the snow like the ostrich that i am. I did this to hide from my advancing years, i found the snow much more welcoming than the dry, choking and intrusive sand. However, my hide-away has officailly turned to grey slush and drenched grass. Back to reality which, to be honest with you, is quite a nice place to be right now.

Growing Pains

From daisy chains and summer lawns
to rainy nights & a soul that mourns
for innocence lost, for all the mistakes
daggers in backs and dull winter aches
blood that bled red has changed its hue
to a startling shade of forget-me-not-blue
eyes which were white, turn nicotine yellow
whats now desperation was once so mellow
bright searing flames fade to charcoal black
which hide what we had and show what we lack

fear

2009-01-27T14:21:00.000-08:00

I remember the first time i saw a 'rag and bone man'. I was terrified, which is unjust because they are friendly chaps who used to give kids balloons for pieces of scrap. I guess i grew up in a time when they were dying out. Due to this i just didn't understand what he was all about. I'll never forget the how the cry of 'RAA-BO' chilled my blood. Looking back now its a fond memory. : )

A cold, grey, drawn and dreary day

Silence, stillness, snow starts to lay

A glum child looks out of his window

Nothing to do, nowhere to go

Chin rested on his small white hands

Dreaming, of exploring new lands

Stuck in a trance, silence and gloom

His only world, a large empty room

A piercing cry chills his blood

Haunting, loud, expelling all good

“RAA-BO” comes the despairing call

Sounding futile, yet heard by all

Next, he hears shuffling feet

Scraping along his barren street

Scared stiff the child watches the road

A cart creaks into view, shaky and old

“RAA-BO”, the cry comes again

making the hairs stand, and then

the source is seen, a ghastly sight

rags for clothes and eyes with no light

he slowly looks up, their eyes lock

the boy turns white, rigid with shock

This is the day, the boys fear began

Of the age old, unknown, rag and bone man.

7 long hours

2009-01-27T12:15:00.000-08:00

Hello

I managed to get my last essay in on time, which was a relief. Although, it wasn't the best piece of work i've ever produced. In fact it was about as good as aids. Today brought another rush to meet the deadline, the dreaded deadline, that always sneaks up on me without me paying it too much attention. Maybe i'll learn from it this time, though the chances are my ostrich instincts will kick back in. I live by the sea and i like sand.
Todays project was editing a documentary for a media course. I expected it to only take another hour or so, yet i was working from 1pm up until 8pm. Rather annoying as the weather was lovely, a perfect day to bury my head in the sand and tan my ass!!

Todays poem, after sitting by a computer for 7 hours non-stop, with a drawn face and dry eyes i thought this would be fitting...

Internet Player
The only bags for life he carries, are the ones under his eyes
From stalking the internet at 3am, lurking, to surprise
Any like minded lass, who likewise fancies a chat
Straight into cyber, the small talk/foreplay don’t last long, cos he’s got the knack for that.
On msn he cant fail at all, cant do himself no harm
If it goes wrong he turns off his pc, when he cant turn on his charm
He stalks and talks, frantically searching for internet lust
Pictures don’t matter too much, cos in this world no ones fussed
Morning springs. His phone rings, he knows what its about
Its an old pals birthday and all the lads are going out
But giving up the opportunity to get out on an “all-dayer”
He thinks “its easier at home, where I can be an internet player”
So he ignores the phone and leaves it there ringing
Better off in here he thinks, cos outside he feels minging
They all say “you need some sun on that skeletal, drawn face”
But he shuffles away back to his lair, cos he’s a fucking disgrace.

Now, time for a cup of tea :)

Distractions...

2009-01-25T05:56:00.000-08:00

Hello. I needed a decent distraction to cure my essay aids. It's one of the worst kinds after all, so here i am. It is a scientific fact that a distraction, along with a cup of tea, can cure anything in life. Burying your head in the magical sand of ignorance is indeed bliss. Have you ever met an unhappy ostrich?? Although this is of course one massive rumour, started by a roman writer. Ostriches really don't bury their heads in the sand. I, however, definitely do. It's cosy.

I'll post a poem every time i update this thing, either one of my own or one that i'm especially enjoying on the given day.

Today it's one of mine...

I dont know where i stand
so i'll fall for you instead
i have to follow my heart
for i've clearly lost my head
Yet when love has voice
theres no longer a choice
and security settles in
which surely in love
when push comes to shove
is a truly mundane thing

i dont know where i stand
so i'll kneel for you instead
in front of the world i beg
My love, return the love i said
but you must say no
for if your cards you show
comfort comes to stay
which surely in lust
i bid you, please trust
drives all passion away.

OK, now back to the essay, the sand is irritating my smoke free throat. 800 more words by noon tomorrow! Titty Biscuits.