She's the colour of amber tea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.