A modern fairy tale

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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 :)