17.07.12


Sometimes I wonder why we bother.
It's been ten years now since I first dreamt about cars that hover yet still we're stuck on roads. No international super highways, no gentle hum as we soar the skyways.
No cars that drive, or fly themselves to any destination in the world. Be it work or play, lunch with an Earl or Dame or just home from a stressful day to see your little girl.
And the one that makes your world go round.
The one that sparks that little thing inside you, that makes you proud to be part of the human race.
That little thing that ignites into a smile across your face. That makes you forget the hardest days, the slow decrease in solar rays, the age old cars that never start, the way the good times flicker past.
The little thing that keeps the dream alive.
Who knows, maybe one day we will drive the skies.
Maybe one day I will fly.

Change the way we walk

Is the only way to walk the way that everyone was taught?

Or do we all just do that ‘cause we all consider it the norm?

An imaginary storm put the sparkle in your eye,

With the promise of a farther who knew deep down it was a lie.

The only promise in this life that’s ever kept is that we die

But I promise you right now that I’m a complicated sight.

I walk slightly with a list, my axis has a tilt

I’m not sure why I’m saying this; perhaps it’s just the guilt.

Do you remember when they used to sell Smarties in a tube?

Well I kind of, sort of, maybe accidently stole a few.

But the point I wish to make is there’s an Elephant in the room.

And he’s sick of being brushed under the carpet with a broom.

So unless a stampede is your major goal in life,

I advise you learn to walk afresh and practice once or twice.

14.03.12

If walls could talk they'd ruin a surprise party or two.
They could tell us if Lee Harvey did shoot the President in '63 and if '69 really was a giant leap for mankind.
People would die, pigs would fly before the truth came out but if walls could whisper, talk or shout we'd learn a thing or two about the Mayans.
Alexander would be no greater than Alexandria at number 49 who is 77 years old and those cloaked figures who move only in dimly lit halls would have their secrets told.
Walls, young and old would tell different stories. From past glories to petty quarrels that are anything and everything to the 8 year olds who squabble on the school playing field over whose turn it is to be the pony.
But it's funny, without these little snippets of life that mean so much to so many, but are forgotten as we speed through life in search of something, and who knows what; walls would be boring. Nothing but a lifeless partition between rooms that endeavour to do nothing but hold up the roof that we take for granted.
But walls have ears, they hear everything, and one day they will talk.

A very old piece from around two years ago..

the trees irritate me with thier drunken swaying
even as I stagger alongside loneliness
to the shack i call home.

my alcoholic breath seeps through cracked lips
as I march, with a slight list, toward my door
and fumble with the keys to my life.

another swig from the bottle that I grasp tightly
in my right hand and I swallow a mouthful of myself
to keep my emotions supressed.

hard bed. but my bed neverless. I lie dead, breathing
silently through my matted beard
and drift into a troubled yet somewhat restful sleep,

all the while knowing that drink was my last
and only one thing awaits me beyond the tunnel.
as I step into the light I see him. Death, as horrific
as the previous meetings. He bellows in his quietist
voice, 'it is that time again Son.'

The world can be a strange place. Scriptures of a far off doomsday flash before me and I revel in them, disbelieving their content.

The detail of description is alarming though. I imagine myself, assuming control as the citizens of a broken Earth vacate the place and leave the whole planet to me. I do not know what I say, but I speak, addressing those that are left, waiting for me.

Magma bubbles. The crust of the Earth rumbles and fractures. People wander hopelessly, stumbling, mumbling; society crumbling. However, the greatest of mankind’s troubles is not rebuilding from the rubble, but shaving away the stubble of their conscience as they try to make sense of this nonsense.

I read on.

Everyone in the world needs someone to lean on. Someone to depend on. Perhaps even someone to dump their wounded friend on, so that they can flee. But that will never be me. I will never leave that fast that I leave behind every important part of my past.

Because I have an escape plan; that car has an infinite number of seats.

And I intend to fill every one of them.

This one is a couple of months old, but I couldn't put an exact date on it. I really should start dating things when I write them..

Tornadoes and earthquakes, forgotten birthdays,
days when the wind and the rain seem to burn.
Broken souls, hearts filled with holes;
yet a careless world will continue to turn.
Unsung heroes, drowned out cheers go
floating down a lonely road on the wind.
But something, somewhere, in the back of the mind,
gives you the urge to just stand up and sing.
Forgotten birthdays, tornadoes and earthquakes
fires and liars and soulless deceit.
They'll all chip away, and force you astray
but you can choose to get back on your feet.
Bang on the drums, scream out your lungs,
make sure that the whole world knows that you've spoken.
If you wish but can't reach, stand on your seat,
after all rules are made to be broken.

This one is about eight months old..

Rain trickles slowly down my face, wetting my cheeks.
Then the clouds come.
Confusion mixes with despair and drowns me.
I'm lost in ignorance and I can't see the signpost to the future that flashes exit; the way to carry on.
The bulb has blown. No spark. No illumination.
The quickest road to home is the one that passes by a shop that sells lightbulbs.
But a fix is never so easy.
I need to create my own spark again.
I need to be electric.

In the beginning..

I have been encouraged (more pestered and bugged but we'll let that go) by a friend over the past couple of months to get a blog set up and to start uploading my stuff to 'get it out there'.
Today I got around to actually doing it, but felt that the blog looked a bit bare so I am pretty much writing this as a buffer between the bottom of the blog page and my first 'getting it out there' post.
Here goes..