"Some Day" Isn't A Real Day

It feels like a prison sentence
living in this town
look around, the same glass ceiling
it really brings me down
some people don't agree
because they feel a sense of freedom
"We could leave if we wanted to,
but we don't have any reason".

David Hume said it best
when talking about free will
it only matters if you *could* do different
but many false steps were made by standing still
so why not take that challenge
see if your freedom's really true
do something unexpected,
completely out of the blue.

Or live life never asking
what could have been if i wasn't "realistic"
if I wasn't safe and "sensible"
If I wasn't so pessimistic
The fear you think you're escaping
will follow you to your grave
and you'll have lived a lonely life
if all you've done is work and save

Leaving great things for your children
is a kind and noble cause
but I promise they'll be happier
instead of hearing what could have been,
stories of what was.

Deferred Life Plan

They say good things come to those who wait
but I think that theory is up for debate.
Sit on your hands and good times will arrive?
I want my pie now, not at sixty five!
That seems like madness,
that seems like wishful thinking
and I'm slowly realising
why everyone is drinking.
But the path to the bottom of the bottle ain't sweet
and the only thing there is the taste of defeat
If you dread Monday coming and then celebrate Friday
you're wishing more than half of your life away.

When did you start your deferred life plan?
Didn't you ever have dreams?
Or do you just have a short attention span?
Look, I know it isn't that easy to start,
but if you're doing nothing now
your life and your dreams will always be miles apart,
and I know you don't believe in immortality
but that's your current rationality.
Just cos Ronan Keating said it, don't make it untrue
Tomorrow never comes...
At least that's the conclusion I've come to

When we see a hardship, some people duck their heads.
Some people wear a hat and pretend they're someone else.
Some people wear a mask, sink down low and disappear,
but some people thrive, and that's why I'm here.

A job doesn't make you happy in the long run,
having values and knowing you live by them
will make you happier than having none.
Remember what a job is for, generating income.
If your job gives you money but robs you of all your time
through worry, stress or working on your own dime
it's a crime, it's voluntary mental slavery.
But for some reason you think that's fine
because the boss will recognise your sacrifice
and reward you by allowing you to climb,
but you'll never reach him, there'll always be another one.
You'll never reach the top, there'll always be another rung.
If you're climbing the wrong ladder, you'll always come undone.

So why climb at all? You can fly! You can have it all.
Open your mind and see that there's another way.
Find someone living your dreams and live their life for a day,
ask how they got there, I bet it wasn't just wishes and prayer.
And as you stare and wonder how to live the life you want
remember you can have it all, all you need to do is make that jump.

Thumos

GET DOWN FROM THERE, YOU'LL FALL"
they screamed at me as I climbed
higher and higher, from up here, the world looks so small
ant people scurrying about, their problems don't matter at all
Even if the revolution happens and it isn't televised,
I wouldn't care because I've got my eyes on the prize:
freedom.

"MAN WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO SEE SUCH HEIGHTS"
they cried, but step by step I ascended despite
my fear of constantly moving up, try as they might
those people who scream
NO
can't stop me from taking flight tonight.

Then, there was silence. The kind filled with anticipation and dread
as my foot caught on the top rung of the rope ladder of success
I had almost broke through, I could see the stars shine,
but all the sympathetic cosmonauts offered no hand, nor took mine.
Down I fell and hit every obstacle I had overcome
and the indentation in the ground when I landed
means I start again even lower than where I set off from.

This depth may only be inches, but it may as well be miles,
face down in the mud I can only be concerned with my own trials
and those tiny ant people now tower above me,
as I blunder between their busy legs
"Sorry, I do not wish to bother thee"
I yell in my little, insignificant voice.
Exhausted from a whole day of this, sleep brings no rejoice.

What a fool I was to think that I could climb,
to see things only meant for the eyes of the divine
to be that one in a million who tastes the fruits of their own success.
"Sit down and shut up, you were meant for much less"
Why didn't I listen to the voices which screamed no.
Maybe then I wouldn't have fallen.
Maybe I wouldn't feel so low.

After some time spent gathering my strength
and remembering when happiness was only at arms length
my burlap sack packed with my dreams and Lucozade,
I set out to climb that rope ladder without any aid.
Even though I know I'll probably just fall again
and that the voices which scream are the voices of the safe but mundane
I'm well practised by now so without a fuss
I slowly start to climb again; a modern day Sisyphus.

Absurd Rhymes With Albatross

Of course, it doesn't. But it does rhyme with turd.

As the most curious species
and with brain power to boot
we try to swallow the whole sun
and think the face in the moon is cute.

We pretend that time's a circle
and that we can live this moment again,
we call ourselves unique, like snowflakes
then score beauty out of ten.

We praise multiple gods, and one, or none.
All three are but primitive tools
to deal with the hypocrisy of life. Example?
We teach science in Roman Catholic schools.

We take their valves to work our hearts
but "all pigs do is stink".
Being human is such an absurdity,
all the more because we can think.

Waltz

Dancing in threes, living life
step one two.

We share a heartbeat, me and you.

Sychronised steps, arm in arm
turn two three.

No thought to thinking, feeling free.

Past mistakes made we laugh off
as we spin.

Lips touch and we dance, skin to skin

Facebook Friends

The people on my Facebook are my friends,

'cept,

they're not.

They are friends of my friends

and

people I knew before;

they are people at work

but

cease to be when I leave.

You are my Facebook friends

'cause

un-friend is just so rude.

Are the people on my Facebook my friends

or

my "friends"?

A poem about people I hate

This poem's title is literal. This is just a spoken word poem about people I hate. Or more specifically, something I hate about people. Below this, you can listen to the recording hosted on SoundCloud and below that, you can read the words. There's no layout, it looks like this because it's written to be heard and not read, but this is my blog and I want to post the words. Whatever.



All my life I've been called a nerd, a loser, a geek.
Just because I love to learn.
I want to know why our calendar has seven days in the week
and why we are averse to telling people how much we earn.
Thank god or zeus or even the big bang for wikipedia
because without it I'd never be able to bore workmates
with facts and interesting titbits about who really controls the world's media
(it's not a conspiracy by the way, Noam Chomsky told me and his name holds weight in debates)
It's just fate that the curse placed upon my tiny little head is now plastered across all these fucking tshirts on little girl's chests. Slogans designed to impress because being a geek is somehow cool now?
Like I didn't get my head shoved in a fucking bin and my childhood is just one big fat cash cow?
It's like I wasn't so scared of ridicule for joining the debate club I ran away and ate lunch on the pavement on my own? Wow. I've barely told anyone about that.

Where was I? Oh yeah, tell me about your adventures in the Warhammer universe fellow geek. Tell me about the time you spend reading short stories by only Phillip K Dick and Bradbury for a whole week.
How disappointed were you that the overarching story in Asimov's I, Robot was completely missed out in the Will Smith adaptation?
Who pushed you down stairs in school because you thought superheros were cool? Were you the last in your group of friends to pull? Yes, teenagers can be cruel but I'm still being ridiculed by the exact same people who paid to see The Avengers four times because Chris Hemsworth and Robert Downey Junior make them drool.

Dungeons and Dragons is nothing like playing with a Barbie doll and you sound like a fool for making that comparison, but I try to take it on the chin. Because I never expect anyone to understand why I run Linux instead of Windows on my netbook, or why I continually fix my eight year old iPod instead of buying a new one.

And I'd never understand why you would mute the news or think it's boring to see a meteor caught on camera crashing down to Earth with an impact like a giant cosmic gun. That's the reason I'll never buy a tshirt that states in VERY LARGE FONT, that everyone can read that I'm a domesticated dog, on a very short lead.

Peter Pan

I like the rhythmic quality of this. I've been writing things in threes recently and I don't know why. As you can see, this is structured so that every line contains three syllables. I may have the punctuation wrong which would lead some to read this in a way I didn't intend but honestly, I think the commas and full stops, as well as the line breaks let it flow without the reader having to think of composition too much.

Everything

that I think,

I create.

Everything

that I think,

I create,

I control.

Everything

that I think,

I create,

I control,

I destroy.

Not Captain

Hook, I'm the

first Lost Boy.

Butterflies

It isn't often I'm lost for words but when you kissed me, my head was with the birds, in a cloud and I could hear my heart beating so loud I thought it would burst from my chest, then you said

"are you ready?"

Time stopped, and that's the most beautiful thing because I don't want to waste it, like seedlings in spring. Am I ready? "Of course", I said dizzy, heady from kiss and you looked at me with doe eyes, and said

"don't hurt me"

Us two alone, only moonlight exists, the sole witness to this tryst sits high above watching hands touching hands, hands touching hips. In this moment we are one (no space), an everlasting embrace.

Peninsula

I love the way the sands of time trick our mind.
How pleasing the feeling
we were young yesterday,
the notion that all we know is innate.
A smile arises when I think
of troubles, previously significant
that no longer hold any pain,
or of all the times we tried in vain.

Shifting sands of time
distort our mind in pleasing times,
distracting us from the reality
of humanity.

Absolutes are abhorrent:
hate and love are but two sides of the same coin,
with one comes the possibility of the other.

To hate and love at the same time
is absurd.
To hate and love at the same time
is human.

So you see
the paradox of humanity.
It is a struggle to remain sane

Every Atom

It's not love that tears us apart, its the heartache that does.
A troubled mind stuck in time looping ifs, buts and because,
predisposed with thoughts of who, when, why and of what was.
Heartache ruins us.

If its not love that tears us apart, the memories will.
Ruminating good and bad
then out       they        spill
to anyone sparing a shoulder or ear
and we can't stem the flow until,
heartache drains us.

Love will never tear us apart
because humans we are,
and every atom in our body was once part of a star.
What is the loss of love when life is this bizarre?
Heartache cleanses us

Cult or Religion

What's the difference between cult and religion?
Is it a matter of age or overarching vision?
Is it payable taxation or cultish moral ambiguation?
Asking a theist will garner no good reply:
"We have tradition and God on our side!" you'll hear them cry.

Maybe the difference lies
in that religion's morals are canonised.
A cult may be a tightly regulated social group
but the whole code of religious living is in a book.

Maybe the difference lies
in religion dooming us to our own demise
and the eternal damnation that will arise
from trusting our God given instincts which implies
He planned for us to struggle or fail when he laid the first brick
and there's never an excuse for just acting like a dick.

Ok, that's not the same for all religions
but nobody's winning if everyone's sinning;
begging for deliverance.
Who credited God with benevolence?
It takes a harder heart than mine to explain
to parents of a dead child this death was simply
down to prevalance
or random chance,
never mind using it to support the idea
of a cosmic or divine power making the universe dance
or trying to soften the blow by saying "this was all part of His plans".

Fuck.
That.

Gold

I want to stay up all night and pound the streets.

Nothing is solid in life but the concrete

under my feet

I want to sit on a beach and watch the sun

rise over the sea. When all's said and done

I'll still be free

When life is filled with colour

how can people see in black and white?

Should I fight? I think might

just so that I can feel alive

How can I feel malcontent when I've been told

we've never had it so good; the future's gold.

Fuck what I'm told

I don't want to reaffirm all my choices

continually for all of my life but

I'm cursed to be free

And that's the way it has to be

unfortunately