Written In Stone

2009-07-28T14:45:00.002+01:00

Where is insanity?
Is it in the places we don't look,
Hidden in the cracks
Which crease our tidy lives?

Where is sanity?
Surely it lurks in madness.
Broken and bleeding and
Hell bent on ordered destruction.

Insanity is ordered life.
The edges that press at reality.
The love of others and
Work to pay and not to play.

No one is looking at me.
The vanity of youth has died away.
I am not special or unique.
I will not light the world on fire.

I parted with my dreams.
I gave away my fire for love.
Tired and worn, the stress falls away.
I am only me now and I am always alive.

Guess, who's back. Back again.

2008-11-12T12:53:00.001Z

So I got lazy, I got lost and I got found. Somewhere in the haze of finishing my MA I have managed to start hearing the words again. There they go, tick tick tick. Wanting life, wanting breath, wanting to consume me the way they always have.

I have been away to long and my story, Maldon't Hammer keeps banging against the wall that is my brain. Art, art, art. It's been my saviour and my whore for as long as I can remember. Well, I am sorry I have been away, but now I am back. Can't you see? Can't you hear? No, well then I must make you listen again.

Work In Progress (I think)

2007-06-14T19:42:00.001+01:00

Malden stood for a while and listened carefully to the air that crackled around him. What had he been told? Listen to the trees. That is what they had said. Well he was listening and they were saying much to him at all. They just shushed at him and bowed their branches the other way. In fact, he was sure that they were trying to ignore him.

He sat down and thought about it for a while. His baby sister could do and his two hopeless brothers could too. He squinted at the large silver birch in frustration. He would have to admit it. There was something wrong with him. He was just plain odd. He didn't fit in and he never would. He couldn't talk to animals. He couldn't hear the trees and he certainly couldn't make fire out of thin air, no matter how many times he was told that air was what created fire. He would have to go and talk to Gabriel. There was nothing left for it.

Getting back to his feet he made his long and sad way across the field to the old barn that lived on the edge of the estate. He hated it, he loathed it, he resented it. It was falling to pieces and stayed together in a way that he felt he never would be able to do. It was a resilient shack that bucked against logic and nature. It stood strong in the face of adversity and filled up like a bucket in the face of a storm. Fortunately, it had so many holes that it quickly emptied when the rain had passed.

He hadn't wanted to get to this point. It meant he was desperate and at the end of his list of useful ideas. Besides, Gabriel scared him in the way that old people over sixty do and when he looked into your eyes, he looked into your soul. He was tall, brash, honest and ever so slightly blurry around the edges. He always looked like he was about to disappear but you knew that in reality he was actually trying to enter this world.

He stood by the barn and peered through one eye at Malden. His cigar dangled from his lip and he was forced to squint through the smoke. Old in a way that was beyond any earthly knowledge, Gabriel knew everything. But he was still scary. He dressed in black because it enforced the myths that surrounded him and relished the fact that he could tell people what he thought of them and spit, should he choose to. He was wizened, old and cantankerous. He was secretly, very very happy. He loved it all. He loved life so much that he simply couldn't figure out why people thought that he was so miserable.

Malden slowed under his gaze. It was the bird that he disliked so much. Not Gabriel, but the bloody bird. It was psychotic and there was no other word for it. It was selfish and unpredictable. Fierce and uncontrollable, it changed like the wind. One minute it was loving and approachable and the next minute it would be trying to take you to pieces with its beak. It should have been black really, both on the inside and the out, but it wasn't. It was cute and colourful and looked like the mountains on a warm and peaceful evening. The whole village was scared of it.

He wasn't going to be afraid this time. Not of Gabriel and not of the bird. He straightened to his full height, gritted this teeth girded his loin and other such things and walked on up to Gabriel, with one eye cocked on the sky of course.

"Thought you'd come sooner." The old man sighed, "The sun's high and I was about to nap. Can't stand this weather, it's too nice." Maybe, it occurred to him, this is why everyone thinks I am depressed.

"Aye, but some of us have to live with the sun. It's life in't it? I've come for advice. Would you help me? I don't know what else to do really."

"I thought," Gabriel purred, "as much. I guess things can't be rushed lad. I know what you want so save your words. Other people talking bore me. Sometimes lad, some people get the short end of the proverbial stick. Sometimes, no matter what someone does nothing good ever happens. Someone has to be at the bottom after all. And that is your fate I am afraid,

"Legend says that people like you used to go to a place over the hills. You'd think that people would come up with something more original but there you go. These people can't hear anything at all. They can't even hear each other anymore. Go there Malden," Gabriel was getting excited now. His eyes were on fire so Malden took a step back just to be sure, "go there a bring back. . ." Gabriel paused for effect, "the Hammer."

Malden stared at him for a moment.

Then a moment longer.

"Your really are mad," he said as he walked away.

Untitiled

2007-04-06T12:47:00.000+01:00

Thunder crashed down from the sky as I turned to stare at him. He was so far away from me now and I didn't know how to get to him. The earth shook with every sonic boom and I wondered how it had come to this. Beyond me stood the angel of darkness, hollow and malevalent. I was frozen to the ground. Behind him, Daniel walked away. Slowly and calmly, as if nothing had ever been wrong, as if we had not come to this mutual end and isolation.

The house behind me shuddered. The house that we had owned and kept together. The house that had held our love. Cracked and damaged, it was driven to the very point of redemption that I had felt within my heart. Like me, it just stood and stared.

What could I do? I looked at the house. It looked at the angel and knew that I had to make a choice. Which way? Redemption or pergatory? I closed my eyes and walked.

Funny as hell!

2007-03-26T20:54:00.000+01:00

I don't really know why I took this here test, but the results were funny as hell! For the record, I am a South East English person. So why so funny? Well, I love Bruce Springsteen and it would seem that I have me a Jersey accent! Brillant!

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Northeast Judging by how you talk you are probably from north Jersey, New York City, Connecticut or Rhode Island. Chances are, if you are from New York City (and not those other places) people would probably be able to tell if they actually heard you speak.
Philadelphia
The Inland North
The South
The Midland
Boston
The West
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Dear World - Explicit

2007-02-15T19:42:00.000Z

Dear World

I've been sitting on this for a while, well, since I was about thirteen really. But the time has come and I just want to speak my mind. Here I go. Dear World, fuck you. Fuck you once and then a few more times over.

I have slogged my guts out since childhood to chase that thing we all call a better life and you have done nothing but dump on me. You should be ousted and sold out to the newspapers, government or whoever the fuck it is that deals with nasty cheats like you. When you gonna give it up huh?

You drag my families asses off to the country of my ancesters in search of a better life and what do we find? I will bloody tell you, so I hope you are listening. Racism and recession. Now what is that about? We were promised everthing and instead we got weeks of nothing to eat but bloody Kraft Dinner. Is it any wonder then that I am now wheat intolerant? I don't think so.

Get your education, that's what they said to me. It will finish all of your problems. Bollocks will it. I speant years trying to stay at college but the government didn't want me there and made my life difficult. Education, education, education. . . my arse.

I have spent my entire life trying to pay the bills and now what? I have an education and career, but no one is hiring. Funny that cause I was guaranteed a job. Liars. I can't afford a house because I pay rent which drains all of my savings. I can't afford a better car to replace my old one, which is expensive to run because it is old, because I am too busy paying over the odds for the one I have. The council think that I should be able to pay three hundred pounds a month to them. Ha ha fucking ha!

I can't buy a house or get a job in this area but I can't afford to move to where the jobs are. Yawn!

That is my sob story and really, we all have the same one. Just maybe in a different form. So world I just wanted to say fuck you. I am tired of watching the cheaters and users park in the illegal spaces and get away with it when I get the bloody ticket. I want you to know this: I am not done. Do what you will, I ain't going anywhere. I am the only person I know who is working five jobs and I will keep on doing it because you aren't going to win. And if the council put me in jail for none payment? Well, that's a vacation isn't? It will just mean that I finally get some time off.

This is my public announcement to you World. Bring it on cause this underdog is still fighting. In the words of Denis Leary, "thank you, thank you and fuck you."

Peace out.

All Brits - sick of being tracked?

2007-01-17T17:44:00.001Z

As everyone in Britain knows, our beloved PM has been reading a little too much George Orwell. Anyway, the jist of it, for those who live elsewhere, it this:

Our government (with a small g) wants to make people in this country has a box put into their car so that we can pay as we go drive. Yep, that's right, we pay for the driving we do. We are to pay somewhere in the regions of £200 for a box that tracks our every movement and then charges us for doing it. If we go to fast by accident then they will simply add a fine to our next months bill. Very nice. Not only do we pay a car tax, a road tax and have the most expensive fuel tax other than Amsterdam, we are now going to have to pay for every millimetre that we drive.

Not good enough really is it?

Well there is a petition against this and I would like to ask anyone who reads this, you must be British or expat, to take out a couple of seconds of your life so that Britain can try to pretend that we are a free country to live in for that little bit longer.

Happy signing!

http://petitions.pm.gov.uk/traveltax/sign

There is only one Boss

2006-12-08T23:13:00.000Z

If there is anyone that I love more than Bruce then I don't know who it might be. Saw Seeger Sessions in Manchester. Have seen him a million times. Keep it rockin' Boss. Love you forever.

Things Have Changed

2006-12-08T22:46:00.000Z

I am so happy. I have found a video for one of my favourite Dylan songs and he looks like he might actually be having fun!!!

My Home Town - Dartford

2006-11-28T21:17:00.000Z

I remember going to the park

With my Granddad and Nan.

Summer days on broken swings,

Ice creams from smelly vans.

We used to paint the fence then,

Old overalls and kerosine.

My Granddad and me

New paint and old jeans.

We'd go on bus rides 'cross the Thames

To places far and wide.

I don't remember where he took us,

Just warm air and summer sighs.

We walked everywhere with him,

We explored our home town.

He is everywhere within the hills.

He's everywhere around.

They talked of redevelopment

To build our town anew.

They talked of renewing everything

Of changing all we knew.

The town did not want to lose

The park that all families had used

We had so much history

We had so much to loose.

Years of battles, years of arguments.

We finally won our fight.

But the damage is long done

Our town has lost its life.

The shops were bought out long before

The final plans were through.
The high street is all empty now

There's nothing there to do.

All the shops that are apart

Of our town's history

Are all boarded up and gone:
A sorrowful sight to see.

I look around now and think ahead

To my life here now.

The town is like this country,

The soul has long gone out.

I want to leave this homeland

I fought hard to come back to.

I said goodbye to him

And now it's time to move.

I went and had a look

At the fence we used to paint.

But someone pulled it down

And replaced it with a gate.

The park is sad and lonely

It's here but not for long.

They put a road right through it

No one cared that this was wrong.

It's time to finally say goodbye

My hometown is not here

Like my past, it's come and gone

With everything that's dear.

It's hard to leave it all behind,

It's hard to be moving on,

But my past is in my dreams

With my dear old Granddad's songs.

The picture above is for my Nan. She loved to look at the flowers in Dartford Park and I am glade that she wasn't around to find out what they have, or wanted, to do. It would have broken her heart.

Greenwich Watering Hole

2006-10-27T14:11:00.000+01:00

Greenwich park

2006-10-27T14:03:00.000+01:00

Greenwich park duck says hi.

Untitled 1

2006-10-21T14:40:00.000+01:00

Let's use our last money.
Let's buy a ticket.
Follow the road.
Go where the lights take us.
Let's throw off these blues.
Throw off these chains,
'Cause I don't know the
answers no more.
I did what they said.
Got my education.
Paid my fees
and my dues.
But I still can't oil the cogs.
I still can't get a job.
Still can't get a wage
or make it pay.
The car needs work.
The rent needs paying.
The bills need juggling.

I can smell the air tonight,
can hear someone calling my name.
Follow me to Heaven,
or could it be Hell?
Follow me. . .
anywhere.
Let's buy a tickets
and see where the lights
take us.

14 Years? Why Thank You

2006-09-29T22:10:00.000+01:00

It would not be right for me to let this monumental occaison pass. I have a massive picture of Lindsey Buckingham's eyes at the top of the page. I have a picture of him and Stevie Nicks and I am waiting for Buckingham Nicks to be released. I am, as you might guess, a fan of Lindsey Buckingham.

Fourteen years ago I started my love affair with him when he released Out of the Cradle and, pardon the pun, I am never going back again. I have sat by and waited with bated breath for news of an album and there have been rumours (again, pardon the pun) aplenty. I had resigned myself to the fact that his work had been mixed with Stevie's for the Mac album Say You Will. Grateful, but frustrated.

Today - can it really be true - I saw that Lindsey is releasing a new album, called Under the Skin, on the 2nd October. I am beyond happy. Anything that he delivers is often ecclectic, strange and hypnotic. I don't think I will be let down. As I said, considering the Mac stuff involved in my blog, I just couldn't let it pass. Thanks Lindsey!

2006-09-26T20:00:00.000+01:00

Jack pays attention. . .

2006-09-26T19:59:00.000+01:00

But it is all too much in the end!

2006-09-26T19:55:00.000+01:00

Sundown

Sudden Death

2006-08-24T14:56:00.000+01:00

The job, they said, was yours. No problems, no issues, no one else. But didn't they just lie? Well, of course.

She sat there staring at the faculity director's face and wondered, what kind of a person is she? Is she someone's favourite grandmother, aunt, or godparent? Someone's best friend? She looked on whilst the drivel came out of the director's mouth. "I am sure you understand", "Couldn't be any other way", "Most regrettable."

She jerked to life now, inflamed by the director's honey sweet lies. "Most regrettable?" She was mad now, and let fly, "Most regrettable? What is regrettable is that you told me this was my job and then changed the position's requirements. What is most regrettable is that you, yes you, have stuck me in the crap up to my neck. There is nothing else out there now and I am out of money, you old witch!"

The director, thrown for just one tiny millisecond, responded, "Now, I can understand that you are a little distraught right now."

"NO!" she screamed, "No you don't understand. You have a nice new car, your own a house and the mortgage is paid, there is food in your cupboard and you can play God with people's lives. All my bills are due, I have an old car and the RENT is due. There is no one, NO ONE, smiling behind me! There is no money in my bank account!"

"My dear," the director purred, "We aren't getting anywhere the whole time you are displaying such anger"

"No, you are right," she calmly responded, "We are not getting anywhere." She slowly raised the pistol from her bag. "Sometimes", she said, "Sometimes we all like to follow our dreams."

Nature's Poetry

2006-08-18T16:13:00.000+01:00

Anyone that knows me will know that I have had a lifelong obsession with sharks. I am not fussy about which ones, they all fascinate me. Yes, yes, I know what their reputation is like, but something about them is primitive and well, simply awesome. This is a clip of a white shark doing a jump attack. I am sorry about the seal, so if you are squimish then I would give this a miss. These jump attacks are thought to be one of the most 'humane' kills within the wild.

I like to think this blog is about art and stuff. It is my belief that nature has her own art and this shark, in my humble opinion, is natures art at her best. I just wish I could find a Mako shark jumping. I will have to look now!

No More Mr Nice Guy (Gal)

2006-07-29T02:41:00.000+01:00

I have, of late, been surfing and checking out loads of blogs and I have noticed that a lot of them allow people to blow of steam. Well, I wanna go. I am sitting here, like a sulking child, getting angrier and angrier about how my day went and it occurred to me that I might get some sort of satisfaction by saying a big, fat 'fuck you' to the bloke that laid into me at work. So yeah, you egotistical, maniacal, napolean-complexed fuck, I don't give two hoots about your goddamn phone. No one does! I will only help you if you are nice and non-abusive, which clearly you aren't, so piss off and shove that phone where it bloody well hurts!

Yes, my work sucks. We used to have fun but the company is too busy squeezing everything out of it. I am bored and tired of the socio-economically bred people who suffer from the 'Me Syndrome'. No one was put here to serve anyone else.

Actually, I do feel better! Maybe I should have my say more often!

2006-07-26T12:19:00.000+01:00

Rochester Castle

2006-07-26T12:14:00.000+01:00

The pictures of the Van Morrison concert in Rohester Castle grounds came out quite well. Van is on the screen playing the sax. I managed to get some lovely night shots of the castle on my proper camera (these are from my phone). I will see what they print like!

Van The Man

2006-07-22T19:19:00.000+01:00

Last night I accompanied my Mum to a Van Morrison concert. I am not a fan and she is and well, who else would go with her? I, being a music lover, can hear genius even if it doesn't press my buttons. And how glad am I that I went? Well, very. It was a fantastic evening at the end of a very hot week. This was an open air concert in the grounds of Rochester Castle and man it was stunning. The man was good and whilst there is no immediate love affair here, I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed the evening and I even got to see Acker Bilk as the opening act. Very nice. Thanks again Mum and thanks to you Van. If the pictures of the castle grounds at dusk come out then I will certainly share them with you all.

Will We Ever Know?

2006-07-08T22:17:00.000+01:00

I was watching you through the rain and I wondered about our stories. What is yours? What is mine? I came to you in another lifetime and you opened up to me. You let me in and you left me to lick my wounds in silence. I asked you then, what was it like? What was it like to have everything that you ever wanted and what was it like to be able to see through everything and everyone? Your answer escaped me.

Time moved on, didn't it? Time moved on for us and we didn't even notice until it was too late. I couldn't see what happened that night. I know you told me, but for me it was different. I didn't see the person behind the door. I couldn't have known anymore than you what was going to happen.

They told me the events, but I don't remember them. They told me that it wasn't your fault and that it wasn't mine either. Do you really know what happened? Did you feel that cold that I felt when we walked into the room? Was there a mad sorrow that ran behind your eyes? There was behind mine. I could see all eternity then. It was all there, and what happened to the voices that I heard? Could you hear them too?

What happened in that house that caused so much anger and loss? What happened?

When the rain stops will we ever know?

SLVR

2006-06-28T21:58:00.000+01:00

Donkey Days

2006-06-21T15:40:00.000+01:00

My Other Cat. . . Jack

2006-06-20T13:52:00.000+01:00

My Cat. . . Ford

2006-05-31T19:18:00.000+01:00

Sunset

2006-05-31T11:31:00.000+01:00

University of Greenwich

2006-05-28T19:09:00.000+01:00

I am now going to turn my attention to my photos as well. This is my university.

Eternal

2006-05-28T12:13:00.000+01:00

Since dawn I watched you sleep,
So certain that you would be here.
So certain that you would return
day after day to this moment.

The thunder crashes outside
and we are humbled.
The lightnening strikes nearby
and we are shaken.

It nearly ended didn't it?
It nearly finished.
We didn't notice until it was gone.
It was then that the laughter returned.

I watch you now: content.
There is nothing that the lightening hides.
I can see you now
And I know that you will always be here.

Bruuuuuce!

2006-05-08T21:43:00.000+01:00

I managed to catch the Boss Man in concert last night. I was on the road all day and didn't get home until 3 in the morning, but it was worth every second. Bruce kicked off the Seeger Sessions Europian tour last night, in Manchester. I have seen him a million times and he just keeps giving so much soul!

He always amazes me and last night was no exception. We all rocked out to some of the most amazing folk/jazz ever. Moreover, he sang some stuff that my Granddad (who was Canadian) used to sing to us. How special is that!

Hats off to you again, Bruce. It was so much fun. What time is it? Well, yet again it's 'Boss Time'.

Forever

2006-04-18T14:09:00.000+01:00

I stood on the hill and I could see forever. At least that is what I thought. It turned out that I couldn't even see tomorrow, but then, we learn don't we? The sun warmed me from within and the cool, bee-humming breeze caressed me to the core. It was so wonderful, so warm and so full of promise.

If I could break free from it all. Break free from the binds of life, the ones that make us buy houses and pay bills. The kind that own our cars and our minds. If I could just be free, for one second, for one heartbeat, then what could I do? What could any of use do? Even for one lousy minute.

I look behind me and I see all of my dreams now. They are all there, they have followed me through my childhood and beyond. Some are tired and ragged on the outside, some still shine with the heart that I gave them. Some are battered and worn and others are new and polished. But they are all there, like the words that I can hear in my head. They are all there and I am still standing on that hill. And you know what? I can see forever, can't you?

Proof

2006-04-15T21:20:00.000+01:00

No one else seems to be mentioning it, so I will. Proof from D12 was killed in a club. I just wanted to say, later and thanks for the music, Man. Dirty Harry forever.

Part 1

2006-03-17T20:06:00.000Z

T stared at the wall again. she could see it in there somewhere. Somewhere eternity was written in the Moon and she had been told that once. Outside the night pressed in. They would be here soon. They always came. . . eventually.

The crickets called to each other and the opressive heat pushed down on her. If she could just think. Just stop for one moment. Delay the inevitable. Well, then maybe she could deliver what they wanted.

She stood and gasped at the pain in her shins. She hadn't realised that she had been sat cross-legged for so long. Michael had warned her about that, but like everything else he said she didn't listen. She was tired of him. Tired of them and tired of it all. She grabbed her cigarettes and lit one as she crossed to the balcony doors. Slidding it open she blew smoke through the screen at the clouds above. She could feel them now. They were nearly here.

There was rain in the air. She could smell it behind the city smog smell of the humidity. A storm. Yeah, she thought to herself, that's just what I need.

The switch in her head fell and she was nine again. She remembered the night that they had told her what was coming. It was so scary. The voices, the smells, but nothing was like the shadows. She still shirked at the shadows. He had been there one night. She had heard someone calling her name through her dreams and when she had opened her eyes he had been there and he had not gone away since.

The room behind her chilled and a bang snapped her back to the present. Oh god, she thought, not yet. I am not ready. The skin on her back started to stand. Cold and clammy despite the heat. Loud breathing opened her heart to terror. She slowly turned and faced the room. Tonight, she thought, tonight I won't be scared. Tonight I will open the path and tread down my own lane.

But they were coming and she wasn't ready. They were coming and Hell would let nothing stand in its way.

Away

2006-03-17T19:48:00.000Z

I look at this page again.
Unlike my mind it is still blank:
Still silent.
Why can't I get this shit out of my head?

I am gonna have my say,
Gonna make someone listen now.
At my desk I get angrier
But the lines don't come.

The words are stuck in a tornado,
My day is lost inside me
I am at my boiling point
But the water adds to my fury.

I have spent my life with words
I have used them and been used by them
They whisper in my ear at night
Calling and fussing my mind.

My brain itches to tell a story
Someones story. Mine? Yours?
They anger me with their silence now.
Please, just one more time before you go?

Away.

I Am Dangerous!!!

2006-03-09T21:28:00.000Z

You Are 34% Evil

A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well.
In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.

How Evil Are You?

The Dead Walk

2006-02-24T00:29:00.000Z

The dead walk at night. I can hear them walking behind doors. Can you hear them? They are there, looking through their broken mirror glass. Watching us, waiting for us. I hear them whilst I sleep. Restless they are. Restless and watchful. What do they want? Where do they go when the morning light casades through the twitching curtains? I wrote poetry for them. I wrote their names on the walls and in the books. I wrote their sorrow, their anger, their love and their forgiveness, but still they call. I can hear them now. They make me smile. Sometimes they make me cry. I can hear them now. I will always hear them now.

Getting My Thoughts Across

2006-01-20T22:16:00.000Z

Ok so there are more of my thoughts lately than there is writing, but that's ok cause this site is about the words in my head and the stories they tell. I was thinking about music, more specifically my precious Beatles, Bruce Springsteen and Eminem. I have spent may hours of toil, and money, hunting shops and car boot sales for a good bargin. The thing is has the love gone? Has the excitement disappeared? All I need to do now is tap my prize description into Yahoo, or Google and there it all is! Amazing! Boring?

I can accept that Ebay and Amazon have become the main way of buying things but where has the smell of shops gone? Where is the hunt? Well. . .

It is rather cold out there, and it's raining, and well. . . the computer is on! I think I will just see what I can find on Google!

My Ads Are Whack

2006-01-13T20:57:00.000Z

Short stories, poetry, music and Christmas adverts? Now come on!!!!!!!!!!

I thought I might start to wander. I have an essay due next week and I thought that I would see where my secret writings might take me. In reality, the sun is shining through the rain clouds and the temperature is really nice and warm. Did you catch that warm breeze? There it was again, see? Gentle like a lovers caress, warm and close like the tropical sea just beyond that cloud.

Nope, don't like it here, it's too. . . well, stereotypical. Can we go somewhere else?

I can smell the sea. Now that is much, much better. There is sand too, just past the window. The wind is blowing through me and I feel so fresh, so in touch. I can feel the clifftops below my feet now. Can you feel the soft spring of the braken and the heather? Soft and springy, course and gentle.

The wind is pulling now as it covers you in a fine sea spray. The taste of salt sits lightly on your lips waiting to own you, later, in private, when you remember the coast. The gulls are furious at you. The sign says quite clearly that you are not to feed them and they are fuming. You look at your chips and think, one won't hurt, will it? You get ready to feed them and they are besides themselves. Behind you someone is calling, calling. You realise that you have work to do and must leave. This place is here for next time though, just where you left it.

Getting My Thoughts Across

2006-01-06T20:38:00.000Z

Two things that I wanted to shout about. The first was the coolest New Year I have ever known! I went to Eric Clapton's New Year party! I still can't believe it as I have known about if for a very long time. It is the thing of myth and legend but I was there.

I was two people back from the stage and Eric was there is all his splendor. He was on fire and played an excellant concert. Truly amazing.

Thank you Eric!!!!

The second was a play that my Mum bought me tickets for. A belated Christmas pressie. It was the Woman in White and it was amazing. The acting was top notch, the sets were brilliant and original and well, the writer was a master (thanks Wilkie Collins). If that wasn't enough then the music was by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

If you ever get a chacnce to see this play then go. It will be worth the time. Due to the sets, though, I would highly recommend a version of that play that doesn't move all the time. We went to the West End in London. Brilliant stuff!

Thanks Mum!!!!

New Year

2006-01-06T20:24:00.000Z

Sing in the New Year
with Brandy and wine.
Sing in the New Year
with laughter and ryhme.

May the future bring goodness
and all you desire.
May you have your hearts wishes
and all you require.

Bring in the New Year
with hope and that stuff.
Bring in the New Year
with promise of love.

A happy and prosperous New Year to you all!

Eminem

2005-12-21T16:49:00.000Z

The Cabin

2005-12-17T12:26:00.000Z

The snow outside settled with brevity. It was here to stay. The silence bit at her ears and told her she was alone. The forest dripped and hushed with heavy leaves. It was so beautiful that it hurt the eyes and the soul. If he could make it then everything would be perfect. Just perfect.

The dog barked at the fire, at once afraid and overcome by its power. He had never seen the real thing before. Never listened to the cracking of wood, or smelt the sulfer driven smoke. Louise laughed at him. It would be wonderful. Snow, fire and solitude.

In the distance she could hear the hum of an approaching vehicle. This must be him for who else would come so far out of their way on such a winters night. She wandered to the door with her coffee cup steaming in her hand and watched for any sign of light, the indication that he would be here soon.

It had been such a hard year. Full of sorrow and anger. The life experiences that made life so damned hard had been driving them to the edge of reason. Now it would be good. Christmas was here and the cabin looked fantastic. Martin, the old keeper, had worked hard to bring the festive atmosphere to the cabin and it had paid of in load. The tree hung from the coner, smothered in tinsel and other decorations. Yep, she thought to herself, it would be fantastic.

The lights came over the horizon and she shuddered. She didn't know what to expect as his mood had been strange of late, but then, so had hers. The wooshing sound of the tyres blew closer and closer to her. She withdrew inside and waited for him to arrive. Waited for whatever would happen next.

Shady

2005-12-03T18:27:00.000Z

I have always admired Eminem's early work and I tried to throw all my own style aside and have a go (reality style not writing). I am talking about stuff like Rock Bottom here. This poem is in no way indicative of my current life. I don't know if it works, but I thought I would let it see some daylight! I ain't no Slim, Dylan or Springsteen: I am only me. Peace.

I wanted to be someone
but that never paid the bills.
I really thought I could make my way
but there was no time left for glory.

I'm shady too.

I dream of speaking my mind,
Of telling every God-damned manager what I think.
But I get eaten up by fucking silence
Because there is never enough money.

I keep working to my goal, but the path got lonely.
Fuck ambition, I want the recognition. The comfy cars,
the loans. I want to stop. Want to breathe
witout paying for each minute. Without being alone.

I packed plastic till my hands bleed.
I was so tired that my bones hurt.
But sweat don't mean shit when
You need money to keep your home.

Fuck the hill on which you live. I'm
so pent up I'll blow it up, when the
anger burns I see the face
of every bugger who caused disgrace.

I'll burn in Hell for a little calm.
To be able to sit without money on my mind,
making me so God-damned blind.
I can't see through the red bills and letters.
The pills and debtors.

You're so damn right, I'm Shady.
Gone crazy.
Minds racing.
Chasing knives and pacing.
Keep the bills away.
Can't pay.
I guess I'll stay on the east side of insanity.
Your guns all aimed at me,
and a little piece to be. . .

Shady

Getting My Thoughts Across

2005-11-24T12:45:00.000Z

I feel that every once in a while my voice should come across or I will have nothing to write about. So I am going to talk about my Bob Dyan concert last night! By the way, this is a bit of a moan.

I love Dylan and I have seen him in several countries and seven times. I was sooooooooo looking forward to last night and it was a disappointment. Bob was amazing. He was fantastic. He was better than I have ever heard him. But the venue just stank. For some reason, even though he can sell out Wembley, he wanted to play at the Brixton Academy. Cool, he wants intimate. Whatever the man wants, he can have. But, I swear, they sold way too many tickets!

We were stuck in the back area which turned out to be one big pub. There was nowhere to go and no room to breathe. The air was rancid with slopped beer and acrid smoke. Wall-to-wall people and you could smoke! Some serious Health and Safety issues going on. People were being carted out at a constant rate to see the medical staff.

I won't go on, but I just wanted to say that this upset me. It felt like the Academy was very excited at getting someone so big in. What could have been an exceptionally brilliant concert turned into a static wall of people. Nightmare. Yes, Bob, it was intimate. A little too intimate. I simply don't want to be that close to someone I don't know. Please next time can you play the Albert Hall like Bruce Springsteen did for his initmate concert?

This is my voice, and my rant. Thanks for your time. Peace out.

The Silence

2005-11-13T16:37:00.000Z

She was sure that the noise was in her head. Loud and metallic it rang with a heartbeat rythm. Balanced on the side of her table the cup sat, innocent and placid. Nothing more than an everyday object. Nothing more than and inanimate piece of kitchenware that had, by some strange fluke, become involved in her nightmares.

The sound was everywhere. She stood and looked out of the window but it was too dark to see. Too dark to make sense of what was happening to her. The cup fell and smashed and she finally understood. It was her cup, her problems and her subconscience that were plaguing her dreams. Tomorrow would come and she would arise to a new morning where there was nothing wrong. Nothing more than the vague sense of seperation that she would feel all day.

She had been overdoing it. She was too tired to sleep properly. What on earth was that noise? It boomed through her dreams. Siering them with anxiety. Making her twist and turn. Could she arise and see what the problem was? Could she possibly force herself to being awake and face the culprit dead on? Slowly she opened her eyes and came to in the darkness.

She crawled out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. Her hand hovered over the light switch whilst she readied herself for the light assault upon her eyes. There was the noise again. Cold and clear. Rythmic and somehow perfect. She flicked the switch and closed her eyes. Slowly she opened them to view the empty kitchen. On the counter her cup was balaced precariously on the edge. She stared at it in wonder. Why on earth would that be there? She had left the kitchen empty and clean.

She walked to the fridge to get a drink and behind her the cup finally fell and smashed. Again, she understood, she was still asleep and at the mercy of her dreams. Again the beating. Again the wonder. How many times would she force herself awake only to find that she was still asleep? How much more could she take before the claustraphobia finally took hold and smothered her in its grip?

The machine that kept her alive in the hospital thudded with every fake heartbeat that it produced. The electricity flowed through it with a live purpose. But soon the silence would come. The cords were frayed and old. Somewhere a cup fell off of a table and smashed into a million unrecognisable pieces. Somewhere the night was finally beginning to take over.

We Are

2005-08-18T19:30:00.000+01:00

There is fire in your eyes,
I can see the emotion raging.
How did we come to this.
How did we find the stars.

I remember it all.
The sun shone over the sea.
Bright and fiery.
The queen of all creation.

Your shadow lingered on the beach.
I could smell the sand.
Salty and abrasive.
I watched you and you smiled.

I saw you leave yesterday.
So happy: so content.
What became of us as the door closed?
What became of our persistence?

We live in the fire of the sun;
Within the comfort of the moon.
We are eternal in our surroudings.
We just are. . .

One More Dance

2005-07-29T22:08:00.000+01:00

If this life gives you tears,
Would you let me catch them?
I know that I ain't much,
But I know what makes you breathe.

When you go home the door closes
And you stand and look
At all money could buy you.
You can still see the sweat in it.

Let me turn your tears to laughter.
Let me bring you your dreams.
Let me take away the lonliness
That this life gives you.

When you look at the moon
Do you feel the earth around you?
Is it alive with the emotions
Of everyone who forgets that the sky exists?

There is one more dance
In the place where we can be free.
Let me take you tonight
Before the morning brings us back our lives.

Escape to Sea

2005-07-24T17:52:00.000+01:00

“Those damn birds,” the Captain sighed, “they’ll be the death of me.” Gary watched them circling over the horizon. “They tell you where the fish are, and then they scare ‘em off.”
“I don’t mind birds,” Gary replied, “as long as they’re not in cages. I hate cages.”
“Some birds are meant to be caged, son.” The Captain answered vaguely as he squinted into the sun and sighed.
“I don’t think so.” Gary carried on, lost in some distant thought. “Did you ever go to a zoo and see the most beautiful birds in a cage? Great Eagles and Owls just sitting there, doing nothing but dreaming of flying. Such a great waste of power.”
The Captain laughed, “You still talk like a schoolboy. You’ll learn. Besides, you don’t see nothing but Gulls out here.” He looked over at Gary in time to see him flinch.
Gary climbed on to the safety rails to look over the side where a shoal of fish were swimming. The Captain looked too, sighing, “Shame we broke down, that’s exactly what we’re after. Well, there’s always later I guess.”
One of the crew came rushing onto the deck, slowing down when he saw the Captain frown. “Slow down, Luke, you know the rules. God help the best swimmer who goes over in these waters, that’s what I say. Now, what’s all the hurry for?”
“Dave says he can’t fix the engine, Sir. Says we ain’t got the parts.”
“Then put a call through for help. Someone’ll have to come get us.”
“Dave already tried, Sir.” Luke went quiet.
“And?”
“Communications are down, Sir. Can’t get hold of no one. The machines are all broken, and we’re not expected back for five days.”
“All right, then, go put the kettle on. We’ll sort something out.”
“Yes, Sir.” Luke turned and made his way slowly back to the lower decks. The Captain remained quiet as he looked at the horizon, his eyes focused on something that Gary couldn’t quite see.
“Those birds have some good currents today.” He finally said. Gary watched them gliding in effortless circles, not understanding the comment but realising that it meant something.
“Dangerous place the sea, especially for one so young who has never been near a boat before. The kids we usually get here are brought up around boats. I’m surprised your folks let you come.” Gary kept his focus on the birds as the Captain turned to face him. “Tell me something, Gary, do your parents know you’re here?” Gary kept his silence. “Well, I can’t do anything about it now.” He looked again at the Gulls, “They have some mighty fine currents.”
Finally Gary spoke, “What does that mean, Sir?”
“It means that there’s a big storm coming. We have to prepare for it and find out what we can do about the radio and engines, come on.”

* * *

Gary had sat on the deck for a while watching the clouds role in. Black, threatening, and malevolent. He’d eventually been forced to take shelter below deck with the others, and found himself alarmed by the conversation there.
“That storm is gonna be a problem, Sir.” Luke said, staring into his coffee cup. “There’s nothing we can do either, we’ll just have to sit through it and hope.”
“Mickey, what have you got to say?”
“Well,” Mickey began, “I can’t do anything right now, but I might be able to do something with the radio after the storm, Sir.”
The Captain smiled, “That’s good enough.”
The sea outside was getting rough and the boat was pitching around. In the distance thunder split the sky and lightening portrayed a monsoon through the portals. It was going to be a long night.
Thunder clapped overhead making Gary jump, and spill his tea. The smell of electricity filled the air. Fear gripped Gary’s heart, he was not at home, and he was stuck in the middle of a raging sea, at the mercy of nature.
The lightening outside streaked across the sky. Darkness and light. Waves reflected in ghastly, sickening silhouettes. The room was closing in. Nowhere to go. He needed air. Needed to breathe. What was he doing here? This was crazy. Then he was on his feet.
“Where are you going, boy?” The Captain was surprised by the motion.
“Up. I have to go up, Sir. I can’t breathe properly. It’s too hot. Too humid. I have to have some air.”
“Not a good idea, Gary. The wind up there is deadly, best to stay here where it’s safe.” The Captain’s tone was calming, worried.
“No, Sir.” Gary replied, “I’m sorry, but I need air. I can’t. . . I can’t think. Please, Sir, I’ll be all right.”
“It’s getting dangerous up there.”
“Just a little air, Sir, then I’ll be okay.” He was confused, why wouldn’t they let him leave?
The Captain threw Luke two lifejackets, “Take the boy upstairs, Luke. Not too long, mind, you were right about that storm. No more than five minutes.”
Gary couldn’t get the straps tightened, his fingers were shaking too badly so Luke did it for him. The wind pulled the door viciously from Luke’s grasp as he opened it. Rain pelted in all directions, born on a wind of fury. The water was in the air and salt permeated the nose and flavoured the tongue.
Gary moved to the railings and Luke called to him, his voice lost to the wind. Gary gasped at the air, nauseous, wanting to be at home, wanting to be anywhere but here.
Huge waves rolled in the ocean and the boat tipped sickeningly from side to side. Luke moved to grabbed Gary’s shoulder but slipped, landing hard. As the thunder cracked overhead massive waves smashed in to the side of the boat. In the next flash of lightening, Luke could see that Gary was gone.

* * *

“Is there any news yet?” Dave, Gary’s father asked agitatedly.
“They should be back soon, Sir. The rescue boat has reached them, that’s all I know.”
“Who gave permission, that’s what I want to know?” His worry was directed into his anger, “How can you let a sixteen year old on board without permission?”
“I’ve told you, Sir, we had permission. I don’t know who signed it, because we thought it was you.” Dave gave in, his energy spent.
He was confused. The worry of their son’s whereabouts had quickly turned into fear for his life after one phone call. He had been informed that no one knew about the crew’s health. The scratchy radio had only lasted long enough to send a mayday and co-ordinates. They had been sat in this room, with other families, since about three in morning. They were exhausted, physically and mentally.
Dave caught sight of the rescue ship pulling into the harbour as the medical team moved into place. They rushed outside where a weary, crumpled man was watching them. Everywhere people were gathering, desperate to see their loved ones safe, but there was no Gary.
The crumpled man approached them, limping slightly. “Are you Gary’s parents?” He asked quietly.
“Yes.” Dave replied. The man’s eyes were so sad, so full of guilt and sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t know. The papers where. . parents often do this with their children. I didn’t know.”
Gary’s mum looked around desperately, “Where is he?” The man turned to point at the boat as a medical stretcher was being brought above deck. A medic came to the man’s side, but before he left he turned back to the family once more. Shaking his head he repeated, “I didn’t know,” then allowed himself to be lead away.
Pale and motionless, Gary’s body lay on the stretcher, a red blanket pulled up to his chin. The attending medical staff were forlorn and quiet. His family rushed to the edge of the bay, frantic and desperate, where Dave explained that they were his parents.
“You’ll need to come to the hospital to sign some forms.”
“What kind of forms?” Dave snapped, fearing the worst.
“The forms are for surgery. He’s a lucky lad, he should be dead. He was knocked over into the rough sea, if it hadn’t have been for the courage of the Captain and his crew, he wouldn’t have ever been seen again. Instead, he has a broken leg and mild shock.” The medic pointed to the crumpled man. Dave caught his eye and mouthed the words, “thank you.” The Captain nodded and climbed into the back of the ambulance.
“Dad?” a voice behind him asked, “Mum?”
“Where here, honey.” Angie said soothingly, Dave turned to his son, angry, hurt and relieved.
“I can swim,” Gary said, trying to smile and Dave found himself laughing as the stress and worry dissolved from him. “Why’d you do it?” he asked. “What could have been so bad? What happened?”
Gary closed his eyes. He slowly opened his eyes and watched a Gull flying overhead. He told them how he had been bullied at school for the last year, about how he hadn’t felt like he could cope with the work load anymore. He explained how one day he had become so fed up that he had struck back in anger, breaking the boy’s nose and how, ultimately, he had been expelled. He went over how he was so ashamed that he hadn’t wanted to tell them and how he had convinced a friend to pretend that he was his father.
His parents listened patiently, without interrupting. Finally, when Gary had finished, the medic approached, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we really have to get him to the hospital.”
“I know,” Dave replied, “but can I have just one moment.”
“Of course,” the medic replied, stepping backwards to give them some privacy.
“Gary, if we seem angry it’s because we care. You should never feel that you can’t come to us, things should never get that bad. If you’d have come to us before, them we could have sorted it out, like we can now.”
“We wouldn’t be doing you any favours,” Angie put in, “if we let this pass, but that can wait until later, when your better.”
Gary smiled, “I’ll tell you something,” he said, “I still can’t swim, I didn’t even get a chance to try.”
The medic stepped forward again, “I’m sorry, we really must go.” Dave and Angie nodded. As they put Gary into the back of the ambulance a flock of Gulls swarmed overhead. The sun glinted off of their feathers as they shrieked in anger, demanding to know when the fishing ships were coming home. The waves gently lapped the shore and the sun shone down on the beginning of a perfect day.

A Darker Mood

2005-07-23T19:28:00.000+01:00

She stood at the edge and looked down. Fuck it. Why had she come here tonight? The shinning stars revolved around her like broken halos. She could still feel the day on her clothes; fresh and longing like the smell of romance. She looked down again and cursed the air around her. She wanted him dead. She wanted all of her anger to well up from inside and sear the black night in two.

The angels had called her again. She could hear them. She had ignored them for a while but now they were insistent. Tugging, teasing, riveting and insane. She hated them but she could not walk away from them forever. Eventually, she realised, she must turn back to them. But she wanted to scream at them, blame them for every God damn thing that went wrong, for the misery that led her to this cliff top and the ragged edge that led to the hollow below.

How was she to get to him? She could see no cause for going and no path that would take her there. She didn’t want to follow. She didn’t want to walk the broken path that would lead to her destiny. She wanted to go home where the warmth spread from a cup of coffee. She wanted a blazing fireside, not a blazing soul.

What would it take in this world? What would it take to make her happy, to create inner peace? What would it take to make her stop the anger for just one second so that she could breathe? What the fuck would it take? She finally saw that path down. It was blocked off by barriers warning of danger: of fallen rocks and fallen souls. She approached it and looked behind her one last time. Fuck them she thought and fuck him. Why had he gone? She crossed the barrier and started to walk. As she walked into the darkness she heard the wind cry, and slowly realised that it was her soul.