Dear A

Dear Anger

I’m in a turrets like mood were fuck is the only word to describe it

I’d like to slam my head in a fucking door but even apathy is being a twat

When your hairs stand on end it means you’re cold.

I am cold.

I want to thaw and be cold.

And when I am cold I will regret it like so many other things that influence the abstract in my brain. Knowing isn’t believing

Simply... I don’t believe and I wish I didn’t know.

Full stop.

Continue.

War.

I am burning flowers.

I am burning beautiful.

Without direction and without cause I criticise my own frustration.

I want to shout.

I want to rupture my lungs.

But I don’t want anyone to hear me.

I just want to curse in my own echo.

But why don’t you understand?

My moments of silence are drowned in noise.

Signed your sincere friend.

the ink from my pen ran out

out it ran dribbling like a drunken tonk

trying to be elusive

it spread like a contagion in the white of a

blank page

it was obvious

the ink had a genome

it could dance in time

and reap the crop of words

but such copulation leads to the

breaking of the page

I'll chuck it in the bin?

there's a daring spin

put that in your pen and write it.

smite it.

disguise it.

burn it.

no blank page.

need some sage.

I got Bored

I got Bored

so I became famous for 15mins

I got Bored

so I punched the moon with a flag

I got Bored

so I went to war for oil

I got Bored

so I made a nuclear bomb

I got Bored

but there was nothing left to do....

I want to be in the Anthology.

I want to be in the anthology

Because words are nice and to rhyme in verse

And curse at hate.

Emotions that can speak as echoes echoes echoes...

Often my words don’t dance, they are broken

They stumble and mumble prose

What-used-to-be-cool-90’s-lingo

I am colour blind with words

Blue is grey

Orange is purple

And green doesn’t exist so often my images are obscured

As for sibilance I reject such sounds.

And onamatopia is a word I can never spell

So I SLASH pen to paper

SLASH pen to paper.

I’m not good with endings either.

general musing.

New song lyrics- Musing.

I raise my glass to sadness and sorrow

I’ll feel this way today I’ll feel the same tomorrow

I wanted to leave living and practice flying

Drop me from this cloud, I’m dried up and hollow

A spirit toast to all the happy times

The rain burns down my throat I curse and it is fine

Letters are lonely and lonely and lonely

Give me a direction to follow a line

My heads down, back at the start

I whisper white noise, a feather heart

I continue the story of bitter sweet

Please leave me in here in misery and defeat

It happens..

Leader Theatrics

I recently read an article in the Times Newspaper about the comments from Peter Mandelson about the Leadership contender Ed Miliband. He warned Ed Miliband that going back to "old labour" politics will not win them an election and he stated he was backing his brother David Miliband for leadership. It is clear from Mandelsons comments that he values popularity over political morals. Of course in this new era of politics PR and appealing to the electorate are extremely important but it seems Mandleson is in a deep love affair with the "New Labour" fiasco, who's public image is no better than when Nick Clegg wears a yellow tie. New Labour now has somewhat of a cheesy cliché image which the public do not want to associate with. Ed Miliband is proclaiming his strong political views on social justice and civil rights, rather than swaying to the centre ground like so many politicians who mask over their political morals when yearning for the electorate.

blisters.

it used to be an outlet of expression

somewhere to walk when the souls of my feet blistered

but blisters burst and the soul cracks

so i bought the shoes to cover my soul

i was a puppet master of myself and string pulled and

i walked on more painful ground and grew the pretender

so many things objectives and dreams with all the unnecessary's

disappeared as wounds

with these shoes i could walk any distance

but it was framed on appearance

so i untied the laces which once held me close to you

and admired for what exists that was honest and true.

bit of impro'

soooo WHAT. (K)new stuff

Chasing round every corner into a dark alley

A subsequent scream and yearn for a normality and comfort

Shouting and singing mantra to satisfy your peace

Trying to touch abstract walls of contempt where bricks are wood and as the finger reaches

Out it strokes the edges and DNA lines become detached

Oh flee

Flee from Saturn bruises on your right arm

Crawl left

Where dust floats in sparing light

Harmony and virtues are baron and colourful ice and binary

Who’s turn is it

Stand up

Internal monologue needs casting

Before the pace of my shadow feet catch up

And before

The sun in the day becomes grey

Like the stone

In eyes.

APATHY

Apathy, Apathy, Apathy, Apathy, Apathy.

= nuff said

When the blood dries in my veins And my, heart feels no more pain

Such a tune. appreciated///plan b

Room of ajdjhdbksksb.... to say the least////

Cradle your sentiment inside bleak purple forearms, because circulation flows like ice in a torrid landscape.

With ecstasy.

Roll up the finished, bloody, chromatic carpet and step softly on the exhausted severed floorboards. They yell as if infatuation would heal the tendency for them to creak when walked on. Depleted and scarred the wall paper hung heavy like my chest.

The painting which you gave me lived docile on the passive walls.

The dust made the grey painting greyer than death, chapters written without any desire.

Going through the jade pine door into the room of novelty, is such like going through a hormonal palisade where I find emotion naked and free.

Instantly I find a chill surrounding my bodily vicinity.

The aroma of the room squats vividly and plagues my lungs; the cardiac organ is the corner is one you said you sung. But all the signs and lies you love to give me, it has been too long too long since I wrote destiny.

The same is the same I need to break from this room, it’s never too late it’s never too soon. The synapse confused of what I should do, too many splinters stand from the wood. I step into the light and become a cliché; warmth from the air kills the dust from my lungs, trapped in a coma of time.

Perfect in motion.

Running free.

I’m fearless.

Earlier poem which i blogged.....basics now is finished.

boobloomboo enjoy

BAM

Nuclear arms///= mushroom head.

Hey!

Why don't we all dance round a mushroom cloud. That would be fun.

"EVERYONE" can hold hands and admire the mushroom cloud. I mean

we haven't seen one in a while. I mean we have more than enough sbmob mota.

I can't understand why we have so many we only need a couple to make such

a beautiful mushroom cloud. I suppose I really want to see one.

This person became so obsessed with seeing a mushroom cloud, he grew a mushroom head.

From then on he was no longer seen as a Fun-guy.

BAM POW.

Cradle your Sentiment

Cradle your sentiment inside bleak purple forearms
because circulation flows like ice in a torrid landscape.
With ecstasy.
Roll up the finished, bloody, chromatic carpet and step softly on the exhausted severed floorboards.
They yell as if infatuation would heal the tendency for them to creak when walked on
Depleted and scarred the wall paper hung heavy like the heart which that I bear.
The painting which you gave me lived docile on the passive walls.
The dust made the grey painting
greyer than death
chapters written without any desire.

The ceiling bled tears

as he lay feeble beneath.

The seams on the wall look like veins ready to

give in.

He lay there silent and damp like a newspaper

which had been used as shelter from the rain

As if all the ink had merged and all the story's unreadable- untraceable- forever lost.

watched 7 pounds last night, has Will Smith in it.

it was well emotive.

my calender that i got for christmas is a guinea pig one. Febuary the guinea pig is doing pole vault...

The Folly.

You're moving away to the land where I once lived
with your heart walking the plank and your life full of sin.
A forests now without blue bells in the spring.
Let your love grow
Let your love grow
But first let it begin.


well well well... bare random musing. smack bam pow. can't wait for the springggggg

McDonalds Apple Pies

It's a risk..
My hearts telling me yes but my mind's saying, hell no!
I've got the money, i have the patience, but i do not want to live my life on regret.
I act on spontaneity when they ask me up to the counter.
My mind is made up.
With confidence I ask; One McDonalds Apple Pie please.
It's done.
The person waddles off in an instance.
I sit down in one of those fashionable green spinney chairs
I stare at the beauty of this dangerous but alluring volcano.
It feels like hot iron as i gently move the precious up out of it's shell.
I breath in a huuricane to calm myself before i go in.
3..2..1.
As i bite the lava erupts it to my mouth and burns my tongue. I quickly take it out my mouth and splurtter and splatter. My tongue is burnt again. Scarred. I will not be able to taste for a week.
Just why! Just why McDonalds! Why do you make your apple pies so bloody hot!?


wowowow. enough said for one blog post. done.

Pathetic Fallacy was showing our fate.
love and lust we had no hate.
The sun was rising in her eyes.
As she discovers it was lies
expressions all content and bright
as we composed and danced in flight.
Not a single note was sharp
We played our music from the heart.


okay, i will probably look back on this and think, what the fuck?
oh well, whatcha gonna doo. shakespeare sort of inspired this.

The Bitter Stabbing Wind

A winters day sprays the bitter stabbing wind upon my sadistic epxression.
The sun rises, no suprises, there's no change in that bitter stabbing wind.
Feeling like I've sinned I walk in shame not in fame.
Beelzebub stalks me and scratches in the pain
People try to console, but I just submit and bury myself under hot coals.
Give me trophies, give me medals.
You try to feed my ego, but please let me go, and no, don't follow me home.
Because, you will find yourself. Alone.

I juggled this up last night. From a state of mind.

A Scenario- For the Year!

For the new year I have tried to write some poetic scenario shizzle. Let's just see how it flows.


Jimmy Brass drank too Much-

He’s acting like a pleb; she’s dancing like a spanner.
He thinks just because he knows her name is Hannah
And added her on facebook, he can play her, with his manners.

He gloats and says:
Saw her dp and she looked pretty fine
It won’t be long before she’s all mine
Not going to lie, won’t take me long to shine

He pranced over there like a bit of a twit
Forgetting the alcohol would soon make him sick
He’s just about to say: “girl you are fit”

Then oh shit... she storms out
Shouting you fucking lout
He’s never ever going to live this one out...

Jimmy Brass had to change his tactics..

Aspirations for the Decade!

Instead of writing about my new years resolution, I have decided to write about what I want to do this decade.
2010-2020
1). Get through school education and achieve the necessary results.
2). Graduate from University.
3). Run the London & the Saharan Marathons
4). Climb Kilimanjaro.
5). Sky dive for charity.
6). Get a Snake
7). Live abroad.
8). see- The Killers, Paulo Nutini, Muse, Flobots and Mumford & sons. Also to go to see Les mers
9). Raise lots more money for charity.
10). Meet Banksy
11). Build a forest
12). Watch the Olympics in London
13). Get a Driving licence

all i have for now...