Green

Yearly cynical Poem, Merry Xmas xxxxx

Gangrene green chokes

The best of us –

But only the worst of us,

Let the disease spread to our

Brain; poisoned by pride

We return the favour, choking

The accused with our trembling

Fear-ridden hands.

For it is not the act that scares us,

But the life of oblivion of not knowing

So let’s pretend it is; this caution

Gives the green justification.

We are all green-

And we are all monsters,

So we may as well do it properly.

Canvas

We wave our brushes around carelessly-

And before we know it,

Beautiful blankness is suffocated with

Explosive colour.

Your pretty canvas, as pretty may be

Pollutes and illuminates the chaos that is

Mine. And your

Belittling eyes,

That so often comes in pairs,

Circulate, and swoop softly

Like a vulture dropping shit on an already

Substandard world-

Your hands move as cunningly, and with

Tight grasp you wave your brushes around

Carelessly, tarnishing

An already smudged canvas.

                                           

Statistics

One of the many;

Sometimes we stray amidst the

Statistics- once

Indivisible and prime,

Now expendable, wandering

In the monotony of banality,

We implore!

For we must be the anomaly-

But sometimes dreary is delicious

And distinctive is demonic

I’ll endure as one,

for to unite with the many,

is to endure as

None. 

Crimson

Your face turns crimson;

As a seeping grey consumes me-

Friends become like bubble wrap,

We yearn for them on an unlimited tap,

Yet we as much ache to pop them.

But before you pop the air out of me,

Consider your subliminal fret,

As your cherry-like face glistens in the

Darkness.

Beyond

I used my best clothes the

First Time;

And they are still filthy

With the sweat of family gatherings,

My hands- riddled with

Trepidation and a voltage so strong

That I could shake a hug

Find me some black and white

For only that will soothe my reddening hands.

They never throw you in the shallow end.

All I can hope;

The debasing eyes shrivel so they can see

Beyond the insufficiency,

Beyond the inadequacy

Beyond what is feeble,

Beyond what is pitiful,

Beyond a mockery.

I used my best clothes the

First Time;

And they are still filthy. 

A Martian's view on love

This is a poem written through the perspective of an alien viewing human interactions of love. It is inspired by a sector of poetry called 'martian poetry' which gives perspectives of human life through aliens.  This should be  cryptic so it shouldn't be easy to grasp. Will probably do another post explaining it at some point 

Two-headed creatures share a heart,

But stumble on each other’s limbs,

When their babies are vibrating happily,

Something strangely appears to be wrong.

Then the disturbances stop; together they make

Bizarre noises until they rest their eyes.

Now their heads depart, and delve

Into private fantasies, free from conflict.

Their eyes reluctantly open, but soon they

Assume their customary smiles.

Weirdly enough; they celebrate all of this,

with extortionate paper and glitter

Exchanges of the same dusty words and withering flowers,

But everyone seems equally impressed.

Apart from the Others whom lack attention so

 Instead use their thumbs to communicate

Whilst they go off in pairs and celebrate misery,

 The Others wish for the same pain!

They watch films about themselves

Whilst they indulge each other’s faces

The one-headed creatures stay at home,

Dreaming dreams to which replace with.

Evolution

A face so ashamed;

But everyone does it.

So why not exchange such dismay

with beautiful unity and camaraderie

Celebrate the flaws and see them

not as flaws but simply

actions of a Predator.

Which we all are.

Undoubtedly the judges will swarm

and subject their demeaning eyes

on the victims of evolution.

But all us victims will fall together

United in the pigs we are

We all eat from the same trough

And shit in the places we sleep.

But we are united.

And we need to be-

until the judges perish also to

Evolution.

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time:

People used to be passionate,

Sentimentality ran through our veins.

But now another ‘S’ has conspired,

Leaving our soppiness bound by chains.

We used to pick what film to watch-

With excitement!

Now we just ask how long it is,

Relishing the thought of it being less

Than 90 minutes.

We used to go on long walks;

The thought of a picnic was thrilling.

But soon we learnt that walks weren’t fun,

There was something more fulfilling.

Once upon a time:

People are crude, impassive and indifferent

Disinterest runs through our veins

All because that ‘S’ has empowered,

Even our memory foam has forgotten.

So what chance do we have?

Night Out

We spend the day dreaming

Of intoxication;

Anticipating a break from significance

And welcoming triviality-

When nothing can possibly matter.

We try to make ourselves look beautiful,

And when that fails-

We drink.

And as the music deafens our ears,

We fall into a wonderful stance,

A place where absolutely nothing matters.

But this stance I speak of- so premature!

And soon things quickly turn to manure,

Because what we love can turn to hate,

A vivacious start, a dismaying fate

Things start to matter.

People begin to reapply their perfumes

And aftershaves; with seeping, pungent

Odious smells.

As smiles turn to cries,

And our mouths fill with mire,

Should we have been satisfied with water?

We return to the world-

Shovels at the ready,

And we scoop and divide up the shit.

Then

Suddenly,

Everything matters. 

Demise

I’m the shadow in the darkness,

That ruthlessly yearns for your

Demise

I work cunningly; but callously.

Gritting my teeth at signs of elation,

Because: the joy

 Scares me- should I grasp my torch?

And shine destruction upon your utopia.

Maybe I should- because I the decrepit

Finds your happiness repulsive-

The intense darkness;

You may hear subtle cries

As a merciless loner plans your demise

Window

Transparently gloomy; there looms an abyss,

An encapsulating ignorance,

Compels the confessed,

They’re spoon-fed and they choke;

They romanticize the window,

To conceal from reality

And shield from below

She projects the shadows; under false duress,

They live in what ‘could’

And end up with less,

A peak of expectations- the others

Witness them waste,

Some feel placid,

Others distaste.

The window will crack,

And your dreams will implode

You shall not rise, but disintegrate

As your body erodes 

Stagnant

Everything is stagnant;

How it reeks of lethargy,

How it pines for innovation.  

But as the monotony encapsulates

A lazy mind,

Any surge of change is yet to entwine-

If one is alienated by their own desires,

The body collapses into mental retire

The motionless body, the nihilist brain,

A lack of creativity and I go insane.

It’s time to dig oneself out the mire

And let a greater world transpire 

Reflection

An array of emotions

Controlled by my thumb

A miniature time capsule

In my power.

To structure,

Or to shuffle-

The sweet times and the sour.

I turn up the memories-

Really loud!

And they consume my

Mind in colour.

Then when the memory comes to

Halt-

The present seems much

Duller.

When I fill my ears

With what is no more,

A strangely soothing

Violence-

There is a song for

Every moment, every episode

Followed by an eerie

Silence

For sometimes: once is enough. 

Unconditionally

A poem about some very special people x

When they speak:

Suddenly the trivial is ignited;

A bright, burning flame of love.

Never has the topic of the weather

Been so scintillating.

Nor has repetition been so

Compelling; it is simply that

You are infallible in their eyes-

Unconditionally.

When they smile:

Suddenly your world is complete;

A bright, burning flame of love.

Never has a broken past

Been presented with such positivity

Nor has your future ever been seen so

Paramount; it is simply that

You are perfection in their eyes-

Unconditionally.

Unconditionally-

They will love you

Unconditionally. 

Pictures

The pictures appear to lie,

But the smiles are nonetheless

Vivid-

For there are no such thing

As cyber cob webs.

No, in fact every detail is retained-

The ageing process magnified

to remind us of the slow but sure

Decline.

Pictures: what was once!

And what can never be again.

What a beautiful, yet morbid reminder.

Nothing

The beauty of a blank slate;

But we meddle with it,

We smudge it with charcoal knowledge,

Our parents providing the stationary,

And the schools give us the paper.

Then: we write.

The pages are just a distraction,

From the ignorant yet blissful

Oblivion in my mind,

I wish the words would trickle

Away, and form the perfect smile,

But words are the constant,

And you are the temporary,

And we have perished.

The people that listen are punished,

With the promise of nothing

So:

The days go by;

And I am back at nothing.

But this is worse than the nothing

of my blank slate,

It is a nothing without meaning,

 A nothing without hope,

To know too much,

is to know absolutely nothing.

'Sickness'

Nurture choked me,

With his cold, cold hands.

And now he offers me help?!

They call me sick,

Insisting I can be, in the most

Insulting way, cured!

Cured from the illness that nurture

Gave me himself.

The ignorant gather upon their platform,

and with the authority of fallibility

tell me I am sick.

I grow tired of these words.

However: I am grateful my apparent

Sickness can be cured.

For your sickly superiority will forever

Boil in your murky blood!

Beyond cure.

Nature called upon me, and

Told me I am perfectly healthy.

And I believe him.

I believe him,

More than I believe your stupid book. 

Paranoid Eyes

This is about people pretending they do not care, but really they care more than anything. A poem about being honest with yourself and reality. 

My apathy: unconvincing

At the best of times,

The realms of care, I delve beyond

And focus my eyes on elation

But:

I forget the most prized item;

Reality is easy to leave behind,

The clarity being repulsive, almost like

The truth is nauseating. So:

My spotlight is on the shadows;

Shadows of indifference,

And shadows of dispassion 

Such insensitivity nourishes the brain,

But leaves the heart deprived

This bold exterior just an imaginary

Projection

My soft interior, conspicuous

Within my  paranoid eyes.

Vanity

This is a  short poem that I think everyone will relate to; it is just whether you are the red font or the black font.

This could be continued...

Merry Christmas everyone xxxx

Red font: the voice of Vanity

Black font: Everyone who does not fancy themselves

Hello beautiful in the mirror there!

Your immeasurable prettiness too much

To bear,

I’ll capture this sight with my electronic eye,

Then subject the social world in hope of reply,

A comment of admiration, or a simple ‘like’,

Either will do: as long as you’re polite

Strangely enough we do not care,

About your luscious looks or your pretty hair,

The mirror you see as a constant state,

But unfortunately your highness, this is not the case

Your hair will wither, and your skin will crack,

What a shock that will be, when ageing attacks,

I don’t suppose you will take pictures when

You experience this fright?

I welcome the day, when I can click ‘dislike’

Naivety

Thinking about how badly people get manipulated sometimes, without even realising it. 

I write what I want on

a post-it note; and

Then stick it on your head.

And magically you come to ‘life’,

I’ll label you till your death

A self-fulfilling prophecy:

Your naivety will feed me well,

I’ll amend you,  and I’ll shape you

In your consensual cell.

Yes I will imprison you!

and you will never know.

Naivety is a dangerous glee,

So ensure your mind does grow 

Indifference

Perpetual disinterest: in

You

This state of apathy makes hatred

Desirable; like the longing for

Something palpable, tangible,

Even if it hurts!

Because: grey is better than black

Somewhat dull; but the paleness speaks

Far less animosity than absolute darkness

The expression of indifference;

There is no greater insult.

Ignorance

Under my mother’s wing:

‘My’ voice is heard; naive,

Oblivious and of course absurd,

I snarl when others speak of sense,

And roar at all these claims of pretence

All because I am ignorant.

Under my mother’s wing:

‘My’ face is seen; transparent,

Blank and arguably obscene,

At the sight of shelter: I lick my lips,

I block the truth: an intellectual eclipse

All because I am ignorant.

I am under my mother’s wing:

All because I am ignorant

The Lecture

ANOTHER cynical poem of how some of my lectures have been so far. I hope some people can relate to some of the frustration voiced here!

Pseudo intellectuals: we group

Together like all of this actually matters; so

I stoop my head and close my mind.

The sea of oblivion; I come up for breath

When a voice of pedantry asks yet another

Unnecessary question.

These kind of pseudo intellectuals; not subtle in

Their craft, indeed they thrive in exposing

Others as ‘daft’

The blatant imitation of intelligence; a dangerous venture!

So I’ll be elusive in this pseudo lecture

The sea of oblivion; I come up for breath

And ready myself for ‘intellectual’ death

Vegetable Baby

This is inspired by the idea that we start life as a baby and end life as a baby. Rather morbid and definitely one of the weirdest poems I have ever written! Comments would be appreciated

My hospital bed; just like a womb,

But the food was better last time,

A vegetable baby in a museum,

People listened instead of stared

The first time:

My mummy was my protective lining, but

Now this stranger they call a nurse,

She moves from potato to cauliflower

I’m pining for my beautiful hearse

This colourful hearse: my mother’s womb,

A hearse for life, like a flowers bloom 

This hospital speaks of demise and gloom,

A dreary abyss; my eternal tomb

Hospitals are like a child’s dinner,

We vegetables lay there- no nurse

Particularly wants to touch,

Babies are plump, but now I’m thinner,

A vegetable baby: a nurse’s dinner

A baby I was once, and

A baby I am now,

My mummy is this ‘nurse’

Please kill me now. 

'Eternal Delirium' : A short excerpt

Been doing lots of poetry recently so haven't done much work on this. This is an excerpt of my novel 'Eternal Delirium' that I really hope to have finished by mid 2013.

I am the airport now and I do not wish to discuss the process of packing; it was far too traumatic. Karen is a bit edgy at the moment because Brian rung her up again last night asking when they can meet up. I had forgotten about all that with the drama of the past few days. That would have to be dealt with when we got back. Right now it is 2am and we have just gone through security. I beeped because I forgot to take my belt off. I think they have naked scanners now? That must be an interesting job for whoever stares at the screen. The measures have become so intense now, and even the people that have nothing to hide are now hesitant as they walk through. Everyone looked so anxious and I suppose me strolling through with a grin on my face didn’t exactly ease the tense crowds. I don’t really have the look of a terrorist so I hope I didn’t raise too many alarm bells.

Karen is not the only one on edge. I am worried sick about Zebby because in the end I had no option but to tell Audrey to feed him for the week. I hope she doesn’t fall asleep and forget. To be fair she was lovely about it and assured me that Zebby would be looked after. Zebby will miss me a lot. I wish I could bring him with but it is probably a good thing I haven’t because Karen has told me that Richard has two huge dogs. I wish she had of told me this before I booked the tickets. I really hate dogs. Dad wouldn’t let me have a cat when I was young and insisted we had a dog. I told him I was scared of them and he just told me I was being pathetic and needed to man up. He even made me take the dog on walks. Dad called it Buster. What a generic and shit name for a dog. This was typical of my father: follow the fucking stereotypes and not think for yourself. Buster died when I was fourteen and I was glad to see him go. It seems like I was happy when all the members of my household died. Anyway maybe Richard’s dogs are friendly, but probably not. I was still looking forward to meeting this Richard. He doesn’t even know I am coming so I hope it is not too much of a shock.

We had time to kill so we went to have breakfast at Frankie and Benny’s. It was shit. The sausages were dry, the eggs were underdone, the bacon was too salty, the mushrooms and tomatoes were tinned and the conversation with Karen was as dry as the toast. The baked beans were immense though- you cannot go wrong with Heinz. Karen barely touched her fry up and I don’t think it was only because it was shit. She obviously had a lot on her mind and a mediocre fry up was not going to cheer her up. I tried to make conversation amusing by telling her I was going to go and try sunglasses on in the sunglasses hut after we had finished, and how she could help me pick a pair. She just half-smiled... So I tried again by telling her how it was so long since the last time I had worn shorts, and how I was going to look ridiculous. I received the exact same reaction. I didn’t really need to ask what was wrong because it was obvious: you wouldn’t exactly be calm and chirpy on the way to sort out your mother’s funeral arrangements. Talks of shorts and sunglasses gave too much of a summer holiday vibe, which on second thought was inappropriate and stupid of me. I thought about this and then changed the tone of the conversation to that dreaded more serious tone that I just found so unnecessary. I made a few awkward sounds, you know the type before you are about to say something serious. Karen was swirling around the cheap orange juice in the glass, forming an alternate world from the reality of me talking shit and not helping at all. In the end, I couldn’t be bothered to say anything. This saved me from saying something stupid that I would regret. Instead I took her hand and just told her briefly that I loved her and we should get going. This time her half-smile was more complete and she nodded in agreement. It was only an hour until the flight now, and funnily enough I was quite excited. I don’t think Karen felt the same. 

University, Baked Beans and Innocent Eyes

It has been nearly two weeks of living in halls, so a blog is long overdue. These past two weeks have been absolutely crazy; my life has gone from sitting on the sofa watching Loose Women with my mum for months to having the most amazing social life and meeting such great people. Mum if you read this I am not saying I do not enjoy watching Loose Women with you, but it did start to take its toll...

Apparently after you open tins of food i.e (tuna, sweetcorn and baked beans) you cannot put it in the fridge because the tin will poison the food. This cannot be true? The girls in my flat seem to think so but I have been doing that for years and I am still here.Also does anyone else eat cold baked beans out of the tin? Is it just me?  Tinned food has been a godsend since I have been at university and without it I would have had to actually make the effort to cook.  My flatmate, Michael, is an amazing cook so it is nice to have some actually homemade food. Oh and also frozen food! The frozen aisle at Morrisons has become my new favourite place, after bed of course. I could have bought 20 fish fingers for 60p but I thought I would buy the better quality ones for £2. Moving up in the world...

In other news I have found out that I have the option to have my poem  Innocent Eyes' published by United Press. I don't get any money but it is a good way of getting my name out there I suppose. Apart from this, I have nothing to tell you apart from that I absolutely love university and I am feeling the most optimistic and happy I have felt since of course the days when the only dilemma was what colour crayon to pick and Pokemon.

I watch the world through innocent eyes,

With muffled sound and routine cries,

As delicate as a new-born lamb,

It’s far easier viewing- from a pram,

But things can turn a solemn grey,

The horrors of having to play, play, play

The same old toys and ancient stuff,

My Mummy can’t see me huff and puff,

I cannot speak, but I observe

The delicate nature of adult nerve,

But I’ll just sit here in my chair,

No need to bother, No need to care.

I’ll let the food run down my face,

And shed a tear just in case

My mummy decides to shout and scream,

She just sussed out my evil scheme,

I take advantage of my age,

the naive myth I can’t engage,

I laugh at you with innocent eyes,

To buy it would be most unwise. 

Deceitful

This poem is really really cynical.

None can deny: the several faces,

The forged smiles,

The deceitful traces,

Nor can I refute: the urge within me,

To paint with colour,

To avert the frenzy,

With frenzy we form this ‘common’ ground,

A phoney fantasy

Represses the hound

I am deceitful.

You are deceitful.

We all are deceitful.

It's finally here...

After years of looking forward to university, the time has finally arrived when I am going :) I feel weird about it at the moment; mostly excited but really nervous at the same time. I have just about packed now (thanks to my mum) and it is fair to say I am taking pretty much everything I own. I have decided to take every single DVD I own, and I can tell you now I will probably watch about 5 out of the 40 odd I am taking. I mean I am taking Anchorman and that is a really shit film. It just feels better taking everything- I can't leave anything behind.

I can't wait to live in York. Everything is better up North. I think it is because everyone is stressed in London: the place speaks panic.

I have nothing else to say because I am tired and have to get up quite early. I should probably consider going to bed.

x

Religion : Learn or Burn

My grandad is round my house at the moment and he keeps bringing up the rather morbid subject of death. Rather antithetically he is at the same time talking to Siri on his Iphone.

He seems to think that the fact I am an atheist is purely down to the fact that my 'dad instilled the idea in my head'. Of course what our parents tell us will have some sort of effect on our views in the future, whether it be directly or indirectly. However: in quite the reverse I would say my interest in Philosophy and an acknowledgement of science has resulted in my atheism. In fact I would say that my atheism has influenced my dad's views in recent times, not the other way round! 

Anyway this got me thinking about whether children should be told anything about religion at a young age. Should it be taught in school at all? I thought I would post a piece of work I wrote a while back that discusses the issue. 

Learn or Burn

I remember being a child. You are vulnerable. You will pretty much believe anything and if your mummy and daddy says there is a man in the sky, I promise you there is a man in the sky.  Children naturally look up to their parents as role models for guidance and advice. To think of all the wonderful facts and knowledge that are obtainable and readily accessible to be presented to them, it is rather sickening to know that the susceptible imagination of young children is being frequently manipulated. 

A huge lingering question that is debated in the world is the question “Should religion be taught in school?” There are some positive aspects of religion that I feel children should be able to enjoy, such as the bringing together of a family. However, I believe these aspects of religion fall into more the categories of culture and tradition. It is evident that the world we live in is culturally relative, with countless amounts of ways of life that people choose to follow. These views should be celebrated and respected- I do not dispute this. However, the point of education is to best inform the children of society. I feel mentioning anything to do with “God” or a supernatural being is going against this purpose. Education should inform children of factual and intellectual knowledge in the world that they can take and pass onto their children. This is the way to create a better society, not by confusing children by eventually telling them Santa Claus is not real, but “God” is.  Santa Claus is actually not such an unbelievable idea in the bewildering world we live in. If there is someone capable of creating the whole human race, why shouldn't a fat bearded man not be capable of carrying a few presents? Okay- yeah it is a ridiculous idea, just like God. I suggest “religious studies” at school should be taught to some extent, but instead being labelled as “cultures and tradition”. God should not be mentioned in any circumstances as fact, but as an absolute leap of faith and uncertainty. I also believe that atheism should be fairly represented in schools, to best inform children that there is more than one option. 

Unfortunately, I highly doubt that religion will ever be erased from any school syllabus. This is because of the sheer amount of pressure on the world to “represent people’s views”. Who cares? Yeah it is interesting to learn about how other people live- I know this; but ultimately, how someone lives is up to them. This is not my problem. These people can live how the hell they want to, but until they can come up with any concrete evidence of why I or anyone should live like them, then I suggest schools refrain from educating us all on anything of the matter. Religion acts nothing more as a cloud of deception, it merely shields the scared and labels the rest of us as blinded from the apparent truth and beauty of God. In a religious person’s eyes, atheists are those of us whom are filled with pessimism, and have no hope for humanity. I feel these people have got pessimism confused with realism. Really, all we want is, to turn and rely on empirical beings, rather than turn to a God that has remained silent for far too long. Everything is written in stone for religious people; their paths in life are pre-determined and those whom do not believe in a God are lost in the immoral and chaotic world of atheism.  Obviously religious people feel that God has directly told them their path in life but once again these people feel they are more important than they actually are. This would be absolutely fine if they kept these views to themselves, but to inflict them on the young is in my eyes categorically wrong. Teach your children what is right and wrong but do not base morality on what a book says, that was supposedly written thousands of years ago. If people are really so naive to believe everything that is written in a book, I fear the worst for future generations that think the messiah is Harry Potter and Hogwarts is heaven.