I definitely don't appreciate hearing my flatmate and his girlfriend having sex. PLAY FUCKING MUSIC DAMN IT!!!

The sad nature of the fact is that a generation of youngsters, only a few years younger than I, will now see the Conservative Party as the good alternative. It pains me to see young, poor, working class teenagers talking about how they're going to vote Conservative because Labour are shit. They now see Labour as the enemy thanks to a decade of conservative attitudes from the "workers party".

A vote for the Tories is a vote for the same thing as those at the forefront of "New Labour". The only difference being that with "New Labour" you at least had the back benchers fighting for the working class; with the Tories there is none of that.

Expect 4 years of privatisation, the decimation of the NHS, more leniency towards immoral actions of big business and more pillaring of the working man/woman. But it's ok because "the Economy" will recover. Though "the Economy" is always going to recover regardless of who is "in power".

The "recession" hits the workers hardest, the "recovery" will only make the rich richer. Neo-Liberal Capitalism is working exactly how it was intended, it's time for something new.

I especially like the first one. He seemed genuinely happy to see me on Saturday night/Sunday morning.

Uh-oh

I seem to be developing the symptoms of mono. Have I been a silly boy?

Lancashire Calling

Just because I speak a lot,
Doesn't mean you know me,
There are many things I hide away,
Many things that you don't see,
Think not about the truths I tell,
But more the lies I don't,
For hidden in the depths of hell,
Are the secrets that I won't...

While I lie here,
In my sepia castle,
Deep in the fields of sweet Lancashire's country,
It is to your face I wander dear,
In my mind left oh so fragile and fucked,
There is a want to have you near,
But I don't and I won't,
So I rush my escape,
And flee to the wrought iron precipice of the City,

Within the City's towering trees,
Odes to consumer,
To profit,
To greed,
I am faced with the truth,
Of false reality,
Of witnessed depravity
Of heinous idolatry,
But it comforts me,
And saves me from myself,
The falsity provides a sense of the real,
And my arms are filled,
My face is covered with the will of others,

The void is filled,
With stopgaps and trinkets,
Satisfaction obtained,
And never again will I have to bear witness to the loss,
I feel,
When I remember sweet Lancashire's fields,

But only the entrance is filled,
The sweet baron wastelands of the concrete jungles,
Are not enough for my whetted mouth,
These lips are dry,
Even though they are not,
This smile is false,
Even though it is not,
Even the arms filled so readily,
Are not yet adjusted to their new...

And so if I hear sweet Lancashire calling,
I will return,
To her fields of green,
Where all seems so serene,
And to my sepia castle,
I will ride in on my pale horse*,
And survey the land I left,
For despite my best intentions,
And all my anguished threats,
I'll never forget sweet Lancashire's country,
And I will never forsake those fields.
---------------------------------------------------
*Chocolate to anyone who understands the reference.



--

I'm actually kind of proud of just how many layers this has and how strongly I have thought about it. Even if a literature student or a 'poetry expert' doesn't think it's good I don't care. This is the most personal thing I've written in a very, very long time on many many levels.

It may not be the most rhythmically pleasing nor imagery filled thing I've ever written, but the sheer number of layers this has makes it one of my favourites.