2012

I watch from the sidelines as it all passes me by,
Strangely alluring, the sights and the wondering why,
When dancing angels fulfill all that you need,
And the truth reigns softly ensuring you're freed.

I venture further forward into the unforgiving forest that is my future. Stumbling blindly as the fog and darkness sets in. Unsure of what I may or may not find I continue blindly in the hope that there may be a single flower sprouting from among the trees. That I may lie with it, and stay there for all eternity. I may have already passed that flower and yet I continue onward in the hope I have not yet done so. I hear the wolfs and the jackals cackle around me, awaiting the wrong step that pulls me down, unceasingly, into the abyss. And yet I hunt, fearlessly, tenaciously, ever onward. Wherever that flower may be I will find it, even if I must find it at the bottom of that abyss.

An interesting dilemma

There's a knot in the tree at the end of the garden,
That serves as the ashtray for a childhood memory,
There's a ghostly river that runs through the mind,
And serves as a schoolboy's malicious demands,

As the past reveals what couldn't be answered,
And the measured mistake of an awkward unplanned,
Moment in time that is forever obscured,
And the distant dreams of that difficult schoolboy,

Clutching at straws so hard to hold on to,
The one thing about the past that was liked,
Accepting the difference that 3 years can make,
To a friendship once so brittle and faked,

A separate existence was inevitable failure,
An unenviable position for the latter to take,
As the doorways close on that old chapter,
The new one opens for him to walk through.

The Riser's Lament

Everywhere you look and see,
Spy shades of mediocrity,
A dawning crimson shade of red,
Clears the riser from the bed,
And on with the ritual, perpetual ambition,
Darkness clears the soul from God,
And brings it forwardly,
Presenting an unknowing child and his desperate dream,
Itching to escape the rigid uniformity of, his life,
Goaded by the carrot put ahead,
That is never reached,
Never obtained,
Unassailed,
Impossible,
But still the riser itches to quench his thirst at the well of desire,
Never stopping to drink at the pools along the way,
Never satisfied with what he has,
He marches,
Ever onward,
Genuinely driven by what he sees as his only escape,
Reality offers nothing for him,
Lost,
Alone,
Again,
Always lost,
Alone,
Missing,
This,
Lost alone,
Depressed by repression,
Saddened by the end of time,
The spiral is set to begin again,
The riser finds no comfort in what he has,
For what he has,
Is nothing.

Map of Human Migration

Use that kick-drum to march in time,
Pluck those strings to find the beat,
Thrash that axe to find the tune,
Then sing yourself to a merry mood.

If you read this.

If you read this then I want you to know that I'm ok. It wasn't meant to be. I think I've finally accepted that and now I'm just waiting to heal. It will come, with time. I've been doing a lot of thinking already and can imagine I will do a lot more between now and the next time we speak but know this. I love you for you, and that will never change. I will always love you just as I will always love the two others who came before you. They are now two of my nearest and dearest and I hope that you will go the same way. In two months our lives change again. We both start afresh with new hopes and dreams. I hope that it can be the start of a new chapter in our friendship, I really do. Getting over you is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, but I think I'm stronger than I come across. I want you to know that you can never hurt me, I can only hurt myself.

If you don't read this then hopefully, the next time we speak, I will be able to say this to you myself. Good luck with your exams.

Billy. xxx

The moon's icy cold, silver stare continues to mock me,
As the waves of guilt and horror,
Consume every fibre of my being,

There's a nothingness that exists,
Where my heart used to be,
Because that heart has gone,
Away from me,
And alone with you,

I'm sorry,
With the heaviest of hearts I am sorry,
To be alone with you,
Is a wish and a curse,

The one begotten son.

Sometimes

Sometimes I enjoy wallowing in my own self pity. Sometimes I just want to stop. I actually have noone to talk to about this. Sure there are people who would offer advice, comfort, but noone who would just listen, listen and hug. Today was hug an actor/techie/theatre geek day. That's me on 3 legit fronts. How many hugs did I get? One, it was a good hug but still, ONE! Hug denials are horrible and I had one of those too. The internet is not my friend. I cannot deal with living through it. I need human contact. Every time I get home and I sit in this flat all alone I get so lonely. Does anyone care? Probably not. Is anyone even reading this? Even less likely.

Next year is going to be so much better. Every evening around lots of people. I get so lonely. :(

Just how far would you go for those that you care about?

Flobots - Survival Story

Unsure what I make of it. The lyrics feel more forced without some of the subtlety and story telling of the first album. There's not enough viola melted in to the mix either with it feeling separate whenever it makes an appearance.

That said some of the bass lines are nice and funky with a full sound. Andy Guerrero seems to be channeling Tom Morello in places which is nothing to complain about and Tim McIlrath's guest appearance is a bonus, although he could have been better utilised.

There isn't enough varying dynamics in there for me which was something that I loved about their debut. The only songs that seem to try and end the cycle of heavy track after heavy track are stuck near the end and feel like they've been tacked on. 'Superhero' is the only track that has any real dynamic variation for me, though I may notice more on subsequent listens.

After all that I don't think there is anything that comes close to 'Mayday' or 'Anne Braden' from Fight With Tools and that is a shame. I also didn't notice anything that could recieve nearly as much airtime as 'Handlebars'. Not that I mind that so much, I hated that song until I properly listened to the lyrics which, and call me a pretentious skeptic if you like, I imagine most people who loved the track never noticed.

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.