Monday, 21 September 2009

thinking on a train

authors are those who will never give up trying to define the undefinable, who refuse to accept that words cannot describe what is indescribable. this is why i have such great respect for people who write. who express and structure what they think. everyone imagines. not everyone puts pen to paper. reading the thoughts of others shape our own, giving us our own unique voice. this is why writers are also first readers. to read is to see but to write is to be.

Wednesday, 9 September 2009

Twists and Turns

I am flawed.
Is this something I should accept?
Or something I must try to correct?

Tuesday, 25 August 2009

frozen thoughts, paper + pen

so with your stone-cold lips
knock me back
hard + quick,
long + slack
as i dropamidst
this frost-bitten and abandoned track

so tonight
i stumble
through darkening wilderness
closening jungle
flicking through files
of lies, pain + laughter
one more thought+ my mind
will be in plaster

and tonight
i'm nothing more
than an absinthe shot
as scarlett secrecy trickles from my shut eyes
i realise that all our love has gone
to pot
now seven winters: one little dot

we were sisters once
ours was a friendship with a bloodly air


it's just that these fresh eyes well they don't particularly seem to care.

Tuesday, 7 July 2009

Melody Overdose


Over the last twenty-four hours I have developed an insatiable thirst for Regina Spektor. Oh baby drink it up. If I do not listen to her, I shall pop. Like a powder-blue, cloud-shaped balloon.

♥blue lips ,the call , laughing with , us , ghost of corporate future

"no one's laughing at god on the day they realise the last sight they'll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes / but god can be funny at a cocktail party when listening to a good god-themed joke "


How real. How beautifully true.
" you'd think the world was ending right now... maybe you should kiss someone nicer, lick a rock or both? maybe you should cut your own hair cos that can be so funny! it doesn't cost any money and it always grows back - hair grows back even after you are dead! " oh regina :D

Sunday, 5 July 2009

A smooth grey pebble




bounces off the ocean spray. i love you. sometimes those are the only words to say. there are many different types of love. but the core meaning is the same: you make my life that little bit more worth living.

Monday, 29 June 2009

Medicate Me




The soundtrack to my life
1. Michael Jackson- Don't stop till you Get Enough
2. Gregory and the Hawk- Season Poem
3. Regina Spektor- Chemo Limo and Samson
4. Nelly Furtado- Try
5. Kings of Leon- Milk & Use Somebody
6. Goldfrapp- A&E
7. Depeche Mode- Enjoy the Silence
8. Madonna- Frozen
9. Eminem- Shake That Ass for Me
10. Enya- Fairtale
11. Kasabian- Fire
12. Beyonce- Me, Myself & I
13. Snow Patrol- Set down your Glass
14. Wiley- Wearing my Rolex
15. Peter, Bjorn and John- Young Folks
16. The Streets- Borrowed
17. Kate Bush- Hounds of Love
18. Empire of the Sun- Walking on a dream
19. Coldplay- Cemeteries of London
20. Snow Patrol - The Planets bend beneath Us
21. Snow Patrol - The Lightning Strike


X
I don't think I could live without these songs. Each one loved for a very different reason and essential listening at very different circumstances and times. My finger's bleeding. Owwwch, I'm hurting like a bitch. I'm like that wounded bird Hannie found the other day and tried to resucitate. I jumped on thorns last night out in the garden as I chatted with Shannie on the phone. I was kind of hop-skipping, you know? pacing through the grass, totally oblivious to the fact that some huggge mother fucker of a rose thorn was waiting to entrap and slice my foot open.

Roses have always been the flowers which have intregued me the most. Noone can doubt their beauty ; their flower looks almost soft and edible-but isn't the bloom SO beautiful that it blinds you of the prickly vert thorns leading up to it? Undoubtably Beautiful. Undoubtably Dangerous. I know someone like that. Not me though. I'm definately more of a Wild Flower.
Those half-coloured geeks which grow in unpredictable little shoots alongside a long forgotten about walk way, up garden fences, and down rusted drains. Unexpected and not conventionally 'flowery' , sometimes even mistaken for a weed. Perhaps not typically beautiful, but definately eye-catching, in their peculiarity , all the same.

Wednesday, 24 June 2009

Retreat

I've avoided it for too long, but this is what my body and mind are telling me to do. To retreat from everything. To pare it back, stripping everything of importance in my life down to the very basics. To get rid of anything which is not a necessity. I know this is the right thing for me to do. Too much chaos is building up and if I don't do this, I'll end up going crazy. I'm so pent up, it's unreal. Never felt like this before in my life. It must be the accumulation of everything hitting me at once. If you bury issues, they have a joyous way of rearing their ugly heads again when you least expect it. The dicks! I don't want to bury anything anymore, more than anything I want to put the past to bed. I want to Move on rather than being continuously tripped up by it. First of all I think that requires grieving. Acceptance is unthinkable before feeling the pain. So many times have I attempted to "rush through" pain in my life, thinking it was the only way I would survive. I was wrong. I can't let it out with everyone surrounding me, this is one of those things that I need to do completely alone. I know I'll come back refreshed and hopefully healed. I don't understand how I know this, but I've just got to trust myself. XXXX so hello reading, lying in the sun and simple food, writing everything out, organising it logically and swimming, soul-searching, sleep and silence.

Thursday, 18 June 2009

A Beautiful Poem by Wendy Cope



Tich Miller


Tich Miller wore glasses
with elasto-plast pink frames
and had one foot three sizes larger than the other

When they picked teams for outdoor games
she and I were always the last two
left standing by the wire mesh fence

We avoided one anothers eyes
stooping, perhaps, to re-tie a shoelace
or affecting interest in a flight

of some fortunate bird, and pretended
not to hear the urgent conference:
"Have Tubby!" "No have Titch"

usually they chose me, the lesser dud,
and she lolloped back, unselected
to the back of the other team

At eleven we went to different schools.
In time I learnt how to get my own back,
sneering at hockey players who couldn't spell.

Tich died when she was twelve.


( I was a Tich Miller. Maybe some of those hockey player's children will become a Titch too. Things have a way of coming back on us, sometimes in a roundabout way.)




This reminds me of the coldplay lyrics " Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost. Doesn't mean I'll stop. You might be a big fish in a little pond, doesn't mean you've won, because along will come a bigger one." How very true. ;D

A thought

beneath the clementine street lights
of silent repose
we walk
and with warm hands
we talk
'till your latch clasps shut
the pavement now mine
a tight rope of concrete

so i breathe in musky promise
and honey
with only the sound of silence
for money
and walk
the five soft steps
of a peace
reserved for life's
silent matisse

Wednesday, 17 June 2009

End of Exams

AS levels finished. English Language, German&Russian History, English Literature and Religious Studies. Complete. Why has the sun shone throughout exams and now that I'm free to enjoy the weather, it's just died? Someone up there mustn't like me very much, as it's persistantly pissing down.
Dammmn.
Conceal me in your draw-string bag,

all lily skin, iced heart and plaid.


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