Tanning?

Don't get me wrong. I'm amazed at the Sun. I really am.

I don't really understand the physics. Or the chemistry.

I just know it as a big ball of fire in the sky above me.

I know it's been here from long before I was born.

And will probably be here long after I die.

It provides plants with energy, to produce the oxygen we breath

It lights up our life so we can see our lover's faces

It is hidden by a rotating Earth to give us chance to rest

Now, we have harnessed the Sun to start to power our homes

It is vital to all life on this Earth.

Now, I understand all this, I really do.

But when a ray of light, emitted by this ball of fire

Travels eight minutes through the vacuum of space

Past space dust and planets, penetrating our atmosphere

Reaching the insignificant surface of this blue rock, against all odds

And finds, out of seven billion people, me.

Forgive me if I forget the wonders and curse at the Sun a short while.

As someone who burns a little easily.

Disclaimer: Written from the perspective of someone who burns easily. As someone who tans more than roasts, I have to admit I quite like the Sun this time of year...

To be English

It's St. George's day, and the banners of patriotism fly
Those claiming to know where the loyalties of the country lie
Claim persecution, because their love of country is too strong
And through all this, I have to wonder where I belong.

You see, the flag is rarely flown from a moderate door
But shared on facebook, by those wanting to give immigrants a war.
To claim you "love your country" is to gain a label
The "patriotic liberal" is known as an oxymoronic fable



So here's the thing. I do love my country. I really am proud.
And yes, I really do acknowledge its flaws, but I should still be allowed
To love the NHS. The money and citizens we send for aid.
The fact we protect workers by giving a minimum they can be paid

The communities we still have, even if they're diminishing
The courage and resilience we show goes way beyond idle wishing
The education we provide - others travel many miles to learn here
The fact the death penalty hasn't been seen in Britain for 51 years

Our sporting, intellectual and creative prowess should not be taken lightly
We're kind to others, we're known for taking matter politely
And while the nuances of the matter are far too great to explain in verse
I'd honestly like to think we've made this world better, not worse.


If we don't show pride for our country, we let others dictate its character
If we don't acknowledge advances as well as issues, we'll never make it better
St. George may be an odd choice for our patron. But I'd still like to say
Even if it's not cool among my class. I'm proud to be English today.

The re-tale

Stop if you've heard this one a few times before
The re-tale of those who clean and mop the floor
The deja vu of the cashier's day
Just sit back and press "replay"

I said stop me, if you've already seen this scene
Analysed all the wall you're appalled this is mean
There's not one task to do you haven't done prior
Your brain goes insane as you know this world entire

Don't pretend you don't know of this world gone stale
The all-too well known re-tale of retail
You've done it so many times. Repeated every task
I said to stop me. Was that too much to ask?

Taken from mellophant.com

The Coffee Shop

They're working, working. On computers and paper
But I'm working too, serving caffeine to their flavour
I see all types, observe every Mrs and Mister
So listen to the tales of the coffee shop barista.

They're working, working, scribbling away.
Some have been here since the start of the day
Let me take you through the types, the workers' who's who
Because it seems everyone these days has a lot of work to do

Sitting by the door, talks to everyone as they pass
Is the not-really-worker, the snake in the grass
The distraction, the trap, the folly of the fool
While blank pages litter their table and stool

In the corner by the window, watching the world go by
Is the worker-dreamer, who let's their imagination fly
They'll compose a thousand stories of the world outside
Before trapping a single story into words inside

Right by the counter, next to the coffee bean sack
Needing regular coffee, and needing it black
Always up at the counter, and shaking slightly
We have the worker-addict, to name them politely

The imposter in the shop, of which we have a fair few
Comes in looking haggled and tuts at the queue
Spends fifteen minutes setting up, but never stays for long
In coffee shop worlds, worker-drones just don't feel they belong

Working in the middle, taking centre stage
Is a person who has written many a page
My favourite worker, for they've survived such a trial
The introvert in the room, for whom I always save a smile

The hardest worker of all. Head always down and low
Lest they have to talk to someone for more than a hello
Social anxiety can make this a personal hell
Yet it's the same thing that makes them work so well

Every worker in the room has a type and style
Some here briefly, some here for a while
So if you ever come to my shop to work, I can guarantee
You won't be alone, it's a worker community.

Time

You wasted three seconds reading this line

Another two on this one.

We need to be careful with how we spend out time

Whether on learning or fun.

Our purse of time is not predetermined

Yet it will have a limit

When you're young, as far as your concerned

Most spending is within your remit

You can't live each day preparing for sundown

You'll survive the night anyhow

Yet as you spend more time to become more renown

You'll gain more regrets than you should allow

If I'd spent my time differently, I'd have been

So different to how I am

Why yes, that's true, but what does it mean?

What's more, should you give a damn?

After all, you've likely still plenty left in your banks

Don't worry about fortunes lost

Enjoy what you spend, be happy and give thanks

Realise that some things are worth the cost

Outside the elements

Pitter patter pitter patter goes the rain on the window
Howl and whistle, can you hear the wind blow?
Thud and splat as the rain raises it's attack
Now there's a solid connection as the hail makes contact

And here you are, just hidden away
Protected and secure, no need to pray
There's no hell to endure when you're under a roof
You can shelter ensured of protection, that's truth

You can find it peaceful, the chaos outside
It's almost sinful, like a sin of pride
That some are feeling pain, and getting wet through
It's almost insane, the duality you go through

You feel safe in pure safety, it seems odd then
That you can relax to danger, but only when
It's close by, but still kept at bay where you can see
Yet another reason why I find humanity a curiosity

Photo by TheJustandtheUnjust.tumblr.com