Names

When I was born

And when you were too

Some sounds were uttered

Then given to you

You held on tight

Still do to this day

To that utterance

Which you portray

The sound is not unique

To you or another

Yet it's certainly yours

To be learnt to a lover

These sounds are you

Pick you out from crowds

Yet mean nothing more

Than what you allow

They are arbitrary

But that doesn't mean

They can't be you

Who you are, who you've been

Did you stop to wonder

To if you had different sounds?

Would you be the same

If that different you were found?

It matter not

For you are simply you

But it's also fact

Your name is you too.

Post Tournament Blues

IMPORTANT: THIS IS A PSA

IF YOU'VE RECENTLY FOUND YOURSELF DOWN ON A MONDAY

LESS ENTHUSIASTIC THAN MANY OF YOUR BUSINESS COLLEAGUES

UNABLE TO FOCUS ON ANY CIRCULAR OBJECT WITHOUT WANTING TO THROW IT

TRYING MOTIVATION CHANTS BEFORE IMPORTANT MEETINGS
SPIKING ANY REPORTS DONE ON TIME TO AN ACCEPTABLE STANDARD

OR EVEN JUST RELISHING CRAMP FOR THE MEMORIES IT CONTAINS

THEN YOU,

ARE SUFFERING,

FROM,

POST TOURNAMENT BLUES...

The post tournament blues are the downfall of us all

Where most incidents renew your recall of a call

Since recent emotions have been so intense and too high

Your mind's location is green pitches and blue sky.

The speech replay of the captain trying to inspire you at half

The point of day where you were in pain 'til a team mate made you laugh

Your saviour, near enough flying in a bid to make up for your mistake

You savour this stuff near crying until you have to fake you're awake.

Snap back to reality, and ain't it cold?

You lack normality, though it should've taken hold

See, the moments where you are most real and alive

Paid atonement now in the struggle to feel and strive.

You miss your team. You miss your friends.

You want to scream and make it end

It's the price we pay, for bonds so tight

My advice today, to make it right.

Is to enjoy the tournament most, while you are there

To not annoy or taunt the host, to show you care

To play with spirit and heart, try not to be fake

Today give it your part, for all of our sake.

It may not make it any better the day after

Trying to fake along with the office laughter

Just know if you make your tournament and invest all you can do

Your team is doing what they do best, and sharing that feeling with you.

And with your team behind you, you can do damn near anything.

GB U23 Mixed at worlds.

Dedicated to the loser

History is written by the winners, as you know. By the victors, the ones who come in first.
Usually, rightly so. They fight and battle so when it matters they don't end up as worst.

With great respect we honour their names. Learn our lessons from their paths
They're showered in riches, respect and fame. We study their skills and mimic their craft.

Winners are two a penny, as far a history is concerned. You can find them ending each story.
This poem is dedicated to those who're spurned. Whose fate is somewhat more gory.

This is an ode to the loser. A tale of the downtrodden. A requiem for the ever unrealised.
It was felt they are owed a chance to explain and broaden the perception of those never idealized.

You see, there is beauty in the struggle
Drawn from a duty to not crumble
There is much to be learnt from the fight
Even if victory is not earnt that night

To the resilient soldier in dulled armor
The brilliant lover in cold amour
The persistent in the face of defeat
The ever-resistant but finally beat

For the strength to be defeated, but still keep going
Make the conflict be repeated, scars still showing
To rise from the ashes to still get burnt
To live through the crashes, with knowledge earnt

We should remember that life is not just made of victories
You can learn from those who lost well
That throughout all of history
The man who came in second still has a tale to tell

Image from http://www.worth1000.com/contests/22408/22408-silhouettes

Before I Forget

I am not a smart man. I was never even a smart boy.
What I am, is curious. Curiosity leads to preoccupations.
Which leads to you forgetting whether or not you've eaten lunch.
Alternatively, it also leads to finding out some rather cool things.

The issue I have is, there are so many things to be curious about.
The world has so many wonders, lots of which are distressingly difficult to discover.
As such, as soon as one discovery is made, it must be abandoned.
If only to embark on the next great adventure.

This means I forget a lot of things.
That discoveries are lost. Even if only to be rediscovered later.
That what was once known, is no longer.
That one must never become certain, if a person is to keep changing and evolving

So, before I forget:
I need to remember that I am a different person today
Than I was yesterday, the day before, and all days prior.
And, going on from that, to who I will be tomorrow.

Before I forget, I need to remember that though I have moved away from dear friends
I have always gained fantastic new ones.
There are now so many people and faces I have known.
The chance to reacquaint myself should never be ignored, lest it never reappear.

Before I forget, I need to remember all the people who have helped me
Even if it were to no benefit to themselves.
That the kindness of others works best if passed on.
That sometimes you don't see the rewards of your efforts, and that's ok.

Before I forget, I need to remember that I know no mind but my own
And even of my own mind I'm not completely certain
That others are fighting battles of which I have no idea of the battlefield or the dreadful enemy
But that refuge in such battles is always appreciated.

Before I forget, I need to remember that I began a beginner.
Before I forget, I need to remember that the past had it's flaws, and so will the future
Before I forget, I need to remember why I learnt whatever it was in the first place
Before I forget, I need to remember that how ever much I experience, I can never capture life perfectly inside me.

But mostly, before I forget
I need to remember what made me who I am in the first place
I need to remember, always, to stay curious

Our last message

The aliens came to destroy us, which was only fair
We'd been instituting polluting without a care
We'd been renegades of morality, aka the human race
The rest of destiny would not be ours to face

However, before we were vapourised to just a residue
The aliens were of a kind mind to give us our due
They gave us an offer which we couldn't refuse
The single message of our legacy was soon world wide news

Who would deliver it, and what would it say?
We'd quarrel and war for all of the day
"Us" said the white men "we've been the rulers"
"We're the cleverest, the cunningest, sit back as we school ya"

"Nah" said the mothers "We won't take that anymore"
"They should hark at the matirach not your tale of gore"
Said the blind "We've seen humanity for how they truely are"
The artists "It's our duty to tell of our beauty and bizarre"

The refugees told of our notions of what is was to be free
The disabled enabled visions of our heirarchy
The old told of what we'd done to deserve our fate
The honest would admonish us for our holding of hate

The evangelist spiel was to tell of our sin
The atheist's tone was his own, but said the same thing
Voices rose, and we came to roar and yell
The aliens watched as earth turned to hell

Their job done for them, they turned to leave
Humanity instigation of its own decimation was beyond reprieve
They felt a tug on their robe, just before they left us to our gory glory
As a young child smiled, and simply said "sorry"