Dear Individual

This may stand contrary to all you’ve heard in your life thus far

But if people like you, they like you for who you are

And in my case, that means I like you as someone different to me

As someone with a whole different life philosophy

And as long as you’re ok that we won’t always see eye to eye

That you might shout a fervent nay when I say aye

Realise that I in fact do want to hear your present and past

Where we intertwine and where we contrast

And we will bond, please don’t get me wrong

When we sing the same notes of the same song

When we share a tune not many others know

Oh what a blissful place we could go!

But that doesn’t mean you should be embarrassed to say

Where your tune and mine flow a separate way

That that’s just how it is. And then we’ll depart.

You’ll go on your way, and follow your heart.

Though I may disagree with your choice, I’ll always confess

That it never means I love you any less.

Punk

I've always adored punk.

I've adored the way it took no one's word for granted
The way it looked at authority and asked 'why?'
The way anger was encoded in each raw pluck of a guitar string
The way it became much, much more than just the sounds on a record

They did what so many before them have tried to do in vain.
They took disatisfaction at the world and turned it into something.
They turned it into art. They turned it into movements.
They turned it into hairstyles. Into culture, into identity.

Now, the sound of punk isn't for everyone. But the message should be.
The message of DIY - that if something needs to be done you can Do It Yourself
The realisation that even if the world is against you, you shouldn't let the fight be one sided

Now rise.

Rise if you feel that there is injustice.

If you feel that something must be done.

Take to the streets. Take to the internet.

Take your passion and make something.

Harness the power the punk has unveiled.

Make Art. Make Music. Make Noise.

Make Something.

Two Cells

 I was once two cells. Then one.

From the moment, I became someone.
I would grow and grow and get real tall

Now I can’t remember being one cell at all.

And I. Have really. Tried.

I started off easy. I can remember being very nervous 5 minutes ago

Before I had any sort of idea where this poem would likely go

It’s a very clear memory. Although one I’ll probably forget

Ah well. We’ve got more difficult challenges to try yet

I can remember, quite a while ago now

The first time I did poetry in front of a crowd

I was 19 and proud of this thing I had wrote

As the sound went from my mind to my lungs to my throat

Let’s push back way more. I can remember (I think)

My first day of school. Dressed in blue and not pink

Still learning about how to play games and have fun

And how I was still learning how to be someone

I can push back further, and I’m sure you can too

I think I just about remember when I was two

I remember being in a playground, in a giant wooden horse

Scrambling around and getting all dirty (of course)

Past then. I really struggle. My parents fill gaps in my memory

I’ve seen photos of people that I’m told are in fact me

How this mind of mine once fit in a body much smaller

How I was so energetic – a climber and a crawler

That I was once so fragile. That those photos weren’t my limit

Honestly, it makes me shiver. Makes me want to forget it.

I really struggle to understand sometimes that that. Was. Me.

This shell I once fit in to oh so easily

Though my imagination struggles. I still know it to be true.

That going back before I was someone, I was one cell. Then two.

This stone

In this hand I call my own

I hold a pale, speckled stone

It’s smooth and hard. I feel its weight.

And I begin to contemplate.

See, with the stone that’s in my hand

There’s many futures I have planned

The potential power that lies within

The futures paths

This stone could break windows,

This stone could break trees

And where this stone goes

It goes because of me

This stone could be flint

It could turn monkey into man

Be the spark and the glint

To make fire as my plan

This stone could tumble and fall

So quickly down a hill

Strike another stone, then them all

An avalanche, from my will

This stone could be ground down

Into the finest of sand

Make a glass to my renown

And the things I have planned

It could be made to a computer

To do my thinking when I need

Though I’ll naturally dispute the

Origin of such mis-deeds

It could cause great catastrophe

Cause such immense destruction

This stone you now see?

It simply awaits my instruction…