To Terry

It's not often that the death of someone you've never met affects you so personally. This. This is one of those times.

My first steps on the Discworld were shaky
I wasn't sure if I'd take a firm footing
I was young, so young, when first I ran with Rincewind
It was the first time I remember enjoying meeting Death

Slowly my footing on this odd world became more solid,
The skies became tangible as I met its characters on its ground
I slunk in dark greys as I observed the dragons and nightwatchmen.
I saw people grow from children to adults. I saw monks ensure it happened

When you've spent so much time in someone's imagination
Literally lived there, slept there, though maybe avoided drinking its water
It can be difficult to leave. Remind yourself it isn't yours.
Just remind yourself that the wonderful person who made it was kind enough to share it with you

So, to Sir Terry Pratchett, one of the custodians of my childhood
Now that I see Death again, and he appears not so kind, I just want to say thank you.
Thank you. So much. For sharing your imagination.
Thank you for the people I met, and the places I went, under your care.
Thank you, you brilliant, brilliant man.

"No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away...” 
― Terry Pratchett, Reaper Man

The Grower vs The Fixed Learner

He was a fixed learner
Never was a yearner
Always put his dreams
on the backburner

She had a growth mindset
Would start to get upset
If the last thing she'd done
Wasn't the best she'd done yet

He thought talent was fixed quantity -
A self-fulfilling prophecy
As, when faced with a challenge,
Retreat was his philosophy

She saw her talent just as potential
That fact was evidential
Because when she faced opposition
A battle was consequential

When he saw success
He found it nothing less
Than threatening and worrying
While she was inspired and impressed

She so desired to learn, he so desired to look intelligent
So he cheated and schemed, she'd say that attitude was decadent
They started off the same, maybe him slightly ahead
The ending to both their stories I'll let you invent

Any guesses?

This poem was inspired by the following article, about the different attitudes people have to intelligence - http://alpine.usskiteam.com/sites/default/files/documents/athletics/freestyle/2013-14/documents/Mindsets_USOCCoach_Winter_2009_Dweck.pdf

Picture taken from the above article. Graphic by Nigel Holmes.

Had I been a girl

Had I been a girl, I wonder how my life would be
All I know is my name - I'd have been known as Hermione
My birth would've brought gender balance to my family
So my parents would have 2 boys, and 2 girls
I wonder then what I would be in this world

I know, at least, my parents would have been kind
If, as a girl, I had showed a scientific mind
But from society what prejudice would I find?
Maybe I'd have studied humanities, delved deep into art
Maybe I'd have gone less with my brain and more with my heart

Would I have been bullied less? Or even more?
Would I still like everyone and be an optimist at core?
Would choosing how to appear each day actually become a chore?
I might have had mood swings, maybe gone to a riot
Given the percentages I'd likely have weight issues and be on a fad diet

Would I be as inclined to sport? There'd be less opportunity
I was very energetic, maybe I'd have channelled that creatively
Certainly I'd have been the only girl in my school playing frisbee
Since I likely couldn't rely as much on height and speed I know
Maybe I'd have been a different player, actually learnt to throw?

How would I perceive the world? How would it perceive me?
Would I have prejudice, be aware of privilege I currently don't see?
Had I been a girl, would my life have turned out differently?
Or would I be much the same? Its hard for me to know
Exactly how my gender has shaped the places I can go.

Question Mark by Bushlemon

The Slow Route

I took the slow route today
It's odd, but I think I liked it.

It turns out, the place that I live is remarkably beautiful.
The sun can indeed shimmer, if you look at it right.
If neither of you are going too quickly, you can exchange a good morning with strangers.
Close up, scenery isn't actually blurred.

The space between worlds is a destination itself
The journey is not intrinsically interwoven with the destination
Time, is not merely a deadline
Time is what we are given to experience the world.

The path I walked was beaten, but not previously be me
It had a stone wall one one side, sometimes. People tending allotments on the other
The streams flowed. Picking up some sediment, but also leaving it to rest.
Baby birds really are absolutely tiny.

The cliché of life going too fast is well known.
But life doesn't go fast. We do.
When we don't, we often don't move at all.
Needing to rest from going fast the whole time.

Slow. Slow is a new one to me.
Not quite rest. But far from fast.
I won't take it again for a while. Tomorrow is down as a fast day.
But the trail is not as unfamiliar now as it was.

Taken from http://hs2theslowway.blogspot.co.uk/

Yesterday, I took my bike in for repairs. Meaning I had an hour long walk to lectures. Given the choice of the conventional road route and the route across parks/over streams, I decided to gamble on the latter, hoping I could find my way. In addition, on of my favourite artists released an ambient ep, you can check here - http://levipatel.bandcamp.com/album/of-sleep-and-time - meaning that, today, I'm no where near as rushed as I should be.

Confessions of a Fake Extrovert

I'm the happy man, the new guy to meet

Always a grin, and cheerful to greet

Maybe not the life of the party, but certainly life in the room

Someone who seems to not feel gloom

There's no question I get joy from interaction

I do enjoy when I'm doing things and taking action

At parties you'll see me chatting to all

Confidence among strangers was never my downfall

I've never had an issue talking to new faces

I love to meet those who Life gave different races

I really do enjoy chatting and conversation

So please don't let this next fact cause you hesitation

While I do enjoy meeting others and hearing their view

I struggle to get up, I find life difficult to persue

The effort initial, I find harder than you'd be imagining

It's often why I'm late to many a gathering

The conversation itself also causes me to tire

Perhaps you may not guess when I have to retire

While still awake and aware, my mind still thinking

Just unable to join in with partying and drinking

I'll be clear - I do enjoy your company, I like you indeed

Though public life is hard I do not want to receed

But it's so much effort, I can clearly attest

So please forgive me, if I have to excuse myself for a rest.

Take my hand

Take my hand, there's a world to explore
All you need to do is leave your front door
It's the hardest step, but it's the most worthwhile
Please leave your doubts and ignore your denial

Take my hand, we can go anywhere you wish
Walk lands with mammals, swim oceans with fish
Please realize, right now, you could travel this earth
Thank how little you've seen so far since birth

This world is so big and broad and varied and vast
Expand your mind from the mould in which it is cast
There's places on earth to visit that you haven't been yet
If you just take my hand and make the first step

Meet many characters with which to converse
Make many lives in which you contribute a verse
Just know that though life gets better and life gets worse
That's true if you stay still or explore the universe

Let's see the moon from many an angle
Let's get into scrapes, though escape we will wrangle
Let's try new food, walk on new road
Repay your soul the debt of adventure it's owed

If you don't start now, you may never at all
I'll always be here, you just need to call
Feel wind in your hair and your feet on sand
We'll explore the world, just take my hand

Taken from Murad Osman's instagram - http://instagram.com/muradosmann/ from his #followmeto photo series

The Host

I imagine on this night, Life manifest as a reality show.
With the Host cloathéd in white from his head to his toe
His grin, it sparkles. His voice is veneer.
The lights go dark, his will becomes clear.

For now at least, he's running the game
He'll unleash your beast, he'll make you feel shame
He's got questions and challenges to test every master
Your heart starts to race as the beat it gets faster

"So, are you ready? Let's test what you know.
 You'd better be steady because it's 3-2-1-Go!
 You think you're an adult, I know this about you
 But that thought feels at fault, so let's see what you do"

I know I can't resist, I have no defense
But I get his gist, I put on a pretense
"Sure I'm ready host, I'll show you no fear"
 He knows this to be boast, he sees through me clear

"Host, bring it on, I can adult with the best
 Just ask almost anyone and bring on your test"
He grins ear to ear, raises his hands to the skies
And I know that right here, my pretense of adulthood dies

Snow. Snow falls from the sky in flakes
I know that I'll soon be revealed as a fake
I try to pretend it makes me sick, muster up a pretense
Start complaining about traffic, how cold it'll be hence

...I can't pretend for long. A smile beams on my face
I burst into song as my heart starts to race
I may be nearly an adult, but I'm still a child at core
The Host fades into his grin, triumphant once more

Humanity - the great killer

Humans have always had the potential to impact the earth
Either to celebrate and elevate it, or damage it beyond repair
For some reason they seem to like to chose the latter

They've caused great wars due to disagreement
Radiation makes some islands untouchable
Punched a hole right in the atmosphere
And wiped countless species from the planet

So many species.
So many cries and sounds never to be known
Hunted for sport, food, curiosity, or because they didn't know better

Given how many species they made leave this world
It seems curious it took us so long when they were tying to
One species, whose eradication took so long
Caused celebration amongst the humans that hadn't been seen before

Was this just their bloodlust showing through? (again)
Not quite. In 1980, WHO declared smallpox eradicated.
They had destroyed a whole disease.

And now. It looks like they may be close again.
Loosing part of the Earth is not often something to celebrate
But this time, I'm going to join in with those humans
Cheering the use of destructive powers for good, once more.


http://www.iflscience.com/health-and-medicine/were-close-achieving-second-ever-global-eradication-human-disease#

My purpose

So, very recently, I think I might have realised a purpose.

Don't worry, it's ridiculous beyond measure.
Soon I'll realise that and join the rest of humanity without one
After all, the search is almost certainly the bit with most interest and pleasure.

But, it hasn't escaped my notice that I've been lucky.

That certain decisions have gone my way
That life has thrown me pre-made lemonade
A folding table to sell it on, nice weather to sell it in (at least, on a typical day).

So, I'm getting suspicious

I've done nothing to deserve this
I've been kind to others where I can, but I'm certain
There are other, kinder souls whom life never deals nice hands, fate never blows a kiss

Why then. What is the cause of this?

I think I might know. See, I've never given into vice. And I ponder.
I don't know how I'd handle addiction, because I've never gone near any
But casual multiverse theory research makes me wonder

About the other me

See, if you believe in redemption on earth,
You believe that your life could have been better
But you screwed up somehow since birth

My life has been too kind

I could have done better, but my circumstance couldn't have been kinder at all
I'm not sure I could be blessed better than those I know
I'm waiting for pride to give me a fall

And I think it might be this

That in some dingy alleyway
The me that started drinking, and was unable to cope with addiction
The me that fell harder
That never had people to inspire him
That circumstance was never kind to
The me that so easily could have been
That other me is going to see into this world. The one that could have been.

He'll see what I've become, and wonder (like I do) how on Earth life could have turned out as it did.
Then our universe will snap away as the other me finally vows to sort his life out.
If Hollywood has taught me anything, it's that destiny loves an underdog kid.

As the purpose of our multiverse is fulfilled and ended

I wish him best of luck this night
That other me, so far away
But I'm not going down that easily without a fight

See, if I can keep screwing up just enough
I can stop myself from being that motivation
Our universe can keep going, if I can make myself tough

It may seem unusual to be avoiding your purpose in the world
But, hey, it's mine. It's the only one I get to decide.
And it might just give you the time to let your own destiny unfurl.

Picture taken from http://throughspaceandtime.deviantart.com/gallery/

Curse this world, if you will

Curse this world, if you will
That is all too understandable and I do not blame you,
This world is known to be unkind
But yet I ask of you this

You may scream at the skies
It has brought naught but grey days
And overcast reality itself with shadows
But yet I ask of you this

Cast devilments at circumstance,
Chance alone should not lead to so a disparaging destiny
As the one seemingly in existence
But yet I ask of you this

Profess profanities at life for what it's been up to lately
For life itself seems to be struggling to keep up with itself,
And is patching up the mismatches badly
But yet I ask of you this

But yet I ask of you this most difficult of tasks

Please, I beg of you, do not curse, scream, cast devilments or profess profanities at those flawed little beings that call themselves human
They understand so little and are trying their best to find purpose
Toiling to make it to the next time this harsh world allows them to rest

They struggle day by day, against different pasts and different presents
When you finally realise all that those fatigued beings have been through
You will know there is nothing any of them should need, save kindness
This I ask you give them

A Muse

She'd was both cute and dangerous, and gosh darn did she know it

She'd inspired lovers and labourers, adventures and poets
Not a soul in this world or the next could resist her charms
Let me explain to stop you being vexed and maybe save you from harm

The most transient and beautiful thing, well after life herself see

She'd overthrown more kings than the oracles at Delphi

Her true name is unknown, she's a Goddess in most culture

She helps Fate be sewn, is more persistent than the vulture

She is bedfellows with Destiny, touching the vestibule of hearts of many a lover

Employed tirelessly to make it irresistible to you when you meet your other

That love is not always requited, yet no known person had found a way to refuse

My determination alighted, I made a pilgrimage to the being known as Muse

As a poet in training, I felt it just a part of my learning

My heart should be paining so my skill could be earning

Following the footsteps of Shakespeare, Byron and Keats

Though it was patently clear this path had witnessed many fantastic feets

I drew closer to her throne, thanking of the travesties she'd help cause
Her will was her's alone, and her history gave me pause
She'd caused hearts to break and strive, thrown men from many a cliff
Though through some she became alive, yet others she made lay stiff

My feet took me to hers, and I stared at her in awe
That I could infer one so great could ever be a flaw!
That I could ever have doubted her heart, it put me to shame
The only being worthy of the great Art done in her name

This Being too influential to deny, so beauteous to behold
She would be my path to the sky, as my sense took hold
I remember her danger. I come to sense as I linger
Deciding to stay a stranger, I showed the great Muse the finger

I walked alone long and friendless down the path I once came

Though it seemed sometimes endless, not once I felt shame

While I may have no Muse to aid my poems and writing

I hope to still amuse and, just maybe, sometimes be enlightening

Dedicated amusedly to the rather drunk girl I was chatting to at a party who absolutely refused to believe it was possible to write love poetry without any sort of muse.

My Resolution

new year, new aims.
new life, new games.
strategy changing
while staying the same

welcome to the new age
same paper different page
new life, new bird
nearly out of the cage

so here's the deal
I can now reveal
let me be clear
and let me be real

I'm not yet at my best
my life is a mess
I want to improve
I want to progress

yet somebody told me
quite patiently
I'm hard to give advice
I like their honesty

so from now
somehow
I'll listen better
even if time doesn't allow

lend sympathetic ear
actually start to hear
not just wait to talk
be happy right here

to summarise this letter
for any risky bettor
I'm going to try my best
to listen better

Round 3 (and a list of 10 poems I wrote in 2014 which I don't mind you reading if you really want to)

So, a second year down, and I've pretty much kept up my 1 poem a week challenge (I missed one week due to travelling, so wrote 3 the next week). I've now got 100+ poems in this blog. Which is kind of unreal. I still get a little buzz from writing. I get an even bigger buzz if someone actually tells me they've read it. While that's the case I'm going to keep going, I guess. At this point it's not even a choice. It's habit.

So, with that said. If you would like to read something about what I do but reading a poem each week is a challenge (very understandable), find below a list of my favourite poems this year.

The one I most love to perform - Rising Up
This one is quite simple. What would it be like to fly to the edge of space? Find out here

The one least like a poem - The Gap in Conversation
Only very loosely related to the theme of space, this one is a lot more like a very short story than anything else. There's no rhyme, no rhythm. Just words.

The most personal - Dear Thomas, Cat
While I ended up writing a lot of close to the heart stuff, this was definitely the most personal. My Cat was diagnosed with 6 weeks to live around 10 months ago. Throughout this entire year I've not been sure if he'd be here the next week. If I've seemed down at any point it's probably because I've had this thing going on in the background of my life. Only written at the end of December, this definitely summed up a lot of my feelings on the issue.

The one people who like spoken word seem to like - Scars
Definitely a very personal one. I've actually made someone cry after performing this. At the content and not at the writing, I think.

The one which describes why I'm still going next year - Dancing
I'm not good at subtlety in metaphors.

The one with the most extended metaphors - Keep Working
I am, however, good at mixing metaphors.

The one people who like poetry seem to like - Honest Tears
Failed entry to a competition. I still like it.

The best dialogue - The Moon
I performed this one with my friend Dan Shipley, and it's just lots of fun. Particularly if they don't know what's coming.

The one which started off a big project - In Which A Prologue Is Presented
In August I made a pledge to write a whole story. That lead me to produce 4 stanzas on Monday, Wednesday and Friday every week. It was difficult, and kinda fun to actually write something like a story, but I feel like it may have done better with a plan. Still a big moment in my year though to complete it.

The one which was most read - When It's Not Just The News
I wasn't going to include this one. However, it was by far my most read, and also the one I think helped the most people. It was made for the moment and feels dishonest to promote. However, as a reflection of the year, it was such a defining piece of writing that it'd also feel dishonest to leave it out. Written for many friends about one friend in particular. Read something else first.

Dear Thomas, Cat

Dear Thomas, cat
I know I talk to you all the time, but sometimes I don't feel like you can understand me
So I thought I'd try to pursue the process of communication somewhat more formally
Cause I know that although you do turn to me when I say your name each day
Do you really know it refers to you, or do you just think it means "hey"?

Dear Thomas, cat
I've known you since we were young, and we've both grown old together
We both confuse the parents with the amount of time we like spending in bad weather
We're both the most energetic and sleepy people anyone could ever meet
When playing games we can both sometimes struggle to admit defeat

Dear Thomas, cat
Do you actually enjoy it when I scratch you and stroke your fur
You certainly seem to approach something approximating a smile and a purr
We've had special games which nearly always involve you trying to catch something I try to whip away
I estimate your expression is contempt when I prod you with something if you don't (but I do) want to play

Dear Thomas, cat
It's kind of long-winded, but what I'm trying to get at in some way is this
It's a habit of mine and your other pets to try to build up a narrative about you while you exist
We try to work out when you're happy, hungry, going out or feeling great
But this game has had to become a slightly darker one of late

Dear Thomas, cat
You were given 6 weeks to live. You're now on 40 weeks and still going
And I'm trying desperately to work out what emotions you are showing
Your face is contorted. Your tongue hangs out. You dribble on every floor
It seems like the cancer must be hurting you. Causing pain, discomfort and more.

Dear Thomas, cat
I want to imagine you're a fighter. I have this great image in my mind
Of you striking back at this disease, a victory for all cat-kind
You do seem happy to see us still. I know this is merely the image I project
But while you're still seeming to smile and purr, I guess we'll assume you're happy to struggle on for just a little while yet.

Freeform: Cyborg

She's not fully human. At least not any more.
Not since involuntarily gave up a finger or four
And the rest of her hand, her thumb and her palm
Her wrist, elbow and shoulder - but please remain calm

For she means you no harm. For they built her anew
A limb to replace where she once had too few
Not fully flesh, she calls herself cyborg with a gleam
While brightly her arm reflects the smile of a sunbeam

"It's fantastic" she'd say "I'd recommend the experience
Loosing a limb is a testament to my stronger limbs' perseverance
I've got rid of the weak, only the better remain
And look I got to replace where I once had to feel pain"

It's shiny, though slightly dulled from substantial use
From having being subjected lovingly to generous abuse
It can't do everything a human arm can, but also vice-versa
She has strength she never had before - they call her "bear" or "ursa"

But this girl ain't stuck in the constellations, quite the reverse
She's loving life on earth with her gift, and never calls it a curse
And feels nothing but confusion, is even saddened slightly
When others express sympathy, of course doing so politely

"Think of all the things she'll never do. The sensations she wont enjoy.
Think how isolated she'll feel when she holds hands with a boy
She can't knit or crochet, can hardly catch a ball
It's painful to watch her eat, how does she enjoy life at all?"

And these words do annoy her, partially the obvious assumption
But mostly because she feels she has no problem with consumption
She worked hard for straight months to practice technique
Enjoying the challenge of every new skill she should seek

They don't see, can't see, how her life could be better now
The admire her bravery, without seeing it's genuine somehow
And if offered the chance to switch back? She'd know right away
She'd still be the cyborg. She prefers it this way.

Freeform: Tattoos

There are some people who just can't help but leave a mark when you meet them
Leave etches on your memories you can never delete and
Remind you of the other in the earth, those in the planet but not of the same
There are those always in the picture and then there are those that chose the frame

I tell you this so you understand just how special this wise wizened lady was to me
Standing before me voiceless at 5ft3
She'd lived life to it's fullest, never dreaming just doing
Reminding you of how much life you should be pursuing

If she had a tongue she'd curse me for hanging around such an old hack
She'd long ago lost her voice yelling at life to take its lemons back
You ask how I knew without voice this women's great heart?
It's simple. Her entire body was art.

To preserve moments of her life she'd sketched them on her skin
Never one to keep people out or hold feelings in
She was open and honest, she'd tattooed the good and the bad
A tattoo of a young boy, underlined by two dates, of the child she had had.

There was a list of lovers, each with a rating out of ten
There was her Mother's birthday, which she'd once forgotten. Tattoed to never forget again.
There was a world map, coloured in for places she'd been
Her back held the message of "a place I've never seen"

She had hearts and tears, but each held a purpose
This old lady before me, full of art that to anyone else would be worthless
But she was more than her skin. More than just colours and ink swirled.
This lady had become her own tattoo and applied herself the world.

Freeform: The circle in the square

Yo. I'm the circle in the square
The odd guy over there.
I'm the monster in the closet so you'd better beware
But maybe I'm being unfair
So let me say what I mean and you can see if you care

I know I can seem all confident and full of vigour
But that doesn't mean I don't assume people snigger
Behind my back
About social skills I lack
Things others were taught but for me fell through the crack

Is it right, is it fair, is it honest, is it true?
What do they say about me? What could I do?
I've never known if I'm cool or not
Never known if others consider me hot
All I know is there's no social awkwardness I've caused that I've ever forgot

I can assume it's normal, but never really know
Is this social anxiety natural? Can it really be though?
Don't get me wrong. I love to chat and meet people I haven't met before
But when I think of what they must think of me I head to the door
Not wanting to plague them with my presence any more

I've been called unusual. I've been called weird.
I've been outed and laughed at, but I don't think ever feared.
I'm the butt of many jokes, The stereotypical guy.
The one who is seen as all surface and no inner, but why?
I guess that's just how it goes. And why that is, man, no one knows.

Just know this
I do feel awkward
I do wonder what people think of me.
I'm aware it's probably not much
And if it is much, it's probably not good.
But I don't really mind.
Just know I've yet to meet someone I dislike.
And, if you are happy talking to me
I'm happy to stay a little longer and chat with you.

Remember: Admit your mistakes

Thank sinking feeling when you know you've messed up is never nice.
I should know. I've messed up a few times myself. Ok, more than a few.
That's not hyperbole, that's me counting past my fingers.
And I know it's not easy to admit, it never is
So, what I'm going to do is take you through a couple scenarios
And let you see what you should do from now.

In the first scenario, you own up
Yes, I know it isn't easy. But what else can you do?
Knuckle up. Grit your teeth. Clench your hand into a fist if it helps.
Apologise for the world to see.
You are flawed. But you aren't flawed enough to hide.
You may get some flack for this.
This road ain't easy. No one said it was.
But it's an option.

In the second scenario, you just continue on.
Man, that's tempting isn't it?
And yes, it's a genuine possibility.
No one has to live with your mistake except you.
Sure, maybe you insulted someone.
Maybe you forgot a favour
But in the end, you could just live with knowing the person who does those things?
That person is you.
And all you have do is not put in the effort to do otherwise.
The best thing? This is easier the more you do it.
Take this road once and it'll be easier the next time, I assure you.

...

It takes a lot of effort to be a good human.
And being a good human doesn't mean you are never wrong. I think.
It means taking time to realise that you can be
It means that bettering yourself requires acknowledging the parts of yourself that are worse.
And so often I've wanted to take the easy path.
Some day, I would like to meet the me that took it.
But for now. Man, for now?
I'm sorry. I screwed up. In advance for next time if I haven't to you yet already.
Just let me know. And I'm sorry if I'm bitter at first. Because I don't deal with it well.
Just rest assured, even if it takes time.
I *will* deal with it
If only so I can kid myself into pretending to be a good human a little longer.

Remember: 2 minutes of Silence

This is 2 minutes of silence, 2 minutes to actually think
I relish in this quiet and let my thoughts start to sink
No one can control what goes through your mind
Here is 2 minutes worth of what you may find in mine

What is this for? Ah, that's right, I know
To remember a war from long long ago
A war we thought was fought for good reason
A war where not to fight was treason

It was fought by many
And yes they fought well
Those boys my age or less
They all went through hell

Not all, but some noble
Not all, but some kind
Not all, but some aware
Nor all, but some of sound mind

All of them fought in this war to end all wars
All wars since have just been peacekeeping missions
Even if I disagree with the fighting,
I have to admire their courage and ambition

As I do those who stood up
Saying they would not fight
It was a different bravery
306 executed for doing what they believed right

I know picking sides and saying who is right or wrong is a fool's errand
I know life isn't black or white, but far too often stained with red
So while I still am uneasy with propaganda, patriotic jingo and the means to war's end
Rest assured that in my 2 minutes, I still remember and honour the dead.

The 306 in this poem refer to the 306 soldiers shot for desertion. Read here - http://www.theguardian.com/world/1999/nov/14/firstworldwar.uk

For explanation to the poem, I'm not a fan of war. I doubt anyone really is. I really do feel in awe of those people who did give up their lives believing themselves to be protecting their families and country. However, we were not as pure as we like to make out. Propaganda tricked many into serving.  I fully doubt that everyone knew exactly why we were fighting. And no, it wasn't just to 'give the germans a good thrashing'. So, when I remember, I don't feel a lot of pride. I have no right to - I neither fought nor influenced anything that occurred. The country has changed a lot since a century ago. But I do feel sadness that so many died, and awe that they chose to do so.

The first world war was the first great war of the modern era. It was the last time modern war occurred where we could claim ignorance of the eventual consequences. That, and eveything that happened after, is worth remembering.

Remember: The Fifth

Remember remember the 5th of November
Remember remember the 5th of November
Remember remember the 5th of November
But why?

See I remember the fireworks from my childhood
I remember the colours making me feel good
I remember the bonfire and the crackling wood
I remember the sparklers, but not the spark I should

See way back when, kicking it 17th century style
There'd be dissatisfaction, there had been for a while
People were screaming, every citizen a potential revolutionary
This unsettled the royal and his loyal powers that be

So they hatched a plot. The decided to conspire
That a plot would exist to set parliament on fire
But it would be foiled. There'd be no danger
Just the death of someone not them, an unknown stranger.

So the plan went forth on the fifth, and low and behold it succeeded
They'd got the scapegoat they so desperately needed
They took the luckless man, and set him alight
So is this what we should remember on bonfire night?

Nah. Not in my reckoning. You see just one king along
Nothing had been solved. Everything was still wrong.
Despite the best intentions, the best laid plans
The mice in power were thwarted man for man

Dissatisfaction can be abated. It can be delayed
But if the root is not tackled you may end up dismayed
So I remember this night as the great deadline extension
That still led to no cure. Nor further prevention.

That if you are granted a second chance
Be aware of the route down which you should advance
Don't trust the hand of lady luck so blindly
Remember the second time she might not deal you so kindly.

Remember: The watcher

She was the watcher. That was all that she did
She would watch the world without interaction
It's all she'd done since she was a kid
It would've been all she'd do until death

But I, I sought out and met the watcher in person
I wanted to discuss great things
They marvels she'd seen, but also her aversion
To going out and experiencing the world

"Will you not come with me?" I near begged at her side
But not because of her beauty or looks
You've been cooped up too long watching from inside
The earth is there for all to enjoy

She looked at me, and gave a wise, tired sigh
"I would like nothing more than to explore with you
But I stay here for a reason, and you must understand why"
I waited so I could hear what she would say

"The world is more beautiful than you could possibly realise
I have seen thing no others ever will
But these memories no exist no place but behind my eyes
I could not stand them to vanish if I would go

Life and all in it is temporary
It is fleeting and transient at best
So I must stay to hold it my memory
To let it last. To let it live, if just a little while more.

Space: Rising up

And I rose.
I wove jovially at the odd collection of individuals around me
The pillow of air bellowed out below swallowing all I could see
A transparent bubble of separation giving an indication of reality
The untouchable. The others. The ever further away.
I was swept into the aether as it took me where it may.

And I rose.

Going up now, going up ever ever higher
I was excited, yet only via aid I could even respire
My mind was raised up, up, up to a scene to inspire
And I had to admire the entire collage of colours collect
Though nature has her faults you have to acknowledge her palette

And I rose.


I danced on clouds since up until now in life I'd had to refrain
I spread my arms and pretended I was an aeroplane
And I looked down at the ground, that refuge of the sane
As it grew smaller and smaller, and grew a horizon
As the earth shrunk my landscapes widened and wizened

And I rose.



Here from the edge of space everything looks so small
The boundaries blur as if they were nothing at all
I rose from the politics, the arguing, the discriminating, the brawl
And it was only so far away that I finally did know
I didn't want to return back. I didn't want to go.





And I fell
I would be safe. I would be secure
My own little bubble would still be so pure
But still I had to wonder how I'd endure
Knowing how fragile, and how small we are
How I could live among the ants I had once seen from afar.

Inspired by someone going really high into the atmosphere and then not being so high - http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/25/science/alan-eustace-jumps-from-stratosphere-breaking-felix-baumgartners-world-record.html

Space: The gap in conversation

Alright, sit back and settle in.
Let me describe how your evening has gone so far.

A good friend of yours has dragged you along to a party.
You went because he needed some confidence, and you wanted some entertainment.
He's currently trying to stand up while chatting to a girl in the corner. He's having about equal success at both.
The only issue is, that leaves you alone.

The party itself is decent. The drinks are about the right level of cheapness. The house has just less seating space than is ideal. And so far not one person has started a fight or thrown up on themselves.
It's kind of dull to be honest. But you're fine with that. You've had a bit too much excitement at these things recently. I'll leave it up to you as to whether you were the cause of the excitement.

But anyway, you've tried chatting to a few people. But nearly everyone else is either in the wrong type of investment banking for you, or too keen to talk about people they've known. You've been talking with other people about other other people a long time, for so long you're not really sure if these others really exist.

You look at your watch and decide it's just too early to leave, yet. You don't mind going without your friend (he's fully occupied after all), but you've just never imagined yourself as being the *first* to leave a party. You want to make one last go at conversation.

Then, you find them. And by them, I mean the person you've been unknowingly looking for all party. The one you actually sort of don't mind hanging around for more than 5 minutes.

"Hi!"
"Hi."

You can tell it's going well so far.

You follow with a "How are you?", and then it turns to "How have you been?" and you start fantasizing with them about "How will you be?". Without really trying, you're talking. It could be there's something more there but for the most part you're just so happy to be finding out about someone, and discovering they're someone it's worth finding out about.

You glance down at your phone - not (for once) to check your messages but just to see how long you've been there. It would now be more than acceptable for you this to call this a good night, try to find your friend and stagger home with him. But you don't want to, not yet.

But, just thinking about it makes your brain freeze. And I don't mean time stands still, no, time is very much moving about the very stationary you. They look straight into your eyes, possibly with a hint of concern (and it seems like genuine concern, as much as anyone does care for each other at these parties). They ask if you're ok.

And you're just sitting there.

Sitting there.

Begging your mind to come up with something.

This is it. The  s p a c e.

This is where you decide what it's all about.

What does this conversation mean to you?

Does it mean anything at all? Will it just stand out as a good night in your mind, a meaningful highlight that there are real people in this world.

Does the person in front of you mean anything to you? How much talking have they been doing? How much have you been doing? God, has it just been you rambling on so far? You'd been so engrossed in the conversation you hadn't thought to check. What's their name again? You know them so well but you're not fully sure you know their name, and it's certainly too awkward to check.

Is it love? Or is it a genuine friendship? (After all, falling in love happens every night for some people but finding a good friend is something not worth ignoring either). Or is it just you desperate for companionship at this dull party.

Wait, someone is coming over. No. No they can't. This has been such a lovely conversation, don't make us acknowledge someone else. It'll ruin it. Not to be rude, but you were flowing so well and that doesn't quite work with three people there.

You were flowing, yeah. What were you even talking about now?

You're aware they're still patiently waiting for you. Are they just being polite? Kind? Do they care about what you're going to say? Or are they just curious as to how you'll dig yourself out of this hole?

Why are you not saying anything? Come on.

This could be your chance.

At what, I'm not quite sure, but your chance at something. Something more than anything else that's gone on so far.

You can see them glance away. And you see why.

The friend you came with has managed to start a fight. With himself.

With a sigh, you get up and make your excuses. You ask them to hold on, promising you'll be back and hoping you aren't lying.

You go and help your friend. After all, that's what good friends are for.

He's not really speaking as you manage to get him into the car. You pass the person who was waiting for you on the way. You smile at each other, and it seems like there might be something there. Possibly. If you'd kept talking you could've just ignored this. But you couldn't. And your friend, now unconscious, is drooling slightly on your lap. Ah well, you say to yourself out loud, at least you're sure of some good conversation on the way home.

Space: The space inside

To be performed

I'm always kind of amused, whenever I find myself on stage.
Of all the emotions I feel, it's never fear or rage
I never want to strike out. I never want to hide
Just a curiosity. To find out what is inside.

See, I'm placed here before you all today.
All 6tf1 of post-teenage angst and decay
All of you see me, standing right here
All of you waiting for me. And I don't fear

See, some people get stage fright, that was never my scene
Others get an audience in sight and shout words that're obscene
I've known a man or two who sees a crowd and loves the attention
But my reaction is one that's just of my own invention

You are all sitting down there, trying to make a decision
What sort of person I am, am I worthy of derision
What am I saying, thinking, and about to do
Here's what you don't realise: I'm deciding the same about you

See, my own dull mind is the only one I know
It's quite spacious in there, it's not a fun place to go
But other people's minds? That's a wholly different tale
So leave me some breadcrumbs and I'll follow your trail

What are all of you odd little creatures thinking of in the space behind your eyes
What images are playing, what is the purpose which causes you to rise
How do you think? How do you see colours? How do you do?
If I see a thing do you see the same thing too?

Do you really think behind those eyes, or are you just put here to deceive me
But mostly what I want to know is are you willing to receive me
As a performer, after all I'm up here on stage to put on a show
So what I really want to know, is should I stay or should I go?

Space: Halley's Comet

You may not know, but earth gets a regular visitor.
And I mean regular, as in, with regularity.
It's far from a common occurrence
But, well, I like to imagine there's a purpose to the visit.

That, far far away, a grand council of others spotted this planet
That they saw it developing, so young as it then was.
And, for the purposes of science and stories
The decided that, every 3 generations, they would monitor our progress

And then they waited

They would have seen so much in our time.
I'd like to think they applauded the young man
The one who, only seeing their comet once, realised the pattern
That they watched, possibly unable to help, as we delved further into war

That these watchers note carefully the steps we've made
That they can see us start to stare up at them
That they let us grow
They watched us be slow

And then

They visited in 1910. And the world was starting to turn.
We'd blackened the land so we could travel it faster
We'd explored the world so we could command it
We had progressed for personal gain

Then, in 1986, they visited again. And the world had turned many times.
They'd seen the greatest period of peace in history
They'd seen us learn to communicate across the seas
They saw that we had finally started to explore beyond earth

Yet they will visit again. They always do
In 2061, the comet will fly by again
The earth will have turned many more times
And I wonder what the watchers will see

This is a little similar to a previous poem of mine, so apologies, but I liked this execution better. Also, there's a slight inaccuracy here. You see, for a rather odd reason, Halley's comet will be visible later this month (21st-22nd ish), a little earlier than planned. Maybe they got so keen to see what had happened next that they couldn't wait for an update.

Space: Flight

I hate this first bit.

Always have, always will

Never quite enjoyed this thrill

A clench of fists, my teeth grit

The countdown begins

I do a check - I've got my things



The safety announcement

Please lift up your cabin trays

Check how to exit on the displays

Departure is now imminent

I strap in real tight, fumbling

I can hear the engines rumbling

This trip is quite short

Due to last a mere two days

Which seems a long way aways

As my mind is on just one thought

I must stay conscious, I must

The engines start their thrust

I feel as if I'm dying

This is a slow but powerful course

I try to withstand the G-Force

And then we are flying

I have overcome my fear

My reward for consciousness is clear

All around me, space

The wonders of the galaxy come into view

In utmost clarity, vast and true

Yet mine is the only wondered face

Some glance briefly, the universe quickly seen

Others look not at all, this trip is routine

I am always sad when I realise

That humanity can so quickly be bored

With that which our discoveries grant accord

But then I see another set of glimmering eyes

The small girl next to me, staring out into forever

I squeeze her hand and we stare, together.

I've recently been flying a fair bit. I flew for the first time in 13 years last summer. I've flown twice again since then. And each time, I'm amazed to find myself up above the clouds. Full of wonder by all I see. It saddens me to realise I'm normally the only one. This happened with trains, it happened with planes and, it made me sad to realise, if we ever achieve space flight, it'll probably happen with that too. That which people nowadays would love nothing more in their hearts to achieve may one day become routine. As flying is to us. But that doesn't mean that there wont be a few who realise that some experiences are more than just a novelty. Hopefully.

New Words: Ephemera (Or: Honest Tears)

There is no more beautiful or treacherous pleasure to indulge in as a man than to enjoy crying
To let emotion pour from you, your face dripping with the betrayal of what society demands
For once, you can be honest.
For once, you can not hide.

Most of the time, we have to bottle up our tears
Drink them down with the rest of our sorrows
Tattoo them on the inside of our eyelids
So that only when we blink do we wash away the mask and see ourselves clearly

Trying so very hard to emotionally barricade the first tear in
But once the breach is made, all internal defences are voluntarily taken down
And, sitting there in a pool of utmost clarity
Know that this, this can only be a merely temporary transparency

But for now, while the taste of salt on tongue is fresh
Before people scold and make fun for not being a man, before rejoining the anti-emotion mob
This ephemeral feast for one will provide a little nourishment
To help build this human into a man once more

ephemera -

Things that exist or are used or enjoyed for only a short time.

New Words: Ebullience

I've got a little tip for you
It's how to perk yourself up, when you need to

It wont get you to elated levels of exuberance
To be described as someone consumed with ebullience

Rather quaintly, its just a little tip
Some small advice, an oddly trick

So let me get to it, I've been rambling a while
It's known some parts as the two part smile

First smile small, don't show your teeth
And hold your breath, this part is brief

Then exhale, and go full cheer
Show your happiness, then never fear

You'll find yourself elated a little, at least it works for me
It's not much. But may it make you just a small amount more happy.

Ebullience - The quality of being cheerful and full of energy; exuberance.
(I know this one is a day late, there'll be 2 this week, but I was travelling sadly).

New Words: The dichotomy

Listen up, as I help you:

Remove the dichotomy
Lose the lobotomy
And stop your world view from shrinking
Despite the polarity
Realise that contrariety
Does not only equal two ways of thinking

Alright, let's rewind it back a little

When I was just a young cur
As most of us once were
I would struggle to see more than two sides
So when I'd want an opposition
My natural disposition
Was to take the first position I realised

And then not think any further

Let me provide an example
Just a little small sample
Of the type of thinking that used to vex me
See I saw on television
The nauseating preposition
That was life was only worth living if you're sexy

So what did I do?

Now, not to come on strong
But this was clearly wrong
So I decided that life should be blander
That each and every person
Should have a natural aversion
To this clearly incorrect propaganda

So what did I miss?

As I only heard one voice
I didn't realise the choice
That I could just give people the option
I shouldn't force others to display
That people should choose their own way
And select own mindset for adoption

The lesson from this?

I took time to realise
I'd become what I despise
By forcing others into my point of view
There is always at least 3 criteria
But then, giving me hysteria
I realised there could even be a forth option too...

dichotomy: a division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different.


Yes I already new the word dichotomy, but the poem idea came to me and I couldn't resist

New Words: Recumbentibus

Sometimes, I want to strike out
And I want an opponent too
I want them to know exactly what I'm about
As I strike them with the old one-two

Yes, my friends, the one two classic.
If you haven't heard of it let me explain
The move is so old it's practically Jurassic
To cause both types of pain

You start with the verbal retort
To render them confused and stunned
Then you come out physical, to end their thought
And show them they've been completely out-gunned

Recumbentibuses, we're talking in plural
Because just one knock out ain't enough
Back them up against the wall then turn them into a mural
Cause you're made of the tougher stuff

At least, I fantasise about that a short while
Then I realise and I'm back to reality
I don't want to hit people, just make them smile
Except for in my wildest fantasy

Recumbentibus: A knock out word, verbal or physical

Story: In which our hero finds out what he's done

Our hero looked out, to see what he'd done
He surveyed the world, and saw it not as one
For all the hero's good intentions in actions
They'd all had an equal and opposite reaction

Be elevating one side, helping on his way
His absence had led the other side to decay
Sometimes that's the way of life and light
With nothing wrong, there'd be nothing right

Our hero was shown what each action had done
How each task had helped and hurt someone
How our hero was the sinner and the saviour, the one who set the sails
This world is one of balance, and he charted the course on these scales

Oh hero, our hero, oh what have you done?
Oh hero, our hero, this can't be undone.
Though he knew it was necessary, when his full actions he realised
Our noble, strong hero? He broke down and he cried.

Story: In which a tale is told

Story: In which our story has a Prologue

There are a lot of tales in this world.
But not that many actually worth listening to,
And far fewer worth retelling.
Particularly for those whose business it is to do so.

Myself, I knew a tale or two I think you'd retell.
But which one, which one to choose?
Hmm, I apologise, but a few seconds are needed.
The choice of which story to allow to the world is not one to take lightly.

Let's see. I can't tell that one. Not if you want to sleep tonight
And *this* one? 
No. The wounds haven't yet healed.
But, wait, this story right here? Hmm.

I guess I could. But you must promise to be careful with it
Now, get yourself comfortable.
Because, this world right now is to be on
In which a story is told.

 

Story: In which we meet our hero

Now once a upon a time but many more times too
There lived a hero, let me introduce him to you
He stands, strong and blond and 6 foot 2.
An image of perfection, Yes, I hate him too.

Yet you can't hate him too long, he's everyone's friend
You, like everyone, will come to love him in the end
After all, he's just so easy to comprehend
You know what he'll do, on that you can depend

Sometimes, just sometimes, he'll be his own man
He'll divert radically from the well-thought out plan
And when he does that, be as far away as you can
Unless you enjoy a ride in a nice, black, sedan

However, he doesn't know his strength, he has never been tested
As he has never been in battle, he has never been bested
But he's ready for the fight - after all, his whole life he's been rested
So listen up, because his story is one in which it's worth being invested

 

Story: In which the world is set

Now let me describe the world in which our hero dwells
Lest you try to build it yourself, and fill it with the wrong smells
When telling a story, it's important to set the scene right
I'm about to put whole world in your head, so close your eyes and hold on tight

For this world is simply a world of two halves
Radically opposed, connected once and then no more paths
For two sides so opposed, the existence of the path is peculiar indeed
Neither goes near the other, save the house in the middle, for which our hero holds the deed

To the left of our hero's front door,
Lies chaos incarnate and more
To the right lies order, and an egalitarian town
Where all peoples are equal and none hold a crown

Both sides exist in harmony, but know well of this land
It is a dangerous business to interfere with what you don't understand
Our hero, for obvious reasons, has always stayed on the right
At least, until he lay down his head to rest tonight...

 

Story: In which our hero dreams

Our hero sleeps quickly, without needing sedating
He needs sleep. And if there's something needs doing there's no point in waiting
He dreams of his own world, but with one small change
As a voice from the wilderness comes into range

"Dear hero, oh hero, we need your assistance
But only if you are strong - this job requires persistence
And bravery too, you need to step where you've not before
Turn the other direction as you walk through your door

And when there, you'll come across 3 tasks needing done
What they are I cannot say, but you must do each one
It wont be easy. But I'll guide you where I can
For this task may be too much for just one man

You must restore balance to this distorted place
Now go, and find what dangers you will face."
Not sure if he was dreaming, it was groggily our hero awoke this night
He grabbed his satchel and left. And, for the first time, did not turn right.

 

Story: In which our hero has something (finally) happen to him

Barely had our hero crossed the threshold of the other half
Did he hear a different voice, this one with a maniacal laugh
"Yo boy, you've really fallen into my hands now
So let me introduce myself and take my bow

I'm the ruler of the chaos in which you stand
As far as it can be, it's under my command
But know well, it only obeys this order
Because it is in a state of total disorder

So know well, if you wish to defeat me
You'd better not going increasing entropy
But you've been bewitched by my monologue a touch too long
Because now I've set up my trap to test if you're strong"

As the last of his words faded, so did the sky
And the ground and the air, which whooshed as they went by
As our hero found himself in a pit laden with all types of stone
For lesser men, this would be a burial throne

 

Story: In which our hero makes the first task look easy

Surrounded by stones, surrounded by rocks
Surrounded by the echoes of a voice which incessantly mocks
Our hero surveys carefully all that surrounds
Until slowly and carefully,  solution is found

Out of the scattered boulders, a pattern emerges
From the utter stillness, his energy surges
Picking up with power and carefully placing
Here is his answer to the danger he's facing

He builds, most surely, his way to escape
As his creation over time starts to take shape
See in this chaotic and despondent place
Our hero has constructed a spiral staircase

He climbs it to freedom, and breathes in the air
It certainly seems clear and fresher than down there
And, showing no sign of the challenge taking a toll
He picks a direction and starts to stroll

 

Story: In which our hero faces a different sort of task

Such tasks by heroes are very simply done
It's taught first thing, heroing 101
But as our hero strolled, he found something new
In amid the chaos, something you wouldn't expect to

A town, or at least, some sort of dwelling
It appeared in tatters, but still somewhat compelling
An elder (or just old beyond his years)
Gives our hero a speech as he slowly appears

"Dear hero, oh hero, could you stay with us a while
Our town, it is large, but on no face is a smile
Our homes are in tatters, our politics a mess
This is an issue we need a hero to address"

Now this sort of task is not done in a day
But our hero felt like he had to stay
These people needed him, he felt it deep in his marrow
He agreed, whilst ignoring the cackle from the shadows.

 

Story: In which a long time passes

Our hero, he stayed, to do what he could
He built homes out of stone, cement and wood
He talked to people, made them understand
He built the greatest town in the land

The way he had done it - through peace, not force
Was bound to draw some attention of course
But remarkably, against all narrative and probability
This did not cause war, nor any instability

Others saw his example, some asked for his aid
Others strived on their own, many plans had been laid
Societies sprouted, this half-world was transformed
Only through our hero could we ever see this semi-terraform

But sadly, all things must come at a price
To not interfere in what you don't understand, was my advice
Many years later, our hero finally walks off, alone
From the town he now calls his home

 

Story: In which our hero goes to find his third challenge

Our hero walked as he not done before

For now he was older, and wiser at core
He had dealt with politics, geography and science
And left behind a community bonded in alliance

In fact this whole place didn't look as chaotic now
It had been ordered, tamed somehow
He now knew these trees and knew these roads
But sadly a happy ending is not the point of this ode

His feet had wandered, as hero's feet do
Until finally he came to some place quite new
A mountain stood there, its slope gradient high
It towered and loomed, dominating the sky

Our hero started, to time spent to consider
Though the air grew cold, he gave no shiver
Though the air grew thin, his breathing was strong
There was no time to be lost, this climb was to be long

 

Story: In which our hero meets the source of the voices

The journey up the mountain, it took some time,
But our hero had nearly ended his climb
When he heard the voice, that voice from before
In fact he heard voices, that voice and one more

The one that had started this whole curséd quest
Both were talking together, neither would rest
As he rose up over the final crest of stone
What he saw was a most unusual throne

It had no back, but luxurious seat and arms
With two figures back to back, who said "We mean you no harm
We are the watchers, the ones who look out on this land
And you've come to us now, just as we've planned

We watch over both halves of this earth, one half for each
We watch and command, but they lie out of our reach
We ensure they're in balance, as all things must be
So the result of your actions, you must now start to see"

 

Story: In which our hero finds out what he's done

Our hero looked out, to see what he'd done

He surveyed the world, and saw it not as one
For all the hero's good intentions in actions
They'd all had an equal and opposite reaction

Be elevating one side, helping on his way
His absence had led the other side to decay

Sometimes that's the way of life and light

With nothing wrong, there'd be nothing right

Our hero was shown what each action had done

How each task had helped and hurt someone

How our hero was the sinner and the saviour, the one who set the sails
This world is one of balance, and he charted the course on these scales

Oh hero, our hero, oh what have you done?
Oh hero, our hero, this can't be undone.

Though he knew it was necessary, when his full actions he realised

Our noble, strong hero? He broke down and he cried.

Story: In which our hero meets the source of the voices

The journey up the mountain, it took some time,
But our hero had nearly ended his climb
When he heard the voice, that voice from before
In fact he heard voices, that voice and one more

The one that had started this whole curséd quest
Both were talking together, neither would rest
As he rose up over the final crest of stone
What he saw was a most unusual throne

It had no back, but luxurious seat and arms
With 2 figures back to back, who said "We mean you no harm
We are the watchers, the ones who look out on this land
And you've come to us now, just as we've planned

We watch over both halves of this earth, one half for each
We watch and command, but they lie out of our reach
We ensure they're in balance, as all things must be
So the result of your actions, you must now start to see"

Story: In which our hero goes to find his third challenge

Our hero walked as he not done before
For now he was older, and wiser at core
He had dealt with politics, geography and science
And left behind a community bonded in alliance

In fact this whole place didn't look as chaotic now
It had been ordered, tamed somehow
He now knew these trees and knew these roads
But sadly a happy ending is not the point of this ode

His feet had wandered, as hero's feet do
Until finally he came to some place quite new
A mountain stood there, it's slope gradient high
It towered and loomed, dominating the sky

Our hero started, to time spent to consider
Though the air grew cold, he gave no shiver
Though the air grew thin, his breathing was strong
There was no time to be lost, this climb was to be long

Story: In which a long time passes

Our hero, he stayed, to do what he could
He built homes out of stone, cement and wood
He talked to people, made them understand
He built the greatest town in the land

The way he had done it - through peace, not force
Was bound to draw some attention of course
But remarkably, against all narrative and probability
This did not cause war, nor any instability

Others saw his example, some asked for his aid
Others strived on their own, many plans had been laid
Societies sprouted, this half-world was transformed
Only through our hero could we ever see this semi-terraform

But sadly, all things must come at a price
To not interfere in what you don't understand, was my advice
Many years later, our hero finally walks off, alone
From the town he now calls his home

Story: In which our hero faces a different sort of task

Such tasks by heroes are very simply done

It's taught first thing, heroing 101

But as our hero strolled, he found something new

In amid the chaos, something you wouldn't expect to

A town, or at least, some sort of dwelling

It appeared in tatters, but still somewhat compelling

An elder (or just old beyond his years)

Gives our hero a speech as he slowly appears

"Dear hero, oh hero, could you stay with us a while

Our town, it is large, but on no face is a smile

Our homes are in tatters, our politics a mess

This is an issue we need a hero to address"

Now this sort of task is not done in a day

But our hero felt like he had to stay

These people needed him, he felt it deep in his marrow

He agreed, whilst ignoring the cackle from the shadows.

Story: In which our hero makes the first task look easy

Surrounded by stones, surrounded by rocks
Surrounded by the echoes of a voice which incessantly mocks
Our hero surveys carefully all that surrounds
Until slowly and carefully,  solution is found

Out of the scattered boulders, a pattern emerges
From the utter stillness, his energy surges
Picking up with power and carefully placing
Here is his answer the the danger he's facing

He builds, most surely, his way to escape
As his creation over time starts to take shape
See in this chaotic and despondant place
Our hero has constructed a spiral staircase

He climbs it to freedom, and breathes in the air
It certainly seems clear and fresher than down there
And, showing no sign of the challenge taking a toll
He picks a direction and starts to stroll

Story: In which our hero has something (finally) happen to him

Barely had our hero crossed the threshold of the other half
Did he here a different voice, this one with a maniacal laugh
"Yo boy, you've really fallen into my hands now
So let me introduce myself and take my bow

I'm the ruler of the chaos in which you stand
As far as it can be, it's under my command
But know well, it only obeys this order
Because it is in a state of total disorder

So know well, if you wish to defeat me
You'd better not going increasing entropy
But you've been bewitched by my monologue a touch to long
Because now I've set up my trap to test if you're strong"

As the last of his words faded, so did the sky
And the ground and the air, which wooshed as they went by
As our hero found himself in a pit laden with all types of stone
For lesser men, this would be a burial throne

Story: In which our hero dreams

Our hero sleeps quickly, without needing sedating
He needs sleep. And if there's something needs doing there's no point in waiting
He dreams of his own world, but with one small change
As a voice from the wilderness comes into range

"Dear hero, oh hero, we need your assistance
But only if you are strong - this job requires persistence
And bravery too, you need to step where you've not before
Turn the other direction as you walk through your door

And when there, you'll come across 3 tasks needing done
What they are I cannot say, but you must do each one
It wont be easy. But I'll guide you where I can
For this task may be too much for just one man

You must restore balance to this distorted place
Now go, and find what dangers you will face."
Not sure if he was dreaming, it was groggily our hero awoke this night
He grabbed his satchel and left. And, for the first time, did not turn right.

Story: In which the world is set

Now let me describe the world in which our hero dwells
Lest you try to build it yourself, and fill it with the wrong smells
When telling a story, it's important to set the scene right
I'm about to put whole world in your head, so close your eyes and hold on tight

For this world is simply a world of two halves
Radically opposed, connected once and then no more paths
For two sides so opposed, the existence of the path is peculiar indeed
Neither goes near the other, save the house in the middle, for which our hero holds the deed

To the left of our hero's front door,
Lies chaos incarnate and more
To the right lies order, and an egalitarian town
Where all peoples are equal and none hold a crown

Both sides exist in harmony, but know well of this land
It is a dangerous business to interfere with what you don't understand
Our hero, for obvious reasons, has always stayed on the right
At least, until he lay down his head to rest tonight...

Story: In which we meet our hero

Now once a upon a time but many more times too
There lived a hero, let me introduce him to you
He stands, strong and blond and 6 foot 2.
An image of perfection, Yes, I hate him too.

Yet you can't hate him too long, he's everyone's friend
You, like everyone, will come to love him in the end
After all, he's just so easy to comprehend
You know what he'll do, on that you can depend

Sometimes, just sometimes, he'll be his own man
He'll divert radically from the well thought out plan
And when he does that, be as far away as you can
Unless you enjoy a ride in a nice, black, sedan

However, he doesn't know his strength, he has never been tested
As he has never been in battle, he has never been bested
But he's ready for the fight - after all, his whole life he's been rested
So listen up, because his story is one in which it's worth being invested

Story: In which our story has a Prologue

There are a lot of tales in this world.

But not that many actually worth listening to,

And far fewer worth retelling.

Particular for those whose business it is to do so.

Myself, I knew a tale or two I think you'd retell.

But which one, which one to chose?

Hmm, I apologise, but a few seconds are needed.

The choice of which story to allow to the world is not one to take lightly.

Let's see. I can't tell that one. Not if you want to sleep tonight.

And *this* one? 

No. The wounds haven't yet healed.

But, wait, this story right here? Hmm.

I guess I could. But you must promise to be careful with it.

Now, get yourself comfortable. 

Because, this world right now is to be one 

In which a story is told.




My theme for this month is to write a story. However, like most people, I'm scared of big chunks of text. But, I also want time to explore the story properly. So, rather than my usual weekly updates, I'm going to be updating 2/3 times a week with a provisional 4 stanza maximum.

I don't know where this story is going to go, but it's going to be fun finding out. Let's go for a ride.

Age: This Tree

It's 1900, and the seed, carried by the wind from its parent, finally finds a home in the soil and take route.

It's 1901, Queen Victoria has just died.
The British empire spans most of the globe.
The first Nobel prize is awarded.
The tree is one years old, and not very tall.

It's 1914, World War is declared.
The entirety of the world is up in arms.
Humanity gambles with its own extinction for the first time
The tree is 14 years old, and the tree has leaves.

It's 1945, The second World War is ended
Humanity enters a cold war of fear
A global mindset is present in all
And the tree is nearly a half century old.

It's 1969, Humanity lands on the moon
It reaches up above the sky
And climbs even higher
The tree is 69 years old, and has just climbed above the canopy.

It's 2000, Humanity celebrates a Millennium
Celebrates surviving y2k, a bug of it's own design
And celebrates the advances of a century
The tree is 100 years old, and still standing tall

It's 2014. A young boy comes across a tree among many
The tree was here before him, and will be here after him
The world has moved fast around it
But, just for now, this part of humanity stops to rest with the tree.