The Debug

Everything is wrong

You know this. Every thing is wrong.
The problem is insurmountable, the issues uncountable
That which you thought infallible is now not working. At. All.
And you're trying to figure out why

Maybe it's the issue of the perfect storm
Where circumstances coalesce so the World is torn
Maybe it's the one thing you never noticed before
Working so hard but couldn't take it anymore
Maybe it's in fact just a combination
Of one thing two things several locations
So how you gonna stop this and take it down
Lessen your blood pressure and fix your frown

Welcome to the debug.

Welcome to the debug there's no luck just logic and hard tack
Sticking with a mission to revert your whole system from whack
Into the clicking grinding efficient machine
Where everything sparkles and the workings are clean
You check each part use your brain and heart
The issue mechanical, the problem infantile, a design too radical, you'll be here a while.

Every solution is another debug down the line
But IT'S STILL PROGRESS down a line in time
Everything you do, as long as it's done right
Is another hour less you're working into the night
You've just got to get yourself together - you've fought this war before
You've never thought about giving up and you'll give 'em what for
So don't give up my friend, 'cause you can't lose heart
Beginning right now you've got a debug to start.

Blessed with Friends

I've been blessed with friends who are both big and small
They are really quite different and I love them all.

Some of my friends, I smile each time I see
Because I forgot about them temporarily
And then they're there, and I'm like "Oh right,
There's that person again who I really like"

I've only got one or two people I chat to each day
Most other friends I let go about their own way
And when I meet them again we always get along well
As they've accrued so many interesting stories to tell

I have friends who are writers, I have friends who sing
I know those who are employed, those who do their own thing
Friends who glide through life, and of course those who battle
Friends in the city and friends who live with cattle

Some of my friends, will end up politicians and rulers
Most of my friends, compared to me are much cooler
They're smarter and fitter, more attractive and quick-witted
Some will let me stay over if their partner's permitted

I don't care if they're rich. I don't care if you're smart.
I care if we make memories that imprint on my heart.
I care that you've set time to spend with me with something fun to do.
I care if you've worked hard at trying to be you.

My friends are a rainbow. And I find you all a lot of fun.
You're different and weird. And I love every last one.

The Roof of Friends

There is a joy I feel, residing under the roof of friends
The feeling of a place well lived-in by others
The extension of their self, to give you a place to rest
Somewhere secure. Somewhere safe. Somewhere with personality.

I don't mind if the dishes aren't done. Or if it's a little dirty
I care that we can sit, and you stop being someone I used to know
That you trust and value me enough to open your doors
To offer me a favour, as I journey through time

Let us share a movie. A game. A story of what life is like
Build each other up for the battering we get until we next meet
There are some places I will never live. Out of choice, or fate
But passing through becomes much more personable this way

It makes me much more inclined to make an excuse to pass through again
So I can re-feel that joy, by staying under the roof of a friend


Thank you, to all my friends and family who put up with me.

Turning of the Season

Spring is promise and resolutions
It's new life and bold solutions
It's when Earth turns its face from the cold
When the fresh story of the year starts to unfold

Summer, really, is all about the execution
When any person will take any solution
We're too warm and satisfied to care about danger
We're happy to party and chat to a stranger

Autumn, I feel, is growing caution
The realisation things aren't always so awesome
The knuckle down, the learning of a trade
The realisation it's good, sometimes, to be afraid

Winter has a cold and gusty arrival
Welcome to the season of grit and survival
And yet it's also the season of hidden fun and joy
The battle between external adult and internal girl or boy

As a planet, we need this change and transition
The seasons change without condition
We ride the changes, ever longer and longer
But through them, we can only ever get stronger

Modern Day Aids

It's tangible, this inhaler I hold in my hand
How it affects my day, it affects my plans
How occasionally, I need to receive
A drug that helps me gasp and breath

And my aid is simple, and hidden away
Allows me to cope with life my way
I don't get questions like those with a crutch
Asking how it affects my life and such

Or those with glasses or a device in the ear
Necessary to help them see and hear
It's quite amazing, what we've managed
We can walk around perfectly fine with the aid of a bandage

And sometimes, we don't even see the crutch people hold
Sometimes it's too internal for an observer to behold
We're the modern generation. Stressed but we do as we're paid
As much as we can with our medical aids

Two Chances

Sometimes you don't get two chances.

The sweetest moments in life? When you put it on the line.
The go big go home go for glory go for it time
It's the build up that often hurts you the most.
The time you spend panicking prepping - when you're there you coast

If it goes wrong, it goes wrong. Time will pass.
We've all had a time when we've fallen flat on our ass.
Then you have to let go, there's no point in trying to dwell.
Unless you enjoy putting yourself through hell.

But, well, it's worth it. Believe me, it's worth it when it pays.
When you lay your self bare for all and you Raise. Up.
Prove to the doubters and the believers that you were right
When you blast off and fill up the stage on a night
When you show people something they've never even seen before
When you steady yourself and settle the score
When your moment arrives, and you seize it with both hands
When nothing in this world can put a stop to your plans

Because sometimes you don't get two chances.
And you prove that you only needed one.

A chance to rest

This poem is not deep.
It is not meant to be difficult.

This poem is a chance to rest.

To lay your head back.
To understand some things don't have reasoning.
To stop worrying, for a short while.

This poem is a chance to rest.

I know. You've been overly busy recently.
People expect a lot of you. And you keep providing.
Right now, in this instant, nothing is required.
Empty your mind.

This poem is a chance to rest.

Because you've got difficult times ahead.
Because no shelter is permanent.
You must seize any opportunity you can.

This poem is a chance to rest.

Stop thinking. Relax.
And rest.

Back to the Past

Man, it's the super power of which we'd all boast
The one day-to-day that we'd value the most
What if, rather than being super strong or super fast
You could step back in time and alter the past?

Currently, you take a retrospective intellect
But with respect can make no effect
On the mistakes you made, the time you mispoke
Well don't be afraid, lets go for broke

Because now you have a retroactive fact-of-the-matter
Way to be active in the past, change the latter
Just be careful, heed my warning
It's good to let the day refresh each morning

I tell you what, if I had this power
I'm not sure I'd ever live more than an hour
Sometime the past is better left lived
Sometimes there's no use in regretting what you did

I think a window to the past, means I'd only every stare that way
I'd never plan, only try and redo every each day
And I realise, I would not be able to handle this great responsibility
Instead, I'll just do what I can with the time that has been given to me

My Best Man Speech

Dedicated to Beth and Joe. A very lovely couple, who I am honoured to know.

I looked no tips up online for this speech. There is no "top ten best best man quotes" here. So, let me be open and honest, right from the start.
You've never heard anything like this before. It's right from my heart.

And my heart believes there is an optimal length of time for best man speeches. And that that time, is roughly four and a half minutes
Because, between the food and other speeches, that's as much time as any reasonable person should give it.

And you're all reasonable people. You got drinking to do, there's dancing to be had (and here I'm looking at the Dads). You all want to tell the couple how much fun they've got ahead.
Well tough luck. Because this is my four and a half minutes. And I'm going to talk about the fun we've already had instead.

Well, I'd best get going. I'm wasting time. I'm guessing some of you have already stopped caring.
For those who can, hang on tight. This is one hell of a speech I've been preparing.

See, I've always found best man speeches sort of weird.
Because, even to the groom, as best man, you are at most the *second* best person here.

Because the best is the bride who is Beth
And God Bless I wouldn't couldn't wish to be anything less than second-best.

Because she's in first place. She's smart, creative, wonderful and beautiful too.
I wish I looked so good, people paid me to look as good as they do.

And now as best man (and second best person, I'm faced with a difficult decision.
In my position it's tradition to seek to cause some attrition.

An embarrassing story for the room to mock the groom. And believe me, I've got one or two
But if you ask me for stories about how great they are then I've more than just a few

And honestly, I think I'd much rather just say
How honoured I am to be here on their wedding day

See, if I wanted to mock it would be out of jealousy and spite
For how cute the two of them look together tonight

And it's not just about looks. Here, let me take you way back
To when we were all a few years younger, and Facebook was the new black

We were idealistic, impressionable, and yet somehow still fixed in our ways
When we could know nothing on a subject, and still opinionate for days

We would be late for class, because we were determined to go and walk and get pastries in the snow
And if you ask why we didn't cycle, it was because Joe's bike wheels had been stolen a few weeks ago

But this isn't a story about how incompetent Joe is. It's about how he's good at heart.
Because he let his scavenger friends strip the bike for parts.

And we'd give him lifts places with a croggie (or backie, or a ride on the back of our bicycle machines)
And if the ride was so rough it made you drop things, well, that's just life it seems

We'd make fun of each other. As an outside, you make think our relationship started to sour
When, strictly as a challenge, he managed to show me the bird on a bus for an entire half hour

But it was all fun and games, we would push each other in most things we'd do
Like word games, and one-nils, and all the niche facts that we knew

But we'd travel and explore, we'd go to public science lectures as teenagers, because we were nerds
We'd learn and discuss all the ways that life was absurd

I believe it set up both of us well, when we left for University
And Joe is so smart, he aced a degree he didn't even need in Biochemistry

And now we meet in Oxford colleges and 5 star hotels
Not to mention fancy French restaurants as well

But we always had our barriers. Like I was the one who could eat almonds, and was good at sport.
Joe was the attractive fashionable cool one who was a hit with the ladies, which was always a rough deal I thought.

I actually remember helping him fight girls off. And I wondered who was the girl he dedicated his life to so early. And then I met Beth, and learned how she was really creative and arty.
And we could both discuss culture and hang out at murder mystery parties.

I've seen them grow into the most wonderful pair
While some things change, most notably Joe's hair

In a ever-changing world. I've known the two of them would be great
And I know Joe would hate me for saying it was fate

But I think we can all agree, how amazing they seem to be
And please take this not as jealousy, but honesty

Now I've got to wrap up. My four and a half minutes are through.
I'll leave the rest of the compliments up to all of you.

I started off this speech by saying how weird it was to call myself best man
But I'll settle instead for calling myself their biggest fan


If you want to see me performing this, skip to the 18-ish minute mark here 

A gut reaction

It may just be a passage to lead to the butt but

I have a message you should trust your gut

Even though this logic may seem insane

I often think it better not to trust my brain

So many times, without much reasoning

I feel that “my sandwich might need some spicy seasoning

Maybe I should buy this thing I don’t need

Maybe I should do this fun misdeed”

My brain says “no, you’re being unreasonable

Some of these choices aren’t even feasible

There may be some things that I don’t know

But this choice should almost certainly be no”

And when my system one has won

I find myself having much more fun

Whether the decision is made in day or made in night

I’ve grown to trust my gut to be right

And so my daughter, yes I’m speaking to you

There may be no individual reason this statement is true

But believe me when I say I trust utterly that which my gut happens to think

Which is that your room contains far too much pink

Make it honest

Whatever you say about me behind my back, make it honest.
Look, I know that I haven't been universally blessed
I've done a whole lot of really stupid things
I know my voicebox cracks somewhat when it sings
I know that sometimes I seek to be the centre of attention
Just know that I honestly have the best reasonably good intentions

So, if I do ever come up in conversation, for one reason or another
Firstly, I'm happy I'm worth the time.
Whether it's as a friend, a weirdo or a brother
Or you're not even an acquaintance of mine.
I'm happy you thought of me, whatever the reason
And I simply give this request
When you talk of me, no matter the season
Say what you think represents me best

Don't hide it. Don't act like a computer.
Say what you actually want to say.
Then maybe, someday in the future,
You can say it to me someday.

Lord you gave me gifts

Lord you gave me gifts,
    Lord you gave me gifts,
Lord you gave me more than I can ever wish for
I'm trying to live up to all you've given me to live for
Even though I may seem to just be demanding more
I'm thankful for them all, there's not a one to ignore
If I'm to find a reason I was put here for

I know you've gifted me, in so many ways
You've given me a lot of talents, given me a lot of days
But it was never full blown, always just a spark
That I had to develop with a little kick-start
So that it could grow as I get into full flow
To a talent that I always seemed to know
And sometimes that's the really tough thing
Like is this a true spark, or am I just wishing?

And I have to respect, that some gifts may not be for me
You've granted me many wonderful friends and family
And they've all got their own gifts and talents too
Which they'll develop in ways I could never think to
Make new art which is drawn from *their* hearts each day
Take a role I should accept was never my part to play

This life is so rich, because there's so many people aspiring
It would be so easy to do nothing and just sit back admiring
Instead, I've got to get out of bed
Try to sort out whatever's in my head
So I can work at my part as well
I'll have my moment and sound my bell
Work hard at these gifts you have given
Those that make life so much more worth living

So this is my worship, in the only way I know how
Living out my gift in every way you will allow
So Lord I say without being dismissed
Lord, I'm thankful for your gifts

It happened in black and white

There's a lot of detail in the world.
A lot of colour filling in the gaps.
There are advertisements in every space.
There are words in every silence.

He was lucky. He had the filter.
When something happened,
When a quick response was needed,
It. Switched. On.

Then the world would be clear
The easy path would be here
And he would instantly know
The direction to go
To solve the question
To make issues lessen
To stop things going wrong
And turn the colour back on

And then life was full again, of the unnecessary things.
He could sit back and enjoy all the nuances.
And, it used to be every once in a while.
It used to be a luxury.

The issue with any problem,
With any temporary fix,
Is it's not to long until it becomes permanent.

And nothing, nothing, will do that more than a child.
And then he couldn't be wild.
And now every moment he's ready.
Now he always has to keep steady.
He never get's to enjoy.
Any nuances with his boy.
He's always ready to save.
Superdad. Always the slave.

Then it's needed elsewhere
To help him to care
It's needed at work
To stop him being a jerk
Needed for lack of sleep
Needed so he could keep
Himself from going off the kilter
He needed. His. Filter.

The secret about poetry

Some things, are clearly for grown-ups.
Dark Chocolate. Long books with very small text.
The drinks Mum and Dad keep in the cellar.
Responsibilities.

Uggh.

The thing is, some things that you think are for grown-ups - kids can enjoy too.
Movies with a lot of blood and guns and guts. Adults say kids shouldn't watch them, but I say with certainty kids would love them.
The same with expensive food and make-up. Kids enjoy them, far more than old people would, in some cases. Even if they don't always use them as they were intended.
In each case. Grown-up adult people said "This is Ours. This is not for children.".
Here's a secret. You were never told poetry was one of those things which was just for grown-ups.
You just assumed it must be.

You assumed it must be, because it was read by boring people.
You assumed it must be, because there seemed to be a uniform of jackets and smart trousers. And uniforms are definitely for grown-ups.
You assumed, because they insisted on reading boring poetry.
And, if there's one thing all adults are, it is boring.

Here's the thing. Poetry isn't boring. Not all of it anyway.
If I say "You are the master of your fate, the captain of your soul!" - that's poetry.
I tell you to "Take the road less travelled" - then explore poetry with me.
Poetry can make you big. It can make you fall in love.
It can inspire your football team, or be sung on a stage.
Poetry doesn't have to rhyme. It also doesn't have to be boring.
It can, be really, really, cool.

Here's an example of some poetry.

You are wonderful.
You, yes you, have made people smile.
You have told someone something they didn't know
 - and they were smarter after, because they met you!
You can make words. Some are good. Some are bad.
And, in the right order, they can be really powerful.
You have poetry inside you.
And you are not boring. And neither are the words you will write, and the things you will create.
So go out. Use your words. Share your poetry.
And don't let adults keep this secret to themselves anymore.

The lost girl

The stars seemed to twinkle. The moon was bright.
We talked too long through a too-short night.
We were barely distinct shapes, voices in the dark.
We sat on seats of moss and bark.
Gathered as friends round a diminishing campfire.
We told tales to cheer and tales to inspire.
One told a tale that made every person there cry.
One told of a man who would never die.
I ventured a story, very well told.
Of how I imagined I would be when I'm old.
It was universally agreed that it took second place.
To the person whose story will now fill this space.

He told of a girl. No, not a story like that.
This girl was quite pretty, but he ignored that fact.
This was joyous story which was sad to its core.
About a friend he didn't get to see anymore.

She was smart, but not in an academic way,
The sort of girl who knew every game you could play.
She didn't do well in school, because she gave too much time,
To listen to people, whether they'd boast or they'd whine.
She never realised, but whenever she was in the place,
Everyone there would have a smile on their face.
And she wouldn't be the center, seeking attention,
She'd say just a few words, and guide the conversation.
Give a new topic or fun thing to try,
And let everyone else explore the how and why.

My friend told of one time, he'd just lost his sister,
He'd cut himself off the world, that's how much he missed her.
He'd been sitting alone at lunch, as he had done for days,
When the girl came along and sat in front of his gaze.
And he couldn't remember the precise words she said,
But a mist and a fog seemed to lift from his head.
What's worse is, she didn't even seem to know what she'd done.
She'd just chatted to him because she'd thought it'd be fun.

Now, what happened to this girl of so many powers?
I'd assumed she'd got lost in castles and towers.
Lost from this world because she'd caught a fairytale's curse,
The actual truth ended up being much worse.

The girl, quite simply, grew up.
She got really stressed with exams.
She tried to find a job, so she could have some money for college.
She was told what to say. Told how to stay in line.
She did too. Got a decent degree. Got a job that pays the rent.
But she doesn't make people smile in the same way anymore.

The storyteller spoke with a strained smile. He was determined to make it stick.
He said they still speak once a while. It's usually quite quick.
It's a little bit strained, but he can't let it go.
Determined to talk to the girl that he used to know.

He never revealed to the girl what she used to be.
She never really realised, he didn't want to seem guilty.

He told the story well, so we applauded his tale.
While the man sat in the past, stoic and pale.

The night was not always meant to be slept through

The Organised Masses™ insist that the day holds many hours.

That you should rise early to unleash your powers.

That the World looks beautiful at 6am.

That they can rise early, and that we should join them.

Now, I don’t attempt to debate or dispute.

That mornings work well, or that sunrises are cute.

Nor can I refute all of the work they get done.

Compared to those that stay in bed until one.

They seem to run the country, and most of the Earth too.

My only response is – the night was not always meant to be slept through.

So here’s to the night crawlers

The partiers, the insomniacs, and ballers

Those who know whether the moon is about to wax or wane

Those who live life with no temporal refrain

Who chat to the late hours, because you don’t want to give up on a conversation

Those with a deadline, waylaid by unwilling procrastination

The young girl, waiting patiently for a reply with a smile

From a young man, separated by six hours and a mile

The dancer who lives for moments that don’t happen in the day

The station guard, helping the final few make their way

The shop attendant who needs the money for a car

The jogger who stops to find the north star

The volunteer, up late to stop a caller coming to harm

The couple who stay awake in each other’s arms

The artist who needed that perfect shade of deep blue

Believe me – the night was not always meant to be slept through

The first among us

This poem is dedicated to the first among us,
He's the one who went first, and he caused enough fuss,
That our parents couldn't muster as much energy to be annoyed at us when they asked "Why?"
At the silly stuff we'd do under their tired eyes,
Because he went first, and he took the worst,
He was the first among us, and the first on this Earth.

He, he was the first to go to school,
Set out on the challenge of learning and trying to being cool,
Man he earned his way, he couldn't be a fool,
And just copy an older sibling's homework if he couldn't do it all,
And he's a perfectionist, our brother - so he always tried his best.
He was the first among us to take life's tests.
And he was the first to ace life's tests!

He, he was the first to leave the home,
Go out on his own, try to make it alone,
Packed up his bags, went to university,
Head down, a degree in pharmacology,
But he also got great friends there. And he learnt things I'll never know.
The first among us. And still he's still got so far to go.

He, he was an inspiration to me, and he got me learning,
He got my brain and my other muscles working,
Showed me the power of strength of mind,
Hinted that hip-hop has much great music to find,
And when I left home, you can bet he was nearby and had led the way there too.
He is my brother. And Robin. I'm so proud of you.

Because,
You were the first one among us here on this Earth.
You were the first to start earning and prove your worth.
You were the first to go out and leave the house.
And now you're the first to go and get a spouse.
And while we're on the subject...
What an amazing, wonderful, beautiful, charming woman you've found. This is Sarah and she has dedicated her life to caring.
It's unfair! You make such a fantastic pairing.
But for my brother to be leading the way? The first among us, let me say I expect nothing less.
But to the both of you - best of wishes, and God Bless.


This was a very special poem to get to write and perform. To my brother Robin, and his new wife Sarah - thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to express just how amazing you both are. Have wonderful lives together.
Also, this poem was very much written to be performed, so it doesn't really work on the page. Sorry about that. But not really.

This organic heart

And against all the odds
     this organic heart of mine beats

I was a chance birth
Hey,
  we all were.

The odds of my strands of DNA
Expressing themselves in my particular way
To lead to me, the person standing here right now today
Man, it makes me shudder.

And then, all life has thrown at me so far
The stresses
  the pains
    the heartbreaks
      the actual, physical dangers: like cars or lightning.
Or older brothers.

And I've needed blood in my muscles
  and I've needed blood in my brain
    because I need ENERGY
  to survive.
And, sometimes, to run.

So it has worked hard
On a not very efficient system
With a user who has read the manual
     but refuses to follow any of the instructions

And, against all the odds
     this organic heart of mine beats

It's not beautiful

It's not beautiful he said regretfully
Don't get this guy wrong, he said it respectfully
But it was the tone of a man, who wished very strong
For a piece of insight that would prove his instinct wrong

But there it was, stark, plain, and true.
A piece of art his friend had worked on for six months through.
The friend had toiled, become nigh on a recluse
They'd made their soul a point of abuse
They'd clearly poured out the blood, their sweat, their heart
For what seemed a very unappealing piece of art.

In fact, it scares me he added with bravery
Knowing the friend had worked through slavery
Not getting funds, or money, or anything at all
Save for this monstrosity, stood 8 feet tall

It pained him, but he had to be honest
And slight lie the friend would detect and admonish
And he owed it to this friend of old
Who deserved to know, deserved to be told
This statue was scary, it would surely haunt many dreams
Followed by waking, to cold sweat and screams.

..

..

I know the friend said with a wry smile
Who had, after all, been working on it all the while
And, bizarrely, he seemed pleased with the man.
Scary is how I had it planned.

Art isn't always nice, but it hits home hard
Like the shocking prediction of a tarot card
I've poured out all the things in life I find petrifying
And now - don't you feel alive? Isn't it electrifying?
For months I have toiled, and now it's done
This art changes you, makes you become someone

He was right, though the man wished desperately the reverse
This friend had found art in the utterly perverse
He nodded in agreement, and wished his friend well
Trying to ignore the art formed in hell

It is no bad thing to dance

It is no bad thing, my friend, to dance.
To lose your mind and to enter a trance.
To forget the world. Forget its pains.
And bang your head without refrain.

Raise your arm. Wiggle it around.
Shake a leg. Give the air a pound.
Jump. Jump again. Jump. Jump again.
Get low. Don't like it? Get up then.

You do you. Nothing else will do.
Be yourself, through and through.
And if the person who you are jams to funk?
Then you jam hard and shake that trunk.

Jive to jazz. Get energetic with electro.
Ball up your worry and just let it go.
To Disney. To punk. To hip hop and to rap.
If it's how you want to move then it won't be crap.

Just don't be afraid. Don't be scared.
Don't judge either - leave your mind unimpaired.
And never forget, if you have the chance.
That it is no bad thing, my friend, to dance.

I've slept since then

If it's a while since I've seen a friend

If it's been many moons, then I can't even pretend

That I recognise them, sometimes. But that's just how life goes

Time as has marched onwards and I simply tell them

I've missed you. But I've slept since then

You see, sleep is the barrier. The reworking of our minds

It's the internal engineer, fixing what they find

Chucking out this. Presenting me with that

Giving me ideas and taking them too

I don't believe dreams are something you just sleep through

So even if it's only been a couple days

Since the last time that we parted ways

And a story or name has slipped by cumbersome mind

Then I hope they understand when

I tell them, I've slept since then

I've dreamt of dragons, dreamt of knights

Where I fought the darkness, became the light

I learnt to fly. And then, without reason, forgot

I've visited plants and stars and places entirely blue

I don't believe dreams are something you just sleep through

So, here's the kicker. When it hasn't been a while

Just a few short hours since I saw your smile

Sometimes, it still feels like an age. Like a lifetime

That's when I have to admit and tell them

Quite simply, I've slept since then.

Like, seriously.

I sleep a lot.

Sometimes once a day.

Sometimes three times a day.

...

Yeah. So, sorry if I've done this to you.

One of my friends wrote a very cool poem where the tag line was 'I've slept since then', and it was a reflection of their ability to get over events. They very kindly allowed me to use their tag line for this piece of nonsense.

As you rise each day

There should have been trumpets,
     And harp strings a plenty
Instead there's just regret
     And a head that feels empty

No, not empty. There are echos in there
Echos of a dream. Of a wonderful place where...

No, it's gone. Now there's just the morning.
The slow realisation of another day dawning.

So now, now my weary friend.
You must rise. You can no longer pretend
You live in the sandman's glorious realm
Welcome to reality.

Goodbye patterns.
Goodbye sense out of chaos.
Hello Earth and people and jobs and breakfast.

There is no force holding you down but you.
You must rise against it.
There is a whole day still to go through.

Inspiration music - Sheltering Sky (John Mackey) by Manhattan Wind Ensemble https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gheiDHa9sCE

The Books of War

We trapped words in pages and used it to inform the ages
Past and present of everything we'd come to represent
The stories of those who had come before us, the chorus,
Forgetting those stories which were so-so and would bore us
Instead embracing the flow of those who spoke most sonorous
But the stories which were a must were those about our bloodlust
The tales of the fictional "us", the heroes who would slay to stay alive 

Would always narrowly survive, and the and only die if by
Doing so they could imbibe us with some killer wisdom
Though first their tales would be spread throughout the kingdom
Take the princess's hand and steal her father's land 

All following a dubious master plan
But fiction fantasies are fine, but in fact I was never a fan

Instead, I was more amazed and enthralled 

By those who actually survived through ambition
The master, the genius, the tactician
Those who first wrote the lines on risking human lives
And learnt the exact exchange for blood guns and knives
Who wrote their facts as abstracts in little paper pages
The books of war - passed on through the ages
Written in red ink so how many whole souls
Had been sacrificed for this slice of aims and goals
Listen, listen no surprise as you turn each page

As you hear the cries as you feel the rage
Uncover with hesitation one more line of genuinely killer advice with a ten soul citation
These were the books that went on to found nations

These were the books which would inspire the future trades in lovers
In mothers, in fathers, in sons, daughters, and lovers. 

Those were the books to make us fight one another
Lovingly bound in leather for the leisurely pleasure of the reader
Dotted with the 'i's of those who fought the field to bleed a cause
Without yield or pause -  fighting for what they felt was right
And so polite, they laid down their lives in both day and night
Exactly  in a field in the place and time they were told
Crossed their fingers and watched their general's tactic unfold
To the plans adapted from a book written centuries prior
By an scholarly author, whose words of wisdom in war would inspire
One more leader. One more who could make others die at their whim
That's all it would ever took for a new war to begin

And if you ever feel like books don't mean anything anymore
I encourage you to feel the doom in your hands when you hold the Books of War

Inspiration - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pTCp0kJYF30, written as a tribute to MF DOOM

Remember to breathe

Hey. hey you.
You in the corner.
Or even you at the side.
You, the person who feels empty inside.

Just, please. Remember to smile.
Even if it's not often,
     even if it's only once in a while

I swear, really, it'll be worth it once you've tried.
    To set all your pains and your worries aside

To stop thinking of the here
       Stop thinking of the now.
Clear your mind
   As much as your brain will allow.
Here's an idea
   We sometimes forget to believe.
The air is there for us
   If we just remember to breathe.

Let it sink in
   Go deep an inspire
Let out your worries
   Before you expire
Release your worries
   Let down your hair
Do it with a simple smile
   And a breath of fresh air

A Villain's Honesty

I can't be the only person, who when growing up, thought I was really good at telling if someone was good or bad.
Honestly, it was easy! They'd turn to the audience and then reveal that they were completely mad.
They'd show how their desire for money or power would corrupt their very soul
And then tell us point by point how they'd achieve their wicked goal


Do you remember? Hey, I'm sure you do.
The first time you thought a bad guy had a point or two.
Where there was method in the madness. Something not quite right.
Leading you to wonder if this villain once saw the light.


And then you grew up. And no one rants any more.
No one sees themselves as antagonist to their core.
We only have a wicked streak, or a dark side we keep hidden.
But it's never the 'real us'. Such talk is mostly forbidden.


Except for those we put on a plinth as a scapegoat up tall.
But even those people, I don't think evil is their "all".
People aren't like that. At least, no one I've met.
And I'm sure I can be convinced differently yet.


But it would be so convenient, would fit so nice.
If I could see a true, honest villain with a vice.
With a maniacal laugh and a wide scary smile.
Because, honestly, I haven't seen an honest villain in a good long while.

Did you not expect us?

"Did you not expect us?"

It was a call echoed loud throughout the land
This protest wasn't coordinated
This protest wasn't planned
It was simply and clearly what we had to do.
Ignited by all they had put us through.



We were so innocent, once upon a while
We'd laugh and joke, we'd dance and smile
They told us "you'll have it all
We'll push you high, you'll never fall
You'll have a job, and own your house
You'll settle young and find your spouse
Go to University, get a degree
You'll be debt-free in a year or three
Head down, work hard
Pay off debt with credit cards
Get up early, work 'til late
Come on now don't hesitate
Don't be lazy, don't be slow
Don't go crazy, never show
Any pain or any fear"
Until we shouted ENOUGH

...but they didn't hear.

They wondered why we were complaining
About this bright future we were gaining
A world in which the plants are dying
A world in which the planet is dying
Where they gave us medals, just for trying
Inspiring those who were in last place,
And then threw it right back in our face
Moaning and complaining about 'kids these days'
While never considering, if there is a problem, it's with the way and world in which we were raised.

And so. And so, this protest started to grow.
Filled with those with nowhere else to go
Those struggling hard to pay their rent
Those with a debt they just couldn't dent
Those who were depressed, annoyed, and fed up
Many friends with mental health problems, told the solution was to man up
Those told, because you're young and different, your art isn't valid,
       Those told, because you weren't born here, this isn't your land
Those who'd overcome great apathy, and were finally making a stand

Together we chanted, together we roared
Together we finally could not be ignored
It was loud, it was righteous, and it was infectious!
And yet, still, they stood there incredulous
As we finally realised, they would never expect us.

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.