The Gloopy Desert Does Ravage The Deer Hart

This is a poem I wrote on inspiration in the Manchester Art Gallery. I sat askance, arms akimbo, pondering on a wet, syrupy, rainy afternoon...

 The body of a deer and the heart of
A dead lion clings to the wall like it
Does my imagination, immobile.

The twisted grimace summons up a mouse
Plucking a thorn from its predator's paw,
Devoured after its good deed is done.

Dirty paws on dusty desert,
Arise, arise and wake!
Do not let the Seer of your Land
Ravage your mighty soul.

As He who rose from Death's table
So canst thou raise thyself.
Do not permit man's weakening
Of such a noble beast.

I have seen you in your natural home,
I drank tea amongst your wives and children,
I proudly etched you in my memory.

I see the glare of my reflection
In your glass cage,
Reminding me that you were never there.
Never real.
Never more than imagination.

As this is the first post of the new year, the prize is even more splendiferous than ever before! The first correct entry will win a once in a life time trip around the world in 80 days, au stylings a of Phileas Fogg!

Whoever wins this prize must supply everything him/herself. I supply only the inspiration for the trip and nothing more ( courtesy of Jules Verne).

Night of the Richard

Woken again from a listless sleep,
Drenched in sweat, partner snoring. Wide awake.
Night after night I wake and I groan and
I scream to myself to ignore the pain
But I can't.

Something resides deep inside but I don't know
How to go about cleaving it from my chest.
Nightmares: night scares, old women, Detox,
Dying dragons, strictures scraping at my soul.

The thoughts drift as I lift the bottle to my
Parched lips. Parched from the booze.
Richard, heal thyself. Sober no more.
Now the war me. Battle time.

Still no sleep.

This week's (and I use the term loosely) prize is an all expenses paid trip to the best place on Earth! 

Back By Popular Demand!

Well, back.
After popular demand.
To stop.

Hurrah!

More codswallop to follow, although hoping some of this may be an improvement on the trite trash I wrote as a trite trashy teen.

Onwards, and, hopefully, upwards!

The wonderful *cough* prizes that I used to give out will of course *cough* be given out for future correct guesses! 

American Elections 2012

When Romney casts his vote, and Obama
dithers on his four-year trauma,
Why am I listening to Adele?
Am I some tree you wish to fell?

We've been too long;
I can't have some Romantic love song.
It hurts too much for this to besmirch
My memories.

I can't be arsed. You've had my heart,
Now relinquish my Nectar Card
'cos I’ve got points to spend
If our relationship's at its end?

So set me free, like a Butterfree,
So this pain can cease to hurt
me.



I own nothing but the sequence of words in this poem. Any reference to Pokémon or Sainsbury's is purely reverential. If offence is caused to either organisation is caused, please contact the publisher who will address all concerns.

The WINNER of this 'week's' prize will win a 'week-long trip to Barbados'!!! All expenses paid, all food, accommodation, travel expenses, cosmetic surgery, and anything else you would like! PLEASE contact this publisher!

There is no prize for this week. Anything read above is a lie. Please disregard. The publisher, and author, are not held to the above assertion. We are not affiliated with Sainsbury's, Barbados, Pokémon, or anyone else that this post may suggest we are. No-one associated with this post are bound to anything within it, ever.

Call Me If You're Sober

What?
Is wrong with this and us and here and now?
Can't we give it a chance, let Fate roll her dice?
Or should we bid goodbye tonight with a bow
Because you won't let us be 'us' or be nice
Enough to give us time to try to work.
Pots and pans clutter everyone's kitchens,
But does anyone blame it on the fork?
You don't need to change your life, your religion;
Can't we be a teenage crush or Summer fling?
It should be fun; no need for awkward sex.
Let's just party with friends and dance and sing,
Even if we argue once we're drunk on Becks.
But no. Maybe we should just stay as friends.
It would be nicer than some other ends.

Just for the record, I don't drink Becks. Vodka and coke is the prize for this week. Or a coke if youre a minor ;]

Left Inside Alone

I watch them as they enter, his
Knuckles white as he grips the
Handles of her wheelchair. In this
I glimpse their long history:

Years spent holding hands, chaste kisses
By the beach, children raised with
Love. I wonder if he misses
The long gone life they used to live.

They’d stay up late, talk through the night
Of their fantasies and fears
Till sun came up to shine its light
On their slowly drying tears.

Perhaps they argued, now and then,
Over who’d feed baby in
Dead of night, or who’d check again
Some silly, boring, trifling thing.

But that’s just the story for me and you;
He sits and feeds her tiramisu.


Any guesses for el title? The winner gets a coffee from Caffè Nero!

I Don't Do Sadness

I can’t breathe. It’s spilling out of me, tearing
Me open as I fight to carry on.
You scratch, you punch, you scare;
Our plan to marry’s gone;
All the clothes I’ve tried, no matter what I’m wearing,

You don’t have a clue, don’t give a fuck.
Leave me at home, staring at the clock-
But no, I’ll stay composed,
Keep my chest locked and closed.

No matter what you say, you won’t sway me any way.
You can carry on; bed all the women that you want.
Be who you are: act like a child, be a little boy.

Just leave me to my pain, even if you can’t
Feel a thing, leave me now to heal;

I can’t look you in the eyes and see you not caring.

More rambling nonsensical poetry from my mad mind. Easy enough clue today; the prize? A trip to Ibiza with a packet of softmints (I provide the softmints, you provide the trip to Ibiza).

Thrust Into My Hips

Open the windows, let in the air,

Pick up the bottles, chuck out the cans.

You can stay lying just over there,

Wouldn’t want you to dirty your hands.

The morning after your birthday last night

Is cold with the sting of the fresh winter breeze

As I scurry around getting dirt out of sight.

And you call down shall I order Chinese?

Not quite yet my strapping young man,

I’m going to join you back in our bed

For a cuddle and story, if you can

And I’ll rest on your chest with my head.

The comforting beat of your heart in my ear

Sends my mouth crashing forwards onto your lips.

And I grasp you, holding you near,

Murmuring as you thrust into my hips.

As with most of my poetry, it's not me speaking.

Composed Upon London Bridge

Standing here above the river
As burning blights the bright night,
Embers of empire fail to deliver.
New broken glass to be a tourist sight
Stands half-erect on this skyline.
With this our United Queendom
Growing impotent, MPs mutter that it's fine
While we fight for Eastern freedom.
As I look out across the capital
At remnants of a once great city
Whose heart and soul were used as mere collateral
I think of other once great Empires with such pity.
So, on London Bridge I shall remain
And humbly miss my commuter train.

They're Taking the Hobbits to Asgard!

Fighting for supremacy,

o’er golden hair and bended knee.

Looking out across the stars,

who’ll gain control of Earth and Mars?

that tricky trickster doth defile

fair maiden queen that made wheat fertile.

Fleeing from thund’rous rage

to sultry servants of the age

to beg fine gifts worthy of her suitor.

Yet whilst to Asgard he’s en route to her

a small mutt’ring doth him distract.

Entering in an unholy pact

he bets the sum of his head whole

to wise old smithies far from droll.

But that cunning fly loves deceit

and his maker does not wish to meet

So with a prick upon that brow

he suavely breaks his vow.

Returning to fair maiden’s home,

with his gifts he must atone.

Yet the tricky trickster next does flee

and now golden maiden can contented be.

This is one stanza from my book, 'Musings of a Journey: Part ii'. Part i can be found here

This week's title is not very imaginative, but oh well. The prize is four packs of Chewits. Enjoy!

Internally Agonising

Something I jotted down when I should have been doing real work :D

When your room is a mess, and you couldn’t care less
And you don’t know where you left your chair,
You can search all about, have a huff and a shout
Or you can simply ask your bear.

When he doesn’t have a clue, and you don’t know what to do,
You can go to the lounge, maybe even have a scrounge,
And ask your little mouse if he’s eaten any grouse,
Before he has a chance to swear.

But if you’ve lost that room to flowers all abloom,
You must have a good whack with an axe you’ll hack,
Take back what’s yours and open all the doors,
Then shove all the mess out there.

Though the problem still remains, we’ve tired our brains,
I don’t know what to do, I haven’t any clue
I don’t know why you asked, I really can’t be arsed,
You’ll just have to live without a chair.

This week's title is not a quote 'm'afraid because I couldn't be bothered with finding one. However, if you can hazard a guess at why this poem's called 'Internally Agonising' I'll send you some posies

My Swan Song

My Swansong

If all that’s still to do were left to me and you,
Would the skies still split, cause the Earth to shake
And pull the night apart?

Would we carry on though we’d soon be gone?
Could we journey far, do our worst,
And sing our last swansong?

 

This week's title/puzzle/game/thing is quite rubbish. I'm fairly sure I'm going to get done for copyright infringement one of these days so grab the awful prizes while you can! Have a guess :)

There's No Place Like London

My London
Haven't the heavens hurled enough at us?
Three minutes later and we're still here,
Waiting for the Northern line!
Delayed trains, texting teens, in-cutting commuters
And tourists pointing at the pidgeons!
But we’ll push on through, maybe trip a few.

Central, St. Paul’s, coffee, Bank, Bridge.
Time for a rest? Ostrich and apple at Borough Market?
No. Train’s here. Not another for six minutes!
Papers litter Victoria’s seats, too much to read,
Let’s discard. Feeling healthy, shall we jump on Boris’
Bikes? They’re not the colour of the City.

With all the age and wisdom that my City holds,
Does She watch us from on high,
Whisper in the winds, protect us from the colds?
Does She lie below the Earth, watch as we go by?
As Emma says that we’ll be late, does Her heart despair,
Or does She pull us to Her breast, and gently clutch us there?

The prize for today's title quiz will be my worst Christmas Present, so if you like coal...

All The World's A Stage...

... So why not exploit it? Shamelessly selling myself here, but who cares?

Buy my book on Amazon please! It's really cheap, easy to read and - in my opinion- really good!

It's called "Musings of a Journey - Part i" and it's something I've been working on for a fair while.

It's available on UK Amazon here and for my American readers here


If you'd like a preview just look here.

If anyone is unable to guess the title, you are blooming soppy!

The British Are Coming!

In the normal way the universe does these sorts of things, I’m having soft power and cultural diplomacy thrown at me from every angle. So, as the law dictates, I have to write about it! It's probably just because I’m thinking about it so I’m seeing it more but still.

It started a couple of months ago on the Metro in Rome…

I saw a poster advertising English language lessons offered by The British Council. This pleased me to some extent as a couple of years before I had seen American-English lessons advertised on the Parisian Métro - yes, I take a lot of trains - and then that was it, I thought no more of it during my trip.

And then a few weeks ago, I heard a broadcast on the wonderful BBC Radio 4 which brought The British Council (BC) crashing back into my mind. The programme was called “Analysis: Cultural Diplomacy”. It discussed two projects funded by the Foreign Office of HM Government of the United Kingdom: the BBC World Service and the British Council. The purpose of these two institutions? “To promote Western liberal values [and] British values”.

Both of these are independently run, the World Service (WS) has “editoral autonomy” and the BC decides how it does what it does. However, they must clear their “objectives, priorities and targets” with the Foreign Secretary, currently William Hague.

The British Council was set up in 1934 by Sir Reginald Rex Leeper under the guise of “cultural propaganda”, a phrase which I'm sure the BC would now like to eschew, now preferring “cultural relations”. The WS was originally the Empire Service and broadcast, unsurprisingly to the British Empire. The WS has branched out and now broadcasts all over the globe, especially to those countries whose media outlets are influenced by their governments; this allows impartial news coverage as well as helping to bring about political change.

It is this last point which can be quite contentious; it can be seen as British and Western meddling. The BC in Iran were even forced to shut down their operations.

As the WS helps with the freedom of the press, the BC helps in educating people, especially in English, and shows forms of British culture, through art and noted people thoughout history, such as William Shakespeare. It is in this way that the main role of these institutions is to sell 'UK plc'. A job done, rightly or wrongly, by many others, such as the Royal Family, the Armed Forces and even Harry Potter.

One thing both of these institutions have gone to great lengths to stress over the years is their independence from the government, something which they have struggled with, especially in Iran. However, with the funding of the WS moving in 2014 from the Foreign Office to the licence fee payers - i.e. the British public - this may become easier for them to say...

My American readers should have no trouble with the week's title. I'll post the prize ;)

Much of this is based on information taken and quoted from the BBC here.

Progress, For Progress's Sake Must Be Discouraged

I know it's gone, it's passed, it's happened, WE WON! but I thought I should still show Dolores Jane Umbridge's argument against the hated Alternative Vote!

I only changed a couple of words :-) and they're in [square brackets]

"Every [Prime Minister and politician] of [The United Kingdom] has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic [state], and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

If anyone does not get the titular quote then you obviously didn't read the big bit in the middle!

A Guide To Gossamer

I ran the world when men were not around,
All was calm, nought unfair
and peace was all abound.
Yet all too soon, did seem to change
When storming sky began to rage,
Those that could, and those that would
Paid homage to their Lords.

Fleeing from untimely winds
Most were lost, and at great cost,
They suffered for our sins.
Now who's to blame, for the slain,
no guiltier than we,
have lost their lives, sons and wives
And from our pain mankind we did beget.

From peccancy and hurt, new rulers did arise
And in this trope they grabbed the stolen prize,
All fell back in def'rence to new Lords.
Victory was claimed o'er those who could not fight,
Submission forced upon our grateful heads.
In lessening our minds, they lessened too our shame,
And thus man conquered us.

United in Diversity

A few months ago I started to write about Europe and the European Union. I struggled in some of my fact-finding so temporarily put it on the backburner. I return to it now looking at a much weaker European Union and a much altered view on the whole situation.

Anyone who knows about my views on Europe will not be surprised to learn that what I wrote before was a scathing diatribe on everything Europe, E.U., Eurozone and Euro.

Unfortunately, most of what I wrote is now very outdated; I think I may be coming to like the idea of a ‘United States of Europe’ (U.S.E.). However, I still proudly retain the flag of a vehement ‘E.U.sceptic’. The current model of the European Union is one which was based on the policy of slowly taking powers from member countries’ parliaments and centralising them in a European Parliament. Hardly democratic.

What the E.E.C.’s founders, the E.U.’s predecessor, wanted was to create what many had striven for over the centuries: a European Empire. “For the first time since the fall of the Roman Empire we have the opportunity to unite Europe.” Romano Prodi. This is what we are heading for with the E.U.. And Great Britain is being dragged along kicking and screaming. But why are we doing this?

We joined, we signed up later than some of the others, but we did join. Part of the problem Britain has in Europe is that we are not fully engaged in the decision making. We’re not the frontrunners pushing our agenda. Germany is, France is, so why don’t we? If we were fully involved we could sculpt Europe into something that would be more beneficial and pleasing for the public. The problem we have with being Eurosceptic is that it damages our chances of creating a Europe that does what we want.

I saw Dr. Kay Swinburne, MEP, speaking on Europe a few weeks ago and I can safely say that if our other MEPs are anywhere near as good as her, we are in safe hands in Europe. She said something that made me think and which I have unsuccessfully tried to find online so I could quote her exactly, but cannot. Her point was that the other European MEPs are fed up with Britain, ‘if you want to leave so much, leave!’ was the sentiment of what Dr. Swinburne said.

The European Union has a population of around 502 Million, compared with America’s 309 Million. Yet, the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) does not reflect the difference in population; The GDP of the E.U. in 2010 was just over £10 Trillion whereas the GDP of the U.S. was £9 Trillion. (GB’s was around 1.5 in 2010) Surely a United States of Europe would be able to increase its GDP if there were more integration, more union? 

There are fears I have with having a closer union, such as the inability to have control over what happens, what would the role of The Monarchy be, could we hold politicians accountable? But we need to be involved with the European ideal or Great Britain will be left behind.

With globalisation, global institutions and some global governance, we are being forced into the background. If we want to survive on the world’s stage and not just be a ‘bit-player’ – who’d want to play ‘2^nd Servant’ when you could play Romeo? – We need to find a way to raise our voice. Perhaps a U.S.E. would be that megaphone Britain will need.

Further integration is always a point of contention within GB, we always consider ourselves ‘different’, ‘separate’ all because of a little bit of water – the English Channel – but are we so different? It would be incredibly difficult to do, the public would detest this being done but as Harold Macmillan said: “The countries of Europe, none of them anything but second-rate powers by themselves, can, if they get together, be a power in the world equal to… the superpowers.”

Prizes are steadily worsening again as I am an unemployed student once more. This week's prize? Answer to find out...

Figures taken from The World Bank's website

London's Burning, London's Burning! Fire, Fire! Fire, Fire!

As violence rolled across our Capital city, chilling words were uttered by an LBC listener from Sydney, “London, the world is watching.”

Groups of youths and adults rolled through London's streets for four nights, attacking shops and setting buildings and cars ablaze. The reason? An alleged drug dealer was shot by police. That's what purportedly started this horrific event. A man, Mark Duggan, was shot in Tottenham. The locals protested and marched on the local police station on Saturday night and the mayhem spread from there.

For Londoners, we suffered the worst of it on Monday 8th August, 2011, with police overwhelmed by the sheer number of ‘disaffected’ youths. Thankfully, the fourth night, 9th August, stayed mostly quiet in London, with minor disturbances reported in Canning Town, Crouch End, Highgate and Muswell Hill.

Saturday night alone, £100 million of damage was done. With the economy in as much trouble as it is, this is disastrous. Homes, family businesses and lives were destroyed. A furniture shop in Croydon, Reeves’ Corner, stood for over a century, it survived two world wars. And it was destroyed by its own community. These monsters destroyed the lives of those whom they live with with their brutality.

Now, let's get political: Should the Prime Minister, David Cameron, have returned sooner? That's debatable. What was there that he could have done to stop this? Very little, I would say. It was the job of the police to get the situation under control, which they eventually did. The furore of these monsters had to burn out, as did shops, cars and homes. Had Mr. Cameron returned earlier, it would have heightened the sense of emergency. As would calling in the army. As would declaring a 'state of emergency'.

The Chancellor’s return, however, did inject some much needed mirth, with many mockingly saying “Don’t worry, George Osborne’s coming back!”

What infuriates me, is the social workers, the youth workers, going on television, the radio, and saying that it’s because of government cuts, youth programmes being cancelled. My youth group was cut, all but closed, yet I wasn’t out there terrorising these people. Nor were any other of its members. They were the ones out there yesterday, today, cleaning up the streets after this travesty. These people may have hard lives, they may be bored on hot summer’s nights but that is no excuse.

In Croydon, Enfield, Lewisham and Southall, groups of residents banded together to protect their communities. They stood up to thugs and protected their homes and families. That is part of the beauty of London. That is what makes me proud to be British.

Carnage was wrought in: Bethnal Green, Birmingham, Bristol, Brixton, Bromley, Camden, Clapham, Croydon, Ealing, East Ham, Enfield, Hackney, Islington, Kensington High Street, Liverpool, Manchester, Notting Hill, Nottingham, Oxford Circus, Peckham, Poinders End, Salford, Sloane Square, Tottenham, Waltham Forest, West Bromwich and Woolwich. There may be more that I have missed, however, I hope not.

Minor trouble was reported and quickly stopped in Glasgow, I believe, but was quickly averted. The Scottish police said they were ready to help if their English counterparts needed it. Luckily, the trouble stayed, for the most part, in England and did not spread to other parts of the U.K..

My thoughts are with those areas outside of London still affected, those who woke up to chaos, those in anyway harmed by this carnage. And with our wonderful Policemen.

This week’s title, somewhat childish. Although, my six year old niece didn’t know it. Also a bit flippant. The prizes are getting better though.

Give Your First Dance To Me

When Earth was young and star and sun
Had scarcely just been born
I travelled far to see anew
what once was merely dream;
Over fjord and under icy pillar
when wat’ry breath were still but far off plan.
I walked with Deino, Swam with Nessie,
I charged at Hadean’s squeaky voice
scared ‘im off, and in came New Life,
and at the end of which came You

This poem completed is available here

I have no shame in this week's title/clue c: