ink for thought

and so we begin, anew

2012-01-07T18:58:00.000Z

I think over again my small adventures,
my fears,
those small ones that seemed so big,
for all the vital things
I had to get and reach.
and yet there is only one thing,
the only thing,
to live to see the great day that dawns
the light that fills the world.

-inuit prayer-

vive l'interrogation

2011-11-18T02:56:00.001Z

I hadn't expected this. I don't know what I had thought would have happened but definitely not this.

in my years there I had never seen the insides of that room before, and if I never set eyes on it again I shall die a happy man.
it was cold, unnaturally so. the floor was lined with a discoloured, threadbare worn, cheap carpet as stained as it was old. the walls were bare with the paint peeling in a variety of places. in the dim light of a lone, naked, flickering bulb I could just about make out the silhouette of a flimsy little plastic chair besides an even smaller table.

I shuffled over.

"bonjour monsieur ordinary, asseyez-vous s'il vous plait"

the voice from the darkness seemed to be coming from a severe bun perched on top of an almost inanimate, desiccated and menacing scowl. if she was trying to intimidate me she had failed miserably. I was much too terrified by the entire ordeal to be intimidated by anything in particular.

I heard little else that was said during that meeting, my fear pounding in my chest, pulsing in my ears. I kept thinking, "this is how it all ends. right here, right now"

I remember mumbling responses. I tried to say as little as possible. the less you say, the less you have to remember, right? "self incrimination is the real killer here" that was the other thing going through my mind. apart from that, it was all white noise. white noise and a nasally drone, barking out an interrogation in french of all languages.

I was broken by the time they released me. the clocks around me said I had been detained for twenty minutes. I knew they had been tampered with. it was all part of the trick. the endless mind game.

a few friends, fellow inmates mostly, gathered around. my fractured mind couldn't begin the comprehend their barrage of questions. my tongue was heavy in my mouth and my head pounded on the verge of bursting. and then, as though hearing a stranger speak I heard my own voice saying,

"french oral really isn't that bad, but we'll just have to wait until results day."

mr. what if?

2011-09-03T19:38:00.000+01:00

what if the stars above us were dreams waiting to be borne?
what if the cosmos held its breath with stomach taut anticipation, eager preparation for the breadth of your imagination that will bring futures into being?

what if we look too hard for the silver lining?
what if in our pursuit of the best in every situation we lose sight of the magnificence of the cloud that brought us there, the cloud filled to the brim with life giving waters and soul cleansing streams?

what if we didn't let pain cripple us?
what if we saw through our pain and turned our tears into the healing balm that our neighbour so desperately needs?

what if we lived in a world where people loved?
what if with every life we touched we shared value, we communicated importance, we left a finger print of care?

what if dreams, food for our souls, and love were all we needed to truly live?
what if you were that for me and I for you?

would I then be enough?

....what if?

Fear, pride and other mind altering drugs, pt.1

2011-06-07T10:43:00.000+01:00

I am infected by an insidious parasite that drains me of creativity and feeds a sense of impending failure. I am accompanied by an almost ever present sense of overwhelming humiliation and crushing shame hovering just beyond the horizon. I am stalked daily by the long shadow of disappointments past claiming my every possible intention of progress. Crippling and restraining, this is my fear.

in you I see a beauty that profounds me. I am without words and this causes me to be uncomfortable. you see, I am the master of all I survey as long as I can name it, classify it and finds it's place. you, are without classification. magnificence without boundaries, splendor that I fear would only be defiled by my amateurish attempts to describe it. challenged and found wanting, this is my pride.

yet, the sun still shines. unaffected by the triviality of our storms. unstirred by our quests for power, our struggles for significance, our petty mortality. it shines because this is what it does, sans fear, sans pride, whether we like it or not. not seeking approval, it doesn't try, it does. perhaps it's relentlessness teaches me something, maybe I've learned something from it's stoic persistence. maybe I'm just damned fool enough to think trying anyway will make a difference. so, to the hounds with shame and tongue-tied excuses be damned. this is my hope.

And you, you are my love and you, love, are precious to me.

let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

2010-12-02T11:51:00.000Z

so it's snowing. schools are closing and kids are going home early or not going in at all. and...parents are complaining.

"teachers take any excuse to have some time off" and "we don't get to go home when it snows so why should they?" is being muttered around water coolers and over desks around the country. talk radio hosts are whiping up a frenzy and everyone from the middle aged to the long ago retired are recycling tales of "in my day this would never happen."

but I have a couple questions. who is this really serving?

consider this, teachers pay is decided by the performance of the students and parents, in case you haven't realised, many of you aren't providing us with great material to work with in the first place. this means, keeping our homes, feeding ourselves and our children, wearing clothes that kind of fit, keeping the lights and heating running, often depends on your little bundle of joy succeeding. we don't take closures lightly.

so why do we do it?

short answer. safety. that and litigation. you see, parents have, time and time again shown that they will go to great lengths to divorce their children from not only, responsibility for their actions but any kind of consequences. how many times does the urchin need to steal something before it'ss parents accept that their little ray of sunshine is a sociopathic kleptomaniac. so, in the interest of the childs safety and not ending up in court, we send them home. think about it, if you have to choose between these three phone calls which would you rather have,

1) your child is being sent home due to unsafe conditions outside of our control. please make provisions for him/her.
2) your child has been taken to the hospital due to the foolish and irresponsible actions of either himself or a fellow pupil during this time of unsafe conditions. please make your way to X hospital.
3) your child is to be interviewed by the authorities in connection to another child being hospitalised. please make yourself available to accompany them.

it really is that simple. and can you imagine a child falling down some stairs at speed, the fractures and broken bones, the contusions and concussions, the bandages and stitches etc, and the parent walking up and saying..."next time be more careful"?? it's not going to happen.

so parents, when you're tempted to complain about teachers, take a moment to think about what you're really saying. 'cause t sounds like you're saying you'd like us to keep your child in a dangerous environment because it's convenient for you. and at the end of the day....

that's all there is to it, isn't it?

behold what complacence has wrought

2010-11-03T13:17:00.000Z

I've been away for a while. A whole month in fact. and not without good reason. I've been busy with the everyday stuff. hands full with the stuff that keeps the sun in it's place and the earth spinning on it's axis. the stuff that living is made of.

but something has all the while been brewing under the flimsy cover of my busy ness. my hand has been itching and I've had to bite my tongue. but now that october is over I finally feel like I can come out with it boldly and say,

"Black History Month, what a complete waste of time"

I'm not even going to try to apologise for that sentiment so don't ask as blatant, overt and blunt refusal is likely to cause further offense.

to the original designers and implementers of this 'celebration', with their lofty goals and hopeful ambitions, I say thank you and to those who, through their yearly observance help keep it alive, I offer my profound gratitude. you have both groups, brokered, on behalf of black people throughout the western world, a compromise that will forever segregate us from the mainstream of education, the mainstream of history and the mainstream of the future.

tell me this, mr. onemonthayear black man, from whence did you come? and where are you going? and who are you for the other three hundred and thirty three days of the year? and you ms. blackforthirtyonedays, what is your language? where is your country and who are your people?

no. black history month is more than a farce, it is a travesty. it is a slick used car salesman specialising in sleight of hand, dazzling us with its trivialisation of the very history it claims to promote while it simultaneously sells our future on the cheap.

when we have literature lessons all year long that never mention achebe, du bois or even dumas, how dare we claim to acknowledge black history? as long as we have mathematics sessions innumerable and no one hears of benjamin banneker, science semesters that pay no tribute to george washington carver and budding politicians who are unaware of the efforts of booker t. washington how dare we speak of celebrating black history? how dare we?

black history month is a fools gold. it is the festering, putrid, vile scab of complacency that has grown over the nasty, hideous truth. this uncomfortable truth simply put is that black people are not yet seen as equal. in anyone's eyes.

we are not a spectacle to be gawped at or a foreign species to be investigated for presentations and I'd like to think we're not immature ignoramuses to be bought with a wink, a nod and a month of half hearted recognition....or are we?

you see, my history is the story of people and civilisations. it is the story of love and war, greatness and great foolishness. it has shaped the world of today and will shape that of tomorrow because my history is the story of all that there is and no matter the colour of your skin your history is no different.

so when this story is sterilised, segregated and forced on to a reservation we all lose out. and that is my whole point. there is no such thing as 'black history'. there is history and we are all in it. let's represent it like that or not at all.

-peace-

how pathetic...

2010-09-27T18:22:00.002+01:00

I am pathetic,
but, you see, I embrace pathetic.

I am pathetic because I don't mind admitting that I am not self sustaining.
I don't mind admitting that another person can mean so much to me as to cause my days to be brighter, colours more vibrant and living like poetry to whispered gently into sleeping ears.

I don't mind pathetic because I refuse to buy into the macho myth.
I refuse to throw myself headlong into a perpetual state of callous indifference.
I refuse to divorce myself from my heart.

for it is only in being truly pathetic that I have come to see what it is like to be wholly vulnerable, wholly alive, wholly...human...

and to lose that...would have to be the hardest thing of all

what's your poison?

2010-09-25T04:00:00.000+01:00

I'm sure we've all heard it said and many of us have said it ourselves, 'I can't think yet, haven't had my morning coffee' but what does that mean?

as a non coffee drinker I must confess that I am perplexed and just a little concerned about the freeness with which we, as a society, accept this drug dependency. because at the end of the day, isn't that what caffeine is? are we not medicating ourselves to make reality more palatable? and what does that say about us and our ability to live in the real world if we are only able to competently interface with it under the influence of a stimulant?

that got me thinking...why fuss about caffeine when there are harder substances out there? why fuss about tea and coffee, deeply engrained in the history and culture of many ancient nations, when society and humanity itself is under the attack of much more virulent forms of drug addiction? but that's just my point.

addiction is addiction. the inability to live and function without the aide of some sort of crutch, be it caffeine, glucose, adrenaline, nicotine, opiates, amphetamines or even the staggering array of behavioural addictions, to only gently scratch the surface of our neurosis, is what really causes me some despair for us as humanity. are we so poorly prepared for living and it's stresses that we are forced to create these buffers between our lives and our living? have we always been thus ineptly equipped? and is there a cure?

it bares pointing out given the definition of addiction religion is not exempt. some would argue, using sweeping generalisations, that the beneficent nature of most religions, the morality and ethos they preach and oft times inspire should discount them from such a label. as if the addictive nature of a thing, by association, makes it a bad thing. but, if we take a step back and dare to be completely honest, what is religion if not a crutch for the soul and an addiction of the heart?

so that brings me back to the original question. it's not about whether or not you have an addiction, for it seems clear that we humans cease to behave rationally without one (oh the irony), but what is your addiction? what does it do for you? does it simply get you through the day or does it compel you to something better?

ignore me for a minute...

2010-09-20T19:28:00.001+01:00

ignore me for a minute while I laugh over the pain
ignore me hiding my tear stained sleeve in my pockets
my red rimmed eyes behind shades
my wounded heart with too many toothy grins

ignore me for a minute I said, the warmth of your care burns me so
ignore me being evasive, flinching from your concern
searing my feigned indifference like acid
making a liar of my trying too hard not to tremble lips

ignore me for a minute, just one or two, while I drown my sorrows in song
ignore me in my façade and join in my masquerade
my parade of grand illusions to cover
my dreams now bruised, battered and raw

ignore me for a minute while I gather myself
ignore me grasping for the fragmented remains
the shattered 'could-have-been's
the scattered 'use-to-be's

the things that made
nevermind
just ignore me...

be afraid, be very afraid

2010-09-14T22:47:00.003+01:00

I'm about to say something that may prove unpopular. to be fair I'm about to contradict centuries of conventional thinking and the teachings espoused by most positive thinking gurus.

Fear is a good thing.

that's right, fear. it's fear that makes me look both ways before crossing the road. it's fear that prevents me from putting my finger in electrical sockets. it's fear that keeps me from lighting fires in petrol stations, extinguishing said flames with my bare hands, trying to 'fly' off the roofs of tall buildings (with or without cape), and a host of other life span shortening activities.

good old fashion fear. but, and let us be clear about this...I'm not talking about the paralysing fear that causes courage to wither, halts all progress and stunts development. I'm not talking about the yellow streak of cowardice that lurks beneath the most macho displays of bravado. and I'm hoping you're not confusing this with the fear that retaliates without concern, lashes out without control, preys on the vulnerable and feeds on the weak.

what I'm talking about, the fear I hope we can all cultivate, is probably better translated as reverence. it's a word that's fallen out of favour and a concept regarded as dated in our times. websters dictionary defines reverence as "honour or respect felt or shown" and I guess my point is if we carried a little of it around for the people we meet, the work we do and the lives we live, things might be just a little different. if we were all to consider our spheres of influence, immediate and long term, the repercussions of our actions, trivial and considered, and the futures we are presently in the process of creating...maybe, just maybe we'd do things differently.

so politicians, take a little fear with you to work, it might keep you honest. soldiers, take a little fear with you into the field, it might keep you alive. police officers, fire fighters, doctors and nurses, take a little fear with you in to the office, you might save a life. and you, teachers, writers, musicians and artists, take a little fear with you to work because you shape the days we live in. but above all, parents, take a little fear with you wherever you go, and you might just change the world.

"Fear has it's uses, cowardice has none"

~ Mahatma Ghandi

....so soon?

2010-09-01T00:17:00.000+01:00

home invasion,

too much sunlight much too early,

eyes nearly open,

vision still clouded, doubled and blurry.

pain shooting through legs

ears ringing and head sore

then it hits you, like a pro ball player swinging a 2x4

damn...

it's the morning after the night before.

hope

2010-06-15T21:47:00.002+01:00

There is something to be said of hope.
That inspirer of creativity,
lifter of heads and
fuel for fire in the engine of change.

There is something to be said of hope.
That uncanny shaper of fates,
transformer of hearts and
source of grace notes with which the grey and solemn march of life is beautified.

There is something to be said of hope.
That sweetener of the sourest fortune,
lens through which every silver lining is found and
ceaseless caretaker in the orchard where dreams are nurtured.

There is something to be said of hope.
In a people desperately seeking it,
in hearts whose stores have run dry
to vision grown dim by disappointment.

There is indeed something to be said.
But the better things are often known yet,
rarely spoken enough.

...have hope

she

2010-05-06T08:54:00.003+01:00

There are only so many reasons to do anything. Correction, there is only ever one reason to do anything. Desire. Everything after that is nothing more than purest moonshine. The plethora of excuses, explanations, rationales and whatnot that mankind has, throughout civilization, employed to mask this, our base motivation, is a testament to nothing more than our equal loves of fantasy and social acceptance. Since Adam, juice stains on his lips and sin in his belly, attempted to deceive the Almighty, Man has schemed to hide his desire. Often the delicacy of the cover up rivals even the intensity of the initial compulsion, but rest assured, at the foundation of any conscious action are the co joined twin offspring of Desire. I Want and I Need. Insatiable, omnivorous and never resting they devour, demand and dictate.

I say all that because I need to you to know that I am no angel. My writing for you today is by no means some act of altruistic benevolence. Not in the purist sense at least which, if the above is to be believed, never truly happens anyway.

Every good story deserves a beginning and most good story tellers will admit that that is rarely where any good story actually starts. With that in mind I will attempt to be as forthright with you as possible and cut straight to the wick.

I love her.

days

2010-05-05T00:27:00.002+01:00

there are good days and there are bad,

there are easy days and there are hard.

there are moments of pure emotion,

my eyes well up and the heart swells,

my pulse races and thoughts disappear into mist even before being fully formed.

those times when I would run to the moon hoping to shed myself,

when I would gather the clouds around to hide from the intensity of my own inward gaze.

there are times when sorrow masks itself with laughter,

a smile hanging loosely like a neon sign outside a derelict shopping district

a playful chuckle standing as sombre sentry

keeping watch over the true feelings buried deep within

there are fragments filled with such an immensity of activity

that finding the time to do anything is in itself a feat,

these days when the hands work so that mind will not,

the body is engaged in hopes that the heart be distracted

but there are always

choruses and verses,

places, both real and dreamt,

words and sounds,

sunrises and sunsets

all of these things and a dozen beside

that remind me just how much

imissu

the fight

2010-05-01T13:28:00.007+01:00

fight, because there are things in life worth it.

there are dreams that will not rest unfulfilled,

passions that cannot desist.

fight, because there are battles that must be fought,

even if lost. there is victory in the losing,

there is honour in believing.

fight, because time indeed will tell

and now is the only story we can write

and the tomorrow will always remember

fight, because there will not always be the chance

fight, because when it's time to let go,

it simply is.

sleep writing

2010-03-09T08:44:00.004Z

I write my best poetry when I'm asleep.

pioneering paths through the uncharted unconscious

I plot wordy insurrection

overthrowing tyrannical grammatical conventions

deeply rooted inventions, created through subconscious retention

Or so I'm told....

I write my best poetry when I'm asleep.

the shoemaker's elves working like dwarves in a mine

but from it's the mine of my unaware mind

that they chisel out the gems I don't speak.

I write my best poetry when I'm asleep.

those few precious hours rest are

where I display my art

for an audience of none or

as many as my dream may hold captive

I write my best poetry when I'm asleep.

words woven like silken silver,

dancing in moonshine, ethereal like.

and only the faintest glimmers remain,

once the consciousness takes hold.

...in time

2010-01-28T08:26:00.007Z

if in our time I could teach you one thing,
if I could speak this into the heart of your being and
sew this truth into the fabric of your self

I would this one thing impart.

in all your getting, get patience
learn to wait with forbearance
and bide time with grace.

in all your taking, take endurance
for the race is not given to the swift or
the strong but one who with tolerance for hardship
completes it all

in all your growing, grow fortitude.
see the beauty deeply rooted in anticipation,
the glories to be found in silent meditation.

more is grown under duress than in plenty
and more is to gain from contemplative stillness
than ever a flurry of activity could achieve

we are built for eternity you and I.
and thus a time for everything
and everything
in time.

famous...

2010-01-20T08:34:00.003Z

...last words of a dying dream.

I lean in to catch the slightest whisper,
breathing laboured, face drained of life,
body ravaged by anxiety and disappointments looming

I see your lips move, sound visibly struggling to escape
only the finest gossamer thread of hope holding body and spirit together

panic clutches my heart as I recognise the familiar
glossing over of the eyes, focussing on the middle distance

you gather the last of your strength and beckon me close
and say,

"I'm sorry, I've found someone new"

pondering yesterdays

2010-01-04T10:15:00.012Z

alas,

here we find ourselves,

toes dipped in the streams of time,

forever flowing from eternity past

into the eternal to come.

here we sit,

astride the lumbering behemoth,

named Present,

stalking the elusive Future

forging History with every ponderous step.

my friend,

a word to the wise is sufficient,

and a seed planted in season will bear fruit.

like cool water on cracked lips

and warmth of heart and hearth

is guidance to those attuned to

discernments whisper.

let tomorrow not be clumsily crafted

by ignorance

hearts turned by disillusionment

our roads paved with fear

and our streets lined with anger and it's offspring

despair

pondering yesterdays,

let us learn from where we have been

so that we may grow into the better thing

"We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid"

~ Benjamin Franklin

on integrity

2009-12-09T08:30:00.006Z

"One of the truest tests of integrity is its

blunt refusal to be compromised"

~ Chinua Achebe

integrity. it's an unpopular concept at the best of times. the thought that who we are all the time is an integral part of everything we do all the time seems to strike an uncomfortable nerve. given the nature of the subject matter it touches on every person you and I know and a few highly publicized names will, without a doubt, come to mind.

with that said, and though it may be hard to believe, I'm not writing with a certain pro golfer (how is that even a sport?) in mind. I'm thinking of teachers.

these wardens of the future, these gate keepers of knowledge, these sherpas along the treacherous road to enlightenment surely they, of all people, should be held to a level of integrity.

the educator in question shares tales of books bought, photocopied then returned to the bookstore with glee and pride. as though, somehow, defrauding an institution for personal gain is to be applauded. really? though, we would hope, this is not what will be taught in classrooms, what ethics can such a person impart? how just will this person be to our youngsters when opportunistic dishonesty is held in high regard?

now, I've been a student and it isn't easy. I've bought books that cost more than I care to admit. I've spent more time in libraries than can possibly do my street cred any good. but this isn't sour grapes. no, this is me honestly asking, when one child takes advantage of the others good nature, when the cunning one pulls the wool over the kind ones eyes, will this teacher do the right thing? better yet, will this teacher know a wrong thing has been done?

as I search myself for personal application it's clear that there are areas where work is needed, some more urgent than others but all important. and by the same token, I'm throwing it out to you as a wider audience. do we do as we say, and if so, is it something we'd be happy for others to follow?

"It's not what we eat but what we digest that makes us strong; not what we gain but what we save that makes us rich; not what we read but what we remember that makes us learned; and not what we profess but what we practice that gives us integrity"

~ Sir Francis Bacon

for what is in a name...

2009-11-19T08:57:00.002Z

there is great potential in words. within them lie the power of life and death. with them we attempt to capture the truest essence of a thing, animate or otherwise. we draw them from the clear air and form the corporeal stuff of the everyday.

it is with appreciation for this that I want to thank my parents. though they have never explicitly taught me this from their example I have gleaned much.

you see, I am named for the ancients, named for the numberless stars and mysteries secreted within the bowels of the earth. born of a time unfettered by memory, before forgetting begun. carved into walls of archaic tombs and murmured in awe struck reverence by the wise and uninitiated alike. long before the advent of script and spoken by drums over miles it was a title, to be earned, an honour, to be bestowed and a reputation not easily garnered.

for me it has been a responsibility and a burden but also a challenge. and while I may at times fail spectacularly, I thank my parents for the initial faith they showed.

but you don't really know, do you?

2009-10-31T20:11:00.007Z

it's a touchy subject but I'm in the mood to push some buttons, and first, just so we're clear - the next person to tell me they 'know what it's like being black'.....beware.

I mean, dammit people...growing up around black folks gives you as much insight into our lives as growing up around cars makes you run on gas. just because as a kid your loud caribbean neighbour invited you over to dinner 2/3 times a week, your dad let you listen to his UB40 collection and you smoked your first roll up behind the bicycle sheds at 14, that does not make you James Meredith, heck, it doesn't even make you Uncle Remus.

let's look at the flip side for a minute. I've lived in england for a little while and so I can honestly claim to have grown up around a lot of white folks. believe me, I don't know what it's like to be white. I don't know what it's like to walk into a store and not have security follow me around. I don't know what it's like to run pass a police man, trying to catch a bus, and not have him try to stop me. I don't know what it's like to stand in a playground talking to friends and not have a teacher split us up for 'conspiring some sort of mischief'. I don't know what it's like to be called to the front of the queue and served in front of patrons waiting patiently before me. I don't know what it's like to be preferred for promotion, not pulled over for driving my new (-ish) car or not asked for class A illicit substances by random strangers.

my point is this, I don't know what it's like to be white. and that's not a bad thing, because I'm not. it's our differences that make us who we are. but it's rude and condescending to assume that being black is the food I eat, the clothes I wear and the music I listen to. as if being black is a trend to be analysed and adapted to.

being black is a history and a heritage, a birthright and a responsibility, it is to be borne and to be gifted, it is to be lived as much as it lives through us. simply put, being black is a way of being.

I believe this is the same for any other people group. to know it, is to be it.

so don't tell me your-brother's-best-friend's-cousin-went-to-school-with-a-guy-whose-sister-played-on-the-same-hockey-team-as-a-girl-whose-brother-shared-a-taxi-with-a-black-girl-once, so you what it's like to be black. it's ignorant and demeaning.

and for the record, I don't have anything against white folks, some of my best friends are white.

a long time coming

2009-10-11T23:35:00.006+01:00

I suppose we should have seen this coming. too many days have gone with not a word to share between us, not a glance to sustain or a nourishing touch.

and so in the still of the night I turn to say goodbye. I turn to face you, to face all our unspoken woes, to face fears and insecurities, to face myself. I dig deep to find the courage that has never really been there because I know that unless we end this perpetual cycle of emptiness, this emotional vacuum where we go through motions like hollowed shells of our dreams, unless swift decisive action is taken, and soon, we continue to doom ourselves.

but I hesitate. I always hesitate. I'm afraid it's the end. odd, because I'm fairly sure it is but if I hear you say it then that'll only make it more true. I'm afraid that if we really look at this, somehow it's my fault. I'm afraid I've let you down. I'm afraid you'll leave.

I can't continue with all this fear. I'm dying for lack of peace and fear intends to finish the job. I contend with this formidable fear daily and, like sisyphus, daily it beckons me to begin again. something must be done.

you don't speak to me anymore. it could be that you are equally tormented, that you feel that peculiar pressure that comes with a growing uneasiness. like high tension on taut strings warning of danger, promising catastrophe yet unnamed. perhaps your heart yearns for me to speak and break this spell over us, renewing the beauty that was us.

still wrestling in my head and protesting in my heart I turn to you. I turn to you and open my eyes slowly, hoping to see your smile and hear you say 'it's okay'. but as my eyes focus in the darkness I realise something I guess I've known all along.

I turn to see that you're no longer here.

I suppose I should have seen this coming.

the last day

2009-09-07T13:20:00.003+01:00

we would wander through a nearby field with our shoes off. hand in hand, grass and poppies between our toes, we would listen to a distant steam gurgling over time smoothed stones like a new born with a favourite toy.

invoking the ancient powers of the storyteller we would bring cloud shapes to life and they would join us for lunch under the shade of a friendly acorn tree.

we would feast on the pure light of joy, filling ourselves with laughter and smiles. we would spend the afternoon contemplating the deep wonders of the daisy chain, mediating to the quiet melody of bird call in early autumn.

yeah, if today was my last I definitely wouldn't be at work

in the garden

2009-08-05T11:09:00.006+01:00

once again the writer ponders.

once again he contemplates late into the when grasping for the how with which to form the why that is all that is.

clock face solemn, hands in clasped as if in reverent prayer, a devout acolyte pronouncing a salaam for the new day, a silent greeting for new beginnings of old tales.

the writer, head bowed in awe of the moment, eyes closed to better see the inner developing of ideas, the coming to fruition of hidden thoughts, the quiet murmurings of the unknown growing in unseen places, begins.

he carefully plucks a fully ripened concept. one moment casting an expert eye for the signs of potency found deep within, the next shaking it, to test for fullness and robustness. he sheds the skin of aimless chatter to make more readily available the rich fruit of cogitation beneath the surface.

in this fruit he sees deliberation and debate, he sees received knowledge tested and new ground broken, he sees fresh life breathed into jaded dreamers and walls broken down in archaic minds. he meditates before this fruit of reflection, the ripened seed of revolution and he breathes deeply of its aroma.

he breathes deeply, drinks fully and sinking his teeth into the possibility of what could be...

he writes

the kiss

2009-07-15T14:29:00.004+01:00

Then she kissed me. Without any warning, any invitation, right there in the middle of the street, stuck between a supermarket and a train station she walked up and kissed me. She kissed me like we had been kissing for years. The kiss spoke of time wasted yet with sweetest promises of time to yet be, it proclaimed freedom and vitality and singularity of purpose, it sang with passion and abandon and wanton disregard. At that very second my mind was filled with only her, in that instant of purest clarity it was like all creation had fallen away embodied in this one perfect moment, this one perfect kiss and her, the deliverer thereof. I stood there as the clear summer’s day died, casting a rich red and purple haze across the western sky and for the first time I saw clearly everything that we were. Or rather, everything that she was. Her smile and the way she turned into my hand as I run my fingers across the back of her neck, her eyes that blazed with passion as much when we argued as they shone when she laughed. And her laugh, oh I missed her laugh. Had it really been that long? I feel like I’ve just come up for air, like a prisoner released from confinement beneath the earths surface. An eternity apart then a chanced encounter had led to this and here we are. I didn’t realise how much I missed her until now. I ache with the suddenness of this realisation and at the same time I am soothed by her very presence, her scent, her warmth. Torturous in its intensity but completely irresistible (perhaps I cannot will not resist) I commit myself to a total surrender to her. It is then I know that I cannot be without her. And it is only then I know that I can not be without her. But all is not well. In this moment of clarity, this moment of bare, brazen, introspective honesty, I see one more thing. I see that we cannot be together, I see why we drifted apart, I see passion lost, hearts betrayed and tears cried in secret places and words, angry and contorted, spoken in public. Tears gather like little storm clouds in my eyes and as much as I will them away with lids firmly shut reality will not be denied. And in that moment I do the cowardly thing, I take the easy route. I give in to the perfect kiss, I give in to the perfect embrace and as I listen to it tell the story of us I kiss her in return. And we draw apart.

parting

2009-07-10T14:00:00.004+01:00

a knot in my chest. a lump in my throat. lips pursed on the cusp of trembling and a tear on the verge of fullness.

clouds weeping like saddened angels on the day of rebellion. sky shuddering under the weight of thunderous sobs yet to be born. shards of lightening providing momentary glimpses into the sorrow.

a knot in my chest. a lump in my throat. a hole in my heart.

goodbye

Honest Scrap

2009-07-08T18:59:00.001+01:00

In a bold step out of familiar territory I'm going to take up this challenge thrown down by the truly sublime shansPlc. I know it's an award but when you're as bereft of original, vaguely interesting facts, as I am....believe me, it's a challenge. Having said that, this is my first award, I am honoured to receive it and would encourage all and sundry to head over to the word and follow the unfolding story. don't be a lazy bum like me and end up reading the whole thing backwards, go back and read from the start.

I've been told that it works like this:

1) Tell your readers 10 things that are true that they might not know
2) Tag 10 other bloggers to do the same

with no further ado...

1) growing up I almost never walked in straight line anywhere and would invariably find every ditch and gully to walk in or insects to chase and animals (cows and such) to harass along the way.

2) despite what I may have said before, my earliest memory is of my faded and peeled red tractor that I part owned with my brother when we lived in our parents first home.

3) in the summer of 1990 I was almost shot by the paramilitary force that had taken over the government for breaking curfew.

4) when young I was fond of all animals. until a cat bit me....I bit it back.

5) I mask my insecurities with bravado and eloquence. I've done it for so long I don't know who people like more, me or the face I show them.

6) growing up I was always compared to my father because we are almost identical in facial features and, surprisingly, mannerisms.

7) I used to spend hours watching the tumble dryer in my basement, working out the number of cycles based upon the rotation of the particular item I was focussing on.

8) the high standards I demand of myself and the fear my insecurities foster cripple me from attempting many of the things I aspire to.

9) I would love everyone a lot more if I could just figure out how to love myself.

10) if you've read all of these and believe them to be true, you know more about me than most people I've known all my life.

and now for my tags:

1) Afro jellybaby at a road less travelled

2) M.J. at In so many words...

3) Lauren at Half Deserted Streets

4) Moonjava at Moonjava's Muse

5) John at Joh Blogs

6) lainee at got ice cream?

7) Nic at *PINKNIC'S PLANET*

8) Jenn at Free and Flawed

9) Kendall at The Confessions of an Odd Duck

10) little erin at erin uncensored

only human...

2009-06-25T15:13:00.007+01:00

we are children of the impossible. sprung full grown, like athena, from the fount of what could be. we are nothing but potent portents of that which is yet to come. at all times the best and worst of all that has been. our dreams speak mysteries into the deep, drawing, etching, bending reality to our will.

we are the children of the tomorrow. our very lives the playthings of flickle fate, faces fresh and hearts full we brave the unknown each day in search of the simplicity and structure found only in the mundane whilst we pine for the excitement that lies solely within the realm of the surreal.

we are the echoes of destiny. formed of the original substance, that creative spark, we are constantly seeking that indelible mark, that which sets us aside, individual, indivisible, uncommon conformity for which we are named,

we are only human.

pondering blues

2009-06-01T22:41:00.014+01:00

I am blue
blue like the moodiest shades of miles,
laid heavy over the melancholy tones of holiday.

blue like purest sapphire soaked in a cloudless autumnal night.
nights, blackened navy, untainted by celestial jewels.
I am blue.

this blueness, drawn from deeper wells of being,
not like the violent reds of anger, demanding attention
or radiant yellows of bliss, glowing for the benefit of many

it is an introspective blue, a contemplative hue, simple and understated,
I am blue.

on imposition

2009-05-30T13:30:00.001+01:00

a friend once asked if I thought she should tell her son about her beliefs. her problem, as she saw it, was that by imposing her views onto the child, 10 years old, she would inhibit him from making reasoned choices later in life. conversely, if she chose not to share with him he would be in a better position to consider all options when and if he got around to making up his own mind.

I am in the habit of speaking plainly with most of the people I know and have to admit, on this occasion, I may have used derisive sarcasm to emphasize my point somewhat, but the main gist was as follows...."bull!"

as a parent your very role is an imposition. you tell the child when to go to bed, when to wake up, what to wear(and increasingly) how to wear it, what to eat, how to eat it, sometimes who to talk to, often who to listen to, how to walk, how to talk, what they will and will not do in supermarket aisles, school playgrounds, roads of all sizes and parks. You demand from them certain behaviours as are in keeping with societal standards and your own. you insist they follow the laws of the land with the hope that they continue to do so as they grow older. all of this and more is not only your right, it is your responsibility.

so I suppose then the real question is this...do you believe that your beliefs are important, relevant, or even true? because when you get down to it, that's all that matters.

the child will always make a choice. you don't teach them to lie, you even encourage them not to, so you can't really hide behind that. there will be choosing.

and there will be imposition, I think I've made that clear. but there is this to consider also. what you don't tell a child sends a loud message too. not challenging littering when you tore him a new one over swearing says that littering is not important. ignoring selfishness when you routinely punish him for fighting says the same.

doing away with the smoke screens and the excuses the only real question is...do I really believe or do I just tick the box and hope no one asks?

and that's one I can't really help with.

it's not you, it's me

2009-05-18T09:49:00.005+01:00

I really don't want you to feel bad. after all we've both put into this I think it's only fair that I say this, it's not you, it's me. after all the months and tears, it's not you, it's me.

it's not your inability to share feelings, thoughts and emotions. it's not your cold attitude and unwillingness to be part of my life. it's not even the way you treat me like I don't exist in front of your friends, those rare times you've allowed us to meet, it's me.

I really appreciate your quirky insecurity that has had me jumping through hoops to appease you. that way you never got over previous relationships so that I've had to work doubly hard since the day we met. the way you never have anything to say, never have anything to add, never express any desire to be in my presence. it's not you, it's me.

it's my fault this won't work because I grew up. it's my fault this won't work because I've finally decided I'm worth more. it's my fault this won't work because though I didn't believe it possible I've finally run out of patience.

so don't feel bad, don't change who you are for me because at the end of the day sweetheart, it's not you at all.

I've just moved on.

(don't you wish you thought of this kind of stuff closer to the time?)

I believe

2009-04-30T23:46:00.002+01:00

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog once again. I thought now would be a good time to share with you some of my closely held beliefs. I believe that a dozen affirmations will never outweigh the initial disdain, that's what therapy is for. I believe that time doesn't heal all wounds, it simply places the pain in cold storage until a more inconvenient time. I believe that SimCity is a gate way drug leading eventually to much harder substances, like World of Warcraft, think about it. I believe all we need is love...and food. I believe worse things happen at sea. I believe that meat is murder, tasty, tasty murder. I believe in magic and unicorns and fairies and whatever else makes my god daughter smile. I believe that experience is the best teacher but the courses are often too expensive. I believe there are people who genuinely don't want you to be happy, they work in banks. I believe my goldfish are the best pets in the world, they live outside and are almost completely self sufficient. I believe ma-ti was useless as a planeteer and panthro didn't have to be blue. I believe a society, such as ours, so steeped in celebrity and the pursuit thereof is bound to breed disillusionment and despair. I believe ken lee is an instant classic.

-peace-

originally posted on 'organised chaos' 3rd september 2008

on speciesism

2009-04-16T11:39:00.009+01:00

Definition of Speciesism: Giving moral preference to the interests of members of one's own species, over identical interests of members of a different species, solely because it is a member of your species.

I really, really want to write something witty about this. I would like to know if Mr. Singer ever came across a sleuth of grizzlies debating over the social mores surrounding the tearing off of human faces. or, perhaps a pride of lions deliberating over whether or not their survival warranted their treatment of the slow antelope or wildebeest.

my point being that it is perfectly natural and acceptable to give preference to the interests of members of one's own species. it's called nature. I'm not saying cruelty to animals is justifiable, in fact, I am strongly against it. but I do believe that humane treatment of other species is a measure of our own humanity not a reflection on the value of the creature in question.

our power over the other sentient beings on this planet (by means of force and/or intellect) is without question. our power over ourselves, exhibited through compassion, kindness and self control....this is where the true battle lies.

for fox sake

2009-04-10T18:20:00.003+01:00

fox hunting, contentious non-issue that it is, has raised it's ravaged and hotly debated head once more. so let's pretend, like anyone else caught up in this 'controversy', that there isn't a worldwide economic disaster in progress, that carbon emissions (and general environmental negligence) from both developing and developed nations alike isn't hastening a crisis the likes of which the future will forever be ill-equipped to deal with. we can even go so far as to put aside the increasing danger we all live under due to ever growing nuclear proliferation in nations better known for their belligerence and paranoia than anything else and not to mention the looming menace of a nation run by a police force without ethics, boundaries or conscience.

so let's talk about fox hunting. but first, let's not talk about tens of thousands of children dying for a chance to live. let's bypass the less than noble wars raging across the globe by less than noble men for less than noble reasons. let us opt to not acknowledge the poverty of spirit which breeds oppression, the poverty of mind bearing the fruit of ignorance and hatred, and the poverty of soul giving rise to murder, that plagues humanity.

fox hunting. that's what we should be talking about. fox hunting.

teaching by numbers

2009-03-28T00:24:00.005Z

so I work with children...

some would argue that it's a step up from the world of knuckle dragging , mono browed avarice but you'd be surprised. don't get me wrong, there's a sense of 'giving back' that pushing paper and counting coins didn't provide but school, education, learning....this is big business.

I don't suppose many people realise that education in several London boroughs is contracted out to firms with very little experience in actual teaching, much less interfacing with younglings. Take, for example, the considerable corporate mass that is the fleet constructing, army training, waste recycling, nuclear decommissioning (the list goes on) Group that presently holds the contract for delivering education to young people in Waltham Forest.

Maybe there's a lot I don't understand and undoubtedly there are huge swathes of information that I do not have privy to but I remain unconvinced that these well meaning business people are best suited to do this job.

Spending each day in classroom I am constantly growing a new and deeper appreciation of what it means to succeed. I say this because no one ventures into business without carefully considering what they would find a successful result. but, and this is where it gets interesting, what counts as success for the average nuclear decommissioning company probably differs greatly to what any one of my teacher colleagues would recognise by the same name, not to mention the children.

you see, money is not and cannot be our bottom line. as my father would say 'teaching is a noble vocation'. of course he what he means by that is that one would have to be incredibly self-sacrificing (or at the very least, nuttier than squirrel shit in a peanut factory) to try it. he was a teacher for 20 years before making this declaration...and he's not very self sacrificing, but that's another rant altogether. I guess the point I'm trying to make is this, the bottom line is the children. yes, schools don't run of smilie faces and polite nods, but when we start seeing little pound signs running around playgrounds and stop seeing individuals with often more hardships than hopes, more disappointments than dreams and more afflictions than aspirations then that's when we ought to step out of teaching and perhaps, maybe...consider banking.

behold, the mighty mediocre...

2009-02-23T00:33:00.003Z

just sat through push, the latest offering from the good folks that brought us such unforgettable fare as lucky number slevin in years past.

I'll keep this brief. I really wanted to enjoy this film. it had all the ingredients to make it brilliant. the plot was interesting enough and the actors weren't too shabby (admittedly some were better than others but the average was fairly....passable). I guess it just goes to show that even after you throw all the right elements together it doesn't guarantee a success. almost every scene seemed packed with potential and almost every scene managed not to capitalise on this. a perfect example would be the scenery. the film is based in hong kong and not a single shot truly captured the electric charisma that is so characteristic of that great port city.

can't give this uninspired 111 minute jaunt through hk's lesser known back streets more than a disappointed 5/10. could've been better, should've been better but fell short of satisfying. all it needed was one last push.

do you believe in karma?

2009-01-25T21:23:00.002Z

I got stopped the other day by a girl wanting me to sign up to some charity. now I'm a fairly charitable person...but at the same time I'm broke, not only am I broke...I foresee myself being broke for some time to come. I don't really have a problem with this, in fact, I'm pretty chilled about it but it does mean I really oughtn't be giving away any new money on a regular basis.

when I tried to explain this to the eager charity worker she countered with 'do you believe in karma?' didn't take me too long to say no. I don't believe in very much to be honest and karma never did appeal to me.

but the question has stuck with me. days later I'm asking myself, what did she mean by karma? I mean, I believe in actions and consequence and if she meant that then we've pretty much agreed but if she meant that when you do good things, then good things come back to you...in a kind of cosmic balancing act where all things exist in equal portions and reality as we know it is constantly in a battle to maintain its own equilibrium...then I ain't buying it.

if somebody out there can pin down what exactly karma is then please let me know. the way I see it, good things happen to bad people all day (and double on the weekends) where's the delicate balance then? and what about bad stuff happening to good folks? where's the karma in that?

I'm gonna get personal with this one because I know I say some cruel stuff sometimes. I've been known to be mean to vertically challenged people, sarcastic and not especially kind to domesticated quadrupeds amongst other short comings. but what karma says to me is that one day, bad things will happen to me as a result. period. well....what happened to grace? ya see, in my book grace doesn't give you what you deserve and mercy gives you what you couldn't earn.

I guess that's my main problem with karma. as far as quasi religious theories go I have to say that "shit happens" works much better for me. with karma there's no room for accidents. there's no understanding of mistakes. the human is elevated to a state of infallibility that no wrong doing can be forgiven and punishment looms over us all. that's a harsh way to live. besides, if I'm only doing 'good' stuff so that 'good' stuff can happen to me (I call that "the santa syndrome") then surely that doesn't count. does karma differentiate between actions and motivations??

no charity worker lady, I don't believe in karma. but can I ask you something as you stand there collecting money for unfortunate children who are beaten, abused and abandoned, the cancer patient who may never see their childs wedding day or even the mentally challenged, daily facing an onslaught we could never imagine, a war in their minds we could never begin to comprehend? if you believe in karma.....what did they do?

how's that for enlightenment?

2009-01-24T13:52:00.003Z

so let me make sure I'm understanding this....

a professor of education has stepped down from his position within the british academy of science...because he urged teachers to be prepared to discuss and debate the relative benefits and possible weaknesses of a theoretical explanation to our existence?

so basically, science has won a battle over curiosity. well done science! no longer will you be subject to the whims and fancies of the inquisitive. no longer will you be goaded into reaching further and further into the unknown. no longer will you be held responsible for the enlightenment of minds and the broadening of horizons.

finally, the search has ended, science has found out everything it has ever wanted to know and is content to simply congeal in its superiority, mold over and turn into dogma.

I'll come back to dogma in a bit, bugbear of mine that it is, but I have to ask...isn't debate and discussion, exploration and exposition the very foundation of science? isn't science about knowing clearly the dark mysteries of the universe? isn't the point of science to prove without a doubt that which defunct tradition, age old ignorance and (dogmatic) superstition have kept locked away?

surely if children go to school with errant beliefs and misguided convictions it is the teachers responsibility to educate them, but you'll catch a lot more flies with honey than with vinegar, and to suggest that teachers not be prepared to talk about creationism in it's various forms is to deprive students the opportunity to grow in their ability to think and deny science the ability to grow in it's understanding of the world around us.

it amazes me that when religious groups become this defensive about their deeply held beliefs the question always arises...."if you're so sure of what you know then why can't you debate it?"

well, I put that same question to the cowards at the Royal Society, and the relevant education authorities...if you're so sure, then why can't a child ask a question and expect a reasonable, fair and dare I say, educated, response from a teacher?

so the religion of the day is science. it's dogma shall not be questioned and it's decrees are absolute. it's prophets, adorned in the priestly robes of the high office of the lab tech, speak with the unerring voice of those truly attuned to the whispers of purest knowledge. and we, simpletons and plebs, the unwashed masses dare not contradict.

how's that for enlightenment?

it's a small world after all

2009-01-20T04:52:00.003Z

I am constantly amazed at how small our worlds have become. we seem to have become intellectual xenophobes. spending each day in mortal fear of the unknown thoughts lurking behind the eyes of the unknown other. tight lipped and even tighter cliqued we circle the wagons and exclude any and all who don't fit into our increasingly small understanding of what it means to be.

From the rooftops we declare tolerance and acceptance, every mouth in the land sings 'welcome' but our doors remain barred to those that think, look or speak differently. we eye them with suspicion and mistrust. a mistrust born of a thousand not yet committed sins, borne on the wings of a myriad secondhand tales of unverifiable villainy.

Our specious salutations, fallacious fabrication of friendliness, nothing more than denials of our base nature, or even the nature of our baseness. we tolerate those that agree with us. with open arms we welcome those from whom we have never parted.

How small have our worlds become? so afraid are we that we harangue, insult and deride what we do not understand. we bolster our own insecurities with vulgar misunderstanding and pray fervently that no one sees through our facade to our fear. we are child like, running from the dark and hoping against hope for the light of day to release us.

perhaps one day our worlds will collide, perhaps the sound of a million smashing snow globes will shake us from this isolationist stupor, as we awake to the colour and vivacity that life lived in real communion with real people (not this masquerade of the make believe) can hold. perhaps...

on originality

2009-01-06T14:59:00.003Z

it occurs to me that in the effort to break new ground, the rugged pursuit of the elusive original, we sometimes lose our way. our focus blurred by the intensity of our own intention. our stamina worn away by the monotony of the commonplace. we strive on through the everyday seeking that which will truly amaze, enthrall, captivate.

but, as the bard said, here lies the rub, for it is by the commonplace that the truly glorious is masked and everday we dwell among the breath taking....we need only look.

my dogma ate my homework, pt.1

2009-01-06T14:28:00.007Z

I'm not a fan of religion. any religion. by and large, man made institutions, castles of cards made of idiotic traditions founded on rules and regulations created solely to bind people in fear and guilt. religion covers ignorance like a dirty bandage on a weeping sore.

that said I've had my full of the arm chair philosophers, word of mouth historians and the multiplicity of others claiming boldly 'religion has killed more people than all the wars in history combined!' really? come on, we've all heard enough politicking to be able to spot a whopping great pile of manure masquerading as fact, haven't we?

religion is a lot of things. worked into its design, into its very fabric, is manipulation and control through fear and ignorance. careful utilisation of these, facets, so to speak, has contributed to the amassing of great political influence among other things. and the overwhelming greed, that holds these structures together, enshrined in defunct doctrine and tradition, coupled with the paranoia that such institutions engender, keep the wheels turning. this isn't news to anyone.

but isn't this what religion was designed to do? religion is a tool. designed to make a few people very powerful (and/or wealthy) at the expense of the masses. at various points in the history of civilisation this ferocious avarice has came up against diametric opposition in the form of someone else trying to expand their fiefdom. it is inevitable. an old fashioned power struggle. simple as that.

but since when does the gun take responsibility over the shooter? and which courts try and imprison the knife? religion hasn't killed anyone. it can't. insidious as it seems to be, by it's very nature it is inert and incapable of independent thought.

so folks, let's be sensible. people kill people. people have killed people. and by the looks of it, people will continue to kill people. let's have fewer excuses and more transparency. and hey, who knows, we might even someday manage to stop killing ourselves.

the chains that free

2008-12-16T16:33:00.007Z

up in the middle of the night thinking about the things that keep us alive.

ask a scientist and they will tell you about the various biochemical reactions taking place every single moment of our lives, our cells in a constant cycle of birth, functional use and death then rebirth (a mini life cycle of sorts). leading eventually to a lack of function and ceasation of existence.

enquire of a philosopher and they may propose that it is in fact our continued ability to ask that very question that defines us and establishes our link with the rest of all that is. all that is of course being nothing more than an extention of ourselves and an extrapolation of all we are able to conceive.

for the cynic all of being is naught but a trick, a slight of hand, the wool drawn over the eyes of the willingly deceived. and the optimist, optimistically embracing with childish innocence, bearing being with leviety and grace not knowing it is that which forms the sedimental foundations of skepticism.

there are economists who hold fast that we a merely products of a system, here to facilitate the propagation and continued functioning of said system until we are no longer needed, they are commonly known as spiritual.

but sitting here holding all that is life, all that is potential it occurs to me. we are held in this world by those who love us. like an invisible web, trapping us, securing us, mooring us and founding us. we are held fast by those who care. complex tapestry, woven through time and tears binding us to one another, forming so much of what makes us human. these are the ties that bind, these are the chains that set us free.

time

2008-12-08T12:23:00.003Z

I have a very simple philosophy about life. life measured in time, in increments of seconds, grouped in minutes, forming moments, differentiated by hours, days, weeks and years. it really is that simple. when I commit my time to something I give it value. I give it the value that I would otherwise believe my life is worth. therefore, to give an object your time is to bestow on that object an import that speaks of your own self esteem. ergo, when I give a person my time I would hope they realise that I have said that my life is worth more for having invested some of it with them.

and finally, when I give a company my time in exchange for money, by pre arranged contractual agreement, I expect that paltry sum to be delivered as agreed. no amount of money can ever truly recompense one for the loss of time, for life is not measureable in pounds and pence, dollars and cents. but really? how hard is it not to be a complete and utter moron?

a fair trade?

2008-12-08T12:08:00.004Z

I sat at home this weekend admiring the wonder that is employment. it seems that I have finally found a job that allows me to be home before 5.30 every evening. it's amazing. I've never lived in such luxury. the down side of this though is the staggering incompetence of those holding the purse strings means that I must content myself with working for free....

so it might be slave labour, but the hours are good.

pimps, ho's and hustlers

2008-12-01T13:07:00.004Z

I'll admit it straight up, look you in the eye and tell you how it is. sure, I've worked the game, no shame in it. damn, we all done stuff we ain't proud of. at the end of the day business was did and bills were paid.

operating out of my corner 'office' under street lamp, clientele hailing from every walk, servicing needs with no judgement. I'm coming out and saying this now 'cause recently there's a lot of misunderstanding about how this whole 'ho' show works.

people need to realise that once you're on the inside you got somebody to answer to. just like any other so called profession. so when everything gets all twisted, government steps in with new rules and whatnot, it's only the man on the front line that feels it.

hell, that's why I dropped out. I was working every hour God sent, making a pile and taking home a percentage. living for the next meal, getting skinny while bosses get fat. reeling them in by the dozen, sometimes 20+ a day, and nada to show for it. taking all the risks getting little to none of the benefits. well, people, that wasn't for me.

so yeah, I left banking. had to be done, just had to be done.

the terror within

2008-11-29T01:21:00.004Z

I saw a guy getting beaten up the other day. 7 or so larger youths took it upon themselves to lay in to him for no discernable reason. maybe they were refused a wallet or a cell phone.

so one defenseless young man was beaten. viciously, relentlessly. and people just walked on by. this wasn't in the meagre privacy afforded by a poorly lit alleyway or in the seculsion of some remote unused path, this took place in a mall. in public. before the eyes of a purposefully unseeing public.

7 or so youths, none out of their teens I would have thought, a law unto themselves, behaving like animals, unrestrained, undeterred, uninhibited by the possibility of repercussions. and the public shielded their eyes and walked on by.

I was incensed. furious. and sad. what kind of world do we live in when one young man cannot walk the streets in peace and safety, what kind of society spawns the type of vile, neanderthals that would do such a thing, and what kind of people stand by and do nothing?

maybe instead of calling for more gun and knife control we would do better to unfetter our vision, maybe then we could bring succour to a society intent of its own self destruction instead of roundly condemning the various victims, maybe we might ignite something of the heroic within us all by refusing to be intimidated and cowed in our own homes, schools, workplaces and so on, maybe then we would be able to live without fear.

maybe, maybe...

random

2008-11-19T11:42:00.003Z

random non cohesive rambling......

bread and butter to the mentally infirm and those employed within the political structure. yet completely useless for blog writing.....

considering tomorrows

2008-11-15T23:39:00.006Z

here I sit, considering tomorrows.

the middle of the night, it seems fitting. life hurries by at 60 minutes per hour. barely have I become acquainted with the moment before it is gone and in it's place a new one born, and the dance begins anew.

it seems though, that every now and then it serves to consider tomorrows. so here I sit. and I have to admit, from here it looks pretty grim. but that is the beauty of slowing down, appreciating the ride as it progresses, though grim, it is not unavoidable.

'I live in dreams' someone more romantic than me once said that. and I agree. now is the time to dream, to prepare, to idealise and to be free. I dream in the technicoloured frenzy of the 'now' so that my futures may not be so grey.

so, take a moment, come sit with me, and consider your tomorrows but thred lightly, for dreams are afoot.

that common unity

2008-11-14T23:15:00.003Z

Meaning.
Like air to our bodies, meaning brings life to our souls. for without meaning we, as people, stumble aimless, listless, fruitless through the muck and mire of existence without respite. Like heavy clothes and warm hearth meaning rescues us from simply 'being' and allows us to truly flourish.

Meaning.
Since earliest days we have striven for greater meaning, It seems we define ourselves our very personhood by what we mean to those who are important to us. (Ah, but there is a thought, 'those who are important to us'. already we are assigning meaning, but on what grounds? for surely they are no more than we allow them to be? this is one egg that refuses to acknowledge the chicken from whence is most likely came. but I digress) From the very youngest seeking the approval and affirmation of their parents to the oldest seeking out the very faintest trace of themselves reflected in the face of our successors. We all want to know that we mean something to someone.

Meaning.
It seems a deep soul hunger that binds us all, keeps us in constant search of communion, it is in fact that common union that separates us from other sentient beings on the this planet. but, like most of our instinctive urges, meaning is a poor servant and a horrific master. we mask it, dress it up, disguise it to protect our pride or rename it to soothe our bewildered social consciousness. or, greater crime yet, we wield it, one against another.

Meaning.
it is baffling to see those for whom meaning, belonging, knowing oneself and being known has meant so much turn and use it weapon against those who have not yet found their own selfness. we manipulate our meanings to isolate the weak, oppress the defenseless and harangue the distressed. we, the civilised masses, have canabalised ourselves, feeding upon our own sense of superiority. our own sense of what. we. mean. to. our. selves.

of course these are merely the observations of one and need not be the experience of the many. but it is my experience that the need to mean transcends the geographical. and so I urge caution. I propose that if we never mean more than what we see in the mirror, if we never mean something greater than our finest accoutrements, if we never mean something loftier than our accumulated wealth. then we mean nothing at all.

The New Danger

2008-11-13T02:09:00.002Z

This just in and hot off the press! a new danger has been identified in the battle against drug related gang activity in inner city areas! mothers, gather up your young! fathers, secure your homes! no one is safe against the threat of......

74 year old pensioners!!!!

why, even just this morning one such criminal was apprehended on his way to "buy his sunday paper". at least that's what he would like the world at large to believe. after a stop and search session that would have made hans blix beam with pride, the eight brave police officers involved in the heroic venture in hackney were able to establish that apart from a freedom pass, a comb and some small change the nefarious thug, weighing in at a monstrous 81/2 stone, was, in fact, not carrying anything else.

Undeterred by a lack of evidence, opportunity, motive or in fact a crime, hackneys finest went on to interrogate the suspect.

At this point I am unable to go on describing the events. this is mainly because the sheer stupidity and gross incompetence of these wage slaves defies mocking.

but at the very least, the people of hackney can now rest safe in the fact that while their local education facilities maybe poor, nearby leisure facilities maybe underfunded and falling apart (you know who I'm talking to), unemployment levels maybe high and average income maybe low, regeneration maybe pricing them out of their homes and communities, they maybe under represented in parliament and over represented in jail, they may even be stereotyped and vilified six ways from sunday

......at least seventy four year old pensioners who still work 5 days a week to pay bills, pay for heating, pay for food and never once ask for anything from the government....at least that sort aren't free to wander around in the streets on a sunday morning buying newspapers and inspiring youth with their damn work ethic and never give up attitude. bravo