Something the cat dragged back from insanity

I have to believe,
In all the things I cannot see,
Standing there in front of me.
Big blue eyes and long brown,
No red hair, picture perfect every word
And this gaze between us has us looking at the stars!
Don’t fly without me, I couldn’t soar alone, I’d simply fall
Stylishly.
So I throw love after love after lust,
They all turn to dust and that’s no good foundation for an empire!
We built our love on quicksand and quickly came undone
But now I know for true, it’s me, is it you?
You could sing this harem of sirens to sleep,
Crumbled on the rocks of our hearts, our quietly rioting hearts.
There’s no I in rot after all.
So the sea crashes on, this tide, a swirl of colour, caved in grey,
When you can’t hear a shout what is there left to say?
I don’t see past you, can you see past me?

Don’t worry I’ll be gone before you know it,
a whisper whispered in history, tickling time until it is wrought with diffusion.
This suffuse should only be for me but I bleed blackened coal
Does the fire still burn in this vacuous heart?
I think not, it is just gestation, a period of longing, longing to end.
Don’t let it mend because mended hearts don’t sell, how then to cast your spell
to smell like the success the world knows.
I am bereft so I leave, nothing on my sleeve not even dignity
that was taken from me years before this horror show
I will glow and you will know that I fucked off and you still linger in the slow.

And yet you cry for saviour, born and raised for failure.
Victim you cry, but only because you act the victim,
Angels fall with less velocity than your call and you still yearn to learn new tricks
You know what they say of old dogs and new hats,
Cool cats don’t break the bank, they make it and you are cold.
This mould was made around you and has set, like the sun. Constant.
You keep warm but you are not on fire, This pyre still burns with the taste of disaster
And all you do is crawl across formerly hot coals, no risk, no whole, devoid of a soul.
Yes you will sing but it will be tuneless, emotion and mindless, something to mind us
that you are there, this harpy of despair stricken on the rocks until time claims your heir.

This slow dance eternal is broken only by the indignation of toilet breaks.
Yet you live on to fall foul of routine, set by when you can next breathe,
Schedule in the next time you can see, your holiday is a chance to hear and taste
A release from this benign totality you create.
Don’t gestate!! Don’t hate this hateful life, hate the living, they are the game players.
When all you know is dire dreams and longings, longing to begin, etching to sting.
Someone save me from this sinless sin and I will corrupt them to my whim.
I am the curator the creator, and the splendid. Don’t come crying when you have run out of whim.
Just deny yourself your best dress, those fancy shoes, that fleeting fancy,
and cordially agree just to breathe, just to see, just to feel. Not to be seen, not to be felt.
Don’t happen, be happened to and be happy you never happened to me!!

An insight into my stupid, stupid brain.

Until You Forget (Say You’ll Remember Me)

I’ve never been here before, this maze runs deep like the veins that coarse the inevitable blood stream.
I smile. And I regret it.
Still, it’s fun, a muse, something to keep me occupied, although
It’s all just smoke and mirrors. I’m the smoke and you’re the mirrors
Openly mocking the approach of a sinful mind. I begrudge everything,
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel and I am the moth,
And I can’t see through the mist that this broken mirror shows the light is me.
You bring something out but what do I bring to the charade?
I may be the joker in the pack but I’m the most important hand you’ll ever lose
And I was finally comfortable enough in my skin to be captain again,
And now it’s the crows nest for me.
Your name begins to haunt me so let’s burn the bones of your moniker
And be rid of this sin.
What would you call this anyway? Curiosity? That gives us nine lives.
But I fear one would be too many.
Still it satisfies me to know that you won’t suffer any more than the indignation of dreams.
And I won’t suffer any less than the indignation of daydreams.
Think of the fables, think of the films, think of the fantasies and remember this is reality,
Or rather forget until you wake soaked in guilt.
So here we stand, a rabbit hole, do we jump?

Thought I’d end the year with a poem. On the surface it looks and feels quite negative, however it is actually very positive. In order to succeed you must risk failing. The higher you fly, the further you could fall. Kinda why I’m glad I stopped growing at 5 ft 10 (or 9 I can never remember). I will succeed but I will also fail along the way.

I’m diving off the cliff that is 2011 and into the muddy waters of 2012 as I mean to continue the year; writing.

I’ve been working on a short story for a work friend for a few weeks. I asked if people wanted a story written about them. I had a few responses including this one. She came up to me and simply said “Can you kill me?” I told her to meet me in a secluded place at night and to tell no one of this meeting. She hasn’t been since. Ok so the last part is a lie. She did ask me to kill her though and when I chickened out and saved her in the first draft she wasn’t impressed. So I killed her. Good and proper.

I hope to tread water in the lagoon for a while by writing a few more short stories for people, eventually culminating in a publication of the best ones. Maybe one day you’ll have a read. Maybe the next day you’ll have forgotten.

There are a number of things I really want to do this year that include the following:

• Take a TEFL course
• Travel
• Finish at least one of the multitude of stories I’ve started this year
• Sort my life out
• Sort out my tattoo sleeve

There’s more but I won’t bore you. I can see you tying the noose and I really don’t want you to commit suicide. Or worse, fudge it up and have a permanent necklace reminder that you tried to kill yourself.

I have roughly 30 short stories, 7 long stories and many more ideas in the works. I’ve felt very inspired for the latter half of the year. After two years of languishing in partial depression I finally feel like I can get on with my life and start making something of it. Life doesn’t happen by chance and I don’t really enjoy Monopoly. I will happen to life and it will know all about it.

I hope to fail a lot in 2012 but I hope to succeed more. I know it’s going to be a tough year for me but I’m not averse to adversity.

See you on the other side.

Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.

Dear Me,

You probably don’t remember me but I’m you. I can prove it if you like. I was born on 15/08/1987, the name of my first ever girlfriend was Hayley and sometime in 2012 I will have flown a plane. If I died and you’re reading this then I’m not you, you were not born on 15/08/1987, your first girlfriend was not called Hayley and you didn’t die in a flaming fireball of hot explody metal after trying one loop the loop too many. How did it look by the way? Many hits on Youtube?

Unless of course by some bizarre coincidence all those things are relevant to you and I’m being horribly presumptuous in assuming that you share nothing in common with me. Who are you and what are you doing with my identity? How did you get this letter? Answers on a postcard to the address that follows:

Tom Danger Grayling
Hell
The Afterlife
No Wait You Don’t Believe in that Crap

Today is Christmas day. Do they still celebrate Christmas in the future? I was bought 20 minutes of flying a plane, The Script Homecoming DVD and a couple of other things; I finished off  drawing a pirate ship for Katie Chambers and I did some more work on a short story called The Excuse (Forbidden Fruit) for Rachel Gray. Remember? She asked me to kill her. How did that go down? Did she stop talking to you after that?

Just a few things I expect from you.

• You damn well better have that tattoo sleeve you’ve been drawing up for the last few months.
• You better not have taken any shit at work over that whole India thing
• I want you to have published at least one story, and that’s setting the bar pretty damn low to be honest.
• If you haven’t been to at least 10 new countries (one a year) then now’s the time to have a mid life crisis and get out there man.
• You at least tried the tattoo on the move idea. VW Campervan and all.
• You’re driving a cool car
• You don’t have any kids (that you know of)

So how was Australia? I’m not even going to contemplate the idea that you never went because I know you did. Did you ever manage to do the VW campervan thing across America? You know the on the move tattoo plot would have been perfect for that.

I hope you’ve learnt from any mistakes you make. I know there’s a lot going on right now but hopefully things have calmed down a little by the time you read this. Just be honest to yourself and others will be honest to you. There’s only so much of the world that you can affect without trying too hard to change it.

So the world didn’t end in 2012 who’da thunk it that the Mayans got something wrong. It couldn’t be that they got bored of counting or anything could it. No it was definitely not that. Bah, I’m sure terrorism has tried, if not a game of Celebrity Death Match got really out of hand and caused some sort of atomic explosion.

So do you live in space now? I bet it’s cold and slightly outdated what with it’s nothing to do, not even hitting a wheel with a stick down an old dirt road, largely because there are no dirt roads in space, especially not ones with any determinate sort of age.

I could go on and on so I really hope you haven’t had a stroke and forgotten your past, or changed into a really boring moron. That would suck. Just remember, four words to choke upon: Look At Me Now!

Anyway, yours sincerely,

You.

Forbidden fruit never looked quite so sweet as when your lips played the part of the apple,

Slightly apart so I could see the white of your smile; that slightly sultry smile.

Temptation becomes you and nearly overcomes me,

But I can’t see past my immortal morality.

Has anyone seen my instructions for this can of worms?

I’m afraid I don’t know how they work; I looked in Pandora’s box but no luck,

All I found was Schrodinger’s cat, alive at least but on a hot tin roof.

And in these dark confines we would have no room to move, to breathe to be free.

No I’m not just talking about this place, but this position.

In another life, another time, another world we would not be confined to this prison.

In this one, we are denied to all but dreams.

I'm having thoughts of selling my car in the new year. I'd sell it in the old year but it's a bit late for that really. What do you think of this as an advertisement? I must stress that this post is entirely fictional and my car is not yet for sale!

Night coloured Citroen Saxo 1.1 I. I don’t know what the I stands for, probably incredible.

The saxo does not look like a saxophone, nor does it sound like one. As aforementioned the colour of the car is the same as night time which means when you drive in the dark it is completely invisible. This is the reason the headlight was invented after so many people crashed into nothing, the police couldn’t explain a thing and so they all went home, and come morning someone’s grandma was found in a dyke. Sorry no that’s another story.

The colour is not to be confused with knight. The vehicle would not look good at the round table but would be quicker than the horses they used to use. And you wouldn’t slip over in the shit they left behind. If you are one of those idiots who buys long pieces of wood despite the obvious ineptitude of the car I would recommend it for jousting. It has windows that unwind and things that come down in front of your face like a visor.

It is a 5 wheeled car, one of them only being useful when one runs out of breath and needs to incorporate the relay rule. Sadly my changeovers have been about as efficient as the GB 4x100 relay team and tend to lead me to call the AA. I don’t usually struggle with alcoholism but it’s times like that that just push me over the edge. It’s funny really, they say it’s anonymous but the first thing I do when I get there is tell them my name. I could give them a fake but I’m far too busy thinking “anyone fancy a pint after this?”

It would be convenient if your name is Tom or a variation on that combination of letters as it has the name on the back of it. I’m sure you’d feel extremely foolish if you were called Reginald and were driving a car with the name Tom on it. Unfortunately the letters are stuck on with infinity glue so there is no way you can remove them. Unless you find a way to tickle infinity.

This car moves in 360 directions but only goes backwards and forewards. If you want to manouevre you have to steer it with a thing called a steering wheel. It’s a convenient name, perhaps it was a deliberate move by someone. Or perhaps it’s just another one of those coincidences. I hear a lot about them but don’t much care for them. Things happening willy nilly just doesn’t appeal to me.

It comes with a free sun that you can adjust to be hot or cold. We all know that flames and ice cubes burn the same way and so can suns. With this one, instead of spending billions of years waiting for something to happen that never will, all you have to do is flick a switch that fast forwards time with more efficiency than this global warming that everyone’s on about!

It has 6 gears, 5 of which take you forward at varying rates of propulsion. Sadly they are not gears of war but they do make sure that you can get from A to B. You can get there via a hedge if you like but that’s down to your driving skill. The car will go where you direct it so if you crash you’ve only yourself to blame. Even though you’ll try to blame it on something invisible. Maybe someone was driving a white car during the day?

When I drive I tend to hear voices; this is easily solved by not offering lifts to friends or turning off the radio. The boot doesn’t really have enough space for a dead body. Well it does but not with any comfort and no one wants to be uncomfortable when they are dead. If you plan on using this car to traffic people dead or alive in true comfort I thoroughly suggest you consider something bigger or hiring some thin friends.

It is not built to be driven upside down but you can have a go if you like. It’s top speed is pretty quick but I recommend keeping your eye out for round signs with numbers in them to remind you of your top speed every so often.

I walk this land so destitute for hours
Footsteps and heavy breathing the only sound
This path once well travelled is overgrown with weed
Not flower nor living beast crosses my way.
And yet I have a sneaking feeling that I’m not alone.
I stop and turn, duck low and feel an arrow whisper past my ear.
Before it’s even landed I’ve charged my bow and loosed my own blindly through the weeds.
A scream, a jagged cry writhes the air and refuses to die.
I approach, cautious, there could be more.
But there on the floor, a small boy cut in the knee where he ducked my shot.
No not a boy, a hunter, hunting me and there would surely be more.
And surely, they with more skill would be surer to kill.
So without a care I leave him to die, kicking his weapon to the side.
I run through the bush and back to the path and run by the mile.
My armour may be heavy but my life is light, and if I know one things it’s that I must survive.
So I strive forward, eyes peeled, my noble quest all that is on my mind.
It takes me some time but I fear I have not been followed and ahead is a town or a village.
Somewhere to rest and regain and continue my quest. Maybe find a damsel in distress.
The people feel lifeless, bored of this shtick. Most non responsive to this stranger.
Soon though it is apparent that one would provide danger.
A man stands aglow, separate from the thin crowd, he places his life in my hands.
“Hark ye stranger, I need your help.”
“What can I do you?”
“My wife has been kidnapped, as a sacrifice to a dragon.”
“Then we must ride, have you a horse?”
“I do but I know not the way. There is a dragons nest atop the mountain overlooking the bay.”
And that’s it, with a sigh and a leap in my heart I set foot to the stables to ride through my part.
The mountains grew weary as night drew in, but soon I heard roaring and the flapping of massive wings.
There was a light, on the path, I could see in it some shadows.
Sneaking up I pounced on the first to be met by the blow of the second.
Overhead flew the dragon lips salivating, but it was all too much and the men overpowered me
Their swords went through and then the dragon landed and devoured me.

I awoke in the middle of the woods. Had it been a dream? Had I not seen what I thought I’d seen.
I continue, up ahead was a light on the path, I could see shadows but this time I ran.
I was not ready to take on this band.
I returned to the village to rest up, to retain, to stock up on medicine.
Avoiding the man, and all bad news I set off once more on the back of my mule.
This time the fight was easily won. I snuck up with proficiency guile and tenacity
Taking barely a scratch from the hands of the captors.
The wife, she ran home and upon my return the man offered my reward.
But the dragon flew over, aggressed by my stopping the tasty offering.
In the square it landed and let loose its flame but I charged forth to challenge the mane,
I couldn’t get close by conventional means so I launched an attack from range.
As the beast hazed in a fit of rage I fell from the roof to it’s back and stabbed.
The beast hurled me off in pain but that was to be it’s final act.

I left the village, lost to the night. Damage done to this place I knew not the name of.
The countryside pales into a widening forest, nearby I hear running water
As I walk through this valley and wash my bloodied face in the stream.
Mum shouts up the stairs that it’s time for tea.

Conformist Without a Cause

I sit and sing on my own on this street,
Watching people idle by on their daily beat.
Until one man he came to sit and sing with me.
And when he’d sung he told one,
They told two and those people told three.
Pretty soon I had a hundred people singing along with me.

Out with me, in with someone else.
Call it safe but I’m melted to this fate.
We’ll power through the fall of man and wonder where the wonder went.
One demented pretext that fills our world with dread,
As the occupation strangles us
Our rational rebellion falters and our wings are laced with lead.

I sit and sing, on my own on this street,
Watching people idle by on their daily beat.
Until one man came along and sat to sing with me.
He told one and they told two and those people told three.
It didn’t take long before I had a thousand people sit and sing with me.

Condemn us and condamn us, damn us with our morals
Our every fibre fighting to be heard.
An equal world, an equal and yet unjust world
Where we struggle to justify the means by skipping to the end.
And our end is merely the beginning in reverse
And every single verse is just a holistic curse.

I sit and sing alone on this street,
Watching people idle by on their daily beat.
Until one man he came to sit and sing with me.
He told two and they told four and those people told six
Soon there were a million people sitting, singing with me.

So in our droves we rise like ridden waves on high tide.
We’ll stand against establishment and unrequited law.
The rich stay rich while the poor dredge the gutter
But the rich can’t see the stars for who they are.

I walk alone along this crowded street.
Watching people hand in hand, singing to the beat
I leave the man who came to stand for his beliefs
I leave the gathered crowd to show the power I had in me.
I am the one man catalyst to something revolutionary

If music be the food of love then I’ll see the wine list
Eat up and play on while we dine on that delicious emotion, and for dessert???
Just don’t ask me for the bill, I care not for cost.
I simply dare to take a chance for the thrill, damned at what eventually might be lost.
There’s a light at the end of the tunnel and I am the moth
Blind to all but that single dot of love, maybe lust, growing ever more consuming
Like staring into a soul it devours me until I am no more. No more than a moth and a light bulb.
Some bright idea.
No, I’m good at something but I don’t know what,
And still I run this race until I rot. Until I forget what I forgot.
I miss that flutter in my heart, the way my eyes would wonder back over every pixel,
The way my fingers would trace every contour and my tongue would follow the tour.
Me? I may be the joker in the pack but I’m the most important thing you’ll ever lose
You? You were the ink beneath my skin, the poison in my blood stream, the niggling fear that tears me apart and not even at the seams.
But you can’t spell friend-zone without end-zone and that’s where the real winners are made.
I’ll be here long after my pittance is paid now I’ve lost all feelings of pain. I think I miss that too.
And when it seems that all is torn, you’ll tear some more, but I’ve put zips where you claw.