Month: August 2014

If Inside Were Out.

If your inside were out, would I have fallen all the same? Would I have eagerly tried to own you the way I did? Had I known what lay beneath that overbearing facade, that beguiling disguise, would I still have snapped you up when I finally found the chance? I Don’t like to think that a book should be judged by it’s cover, nor do I like to believe that external perfection precludes the presence of internal perfection but in you I was sold from the start, the second i looked at your divine countenance I was certain you would be mine.

But, as with all things, it was not to last. The changes you went through were drastic it’s true, but the way you changed so brazenly, so hotly at first was a thrill as I watched you rise and colour until eventually after endless, countless time had passed you gave yourself and I knew from the first taste that it was wrong, that I had nothing to look forward to but disappointment and regret but still I went on; I went on until I could take no more and now all i can do is gaze on those sad, grey remnants that were all I left and wonder to myself if your inside were out would I have fallen all the same?

This, dear readers, is why I don’t usually buy supermarket pizza.

Two Good Days.

Well, as the title implies the past two days have been pretty darn good; On Tuesday I was invited to attend a close friend’s twenty week scan of her expected child . It was a truly fascinating experience, I had no idea that ultrasound scanning could produce such clear cross sectional images of an unborn but still strong and healthy child, certainly something to cross off my ‘things I have now done’ list.

Today was an excellent day too, I went to Preston with an old friend whom I have known some twenty five years. For those of you who may not be from good ol’ Blighty, Preston is a city in the north west of England. It was just good to get away from home for a bit, hang with a friend and enjoy some seriously awesome food. We went to a fantastic little sushi bar, had amazingly good sushi, katsu curry and ramune, then hied ourselves to a couple of cool international food markets to pick up all manner of foods that we can’t read the names of and then repaired to a quaint tea house for iced tea.

(shameless links/plugs to the places we went provided in case anyone is in/near/visiting Preston anytime soon)                         As I type this I’m sitting at my computer drinking coke and orange lucozade from a cheap plastic cocktail glass because I can gol’darnit and because it’s the little bits of fun and the awesome days that have lead up to them that make life more than just monotony.


In a world so connected we are now, more than ever, utterly alone. We search google for answers from total strangers, we seek acceptance from others based on trivial interests rather just being the people we are. It’s easier to post online than to use the same phone to just hear a real voice or go for simple walk and just talk nonsense and get it off your chest. This world is more connected than ever and yet still we couldn’t be more distant.

There are those who live their lives through the camera, as though a life isn’t real unless every frame is documented for the global audience; There are those whose camera shields them from responsibility, another person being beaten, bloodied and helpless and yet the phones are used to record the event rather than to call for help.

We make ourselves connected across countries, even oceans, but never try to connect with a person sitting in the same room. Our connections keep us in touch while driving us apart.

The Spirit Tree.

The Spirit Tree

In an empty moonlit hollow, in the middle of the night,
The Spirit Tree is blooming; it is such a wondrous sight.
With it’s burning crimson flowers and the jet black of it’s bark
And the leaves like glowing embers, making shadows in the dark

When next the full moon rises and the tree sets forth it’s fruits
And the slumbering angel wakens, sleeping deep within it’s roots
The revellers will come again, to dance and laugh and sing
To eat the bittersweet berries that rob life of it’s sting

For the angel sleeping soundly in the earth beneath the tree
Was once a simple mortal, just the same as you and me
Her name is lost to memory but her legacy lives on
The fruit the tree produces bringing joy to everyone

And though her name forgotten, her life remembered still
And her memory is honoured in the deepest winter chill
But the revellers who visit on the same night once a year
Know that to be a glutton brings horror, pain and fear

The gift of the sleeping angel is to take away life’s pain
And she gives her fruit to those in need time and time again
But for those who take too much of it, the gluttonous and cruel
A fitting end awaits for them, so please be not a fool.

For here we see just such a man, as he takes more than his need
As he feasts upon the berries to slake his needless greed
He even keeps the seeds, which are not the man’s to keep
And as he leaves the hollow he feels his flesh begin to creep

The angel is now angry, in her bed within the roots
As her anger reaches out, the stolen seeds set forth new shoots
The shoots begin their winding, writhing way into his skin
And the man is given pause now to reflect upon his sin

The seeds keep on their growing, through flesh and blood and bone
Until another tree is growing in another hollow all alone
But this tree will never flower and will never bear it’s fruits
For it is not a sleeping angel kept in pain among the roots

So if you ever find, in midwinter ice and snow
A single tree in it’s lonely hollow with it’s warming leaves aglow
Remember when you see the berries growing, so very ripe indeed
The Spirit Tree gives kindly to those who take just what they need

For those who take from others the gift the tree gives oh so kindly
Who take more than they need, so very cruel and blindly
The Spirit Tree will make you pay and forever your bones will lay
Amidst the roots of your own hellish tree until the judgement day.

Just Because.

Just because

Just because you think it, that doesn’t mean it’s true.
Just because you want it doesn’t mean that I love you.
Just because you’ve started crying doesn’t mean I’m gonna care.
Just because you’ve started screaming doesn’t mean you’re not aware,
That I never really loved you, so before I leave you weeping
I never made the promise that you think that I’m not keeping
The love we had was in your head, don’t bitch about unkindness.
The reason that you’re crying now is down to your own blindness.


I write stories and poetry, I do this because it helps clear my head when I’m having a bad day, or sometimes it helps me relax, on rare occasions I write because i get an obsessive urge to do so that won’t go away until I’ve thrown some words onto the screen. However, I also study Japanese and I really like the very simple form of the Haiku. A haiku, if you’re not aware of it, is comprised of three lines of set numbers of syllables 5-7-5 to be precise, it should also include a reference to nature, acknowledge a season and contain a ‘cutting’ word that sort of breaks the flow but continues the theme of the poem. I like the haiku because it is simple and captures a brief moment in time, it’s kinda like a poetic snapshot of life. This haiku was inspired as I walked home from work one day, sipping a strawberry ribena and generally chilling, I walked past a garden that had a newly blossoming cherry tree in the garden and was suddenly inspired to write the following


sakura hana
akai to shiroi
tori no uta

Cherry blossom
red and white
bird’s song

I am showing off a bit here I must admit, as I’m kinda proud of learning Japanese and I do apologise for it, But I also wanted to share this little snapshot from an otherwise rather bland day and I kinda wanted to share my interest in all forms of poetry and writing.

As yet untitled.

First go at writing something for the blog, hopefully I’ll be able to make a series of it, although I’m ready to admit it’s not the most original piece and I’m not entirely certain where it’s going from here.

“Madness, it is said, is an affliction and a disease of the mind, that it assaults and weakens the psyche; I do not believe this. History has shown the strength of insanity, from the towering empires of the Romans and the terrifying rage of the berserker to the little man with his big gun who carves his way into urban legend and the genius whose madness changes the world forever. It is this essence I have worked to isolate, to refine madness to its purest form, to create the very spirit of twisted brilliance. In so doing I will bring in a new age of enlightenment, not through the bland study of the world and its working, fruitless dead ends and empty theories, the endless hours of ridiculous counting and measuring. My vision will let men release themselves from the bonds of the rational and set themselves free to explore the great expanse of the mind without limitation, no longer will they be restricted by the belief that one plus one must equal two. They will be free to define themselves through their own minds, not through the outdated words of the men who went before them.”

That speech had been a week ago and as a result he’d been laughed out of the university, it was only his tenure that prevented him from being removed all together. He sat at his computer and typed furiously, running over and over the same document; writing and rewriting obsessively while chain smoking as though the tobacco could burn away the humiliation. He had long suspected that he himself was on the verge of insanity, constantly under pressure to produce testable results from his theoretical works, never able to quite make the connection that would validate his hypothesis. He needed physical testing, that’s what it was; actual subjects to test on. The university was full of students constantly on edge, torturing themselves through academic obsession, it was the perfect place to find candidates but the faculty would never approve human testing and animal testing was completely out of the question. He went to take a drink of his coffee and for the third time realised that he’d drunk it all some time ago. Leaning back in his chair and exhaling smoke like a steam engine, he pondered about how he could get subjects; if he just studied them, took a few measurements from them, asked a few questions then he could probably get the data he needed without actual experimentation, after all, he only needed to make the hypothesis testable, he didn’t need to go into the real physical side just yet, that would come later after he’d proved his work was sound.

Nathan could never decide why exactly he was doing what he was doing, he was easily led and that bothered him immensely; he was certainly intelligent, exceptionally so, but he was also very credulous. He’d taken most of his courses based on what his father had told him because “that’s what the up and coming generation would be relying on”. He wondered about the practical applications of acoustics, Byzantine studies and meteorology when he really wanted to work in electrical engineering to help make electric cars more practical and affordable. He wandered the university halls as he always did at lunchtime and secretly bemoaned his easy nature; as he walked past the notice board outside the student’s common room he noticed a brightly coloured A4 sign which read

‘ Subjects wanted for analysis on the psychological effects of university life and study methods
Please contact Prof. W. Williams, psychology’

Nathan shrugged as he decided ‘why not?’ it might help him make sense of everything.

First day On WordPress.

I don’t know what to say, it’s been far more successful than I’d thought, views and followers abound so I’d like to say thank you for the attention. This may seem a bit of weird thing to post given the kind of site this is but it’s been a real surprise to me, I was talked into it by my friend iamthedeadpool and really just expected a flatline of zero interest until I got depressed by it and quit. I have depression, ADHD, asperger’s syndrome and sociophobia all of which means I really didn’t expect such a response, from actual published authors no less. So really, thanks.

Now the purpose of my joining wordpress is to get some of my work out into the public domain and hopefully learn from authors and poets who have made it to being published as well as to get on with other aspiring hopefuls, or anyone in general. I plan on writing a series for wordpress as well as other posts on whatever I feel the need to write about. So, to break the ice as it were here’s a short poem i wrote quite a while ago when I was just 16, I like to think I’ve improved from this point and my work does get significantly less negative, but I was an angsty teen back then.

Just want to say

I just want to say
The pain inside won’t go away
I kinda like the twisted feel
Keeps me here, keeps me real
I hate myself, it feels so good
Can’t do without it, never could
The sickened taste of bitter spite
The raging flame my inner light
It may be wrong but I don’t care
It’s soothing poison I’ll never share
This hate is mine and I crave it’s sting
More than life or anything
I need my hate I need the pain
I need it here to keep me sane