REPORT A PROBLEM
No leaden eyelids.
No aching limbs.
Want to drift away
to another world of unconciousness and imagination.
Remember happy times
and ones wished to be erase
and new ones not experienced yet
and maybe will never happen:
A journey, lessons.
A performance, something sent.
A chase, a death.
Today, a group arrived and grouped around a table with tea and cake.
Will this be a regular reoccurence?
Will we look back on that time fondly and compare it to our present state?
Open internet and off task.
Not personal, but discussion sparks.
The building blocks of our world is language - we couldn't explain or express things without words and talking. Some conversations can be dull, others entertaining and then some can be fun to participate in. I really like talking to some people and I think in the past year or so I have found it easier to open up to my friends about various matters. Maybe it's just certain events of the past 12 months that have really opened my eyes to the world and the things people, who you trust fully to do what is right and sensible, will do.
Isn't the answer easy to find out?
Should I ask myself and try and find out the answer?
Why don't I know the answer?
How can I tell what the answer is?
Could I ever know the answer?
Might I find the answer soon?
Why can't I decide on the answer?
Surely choosing the answer can't be hard?
Would the answer change things?
If I did answer, who else would hear the answer?
Is the answer important anyway?
Do I actually know the answer?
Am I just prolonging the answering?
Does anyone else know the answer?
I don't know the answer,
The girl walks along, the golden sails above her waving in greeting. One breaks off and starts to fall, the wind's breath coaxing it this way and that on its short journey to the ground. The wind is more of a gentle, soft caress than a sharp slap in the face. Unlike the golden leaf from the tree, there is nothing in the world to keep the corners of her mouth down. They stay lifted with each step. Each step following the next - a monotonous plod, but still the half moon of her mouth refuses to wane. She's still smiling.
What is this at my feet? I can't quite reach that far. Above my head the water gushes down in torrents.
The heavy weight seems to be welded to my heart, with each beat still clinging on. It masks the rhythmic beating of my pulse - I feel only the painful battering and wrenching of my core. Something won't let go.
Everything comes back. Though I have felt worse, in comparison to before, this feels like agony.
A clever person turns great troubles into little ones, and little ones into nothing at all.
What is this at my feet?
That girl said something. Was it true, No. But we all believed her, we all tried to help. Words can wound and these lacerations go deep. But every day I forget about it. I don't remember and it seems the subject has a taboo. I think we've only mentioned it once. The world is a forest and some just stray from the paths. I prefer the clearings but she preferred to wander amongst the vegetation, often dragging us along with her, though only I seemed unwilling to follow. Such a person, such a friend, Still one of my best ones.
Well that's that for another 12 months all because 405 years ago a guy called Guy attempted to blow up some politicians. Can we really blame him?
Remember, remember the fifth of November,
Gunpowder treason and plot.
We see no reason
Why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot!
Guy Fawkes, guy, t'was his intent
To blow up king and parliament.
Three score barrels were laid below
To prove old England's overthrow.
By god's mercy he was catch'd
With a darkened lantern and burning match.
So, holler boys, holler boys, Let the bells ring.
Holler boys, holler boys, God save the King.
The girl walks along, the yellow and brown sails above her sagging with rain. One breaks off and immediately plummets downward, the raindrops hitting it continuously like a bullet train on its short journey to the ground. The wind is buffeting her, whipping away any body heat that's managed to escape its immense magnetic pull. Just like the falling leaf, the cascade of raindrops is pulling the corners of her mouth down. They stay neutral with each step. Each step following the next - a monotonous plod, and the half moon of her mouth has waxed away. She is still shivering.
I'm waiting for when, with ease, my hands will move of their own free will.
Without my brain.
Just wonder freely creating melodies. Not necessarily my own, a repetoire of others' too. When alone, music fills the gap left by a lack of conversation and steady breath.
Even presence feels solid when noone's there.
The soft beat or raging chords create a conversation quite unique, although heard many a time. The soothing murmur of a saxophone. The entrancing articulation of a guitar. The sweet cry of a voice.
I wish it were me who could play like that.
Having a laugh with the people I love: (Woah! Semi-colon!) my friends and family.
Not having anything to worry about. (ENGLISH)
Spending my time with my friends rather than with much loved coursework... (Hey! That's antiphrasis!)
Not feeling all blue, anti-social and depressed... (OMG! RO3!)
All equating to lying on a patch of soft grass in the warm sun, surrounded by my lovely friends, happily reading a great book and having fun for hours.
Oh, and eating some kind of cake, obviously. (Sentence fragment! Tut tut!)
Even now I'm still analysing everything I lay eyes on...
The whole country fell silent.
The wind carried on. And so did the birds. And so did time.
For two whole minutes, a blanket of hush.
Modern soliders are rather stupid; freely going to get shot. People say "Soldiers deserve higher wages...bring our brave boys home...their lives are so hard..." Bull. They voluntarily shoot people, fully aware of the consequences. What's different to runnning an abbotoire? Do innocent-animal-slaughterers get paid a lot of money? Are murderers let off because what they did was 'right'? What about "We must never let this happen again?"
We will remember them.
This is a song that came upon me
When the news it had been telling me
About one more war and one more fight
And 'ay' I sighed but then
I thought about my friends
Then I wrote this declaration
Just in case the world end
We shot them in the things we said
Ah we didn't need no bullets
Cos we rely on some words instead
Kill someone in argument
Outwit them with our brains
And we'd kill ourselves laughing
At the funny things we'd say...
Cat Empire ~ The Chariot
(Listen to them, they're awesome!)
True expressions and proverbs - so true, yet weird... Relatable and understandable, yet confusing and refusing to make sense.
Don’t Use A Hatchet To Remove A Fly From Your Friend’s Forehead. This must've happened, or why would someone not have found reason to write it down?
However, Tugging At Your Heartstrings this is an actual physical feeling. You can feel something inside your chest yanking; I was tearing tickets today, looking out over schooldays now gone... A collection of memories encapsulated in the sliver of the world, framed by a doorway. Picnic benches, the field. Classrooms, the astro.
Personally I don't believe there's someone 'up there'...I know why some people do, and I have nothing against them. I would just thank certain ones not to try and convert everyone else. Everyone must believe in 'god', for it's merely the personification of the start of the universe and therefore must exist. (Unless the world is just a fallacy, but that's another matter entirely...) Internationally, religion causes more problems than it solves. Worldwide modernisation is meant to've increased tolerence to the point where noone cares about appearences or beliefs - but, sadly, we do.
We're all human - agree to disagree?
Some people's voices you can recognise instantly - some are really low, other just have that idiosyncratic twinge to them. Without seeing them, you can tell who someone is by their voice.
After 5 of a 20 minute barrage of an assembly by Mr. U.M. Monotone today, I found my mind drifting off, which was bad of me considering the subject, but I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying...
Then there are those voices that get your spine all tingly or you just want to listen to for ages.
And why does your own sound so weird on a recording?
It's so hard to fill out application forms and write CVs where you have to 'big up' yourself - this's why I could never go on the Apprentice - I hate to boast about myself. It makes me feel all big-headed and conceited... The people on the Apprentice are seriously cringey with some of the stuff they let spout out of their mouths, most of which is utter nonsense. I just can't allow myself to do that to myself... I'd much rather someone else wrote all my personal statements for me, it's a lot easier to praise someone else than yourself.
It had been happening for a long time, the boy kept returning upset and hurt, only to have it drummed into him time and time again - fight back, don't cry. But there was never a chance. The dam always broke. Then, one afternoon, one of them came up to him. Pushed him. Thumped him.
He thumped him back.
For once, he retaliated in a way that wouldn't bring on further aggravation. A few others saw, maybe they got the message. The upset of others can seep across the world and set itself in your soul, especially with someone you love.
I don't know a lot of things, like why the tradition of having pancakes only on pancake day came about, I'd sure like to have them more often. They are an incredibly yummy food item that is very easy to cook... but maybe the reason I like them so much is because I have them so little. So... I don't know whether to choose English Language or Literature; will I start to enjoy them less after studying them every day for a whole year? I wish we didn't have to take General Studies and then I wouldn't have to choose...
One of the things about myself that annoys me the most, is how easily I go red. It isn't normally because I'm embarassed, whatever people around me may think. I've deduced that I usually go red when I'm scared (like watching a scary film) or intimidated (like talking to people older or in more authority than me). Granted, I do go red when I'm embarassed as well, but that's a comparatively smaller percentage. Also when I've done a lot of physical activity (like in PE - coughcrosscountrycough) I look strikingly like a cranberry. Cranberry juice's nice, just not on my face.
Can you hear it? The dragon is awakening. Just you wait. It's almost upon us. Savour what you can, it's coming, closer. Fast. Born at the end, die at the start. It's ineviatible, over the horizon. Look out. Things may never be the same again. Fear is useless. Wait and see. They're planning. We're waiting, it's all there is to do. Innocents slaughtered and worldwide panic. The only thing different this time is: there's nowhere to hide. You can run but you can't hide. Hide from the others. Everyone's your enemy now. Safe? Sure? A war is coming.
What have I lost?
A plan view for one thing.
A lot of time for two.
I've lost a lot of body heat
Until I turned quite blue.
The things I've lost, I could
Maybe find again,
They could maybe reappear.
But I highly doubt the things I've lost,
their whereabouts, will ever become quite clear.
Oh and I've possibly lost the ability
To talk any kind of sense and
To think as fast as I speak.
Meaning all the things I want to say
Can sometimes sound like greek.
And now I've realised there aren't enough words left to continue my rhyming pattern.
Do you ever find yourself using cliches when writing? Often, it's either when you have no ideas or the only way to express them is to use a well coined expression and then you find people taking it literally. For example - things "seeing into your soul". Just another example of cliche personification that has absolutley no true denotation; it just sounds poetic. Often it's the things that sound the most sophisticated or deep that make it into writing - just because it makes you sound clevererer. Looking into a soul is a lot more poetic and sounds more sophisticated than glances.
Viele Leute sag dass Deutsch eine raue und wütende Sprache ist, also vielleicht werde ich meinen Frust mit die raue Sprache ablass. Aber, nicht Frust, mehr Traurigkeit, ich denk. Manchmal, habe ich zu hoche Erwartungen in alles - die Welt und Leute - setzen. Mein Tag hat im Musik aufgestiegen, wenn ich verwertet habe, dass ich nur Ersatzteil bin. Sie brauchen mich nicht, nie hatten, nie werden. Sie konnten ihre Leistung absolut wunderbar ohne mich mach, ich weiss. Und das meint dass es schwerige für mich es weiterhin zu tun ist - verbrauche meine Zeit hier. Kann ich mit andere gehen?
My vat of useless facts seems to be expanding; I today learnt the differences between hard and softwood trees... when am I ever going to need to know that in life? School seems to teach you such useless pieces of information... Yet, I know a boy who's literally a walking encyclopedia - but that's awesome because his facts're actually interesting (and sometimes totally irrelavent) but they're fun to hear because they're so wacky.
Did you know that bats have the highest rate of homosexuality amongst mammals? Neither did I until recently...
Anyhow, the main difference between them is softwood is evergreen.
Just a walk
along the paths and
strips of concrete
lain on the ground
the icy air
shows up your breath
which you use to talk
to the other one there
the icy air
hugs you tight
with all the strength
of an elastic band
as you make your way
accross the land
though not hand in
hand a gentle stroll
with the shiny frost
all over the ground
you carry on speaking
and smiling carry on
smiling and you carry on
walking as you look accross
accross you look
the twinkle of life
aflame on a face
of the friend and companion
that you're walking around with
and you wish it could carry on
but it's the end of the road
though only for now
there's a lot more to say
but it's to be saved
for another day.
Hey there, big shots, you may look like an angel
Hell you know it, there is no way you'd peel
Away that image, everybody likes it - I don't want to play the damsel
You don't even try, and yet manage to reel
In all the punters, even nutters, all trying to board your carousel
Don't even refuel
You're on the same level
And then there's me - writing this drivel
A whole barrel
Of things, holed up inside me, do you realise you're cruel?
Or are you so wrapped up in yourselves, you'll weasel
Out of it, any excuse will do. Pummel
My sanity until I'm forced to unravel
At least it'll be over before the tinsel
Goes up, and I'm not planning on a sequel.
Hey there big shots, farewell.
You know when you actually cannot face doing something? And will do anything else to avoid doing a particular activity? For me, the thing I'm trying to avoid is graphics coursework - which would've been basically finished had my plan view not decided to diasappear off the face of the earth. Then I have a whole load of revision to do (that's if I can face it) and a music part to work out for a performance that I'm not overly keen on doing (if I can face it). And I've got a graphics after-school. Wonderful.
Happy Half Birthday to me.
The 7th Harry Potter film way bettered the 6th one, though it's still not as good as the book - you can never beat a book. I cried nonetheless. Although, there's more tearstains on the book's pages than were on my cheeks.
Thank god I managed to bring myself to redo my graphics designs, though there's still tons of annotations to do. And a whole hour to spend with Mr Scott (who looks like a pigeon) on Thursday if I don't.
I also have to come up with a bassline for my music mock performance next week.
I need more time!
Getting back in contact with someone after a long time is lovely. I have found a fair few people I knew from primary school on facebook who left at some point during the years, but not all of them remember me... so I must seem like a bit of creep after a few friend requests... The funny thing is, I remember them, but they don't remember me. I suppose it's easier to remember a few people who left rather than the numerous ones you left. I'm so glad I didn't move to Canada in year 3, I like it here.
Looked out -
Slipped outside -
And Bäumchen -
Good day (Y)
The Tip Jar