never was.

Write the story but don't be held for the consequences
jump the fences hide inbetween the sentences.
im whinning about nothing i have no tragedy no harmony
no bitter sweet story and should be thankfull because
if something big ever hits i'll regret writing this.
but i guess i just want something to happen
something for me to be alive for.
helpless, hopeless speaking in favour of progress
less i digress into representing distress.
how uncharacteristic of me moaning about a life
i was once afraid to leave to no longer spend hour
upon hour rescuing princess Zelda but to instead
reap the worlds wonder to impact to just go.
And with that, I'll see you all tomorrow.

17

She’s one and seven
And if I was her age
She’d pay me no attention
But I can’t help but be drawn in
To her attraction

Her kicks her frills her body gives me chills her hair that flicks her ever round moonlight moon size eyes pulling me into- im oh man oh no it’s not the way to be for she is seventeen and I should know better than to kiss a teenage dream.

She’s one and seven
But I know she likes me
And I’ve been so lonesome lately
I can’t help but be open
To the attention given.

Playful hits on the head not working but following instead glances across that call for my stare let her know I -but no man that’s not, not no. For she is seventeen and I should know better than to embrace such heavenly grace.

She’s one and seven
So when she called me over
I was naturally hesitant
when she Stepped closer while talking clever
her infectious laugher crept in

The deadpan jokes laughing in delight dancing the night away drinking like a hooligan’s holiday but not caring about what anyone thinks anyway I- no, if i could i-but no. She is seventeen and is yet to learn things aren’t quite what they seem.

She’s one and seven
Though you wouldn’t think it
Her body, many men would kill for
And her personality, I do adore
She’s gaining my affection

When we talk we’re connecting, jokes and light strokes
and though I am her plus three if you looked at us it really wouldn’t be what you’d see and-no stop now. I swear to never touch her. It could never be for she is seventeen and she, she is in love with me.

Try once.

Like a bulimic

that isn't sick
like a barbarian

who's unequipped
like a boxer
with nothing to hit
like Rooster Cogburn
losing true grit
like a down 'n' out spidey
calling it quits
like taking one from another
making one another number
A home
without a mother
(cold kitchen
microwaveable supper)
It's waking up to discover
you've lost the wonder
That extra something
that made you that extra bit better.
That voice demanding
you to try..... (harder!
)(When that goes your gone)
why do all the talented ones
give up to Inadequacy's son?
(Medi-ocro-teee)
stick the fork in me, dude,
I'm done.

I just liked you more.

If I had half a mind, I’d take you back in time
Back to when my thoughts where mine
and you loved only to hear me rhyme

If I had half a brain I’d have got on that train
To when our hugs were full and not refrained instead
Scared of believing love crossed desert plains,

If I had half a spine I’d make you mine
I’d take you into my arms properly this time
Let you love my rhymes all over again

If I had half a brain if I had half a spine if I had half a mind
we'd go back in time
And live it the same.

Winter coat.

The winter coat kept the chill from my skin
I walked through a twilight, street-lit central London
It was London but a quieter, emptier one
And despite wearing such a large coat
Being alone on what’s usually
One of the busiest streets of the world
It started to get a little cold
I had left from the beginning of an after party
A place where the conversations no longer seemed to suit me
I remember it dawning that
This was a re-occurring case
Though this was the earliest I had left such a place
I swigged from a small bottle of scotch
Only for myself I had bought
Hoping to drink the whole thing in a night
Without giving a second thought
To my sobriety or the dip in the road ahead
But while crossing that road
I stumbled and fell
Twisted my ankle
Needles to say, 2008 hadn't started too well
 
After being fed-up of waiting for any cars to drive by
And failing to see any stars in London’s sky
I realized I had been lying in the middle of a road
For too long
So I decided to get up
And walk on
Although it was now done with a limp
 
I was about to venture home
But as I stepped on the bus I was struck with images
Of cold rooms
Empty beds
And microwave dishes.
It’s an indescribable moment
When you’d rather walk alone
Than spend a night in an supposed home.
I didn't know what it meant
Just felt a need to keep my feet to the pavement.
 
Then shown to me was the only soul that night I would see
Of course on my central London journey
I had passed others
But souls were no longer with these people
Sold to the bottles and to the needle
And other things I’ll hopefully never know or comprehend
Selling souls for objects
Then again, on a night like this
I could almost understand
 
She too,
Was alone
And notably without a coat of her own
But her dress was vintage prada
Her hair was up
She sat on a step leading into pret
I was thinking about her back on that glass
And how cold glass can get
Now I’m not one for talking to strangers
But at this moment not talking seemed stranger
“Are you cold?” I asked her
She lifted her head
I saw the street light stare
And get lost in her hair
Her eyes connected with mine
And something instantly
Inside of me
Straightened my spine
It took her about four seconds to reply
But there was no awkwardness
The seconds flew by
 
Keep in mind what you would do
If you saw a scotch smelling, desperate looking, limping
Nineteen year old staring at you
But despite the reaction feared
She could see that she was the same as me
Or maybe it was the scotch poking out
from my pocket
Either way, she nodded and patted the space next to her
I sat and sighed as I lay by her side
“Do you want to wear my jacket?”
I don’t know why I called it a jacket
Or even why I offered it
It was my winter coat
And it was really cold
She declined
The first words she spoke to me
Were “no, it’s fine”
I really liked my winter coat
But much as I liked it on me
I couldn’t help but prefer
To want to see it on her
 
I offered scotch
And she swigged like a pro
She apologized for having nothing to offer
Though she had clearly forgot
She gave me the prêt stair central London hot spot
We laughed and exchanged
Names and trivial tales
Stories that rambled
And availed
To really nothing
But we were both laughing
So I guess it meant something
I was in a moment where
I was no longer in my own moment
But instead it was together
A time where the sky didn’t change
No cars or people passed us
No need to con or want her to be with me forever
Because there was no future and there was no past
It was a moment in time made exclusively for us
 
It was now around four
And I had managed to get the coat on her
Her head rested on my shoulder
We spent the night huddled together
Woken at around six thirty
By a disgruntled prêt employee
Who thought we were hoboes or drug addicts or something
Either way he sure didn’t want anything to do with me
 
I walked her to the Holborn underground train station
The winter coat I had convinced her to keep
To this day I’m happy she has it
Over that decision I have never lost sleep
She gave me her number
But I don’t think I could ever call her
For in that time we were the only Souls outside
On a cold twilight, street lit central London
And we were both so desperate
For someone to lean on
And one night together was all we needed
To face our day to day lives again and not become defeated
 
Maybe when a cold winter comes
And I’m in need of a friend
I’ll look for my winter coat
And we can see each other
Once again.

Be real.

who is he?

who is this dude you seem to be hiding from me?

and more importantly

what does he mean to you?

are you hiding out of embarrassment?

Ashamed that this man is calling your name?

oh i see, you're hiding because you know that

he's not worthy in comparison to - well, i don't want to brag.

or is it because you're scared to confess

you've fallen in love with someone else?

either way I'm not sure i want to know

i'd rather just believe the former

and still dream that i am your lover

and when you're alone you're dreaming of us together

and in substitute of me you've taken up, this

this

this dude

Who is he?

not that i, y'know, i mean.

I don't care.

I mean, i really don't. you're happy? that's good. that's all i need to know. Am i needed? no? okay. I'll go.

but, is he your halo?

when you talked about that song, man...

No i don't want to know. just keep me upbeat my sweet so i can keep my light feet.

but. no. but.

                               no never mind

                                                          it's cool

                                                                         it's cool

You're not seeing him on wednesday. (but maybe in a few thursdays?)

how could you see him when he's mutual friends with a time you're trying to
forget? to look at him would mean to face the deserted dream. it's too hard. he's too nice. you're too hurt. you're too far gone. swallowed under as he stands beating over like the midday sun. You're on the run. He's crushed. He's laughing. it's just a misunderstanding. the prodigal son has come and would rather hook your arm than do you harm though you'd depart and stray towards... what? He doesn't know. You're keeping secrets. She knows. and knows. You're lying. He's breaking. Guitars are playing and memories are fading if his meeting was meaning you knew there'd be dreaming there's no way you'd be coming because you've got to-as said before-get running. So it's all wrong. he stands upon. great things but with no one beside to walk along. lonesome road he's back on. you're surrounded in praise but when the lights are off you daze in wonder, wonder if he's okay. if he's still standing strong facing the day. you hope he's strong. he's not alone. but you know. he is. and he's dying. but now it's bed time and you tell yourself you're kidding and really should be sleeping. without a prodigal son who'd rather keep you warm than do you harm who'd stay away if he thought it'd improve your day. and it does. and it will. until....... the dream returns.

Short skirt blues.

I've climbed the highest mountain

I've swum in every river 

but when i see you in that short skirt girl, 

I can't help but shiver  

I got the short skirt blues, oh lord 

I got the short skirt blues 

I see you in that short skirt girl

and there ain't nothin' that i can do  

I've slept a thousand nights

dreamin' of you by my side

only you in that short skirt girl

could make me satisfied

I got the short skirt blues, oh lord

I got the short skirt blues

i see you in that short skirt girl

and there ain't nothin i can do

I don't think you understand

no one can love you like i can

now come on you short skirt baby

let me be your man

I got the short skirt blues, oh lord

I got the short skirt blues

I got the short skirt blues

and there aint' nothin' I can do

girl it's so small and tight

makes a man feel just right

so come on short skirt honey

love me one more night

I got the short skirt blues, oh lord

I got the short skirt blues

I got the short skirt blues

and there aint' nothin' that I can do

You know that short skirt drives me crazy

makes my head spin, round and round

you know I'd love your short skirt

even more if it was on the ground.

I got the short skirt blues, oh lord

I got the short skirt blues

I got the short skirt blues

because there aint' nothin' that I can do

You know it.

The sun will shine brightly

on all those who like me

but to those who don't,

I say farewell

and all you suckers

can burn in hell.

man,

Don’t bother phoning boy
You know she wont call back
And even if she did boy
She’s not going to tell you what you want to hear
No, she’s not coming back round here
Relax those shoulders boy
You’ve done all you could do,
Move a mountain,
It won’t make her love you

Just, stop writing that poetry boy
Is she really worth it?
Put that pen down boy
Does she really deserve it?
Can you honestly say that your back is got
When you’re doing all you can just to get
Creative support?

Just, stop those tears boy
Don’t go crying on the train
You’ve been hit by pikies boy
You’ve taken bigger pain
Don’t you fall like the rain
Don’t you stand still again.
Hold on, be strong
Run faster than you ever have
This ache has gone on too long
You’ve already done more than you should ever have

So please
Pick yourself up boy
Release
Liberate
If you wait
The life of a fool
Will be your fate.

Fear for thoughts.

It hurts to love you
but it hurts more
to be without you
 
Not wanting to crowd
but don't want you thinking
I don't want to be around
A million thoughts
run through my mind
at the speed of sound
at the exact same time
 
"Does she still want me,
Physically?"
"Can't go back to how things where"
"Maybe she wants to go back
to how things where?"
"To close myself now I'd
be shut down forevermore"
 
It's like
we're hiding
and that's
hurting
When alone
when we're at home
she falls to my grace
and I relax, cry,
laugh and lie
with her.
 
I wish she'd just
jump in with me
instead I'm
Falling
She's
Watching
He's in the wings
waiting
they're in the theatre
acting
badly
gossiping
about me.
 
You... understand right?
All I want to do is hold you tight
but if you pretend
we are not
what we are
how can you expect me
to stay the night?
 
I wish I could tell you
That
I'm not a killer
but I'd kill for you
and that
I'm not a quitter
but I'd die for you
but come on,
would you want me to?
Because while it hurts to love you
and it hurts more to be without you
I'll die before before I ever burden you.

Shoreditch legion.

Over inflated moustaches, cool-bowl haircuts dressed as trendy sluts harshest mascaras whitest brightest ray-bans and you are all welcome! You can all join the debauchery. The lower the better and if you're not working class just pretend, everyone else does so you'll fit in just fine in the end my friend though don't expect to ever hit any deeper than what you see and don't think you'll receive my sympathy if all music you hear turns out to be a BRMC mockery. Its the same old story just told with brand new trends, ever since the eighties we've been watching our friends riding the waves trying to swing like the sixties again if only recreation could create stimulation (if only some of these artists had their thinking caps on) and if we stand out? If we rock and roll all they'll do is steal our soul wear our clothes take us so we're left cold fucking bastards if I could kill them all I could. I mean would. Or.... Should?

But to massacre the audience would be wrong. So, I guess, no. Although the next time you find yourself east of the city and you see the shoreditch legion whose vintage dresses are so in season, whose scruffy beards are grown to perfection just remember man just know ten years ago they'd all be posing differently whereas you and me would be pioneering originality no mater what the century... Baby. x

The barrier bends.

The barrier bends

for all moments of January

(the heart lends)

Before we're broken friends-

nothing's been sane since

though outs and ins

all deserve patience

carry on ignoring and

nothing will be the same since

your barrier bended

for a heartbroken prince.

baby it's black outside

This red is a loss

It was black i missed.

Change it back because

it was black i promised

forever love for both of us.

It was black i kissed

and swirled in endless lust.

It was black black bllllaaack!

(The streaks do not highlight

but exaggerate for the eyes

already show enough

they're bright

like all the things i've said before

... And more.                                                  )

But if black hurts

and red is strong

If history makes it worse,

then flame on

If you want freedom from the curse

(the curse of loving one)

Then stray from the hurst

the true colour

of the forever loved one.

AA

She, socialized

with the likes of house party

drug infested-only

prettiest selected- brick lane nights

and hungover mornings bathed

in sterile neon lights, Lamé,

primary hoodie coloured brights

numb like

anesthetic skin stabbed

by a surgical knife

may not feel but

still bleeding just right.

So,

as certain the stripes are red

and the stars are white

she was truly destined

to lead the american apparel life

where you always pretend

to feel alright

though never quite content

come the cold, cold night.

What he'll say to her.

As I stared into the ocean

blue eyes of you I sensed

quiet, grass swaying

but no others moving-

an absence of people- Stillness.

So, I looked to my feet

and I looked to you

and made my promise

"All these stars

bear witness:

from here on in,

loving you, loving you

will be my business

and i shall make a fortune

a fortune in these hugs

and in these kisses.

These golden glowing green-olive

kisses."

He forgets what he says as soon as he says it but knows every word is true. While stepping closer, he moves the hair away from her face and it rests on the top of her ear. His hand slowly pulls back, stroking her cheek. Her eyes do not blink but slowly close as she tip. Toes. Up.

Lonesome road.

I used to be the man she was needing

'till she bit the hand from which she was feeding

now I'm being strong

I'm leaving

but it wont be long

because i've been walking along

this lonesome road too long

I was just a stranger

before i met her

another weary traveller

in a lonesome bar

drinking alone

too scared to go home

because home was just too far

Such cold nights

hurt the weakest the most

for there where no eyes

in the london sky

so if I didn't make it back

not even the stars

could watch me die

I would feel so hollow

and I'd wonder why, asking

"where did the man inside me go?"

Perhaps i left him in the ring

knocked cold from that killer blow

She used to look at me

like I was the only thing

She needed to see

now if they ever truly connect

all I'll get is boredom and dread

as if what i will say

could ruin what's left

and it's true

if i start talking

I don't know what will come out next

so we're trapped in a stalemate

bound together from fear

of loneliness

But I loved her and I gave her all i had to give

now i've got nothing else within

I'm withered and thin

weathered and old

to think i once stayed in

from the cold

For loving her is like

walking on the sun

you know i think it just

can't be done

from the sorrow i try to run

but I'm tethered to her

on a rope made of history

there is no doubt

she'll be the death of me

I will O.D. on misery.

I used to be the man she was needing

'till she bit the hand from which she was feeding

now the dream does pour

Like the whiskey I'm drinking

the glass feels good

within my haggard paws

to hold me again

I wish you would

to die my friend

I wish I could.

Run.

Faced with the fear

but fought it back down

took his girl and he left town

before you know it

they hit the ground

with the unicorn

she's safe and sound

like the london clouds

he'll always be around.

Monsters.

Everywhere I go monsters follow

Always I try keeping them from tomorrow

As all they give is grief and sorrow

but these monsters are all I know

So how could you expect me to let them go?

Though (and between just us two)

In my mind a, white, knight, of, light does grow

with all my demons he'll stand toe-to-toe

and through each blackened heart

shall be a golden arrow shot from

a modestly wooden bow, oh

how i wish this knight will show

because whether it be monster or hero

someone has to carry me into tomorrow

for alone, no, i am just too scared to go.

Dream.

I/

You/

We

Wake to dream to sleep to hide to run to sorrow to burrow to discover to treasure to measure a love that's forever is bigger than never to hold to squeeze to break to release to take that piece to make your peace to climb from under to rise to fly like-strike-like thunder and to look to the sky and to search the eyes to claim and to take yes to dream truly is, to wake.

Slowly but surely vanity creeps up on me.

I've had enough of dressing like a kid. Enough of looking like a feeling like a kid. I want to hurry up and be the man I know I can be the one that's inside of me. Or maybe he isn't. Maybe this guy needs to be found through hard work and dedication to the causes I believe in. If only there were some causes I believed in. To be completely honest I'm telling all of you right now I'm not going back. Not to my old stomping ground or ways. I have to be egotistical and vain and let myself know I'm better than the people I met and the things I did to them the things I did with them. No sleeping around in body or mind (thanks camera obscura). So that's gone. I'm now a blank slate. I have less friends than fingers but thankful for it. I will build with laugh drink fight and die for them. And only them. I learnt something harsh already: not everyone wants the same thing as me especially something I've been longing for badly. What I'm supposed to think is that my life isn't a story it's just a life but I don't think that's quite right despite understanding I'm not giving up on that notion. That life isn't a story. It is. And that's why I like writing. I'm supposed to be writing now but this is what I'm thinking and inside my head it keeps rocking and racking my brain it's not pain but it draws my eyebrows down and my sunny demeanor isn't what it should be. But I've never been one for moaning or having a love that's unrequited so I'll just face it and it'll be accepted and already it's easier to deal with. Just, came so close to the end of lonely almost finding serendipity only to be plucked into something that I suppose will eventually been told apparently will-of course- be better for me. Fuck me if I wasn't fucked already. So what I'm doing is stand up comedy a little poetry writing a play and spending more time with my family. Stand up is slacking but only because that stuff is hardly temporary after all I may be doing that for my eternity that may be the beginning of how I make proper money. Poetry is easy because my minds just come from swimming in love and now I can write that down and get back into the groove. The play's the thing and that too I've been struggling. The subject is just so close though but maybe seeing as my actual lesson is learnt the story can now have somewhere to go. Despite having such good company (daily) I still get urges to leave this place like Ricky. But even he said this city is in me. I don't love Camden town I hate and am Camden town and hate that I am it. I feel this place owes me something and maybe in my unsaid vanity I believe this city, this city yeah it kind of needs me. To show the pretenders that lie daily and the beautiful and funny stories that could only be (and again with the vanity) told by me. So I'll be doing me. Let him breathe please. Just a moment before I do something drastic and reek havoc on a bunch of punters who probably couldn't H-and-L handle it. I'm going to let thunderbolt take the wheel temporarily, make the Ultimate Warrior understand that I'm doing my thing you see on friday finally hang with Dempsey finally and maybe, maybe slowly with working and dedicating I can someday be the man I hope to be. But how many comedians do poetry?

World circle.

It's only natural
after all
even the world
goes in a circle
We
Turn our mistakes
Into traits
Let our
Past become
Our fates

Turn
so many times
to what I thought
was the right way
I've found myself
back where I started
on the first day

Perhaps of turning
towards what I
thought was right
Maybe I should have
turned to what was
Left
Play the cards
I was dealt.

Maybe I should
have asked for 

Help

But instead I'm gonna
Turn

Turn my back
Walkthrough my tears
Pretend I'm on the right
Track
Even though
The ones I love
Are calling me
Back
I'm gonna
Pretend they
Don't mean
Jack

White knight of light

Your warmth brings me forward
My heart beats
In my arms you become weak
To stretch bent neck legs arch
Garments:
Torn apart
Dressed in moonlight
Look down, our noses
touch
Eyes meet
Know where it’s gone going and we
We have only just begun
Each kiss as if it's the first and last one
Constantly inhaling taking sharing
Each breath from each others lungs
Those delicate fingers crunch
Your eyes close and the smile no one gets to see-
Apart from me-
Is revealed and (has
More beauty, than all poetry;
No words are worthy)
Beneath the eyelids see;
Each curve kissed caressed
Heart thumping inside your chest
Panting breathing heavy unable
To neither commune nor kiss
This bliss
Such beauty unmatched
An unbreakable being a beautiful thing
bend not snapped
pulled hair lip bitten back collapsed
Change and
                    Tumble
                          and Roll and
Hips swerve, dip
Like nothing before
Gentle, you’re so gentle
Sweeter than perceived
More innocent than believed
For there is no sin
in awakening an overslept grin
you I believe in flesh more than skin
win strong no longer thin
taken to places my body hasn't been
and then, fin.
Again eyes meet
Laughter received
Both so relieved
And hug
Hold
“This is nice”
“it doesn’t get any better”
“This is the best. the best ever”
"Forever."

Baby it's cold outside.

I grow off words and feed off speeches
My brain doesn't house creativity
just prose-hungry leaches
Neil Young Neil Young Neil Young Neil Young
Where am I from where am I from? Bob Dylan Dylan
See this blonde hair
shinning underneath the swiss cottage underground light the light it stares
Pick this out Pick this out Pick this out
You who shouts me who stares she who listen's
See how that blonde hair glistens
the black mascarra doesn't highlight
It exaggerates because her eyes already show enough
They're, bright
Like a cowgirl in the sand
Like a ruby in the dust
Like the woman of my dreams
and the guitar solo inbetween
they speak
I wonder if she'll save me
I wish she'll make me feel alright
because while it's cold outside
If I can keep looking into those eyes
I'll be warm enough tonight.