Tag Archives: writing

Stirring Bones

Stringing some pain out of my hate
It’s not hard when I’m celibate
Forced the murder of my smile

Problems longer than the nile

Hold me to my words so I know to pick them
Flourine in the water to keep it clean then
Weaving some past horrors into baskets

Made my money selling a few caskets

Weed out the raw stuff there’s no me left
Till I’m clean shiny and polluting like a private jet
Let me lead you truth seekers to a locked door

Fill your head with many questions and many more

Down the garden part and further still
Lead you into darkness thick enough to feel
Take your light away and your torches

Leave your main one a sitting duchess

Here’s some skeletons hope they scare you silly
Till your begging for attention or help like a silly billy
Slow you down molasses like

Hope you burst into tears like a lone tike

Love and America’s Got Talent

I had watched the latest series of BGT (Britain’s Got Talent) all the way through and am now watching AGT weekly. I enjoy these shows very much because they involve easily understood human truths.

Work Hard For Success

All things being equal, a person who is successful at a competitive endeavour has put in time, work and sweat into it. Has engaged countless hours of training, has overcome doubts and has struggled. The show puts it on display in a simple but effective way, the shift in camera angles gives a cinematic sort of look at the performances. It is breathtaking to see what these humans can do and why they can do it.

The trapeze couple this season, Duo Transcend have passed through the initial stages of the competition and are in the live shows where they will have to improve their act to progress as with the other rounds. Their last act was publicised because the near-blind husband had missed a catch blindfolded .

Yet it was obvious to anyone who had seen the act that there had been practise, shown with the well developed arms and chest in the husband and similar musculature in the wife. The wife who had fallen had landed on a mat and was safe thankfully ,they both moved on to the next round because their act was scary, beautiful and magical.

 

Pure Joy in Escapism

There is a lot going on in the world today, (whatever part of it you may be in) and sometimes there is a need to escape and see people be better than you thought they were. There is a need to believe in a better world and work towards it in whatever way you can.

The show regularly features snippets of life stories of the performers. Their struggles to get to where they are, their failure and why they got on the show this year.

This year featured an 84-year-old comedian who one of the judges, Howie had performed in the same circles with early in his career. He had never gotten a big break and he was ready to present his lovely self to the world. He related some of his stories and struggles with being older in a classic observational style which was interesting .

 

The Sore loser

One of my past times before I went on a happiness binge was to find videos of unsuccessful auditions were the contestants had meltdowns of varying degrees. It was funny in many ways, there’s the mean-spirited angle of revelling in someone else’s pain and there’s the justifiable mockery of the sore loser.

It is enough of a shame, an understandable burden to lose at anything in life because many of us have experienced it. But there is a need to recognise where you had gone wrong and try to move on and get better for the inevitable future.

The show gives performers exposure beyond what most of them could garner on their own. The exposure can be notoriety which may breed ironic followers but seldom genuine praise because people do not like sore losers. It is important to know that and contain your meltdown until you reach your home.

 

Conclusion

I don’t know what will make me happy in the future but that this makes me happy today. Try to do whatever it is you have been dreaming of doing and know that even if you fail, you can learn from it and succeed in the future. If you are a sore loser who blames everyone else for failure then you may never succeed so fail with grace.

A drop in an ocean

I feel left out sometimes
My bones don’t enjoy holy anger
Some of their hearts must be limes
It starts off sour then it gets bitter
I’m no better on my own part
Have no fanatic in my cells
Was the man who watched them decay into smells
Was the one who could do nothing to quicken or stop their hearts
Was not a messenger from God condemning them to their fate
Threw the end of the world party
Danced on the graves of the corpses from whom life is now separate
At least that’s what they told me
I whispered in my own corner for the town crier liked bad news
He got more crowds to listen to him hit his gong and spread his message
Sometimes he got people in the pews
The preacher reminded them to prepare for a dark age
I whispered louder and the crier found me hateful
The accusers and the fanatics both found my lifespan worthless
Spreading nothing but my own thoughts and feelings so my spawn are not thoughtless
Soon I was dead and they were in search of another fool

Bar

I figured out your step too far
The battery to get you tick tick ticking
It’s not like mine which makes for exciting living

Strange that this is your line, your bar

Courageous you are to reveal your weakness
How can you win now in this race?
How can you keep up with my pace?

When I know what causes your sadness

Chastise you oh I did, do not tell me
But your trusting ears heard the opposite
I’m the sum of all your fears a composite

But into your dark you let me

I found out the line to cross
The catalyst for your reaction
Dissimilar to mine own but a distinction
I limbo under your invisible line, your loss

Loose rope

Shape me my experiences did
Led me down this path of tactless greed
I duped and i scammed and i moaned all the while

The weight of my sins could overflow the Nile

I felt it switch up on me my changes
Went from one minute smiling to the other enraged
Couldn’t pick my feelings, just showed them forth

My sane walls are breaking, i need a new fort

Change my tune up at gunpoint
Now I’m singing in b flat
Like i changed up my address and living in b flat

Wish they won’t end me while my head they anoint

Tighten up my rhyme like the rope was loose
Changing up my stitch like there ain’t nothing to lose
Feel loved and accepted so I’ll give what I’ve collected
Free from torturous horror at least that’s what I intended

Inspiration

Wholly separate from her words and thoughts
She resigned herself before the clock struck one
As the offer was one few ever get to regret
A price paid for the art of one called a reject

Discipline had led her here
Tireless nights of insomnia and bad hair
Mixes of coffee with creative things like ice
And now here were her riches, her spice.

She kept a schedule by her bed
Clocked in like someone with a dream once said
Dressed in more than nightwear she’d work for hours
Painting the skies blue and dark grey the towers

Initially she thought it was a power borne
One unquestionably brilliant even beyond scorn
And even with no regrets to her past that led her here
She was objectively better this year

That’s something one rarely gets in creation
Not enough to ponder and say ‘it was good’
Without sounding like a crazy tyrant even if one could
So she let her past self be her current inspiration

Phase You

Next to me we called a prison love for years
We were kids with many fears
Like being alone and having no one

But you were there when I needed someone

Now I know it didn’t phase you
Chased your dreams and blazed through
All the changes we failed to go through together

But I couldn’t get through to another

Guess I kept myself not like refrigerated
But I shelfed myself like a can of beans preheated
I couldn’t make noises as my heart sank

*eating cake noises* why my account lack

And I’m no tragic story would have hit it anyway
It just didn’t happen, was not my day
I thought we was magic stay six years like the titanic

But I was wrong and you should find your own jack and let him be your room to panic

I’m regressing here too
Got into comics last year
After kidding around for two

And not the kind that you tear

The kind that keep with you when the shops wrap
But ain’t no loss there, ain’t had no teary sap
Infact all that I miss was her smooth hair
She let me touch her goldy locks like I was a little bear