Lacking Alacrity

Twirl-ing in a place that doesn't quite feel my own,
I have forgotten my core while talking to people,
I don't quite know.
Absorbing thoughts and theories,
I lost the connections of my own.

Not physically, entirely, lost,
but some what found.
Isolated, unsure of what I am;
Or want.

Breathing finally and thinking of my soul which twists itself in side of me.
It's shy and strange and.... Off with the fairies.... I suppose

Facebook reminds me
morbidly of my past...............is that?
Is that really me?
The bit
that seems so lost.
Or had I forgotten it way before...
way before I breathed my first breath of
consciousness?

An observation

This is a rather clever device for those that often get flies in their kitchens..... or those that are students, everywhere.
It has some sort of chemical coating on it that attracts flies to the flower and then glues them to it. You hear them struggling and buzzing for days.
After about the second day of hearing this 'poor' fly buzzing, and struggling trying to free itself from the ever so sticky trap.
I decided to take a closer look, watching it flap and buzz its little wings.
I feel a little guilty but the buzzing was rather annoying I decided to glue its wings down. In the hope that the buzz would stop and as surprised to find that that so distinctive house fly buzz continued. Admittedly quieter but the wings where no longer movable.
So is the buzzing noise not the vibrations of the wings against the air but a vibration or movement from another part of the body.
Can anyone tell me WHAT MAKES A FLY BUZZ?

The Lion and the Ladybird...

A ladybird once told her that
things left unsolved play on the brains of all involved.
Worms of self doubt attack when she thinks of an apple
firmly stuck, forever floating on the shelves of her memory.

What is this? Is this this feeling of that emotion
often clenched with roses and all things warm and fuzzy?
she squirms.

The unreplied and blinking for her attention.
Flattered and unsure,
drowning in her reading.
Paddled to deep?
It may not mean this at all.

Knowing their paths will cross once more
right now she's still reminding her self
to love a love that's that's pure.

There's so much growing to do and places to explore.
They are heading towards the same horizon,
where the sun sets in cascades of colour.

Why rush when she's so muddled
playing cruel games to be shore
paddling in tides of waves
too close, now to far

Her heart is cracked and so she toys
with others and more.
She daren't touch his it just in case
she forgets the warmth and
drops it to the floor.



It's been on my facebook for a while now, and I hated it once I wrote it but now, now that feeling that motivated me to write it has left me. I like it much much more.

The Snowman

Wind swirls the flakes
this way and that
melted on contact with skin
individual and shy.

Over coffee
silence is held
brain cells zoom
along lines of doubt
bundled up on the surface
of glass.

It dissolves when touched,
A pool drizzles from your
Knee, leaving
Finger prints on
Icy jeans.
Miss-matched? Unsure
each affectionate
ray,
a warming brush
Too much..
..Too much
melted on your chair.


The layout of this poem is all wrong considering blogspot... seems not to realise that tab indentation is actually an important element of writing... Although the lay out help this poem is important I'm sure you get the jist of it.

pedal stalling?

"Looks like we need a Hero now! Don't Ya think?"
quote from the original Rayman

We all enjoy pedal stalling people. By putting them in a golden throne they become untouchable and something to aspire to.

I'm an old school gamer. We had a PS2, it was great but it was my brothers so when my parents decided to reclaim the TV. I was no longer able to use it as it was no longer in the fount room. After that I never really picked up a console again.
Being reunited with the PS2, I began to question the concept of the hero and its influence on society.

We all believe that a Hero will save us from the injustice of the world. Some Batman/Superman/ Spiderman figure will fight crime and cure us from the cruelties that fill us with fear.

How can one person help us?
and how can we expect them to?

Why do we never turn as members of ordinary society and rise up together to change what it has be come? We all turn away hoping that some one else will fix it.

What has happened to the idea of the community that looks out for one another?

The Hero figure is the one man that shouts out for what is right. Is not afraid to say: "Oi! excuse me! Stop right there!"

Imagine what would happen to the world if everyone was willing to do just that?

But then is it really possible blame the invention of Spiderman with the lack of community that we feel now? I mean wasn't the hero invented to make us feel as we could all be one. We could all be the Peter Parker that really does make a difference?

Perpetual Cycles

I'm sure that as we get older we start to realise repetitions in our lives. The way we react to things is purely through our experience so far in our lives.

Experience is what makes us different.

Experience is what maes us feel so alone.

Experience defines us.

The personalities that we choose to relate to are purly due to our subconcious searching for what we are used to. We fall into the same roles. Time after time. We choose the same friends time after time. Our relationships will always be the same.

It's what we are used to.

We as humans do not like change it unsettles us.

This however is a trap for those that are distructive... or in better words have become distuctive due to personal experience. A distuctive person does things to destroy themselves. Mainly because people have destroyed them in the past and they have become addicted to the emotion of worthlessness. It becomes all they seak and all they recieve.

As a distructive person realises they want to change and become more positive in their outlook they find themselves battling with thier subconcious. Almost becoming two people fighting for riegn. Picking and repicking what to say or how to behave. This happens because so much of thier personality has to change and the brain will battle against the change wanting only to recieve the negative emotions that its used to recieving.

We become aware of the cycles that we take and

have to battle to morph into someone that we love.

Brownie Points- The helping hand

I have been attending my university for two and a half years. In the first year I found out:

I am a retard.

I mean this in the most Ironical way possible.

Like a black person calling themselves a Nigger.

Dyslexia is my crime. However I don't see it like that. The English language is nonsensical. My way makes allot more sense than the 'correct' way and this is easily proven by the simple fact that the numbers of cases of Dyslexia in Britian is on the rise. Shh dont give me all that bull crap about just by simply being more aware of the problem, more people will be noticed having the problem. Why? Well... Because im stubborn.

ANY WAY back to my intial topic.

I get Proof reading as its often a trait with dyslexics not to notice typos or grammatical problems. I think its because of a few reasons:

• We have read it through so much we know what should be there, so our brillianly imaginative brains just correct it for us. This sounds odd I know but really I know I do this.
• We have very little understanding of grammar and spelling. The rules we find most difficult are rules that if we ask why the response would have been "It just is. Ok."
• Speaking and writing has very little in common. We write like we speak and I suppose thats why we are called imaginative.

The problem. Its very simple. Very few students actually manage this. You have to have the essay compleated before the Deadline. Then it can be Read Marked and Updated, but another trait of the Dyslexic is procrastination syndrome.

We are offically the best at procrastination. I can sit at a computer screen happily not doing anything for hours. My panic will start when I have to produce a 3000 word essay in less than eight hours. I have to trick myself into believing my deadlines are actually a week earlier.

EVEN then the essay is not compleated until morning it is due it therefore its very rare that I get my essay in for proof reading.

As usual my grade is sugnificantly lower than what it should be. This Dyslexic help thing is really not working is it? So using my wonderful creative mind I go to see the marker of this essay an ask the question: I HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR TWO YEARS:

"Is there any way of getting weekly help with learning grammar?"

I'm sent to the proof reading place and I ask again. The response is oh yes your Dyslexia Tutor can do that with you. We will arrange a meeting.

Why the hell did they not make me do this right when they found out I was dyslexic? I have sat there watching the changes being made with out being told Why, How and When for a while now. Thinking because I'm dyslexic I will never understand it any way, but no they could have just offered me the help that would have aloud me to LEARN and improve.

I'm not saying my work would be perfect. I would have just picked up on a few things that I missed at school and the proof reading deadline would not have been so important.

And also then there would be no reason to used my RETARDATION as an excuse for not knowing. We all learn ways around things right?