Sunday you’re alive

I’ll say that all the world ends Monday
so that Sunday you’re alive.
Say that all you’re missing from this life
is what you let pass by.

I’ll say that we never seem that far
from our happiness these days.
Let a smile spread across your face
and some problems drift away.

iFAQ's and A's

after much password forgotten trickery is at great haste if not treachery - he posts.

the question that they don't always ask is "where do you find the strength to continue?" "what is the guiding spirit, the force that binds?" that is of course two questions if not three, never the less the answer is one fold, or singular, as it is more commonly referred too - the past. Past lives, past humans - in short history - strength comes from the inspiration of others. How could it not? We are the some of their total. We are the continuation of their work - we are the world we are the ones that make a brighter day, so lets start stealing, ideas that is. You can keep your possessions but then you knew that, it's not like you weren't prepared to die for them anyway, 'Bugger' have I lost my mobile again...

Because thought is unending but life is finite - ideas must be continued and for this we have communication. We hand it down - and don't you think for a second that it is not part of evolution - those songs you dislike that get stuck in your head - they are as much a part of the continuation of human history, the adjoining of creativity - the unending human legacy as important as the literature, art and treasured facets of man and mind kind . We hold a tune and repeat it , and repeat it - because we continue eachother's work - because alone we are useless - pieces of a jigsaw alone on the garage or spare room floor. So, I write as a stop gap. A bridge between minds long gone and yet to come. Take from the past and give to the future - what else and moreover why else is there? It's important I don't forget this. Rumour has it it's a reason to live.

today

Is there anything left to feel great about today?
Or are all the kids right, to lose their fight today?
As all of their dreams are ripped at the seams and taken away today,
It's no wonder the world is just getting worse with every other today.
With all of this hurt it's not enough to pray it away today,
And it is no surprise when I open my eyes - I can't stand to face today.

broken morning. slashed pride.

hold on there hussler. yeah, wait up tiger, why all this hurry to just get going?

We've got so much more life to give you yet.

But wait still further, we've got even more to take away from you.



So you sit, searching looking for the reasons you do this every day. and slowly one by one they dissappear and the new reasons that come along don't seem to carry the same weight as you get older. And I have got older, as you do you wonder, "fight or flight" or even "stay and pray or run-away". But there's no runnning now. Too intrenched in this cycle, no room to move.

what needs to be done

enough is enough is enough.
How many more hours, How many more days, weeks, months and years?
I could sit here till it's time to retire - they'd still pay me and I'd still do as I'm told and what needs to be done. But what's in it for me?
Wages for rent, bills, food and holidays, but this is not the only source of money and it is certainly not the most convenient.

So -
Live life until you are twenty-five,
Because you'll spend the rest
avoiding and putting off death.
Find a second wind - begin again.

Thus I start from scratch, looking at the surface for indentations I've made over the years - if there is something there surely you would feel it rather than hastening and chastening this life away. There must be something better I could be doing with this time and talent that I've been awarded. But by the time I get home my eyelids will be upon me and the chores will be waiting to occupy an evening spilling over with sport on the tv.
And so all hope is lost and I'll be back tomorrow. Same time, same place, same disillusioned face.

"grey skies get under my skin"

just another grey day in august England.
I can't stand this so called summer.
If things don't change come next december
I'll be ready and fit to explode.
Because wind and rain don't drive me -
anywhere but home.

enough of self imposed slavery

Secret desires - they fill my work day. All the things I might be doing, all the places I could well be. This desk, this chair, these screens, these people - carrying nothing but contempt around all day. When really it was my choice to place luxury above the pursuit of my dreams and aspirations.
Well now I'm ready, fly out the window, set this 9-5 life on fire and not look back.

what you love, what you are good at.

If you are lucky enough to earn a living from what doing that which you love, then you must be good at it and it's probably just that - luck. Work is not hard if you love something, work is not hard if you are good at something. If you "put shoes on your feet and food on your table"* doing what you love and what you are good at, you probably don't work. Work is waking up with dread ahead of the day. It's pushing yourself out of bed, into the shower, out the door and in through another. It's not wanting to go to bed because you know when the alarm sounds you know you have to do it over again. So if I can't get paid to do that which I love and that which I'm good at; I'll sit here and let others who pay me little for worthlessness to do it instead.
They take my liberty and give it back in installments, why should I not take some time for that which I love and that what I'm good at too?

Be a good day. Let this be a good day...

*Retun of the Jedi - Reuben