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

Now

It has to be done now. It is demanded, as much by others as myself. The desire has grown too strong to resist. Words have to be spilled, ordered and contorted to fill this page ready for eyes to consume, causing discourse and further contortion by minds. So it begins, again. It never stops starting. I’ll take first steps till I cease my stumble and fall the final time. Fresh ground is the only surface worthy of these footprints. Emptiness the only space that appeals to be filled. The new is the future in the present and that is where we find ourselves. Once more, here again in this instant, grasping at that which has already gone, again.

Did you catch it? Don’t go back and look for it. It’s not there, the key to all this. If the answer is not found in the question, it was in the space that followed. When you look back it’s gone, when you look back you are missing it, again. This is now.

Ask us for more

Hopeless Romantics, charge these here glasses.
Are you the one to ask us for more?
But all of these antics, don't cover the damage
Of hearts too saddened to ever be healed.

They dance like diamonds, seen glistening on highlands,
Knowing there's no need to ask us for more.
Yes their grip tightens on our heroes so frightened
Of cherubic faces and rose petal skin.

The final combatants, bruised broken and shattered,
Know that no one will ask us for more.
So the last bastions, don't seek companions
Fulfilling a charge to not crumble nor fall.

for the boys...

With all the insanity running through and through,
You must be mad if it never gets to you...

"my people"

Running on empty, but we're running, even if we're running out.
Out of promise - out of hope or out the door to above and beyond.
Beyond reason, ambition, beyond the boundaries of what we thought we knew.
We knew all along, but never let on, we knew too much and did too little, too late.
Little did we know, better late than never and a little goes a long way.
Longing to go a long way away, any how to anywhere. Any way, any one watch us...
Running.