Alpathetical Disorder

The alphabet was the first thing that we learned when we were young,

The simplest of theories that flowed straight off the tongue,

The ease of every letter providing us with new knowledge,

The catalyst of learning and to that I now pay homage.

As my mind does expand and my vocabulary does grow,

I think back to the start were my potential did first show,

Every single opinion we verbalise, write or think,

Is nothing without the alphabet to keep our words in sync.

I present to you now the most updated version,

A warning to our minors to help them elude submersion,

An early glimpse of truth to help avoid the lies,

The mess they call control I bluntly summarize.

{Pause}

A is for altruism rendered invisible,

B is for the boring lines rehearsed and immutable,

C is for corruption by the hands of those corrupted,

D is for the disruption of tradition interrupted,

E is for the emphasis of a difference in class, 

F is for the fragility of our futures cracked like glass,

G is for the glutton showed by those that stand empowered,

H is for a hierarchy filled top to toe by cowards, 

I is for imagination quelled by conformity,

J is for judgmental eyes glaring at deformity,

K is for the kindling of the fires of disrespect,

L is for the limelight thrust upon cranial neglect,

M is for those misused minds wandering our streets, 

N is for a narcissism fueled by undue conceits,

O is for the oxymoron we call our daily lives,

P is for a Prime Minister made up entirely of lies,

Q is for the quashing of differential views,

R is for the reality so many avidly refuse,

S is for the stupidity we pathetically glorify,

T is for the scary truth that morals here do die,

U is for the unknown that we fear, avoid, reject,

V is for the vapidity of ignorant retrospect,

W is for the wall between destruction and salvation,

X is for a xenophobia given incorrect allocation, 

Y is for our impatient youth unaware of diligence, 

and Z is just for Zebra to represent lost innocence.

To Whom It May Concern

Choked and stifled by a country anorexic,

Starved of knowledge with lies the antiseptic,

Not sure how to manage my diminishing composure,

But empty heads and idiocy receive to much exposure,

Does nobody agree that we celebrate stupidity,

Instead of forcing realness from the depths of anonymity,

America could have Romney and in the past endured Bush,

Well we're stuck here with Cameron who leaves truth in a hush,

Our leader a chimp his policies absurd, 

Humility and assurance as of yet unheard,

Recession still biting our wallets in half,

Withdrawing our earnings and out spits a draught,

I'm tired and exhausted from this relentless bombardment,

But I don't want a free ticket from this lonely department,

Nobody is owed happiness we have to search for and earn it,

To avoid the abyss of our own homemade cesspit, 

So many people content with this horrendous reality,

But I just can't get comfy beneath this blanket of fallacy,

The cold side of the pillow has became stiflingly hot,

Burning my skin nightly leaving my consciousness shot,

Where does it end when all paths are blocked off,

By suited up pigs scoffing jive from their trough,

Gluttons for nonsense and admirers of lies,

Seven deadly sins quadrupled in size,

Whether with left or with right we'll be in the same boat,

The weight of the bullshit barely keeping us afloat,

It vexes me to know that my children will endure,

The exact same incompetence that sticks my shoes to the floor,  

How do we escape when escape requires funds,

And the funds that we earn get stolen by men with plastic guns, 

All that I have is a keyboard and my dignity,

My honest opinions that won't be shared timidly,

This country is in a state of horrendous decline,

Do we really want our offspring to be forced into line,

To wait for the dole and be refused occupation,

While the catalysts of inadequacy avoid prominent condemnation, 

We just turn on our TV's and pretend there's nothing there,

We switch on our iPod's and proclaim that we don't care,

But we have to be able to truly comprehend,

That at the end of the day it is our livelihoods that won't mend.

For the Both of Us

A lifetime of memories,

An array of moments lost in the blink of a heartbeat,

Faded are those joyous experiences of youth and love,

Incredible exclamations and insatiable lust,

The building of friendships and family,

Intoxicated merriment and magical mischief,

Dissolved into the fragments of each previously insignificant second.

My familiar face,

My familiar touch,

Forcefully and irrevocably unfamiliar to her,

A face so crumbled and cracked,

Like the shattered glass surrounding our portrait,

Uncontrollable frustration tainting our home,

Immovable shards distorting our reality.

Her uncomfortable shiver as my hand preaches my affections,

My palms gently brushing a sweet reminder across her cheek to no avail,

What used to be mirrors now become windows,

Transparent and empty,

Reflections darkened like the landscape beneath the night,

Prayers for our past laced with hopeful tears, 

Hopeful tears met by vacancy.

My smile forgotten by her deep blue eyes,

Those same eyes that grabbed every inch of me with each flutter,

The years spent embracing the beauty of vision,

She still sees me staring,

A heartbreaking lack of recognition is now my reply,

Take me back to the beach or the hills of our precious yesteryear,

Take me back to her as she was when she was mine.

Our journey unforgettable,

All tribulations fought off with an incomparable ease,

Life would not have been as beautiful without her,

Her hand in mine always acting as my balance against any instability,

As her mind disappears I use her beating heart as my source of strength,

She taught me happiness, hope and humility,

We lived extraordinarily sharing one life.

Our unified bond dissolving at the hands of hasty time,

Take her mind early but her soul will forever live on through our many creations,

She may forget my face and the history we made,

She may forget me and our irrevocable adorations,

As long as my feet grace this Earth though I will never forget,

Our love untouchable,

 I will remember for the both of us.

Suburban Memories

An ever-present breeze snakes respectfully around this still suburban maze.

An orchid of muted screenings based solely on improvised script.

These concrete coves an individual episode in the worldwide reality show.

The local tabby rolls lazily upon irritated chrysanthemums until a blunt bark disturbs its fur.

The daily eruption of youth an aging reminder of younger years.

Laughter.

                            Laughter.

                                                        Laughter.

                                                                                        Remember.

All walks of life connected as one by the simple blend of bricks, mortar and routine.

Future Olympians running laps around cobbled memories.

The finishing line never quite established for this never-ending race.

The back alley gateway an imaginary goal mouth swallowing potential.

From cups of diluted refreshment to cups of gold thrown aloft on foreign ground.

The birthplace of whirling pedals.

Not yet any thoughts of records or medals.

The origin of a great British legacy lies waiting amidst our terrific terraces.

After dark the curtains close and a loving oxymoron takes control of the night.

To make or to loathe the hidden question behind each fabric concealer.

"They're at it again" we say; "They'll be able to hear us" they say.

Entwined bodies or battling adjectives.

Passionate breathlessness or torcherous tears.

A diminshing relationship or a precious exchange.

Slamming windows to mask home truths and deceive nosy neighbors.

Unavoidable conflicts, wonderful innocence and unforgettable noise.

Celebrations remembered forever and a day.

Achievements always influenced by surroundings.

Triumphs spark imagery of those foggy winters and scorching summers.

As life progresses we refuse to forget that concrete strip.

Despite our required exits those memories cement the strongest foundation.

That breeze still present and that maze containing scatterings of a new generation.

Strobe Lights & Boredom

As I take a sip of my double Talisker, I peer into the mirrored back-bar and realise the severity of the situation. Dusty nosed miscreants obsessing over the ownership of a sweaty cubicle refusing to admit to any form of addiction. Moist palms grasping at distasteful clobber searching for a hit or two, or three.

The mass congregation of the 'Fred Perry Army' hustling and bustling past the bubble covered bouncers at the door, hiding their apparent dilation. Entry fee demands an unwelcome interaction. I get a glimpse of the cobbled street through some nearby glass. It has been invaded by locals knocking knees with the barest legs expecting the expected, at a fair price of course. 

There's a few reliving their youth in a clichéd batch of mid-life crisis avoiding speakers as best they can. It's about time to call it a day and stick to park trips with your youngest and box-set nights with the old ball and chain. Singles passionately grinding infront of a crumbling five year relationship. I'm assuming it was her flirtacious glance directed at the tatoo'ed barman. Or maybe this time it was his promiscuous smile. Either way this vocal brawl the penultimate clash before the explosion of vodka-flavoured tears. 

 Overwhelming confidence from the slanty-faced meat heads wearing tees roughly five sizes too small for their frame of femininity. Plucked eyebrows, concealer, sun-bed skin and shaved chests the pinnacle of the modern man. What a joke. I'm witnessing a realtime Discovery Channel style conquest for the elusive tangerine mistress.

The stink of Hollister aftershave creates a cloud of conformity and stings the eyes of the bearded hipsters in their corduroy cage. Whining that 'too many people know this song these days' and judging every generically dressed underage with eyes that say 'check my blog for updates.' Conversation muted by the iBerry and BlackPhone creating Tweets of facade and exclamations of "THE BEST NIGHT EVER L.O.L." 

There she is. The court jester. The 3AM queen. Once again she's pushed it at least seven shots too far. Baring her vapid mind, disrespected body and invisible soul to all upon the rickety table in the corner. 

An accidental push and shove met by a fist and a forehead rather than an apology or a handshake. Chemically imbalanced retards seeking confrontation and initiating a civil war upon the dirty dancefloor.

Just like the evening soundtrack mixed and muddled by the divine DJ, each evening a simple collection of repetitive sounds. Throw a net entwined by truth into this ocean of strobe and the sheer amount of pressure induced boredom caught within will widen your eyes. 

Everybody looking for a love of some description, or seeking an escape from our currently unresolved issues. Choking on alcohol, popping pills and puffing joints seems to be the most desirable wingman. Chatting up the exaggerated concept we call sociality placed importantly upon a pathetic pedestal. The phrase 'what the hell' quite ironically appropriate. 

A blurry mind and a pounding head usually the first sign of clarity for what feels like a lifetime. Is it worth becoming best friends with the bathroom floor and being greeted by the unlikely partnership of sunlight and vomit? My patience diminishing faster than the 90mph taxi ride to that place we call home. 

I feel like the fly on the wall of this repetitive omnibus and quite frankly, I'm bored...

From Beneath the Mound

An often unpleasant unknown,

Distain camouflaged by a constantly misguiding influx,

Stuck beneath a mound of destructive tedium,

Dust invading my lungs.

Choke.

Liquid soothe calms cranial peril,

From a complacent existence to an acidic diversion,

A sudden burst of courage melts claustrophobic rubble,

Precipitation of desire adds weight to the cause.

Breathe.

Eternal downpour of the not so spotless mind,

Clouds set to clear at the next expected chime,

Realisation has not always contained best intentions,

These intentions though hold the path not the crossroad.

Trust.

Vision now visible due to a reliable spontaneity,

Confusion dispersed by a foreign light,

Whose hand is it embracing my outreached mind?

Whose face is it blurred beneath the empathetic sun?

Control.

Pleasantly refreshing my soul,

Rehydrating my unshackled and thirsty heart,

Palms entwined like strangers amidst a crowded circus,

Finally in command of a personal expedition.

Soothe.

Complacency can massacre passion,

Trusting in change thus far incomparable,

Instinctual self-confidence the most blissful reality,

We as ourselves are the most precious creation.

Believe.

Imperium capere vitae.

Adoration of Hope

Fragile slumbers beneath a humid quilt of salty strain.

Beating claustrophobia birthed from a surrounding cluster of bedlam.

A soft cruel chill hacks intently at an icy sanity.

She keeps my nerve contained within her innocence.

The chain that cages a potentially prevailing panic.

My strength stems from my adoration like a rose from the shrubbery.

The stabilizer upon the unbalanced scales of the soul.

Conjoined palms continuously screaming for a majestic miracle.

Briskest winds blowing away the doubting debris left upon cerebral pavements.

Already answered questions require no squints.

The warmth of a broadened embrace felt at the core of every individual.

Encrypting faith into our very being.

This magnificent mystery the provider of solidity.

Our beautiful calm defying shady mutterings.

Such an unfaltering grace coupled with a magnetising elegance.

Sparkling through dire circumstances with pride and ease.

Unified by the failure of prying eyes and sealed lips.

Peeping Tom blinded by the severity of an untethered passion.

Brushing through whining crowds like a brush to a palette.

Absorbing brutal downpour and bathing in clarity.

'Together' seems such an underrated ideal to the misled masses.

A generation consumed by selfish promiscuity. 

Such a prominent distain at the concept of sharing love with youth.

Misguided and misinformed minds guarded by vicious virility.

Envious femininity ignorant to the truest joys of a shared life.

No word or whisper will chip at our desire.

No wandering eye or wicked wink will avert our gaze.

Our palace of grandeur all that now remains.

Built upon the ruins of past mistakes and surrounded by a thousand suns.

Together we shine through the generic dullness of false reality.

Weakness truly is extinct.