Sunday, 4 September 2011

this is not a post, this is NOTHING

Oh dear... where has the time gone? I swear I'm as bored now as I was at the start of the holidays - and the middle of them, along with most days in-between. I think I may hop over to Wordpress, see if it works out.

Tuesday, 19 July 2011


I haven't posted in nine days.... woah. Lazy me.
I'll get back to you all on that one...

Wednesday, 6 July 2011

estoy podar los arbustos!

Estoy podar los arbustos - in English: I'm pruning the bushes. I arrived at that title with the original intention to call it 'fillers' - which lead me onto hedges (English lessons) which lead me on to this phrase. I use it a lot.
As you can probably tell when I can't think of anything to post I stick a poem up. More often than not this is why:

The ever so slightly morbidly obese gentleman turned in his sleep, dreaming dreams Amarillo as he hugged his turtle shell patterned pouffe. Quite what this gentleman was doing hugging a turtle shell patterned pouffe is known only to his wife – and she died by fire extinguisher in the student riots. A tuft of white hair sat atop the aged and sunken face that had turned ghostly white due to excessive use of moisturisers over the past several hundred years, his nose was long and sharp – quite contrasting to his penis, which was short, fat and somewhat roundish. Bags too numerous to comprehend framed his sallow eyelids that were barely visible under his great and bushy eyebrows, and on this particular occasion his cheeks were slightly red. Santa was pissed. It was Christmas Eve and he'd got hammered in a floating bar off the east coast of Azerbaijan. He'd really outdone himself this time. 

Should I take it anywhere? Hopefully a more bloggy blog for tomorrow.

Tuesday, 5 July 2011

war, poem

As I lie, alone – abandoned by my country, I think. Over the eternal plains of inky thought my mind wanders, searching for a safe haven from the pain. The blood – my blood, slowly oozes from the multiple wounds in my chest; I’m waiting for the inevitable end: my heaven and my retribution. I have not abandoned them - I remained loyal to the last, they were the cornerstone of my faith. The godless Nazi bastards taunt me in my death, I merely smite them with my gaze. In the end I am the victor. 
Death has won this war
Death wins every war

Tuesday, 28 June 2011

my boy, poem

Nobody said it was easy,
by god, they were right.
One cannot imagine: the wispy figure
the deep blue ocean eyes
ungrown hair, dreary smile.

Devoid of spirit.

Abandoned by life.

His soft white skin, slowly drained of moisture
And a frozen grasp on a furry bear;
Tears forming on its glass eyes,
Casting looming shadows of reflection.

His last gaze searched my soul;
I hope he found compassion.
I pray he found his joy.
I wish he didn't have to go.

Here I stand.


Endlessly cursing into the night,
Praying for my child.
My boy.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011

error 404

Madame De Parkerdour, or 'Valoch' as she is now known, has been forbidden from (I quote her) "touching" me in physics lessons, much to our mutual disappointment. I have thus resorted to writing the negative form of yes on her hand as a sign of my despised restraints.
The rustic iron chains have been cast down informally by a person of great knowledge and power, a person whom is originally from Scotland and would like to tell us things of which there is no time. This person is a warlock, she controls the structure of atoms with her red, green and yellow pieces of card. She despairs at the inappropriate and forc├ęd hugs that I have so valiantly endured.
Valoch hides behind a shield of mascara and eye-liner, with dyed hair and brown eyes, prodding me with her vicious spears and accusations of a sullen countenance - which simply are not true! I fight back with my only tools: pens and 'borrowed' stationary, of which there is little. Supplies are running low after the fifth night of raids and help must be sent soon! I implore ye watchers of this discord, send forth the bus!

Sunday, 19 June 2011

we need to talk more

"Do we? Do we really? I honestly couldn't care less about you - and what do you expect, I don't talk to you. There's a reason we don't talk. I'm not sure what it is, but there is a reason. It's probably a very good one. If it isn't then I've made a grievous mistake, which I don't like to do. If either of us were remotely interested in each other we wouldn't be here right now, having this conversation would we? No. We wouldn't.
I don't have a clue why you said this to me, I don't even know why I liked your status - I mean, honestly, we hardly even know each other. Yeah. I said it. WE DON'T KNOW EACH OTHER. In consideration that probably isn't all too true, I like to know people I meet to some degree and so by nature you know me a bit too,  we probably don't like each other much. Not really. We can be all nice and flowery over this but we still don't like each other, not like real friends."
I hate people that say this, it's so damn annoying. People don't talk for a reason, and if they want that to change they don't say this- they ACT ON IT.

Thursday, 16 June 2011


When being chased by a rottweiler life becomes  that bit simpler, the ordinarily bogged down pages turn so much more easily. Get away from the devil and avoid the loss of a limb in the process; why is it then that one must fill in 20 pages of risk assessment? It is a troubling thought to cross my mind, 'If I get out of his alive I need to fill in 100 bloody forms confirming the event, consoling the owner of the dog and requesting a damn good lawyer.' Thank God I don't get chased by savage beasts often! I dread to imagine a career in dog-care, particularly rottweilers...
Fortunately I was able to lay my hands on a katana. Legal problems aside, it was a fantastic weapon and did the trick just fine, my pirate games as a child really paid off. A clean cut was what I aimed for, though it ended up as more of a hammer battery than silent ninja kill. Sh. Nobody told you that. The dog died painlessly - it was unconscious after the first few blows.
Satan's owner was very good about it all, I arrived at her doorstep full of crocodile tears I'd nicked from the zoo last week and told her some sob story about a truck hitting the bugger. She was a bit thick and so forgot to question the blatant katana marks, so everything went to plan! Apart from the cat. I swear it was an accident. The idiot wandered into my blade. It was a shame really, the wife left me because of it - still, at least I killed her dog. I hate rottweilers.

Thursday, 9 June 2011

I dink I have a dold

I think I have a cold coming on, this is a happy time for it to be stalking me as exam week has finished now - just one more trial to survive tomorrow :D Hopefully my grade will not be influenced by my malfunction.
I remember in year 7 in a maths exam I was sat next to somebody with a cold, it annoyed the nails off my fingers. I do sincerely hope that nobody will suffer at my expense at zero hour, I'd hate for my cold being responsible for the teacher getting irritated at somebody because of their low score which was directly influenced by my cold. I know the class setting won't be changed at all and so tomorrow's test is a bit pointless, but still, it's the principles.

I'm on Skype now, I can hear a friend playing the guitar, it's very nice - don't tell him I said that though. Oh dear, he's trying to sing. This is a shambles. Yay! I love how the electronically distorted notes fit perfectly together, they are so nicely in harmony it's freaky. The pace is slowing down a bit now... I wish I'd learnt the guitar. I never had any reason to do so which is probably why I didn't; I took cello lessons for a while but then stopped, I'm not 100% sure as to why I stopped, I just did.
Never give up on an instrument, you'll regret it later. If you get the opportunity to learn something like guitar or piano... do it. They sound nice.
Ahhhh, a very endearing repetitive chord thingy is being played now, lovely.

Sunday, 5 June 2011

passionate love, in the oven

I've been on holiday recently, I paid visit to one of Mr. Billy Butlin's attractions. It was bad - the two things that got me through it were my book and the dodgems (NO bumping). I had low expectations from the off, but I was completely dumbfounded by the accommodation. In a word? Crap, with grime included in the cost. I was surprised that flies weren't making passionate love in the oven. In fact, I was surprised the bloody roof hadn't eaten itself.

In my area roofs tend to be very emotional creatures, prone to nervous breakdances and spontaneous combustion. That was a lie.

Wednesday, 1 June 2011


I would post, but I can't. So I won't. And yes, it really did take this long to think of this.

Wednesday, 18 May 2011

march forth!.... or not, lazy git

You may recall, all that time ago on 16th February of this year I briefly mentioned journeying to and from school. I certainly don't, apparently I did.
Often on the first trip I pass - or get stuck behind, a coach. It's always the same coach, with the same children on it; always the same phone number printed in the same font on the same white rear. It's always the same. I go through the same routine of insulting it, calling the driver an idiot and contemplating making rude gestures at it as I pass it.
Of course, I never do the latter, because I'm a good child.
Nothing ever happens,  because I always beat it. In the end. I walk off, confident in the knowledge that I am superior and poses more Doctor Who trading cards than anybody on said coach.
The coach trails away and sulks, I'm sure it sobs endlessly at night. I'm sure it wails for it's rusty and dilapidated mother, and just for that minute - that second in which the last breath is taken; it's mother calls back.


Monday, 16 May 2011

licking it up

I've never had an issue with people licking plates, neither has my dog. I find it hard to see why anybody would - after all, 'waste not want not'? The majority of people, however, seem to set out on a vendetta to all of us innocent plate licking beings.
Society has moved on from what it used to be, blacks are now acceptable and gays are gaining rights; so with our ever increasingly liberal viewpoint I fail to see why plate-licking is unacceptable.
I hate to single out a particular group, but mothers are our most common predator. Plate licking to them is as filthy an act as masturbation. It's like taking your school books, ejaculating all over them and chucking them into a fire.
You just don't do it.
I fully support anybody that openly licks plates, and I congratulate everybody that gets dirty looks for doing it.

Friday, 13 May 2011

imaginative title

iPhones. I have one. Lots of people do. They're overrated.
That was rather silly, and rather brief; I feel pushed to say something more though am at a loss as to what to say. I shall think about what happened today and get back to you.

An author visited my school today; he spoke and tried not to swear, he answered questions and told us how he gets down to write a book. I learned nothing.
I guess I do now know what it's like to have a bloke from Leicester telling you about his book about poo, but that's not the most productive way of spending an English lesson. I disliked what this author was saying. Deeply.
I don't know what it was that he was saying that I didn't like so much, but there was just a nagging dislike the moment he started talking about his books. This isn't really going anywhere, and if it did it wouldn't be very productive, but I just don't like it when people make out that what we see everyday is all negative. Gangs. Neglected youths. Drug addicts. People don't seem to be able to get past all of that bullshit. I acknowledge that there are large problems associated with those things, and that those things themselves are large problems, but when people claim that that's all there is to life my blood boils like soup. Open your eyes and you'll see a lot.

Thursday, 5 May 2011

pew number three

Peering out from behind the pastel white wooden door, I could hear the gentle hum of dislocated singing seeping under my door frame - Matthew is a friend whom I have known for a few years, and is unfortunately not blessed with an amazing singing voice. Through numerous online games I have come to know him better and have eventually ended up in numerous Skype conversations with him; which explains the singing. I cautiously placed my foot upon the dirty cream carpet, the difference in textures causing me to startle a little. Hesitantly, I hauled my other foot from out of the ocean and into the desert. Something was wrong. My iron levers and alloyed cogs ground to a rusty halt. Red dust cascaded from the walkways and showered the workers, scalding oil spilled out from the vats as men fled from it's already singed path.

Wednesday, 4 May 2011


Times change, just as does underwear: if one stayed the same for too long life begins to get a bit uncomfortable. And hot. And smelly. I have turned back to my Facebooking ways of late, it was near impossible to stay in touch with many of my friends and restricted my social life even father. 17 miles.
Everything I said in my post about the big book DOES still stand, however ^^ - my generation does abuse it and use it unnecessarily. Though it isn't pointless. Kind of.

That was pointless.

Friday, 29 April 2011


After the few years that I have walked this Earth I have learned little, though the things I have learned are very important - to me, at least.
Nobody can be trusted, though you must trust everybody with ardour.
There is no happily ever after, there is no written ending! The end is for you to scribe with deeds.
Simplicity is always best, though complications should always be sought after.
Life is a unique, treat it that way.
Coincidences should never be ignored, unless running away.
The future is in the past and the past is the present, act accordingly.
Regrets are for humans, remorse is for the guilty.
Light is always present, if it wasn't you'd be dead.
Pain is just a hindrance, death is the box; find the door.
Happiness is the ultimate victory.

Wednesday, 27 April 2011

proposed purpose

If death is all we get, why do we keep living? Is death our only reward? Is there something else...?
Proposition Omega: Enjoy life, work hard, give back.
Proposition Reality: Hate life, work harder, lose.
Precision of purpose is vague in her cloak of deceit, littered with frozen truths and veiling of the lady's vexation. Her bones are brittle and boil down to ash whilst the man works on. He cries into the pitch 'Oh Lord! Wherefore art thou? Must I die!? I rebuke this turmoil of forlorn tear-filled eyes!'
Swift is the lark that hits the hornets nest and swifter is the sword that moulds her cruel justice.
Reprisal is alliance and alliance is declaration, thus peace be upon you all and enter not into agreements - only friendships. This life of ours is short and painful, make it easier for your children and repay your lyres with songs of worship.

Tuesday, 19 April 2011


So there I was, minding my own business talking in an Aussie accent when for some reason I stumbled on my words, I tripped. I tripped and fell into a hole full of pitch and some cow excrement – and man, I can assure you, it wasn't a pretty sight; generally isn't with me.
Haha! Look, it's a guy that said something that could be interpreted in many ways…. which seat should I take? Neither. Read and bleed.
That actually sounds pretty cool. I adopt it.

Briefly returning to the original topic I somehow ended up saying ‘mingering’, which sounds like a word – a REAL word, turns out it is, according to this high and mighty urban dictionary – though my grandma being an avid scrabbler says nay.

Urban dictionary = slang
Slang = icky
Icky = NO.

I love grandma logic.

It seems like we've going at this forever: you and me – I'm sorry, it just isn't working. I, I know that what we had was good – it was great! Really! But, I'm just not sure we're meant to be.

How sad. But seriously, you're x-teen? Get real!
 You have your whole life ahead of you! Go play with Lego, or something? Lego's cool – right? I think Lego's cool. Life's as short as a piece of Megablocks but doesn't mean ya can't play with Lego. Always time for Lego in my house. I'm tangenting. Sorry.
Plenty more blocks in the box.

Friday, 15 April 2011


Perfect controls, perfect subdues, perfect is owned, he doesn't want you. He looks up their skirts and dribbles on their croquet sticks. He. Is. A lie.
Perfect wanders among the birds at sugarcandy mountain, he eats cucumber sandwiches in gay bars. He abuses donkeys and he twiddles his whiskers. He doesn't exist. So why do we want him?
Perfect is loving, honest and kind, perfect forgives and is easy to mind. Perfect is warm, and cold, and hot, he cooks dinners for kings and feeds them to street urchins. Perfect. Doesn't. Exist.
Why do we seek that which is not? That which is and that which sometimes? Is not.

Monday, 11 April 2011

Monday, 4 April 2011


I have recently acquired a love of pigeons, the more observant among you will have noticed that I changed my display picture (several times, each a different version of the same image) to fit this taste. The picture features 'Betty', my pigeon and her companion cube.
Being ill can get terribly boring, I'm sure we've all had that day away from school due to serious injury or maiming, maybe even Black Ops-itus, and we've sat in bed for however long. I lasted 10 minutes. Sod this, I thought, this isn't going to do me any good. I got up and had a shower,  teleported downstairs and nicked some Jammie Dodgers. I then proceeded to flick my laptop on; the problem with having an eco-laptop is that it bites back, hard, as in, I'm now missing a few fingers. I've always been into image manipulation - or whatever you call the damn thing, anyway, whatever it is - it keeps me amused.
I'd created this internet persona of Chaos Pigeon, or rather, I thought I had. Turns out some bloke has already made a flickr account with this username. I was most upset.
 All internet personas need an image, so I thought I'd make one. I did. I also made a pigeon desktop wallpaper, a broken wall shrouded in smoke, hiding a drunken monkey and a MineCraft wallpaper. A very productive day, I think.*

*please note, these images were produced over the course of several days

Tuesday, 29 March 2011

death, the game

If you had the chance to save somebody's life - but by doing so kill someone else, would you do it?
It would depend who the people are, wouldn't it?
Okay, let's say this instead: if you had the chance to save TWO people's lives, but by doing so kill ONE person, would you do it? That's where it begins to get tricky. Are two lives worth more than one? Yes! Of course they are.... aren't they? Are two 'good' lives worth more than one 'bad' life? Are two 'good' lives worth more than one 'good' life? Are two innocent lives worth more than one guilty life? Are two guilty lives worth more than one innocent life?
There is no answer, and if you think there is, get out of my metaphorical sight.
The minute we humans begin to answer that question, we begin to play god. A position, that I believe, no human should be in.
Surely no human can be put in the position of choosing who gets to live and who must die? If we were meant to have that power, why the hell are there 7 billion of us? If we wanted that power, why the hell are there 7 billion of us? It's simple. So why is it that people are playing this role... but not with two or three lives, but with MILLIONS of lives? That's just something I can't get my head around.

Sunday, 27 March 2011

Q&Q: 1

Humanity without society? Impossible. Society without 'humanity'? Possible.

Monday, 21 March 2011


Sometimes the answer we seek is right in front of us, yet our blind ignorance denies it. The answer will eventually come – at death if it need be. Rest assured my son, for patience is the key. Have faith in what you verily believe yet be open to other’s thoughts, for after all you may be wrong – the pain in your foot may in fact be an ingrown toenail, not a splinter; rest assured my son, for the answer seeks also thee.
Time is finite, dust is finite, life is finite. He who doth seek mortal life unto eternity; he is a fool my son, as are we. Who would live for immortal years and see those he love perish, the life and death of so many, the suffering of so many, the love of so many. All of these would make mortals mad, which is why it cannot be. 

Thursday, 3 March 2011

age of good, poem

When the grey moon begins to sink into the shameful perspex of space
The consummation of inauguration is finite trails of thought

Justica’s gaze shall smite the odes of man
And man shall say deities proclaim the word of hate

While the pure crow sings her watchful lullaby
And the souls of time and the yet to be known
Burden us all
With their painless sorrow and crippled touch

Fonts of wisdom and musty thought
Flow from the globules of human consciousness
Tearing down the bonds of brotherhood
Bringing to an end, the age of good.

Wednesday, 2 March 2011

obervations of a pigeon

I wrote my first letter the other day, yup, my FIRST letter. I'm sure some of you don't even know what a letter is: for email is naturally superior, as there is a small metal chip involved somewhere. We've been taught throughout the whole of junior school that letter-writing is a key skill. Okay, given the reality, it probably isn't -it sure as hell is fun though. Me and a friend have decided to write letters to each other under false names, I have been given the task of the first letter and thus a lot of responsibility lies upon me - this, albeit rather amazingly, is a key skill to have.

Tuesday, 1 March 2011

the end of an era

I have decided to eradicate my Facebook account, and to begin to amuse myself with such pastimes as reading, reading and reading. Facebook is probably one of the most useless things in our world, though it is seen as necessary to 'have' and use it: I simply do not see the point of it. The generation I belong to abuses it, we while away the hours telling people that we are eating beans on toast, under the saddening delusion that somebody cares, when the reality is that nobody gives a damn - and why would we? If we want to know what you're eating we'll ask you. What is the point of taking pictures of yourself in a mirror, only so you can say how ugly you are in the hope of getting people to tell you you aren't? Attention seeking, that's what. We are a bunch of attention seeking idiots that think the world revolves around us, we shout and rave, we listen to awful music just to make a point (to the extent that very few good songs have come out of the 21st century, and even they aren't mainstream). Cod was once the common name of Gadus morhua: a fish that goes delectably well with chips; now if you google it the first thing that crops up is 'Call of Duty: Black Ops' - surely there is more to life than this? What has this planet come to?

Monday, 21 February 2011

auld lang syne

I've just been listening to Susan Boyle's version of 'Auld Lang Syne' and it got me thinking. I remembered the new years party I went to: the happiness of everyone there, the atmosphere of the house and the vibes that resonated throughout the town. At the end of the party we all came together, linked arms and sang Auld Lang Syne - I captured that moment in one of my memory jars, it was beautiful. We proved, that night, that humanity can come together. We proved that humanity does know better. We proved that humanity wants to be better. I hate to waffle on about community spirit, but it was there that night and it was good. In those few minutes when we sang together, everyone knew everyone, everyone shared their deepest fears and their most coveted desires, all in one moment. It was fantastic.

Friday, 18 February 2011


I yearn to have the feeling of peace with the world continuously - alas, it is a very rare blessing :) Half term, pizza, coke, Hustle, Owl City and fantastic friends - what could be better? Life is good. I am amazed at how the little things make such a massive impact on my life, as I'm sure they do with you all, it really is in the detail.
I have always had a fixation with detail, I'm sure my friends would tell you it can get a little annoying at times, but the little things really do count :3 I guess that's been the focus of today for me: detail. The bigger picture, arguably is all that matters in the end, but the way I see it, it's the detail that makes the picture big.
I want to hug the world right now :')

Thursday, 17 February 2011

the establishment

Ambition is an interesting word, it begins with an 'a' and ends in an 'n' - much like the phrase 'koalas drive mini coopers'. I'm going to be totally straight with you, I'm not one of these people that since the age of 3 has had a burning desire to be a singer: I've been slow to figure out what kind of job I'd like. I think being an actor would be fun, fulfilling and pretty darn awesome - though work can be hard to find. I also like writing poetry, but a few odd poems won't get you anywhere either. I never had the time or inspiration for writing a novel, though short stories can be very fun. Journalism also sounds interesting, although I'm not 100% sure what it involves and where it would take me... I'm a very confused child. Out of all of those possibilities, to go into acting is probably my main ambition - though I don't know where to start or whatever to do after that. Life can be confusing.

facts of life

There are some important things you must know in life, one is that spoons make very good bad breath testers(?) and another is that sour things die down and somehow end up pleasantly sweet . You must ALWAYS look for the sunshine after the rain -  it is there, no matter how small and insignificant it may appear, it is, trust me.
You cannot avoid hard times altogether, this is a physical impossibility (unless you live under a rock, alone – which I guess would count as hard times anyway…) not everything is fine. This is a fact that we must all come to terms with for without doing so we end up lost in a world of fantasy. That's part of love. It's part of life. We just have to get on with life and do what we feel is best, we may not always be right - but hey! who cares? We all make mistakes, we can forgive and forget - just keep fighting.

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

2011 already?

"My chips, is it really a new year ALREADY!? I sure didn't see that one coming - you mean we're 2 months in to this 'new year'? Utter madness, you must be lying. Ahh. What a pleasant surprise this has turned out to be." The general gist of a conversation I had today.
I have been writing 2011 on my work for roughly 40 days now and I somehow failed to notice; I even attended a new year's party. I must be going barmy with my old age - then again, 14 isn't that old, it really is nothing on the 94 years that my great grandmother has been kicking. I know this is a rather late, if suspicious 'Happy new year', but it just seems right.

the joys of doing french homework in the car

How I loathe the perpetual swings and swongs of the country road, what better time to endure the merciless gaze of outstanding homework than the otherwise useless and wasted half hour journey to school? My innocent attempts to whittle away the time by progressing my learning are often thwarted by a corner, a turn in the road, that my father takes at speed. Oh how depressing is the miserable truth, that I live 17 miles away from the fine educational institution that I attend on a daily basis, that it is either a bypass or a tree-speckled vista I am forced to be apprehended by every morrow! This is my lamented story! This is my reality! What a shame.

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

so many longings

I have so many longings for a life that isn't mine: how I long to walk fields and be free of technology. I want to live in Australia, or on a farm in Oklahoma - I guess all I want is freedom. Freedom to walk, freedom to think, freedom to live, freedom to run, freedom to believe, freedom to hide, freedom to say, freedom to... be free?
 Society really annoys me, especially with our 'money' thing, I guess technology is yet another bar on our prison door. We are limited by commercialism and the desire to kill the planet, I'm not normally one to say 'hey! maybe greenpeace is right' but I really think there is some truth in the we need to stop building idea (if there actually was one? if not, there is now).
Why can't we just be content with who we are and what the world gives to us?

the meaning of liff

When I ask people the meaning of liff, they generally respond '42' - though this simply is not right. The meaning of liff is indeed a very pretentious matter, as many people claim to know the right thing - on the whole they are a bunch of deluded cacti. There is no such thing!
The meaning of liff and the meaning of life are stupendously different subjects, should one confuse the two I can guarantee you're from the Imperial Senate of Aaltje. Liff is, sorry, was an enormously popular Bahk group in the late 1650s, unfortunately they split for political reasons when the Democratic Republic of Rabinowitz went to war with the communist dictatorship of Johannhuth and the performance of Bahk was illegalised throughout the universe. For more information please put your finger on your nose and count to 17 in Latin. My name's Josh Cussen. I write things. Hullo world.