New Year. Poem

I will not dwell on the un-achieved
nor forget the trials of past
but give thanks to God that I still breathe
and declare next year will be greater than the last.
Friends have come and some have left
and...some have been laid to rest.
One was born and well met
while others have grown...leaving the nest.
The success I've been lucky with
will help me towards the next
and what I haven't managed this time around
I damn well will...if I hazard a guess
The future, for certain is never quite clear
but I will have conquered, by next new year.

Poem. Blind

"A lost author in thought"

The world is blind, I think today
a plague has ruined my life
If none can see, then who can succeed
in the dreary morning I write?
We are cursed, sightless children we breed...

An epic novel is but a blank piece of paper
to a blind man who cannot read

Poem. Haunting

Most choose not to see me, others pretend
but one day when I'm stable I'll write you to your ends
Don't you know of the power I own?
have you not heard of me?
I am the ghost in the attic
the book that you can't put down
I am that cold cup of tea
you forgot when I came around

New Year

I said I wouldn't stress out until Christmas...well Christmas has come and gone and it's one more day until New Year rings out. So it's safe to say, I am officially on the window ledge of stress. I won't reach summer, not without something. I refuse to let the sun shine on my un-employed face.

   I'm up for another placement soon, which this time I know will be decent, in a clean safe place. Even so another un-paid placement doesn't change much, no one really cares about what you're doing for free, they care that you haven't got a penny to spare from your pocket.

  There's no point in writing on my New Years resolutions that I will 'try harder' to find work, because I know that there is nothing short of taking my clothes off and begging on my naked knees in gravel that I can possibly do more of. I am trying the hardest I can, every week day I approach this search like a job itself and people keep saying 'something will happen soon' but soon is turning into a stretch I can't shrug my shoulders about. I hope once this new reference in on my credentials I'll be noticed a bit more, lately I feel as if I'm a blank piece of paper and no matter how roughly I shove myself in front of someone they don't see anything.

I'd sit in a room eight hours a day and sort knifes from forks and pack them into boxes if it would earn a wage for myself.

Turn me away. Poem

I offer my time, from each precious day

but you scornfully turn me away

I offer my labour with no chance of pay

but again you turn me away

I offer my knowledge, my talent to display

it's not enough, you turn me away

I offer my blood, to my dismay 

you still turn me away

my life,

my soul, 

my faith, 

you don't give way

each one of you in turn, turns me away.

Forgotten. Poem

Drifting, rather than living 

that's what we do 

we drift through day to day

us forgotten few 

You let us go without a hope 

you sent us to our grave 

and I remember how you wished us well

with a happy, deceitful wave. 

Homeless. Poem

Plastic bags caught in a tree
or a broken toy lost in the debris
of the scattered remains of yesterday
a writers last work, taken by the breeze
Or a broken bottle,
it's message has drowned in the sea.
Where do the homeless go
When they are no longer there?
Does anyone know?
...did you spare a moment
to care.

Dissapointment...again

I know disappointment is a part of life, ok I have learnt that lesson, so maybe now it's time to let up and give me a break. I couldn't put more effort into life if I took an elixir of immortality. I throw on my 'make the most of it' smile, I dress myself up, prepare myself with the hope of actually achieving some worth while experience and for what?...a dingy freezing cold room someone has the nerve to call an office, I sit at an age old desktop doing nothing. Even if I had to answer a phone it would class as 'doing something' but staring at an unmoving screen isn't worth the time of day.

This 'office space' is a waste of this so called 'company's' money. A one man team doing nothing he couldn't do in the comfort of his own home. This is pathetic. I'm sent here by our countries flawed system to get more 'experience' for my C.V because three years of uni, a portfolio, an unpaid placement, two part time jobs and several volunteer positions don't qualify me to be worth employing. I'm so frustrated I could scream the whole street into opening their windows and doors.

If I stick at this for four weeks (which I will do, out of a simple drive to finish what's started) I'll come out at the end with nothing more than another signed reference and a name to exaggerate around on my next pointless cover letter...I won't be getting anything real; no new skills, or valuable knowledge or hands on experience. All I get is another possibility for a good embellishment of the barely-there-truth. Worst of all, for the hours of misery and boredom I'll put in here, I won't receive a single tarnished penny. Not one. I feel utterly pointless.

Sometimes I genuinely think I have nothing of substance in this world, nothing you can touch or see, I've often said before there's nothing so important to me in these four walls that I'd have to take with me, and so far the world isn't offering me anything.

I have beautiful things only I know of for certain: an imagination, I have my Mr Jones, a rare few people I care about. Some might say I'm luckier than most to have such things, It's a damn shame love and passion don't buy tins of beans or pay the gas metre.

Grace Christmas

Grace,
     We're both at such a standstill now, we never planned for that. I don't suppose we ever thought we would still be here this far along: Lost and a little low. I don't know which direction to turn now, or what to do, I could really do with your fighting spirit in my pocket especially since there's really nothing else in there. I don't have much else to say, except I wish you were here-I'm certain you'd know what to do. Christmas will be over soon, you know the significance of that. With September gone Spring is all we can set our hopes upon, when the new leaves come I'll write again.
 Yours, Always.
  P.S. The Pond has gone...You won't find me there any longer. I'll wait beneath the tree.

Freezing

It's just so cold. These four walls are like thin sheets of ice, letting the chill inside and cooling it all the more as it circulates. My fingers to touch feel like snow, my legs and shoulders keep twitching and all my muscles are tensed up. I might as well be sat outside. Let me put this into perspective, if you have a conservatory or a green house, in December go out and sit in it with no heating, no source of warmth what so ever. That is the temperature of my bedroom without exaggeration.
Even hugging a hot filled water bottle on my lap against my belly isn't fending off the cold in my hands. It's enough to drive anyone to distraction. I miss you Connie, every moment I'm away I miss you. You've no idea the sanctuary you offer me.

Left Overs poem

Let the tears commence oh merciless one
let us crumble into the dust,
you push down until our backs break
upon a dusk of a setting amber sun
then with our bones you make
another brick to build upon the rest of us.
Have you no heart oh mericless one?
when tears of sweat and blood we drink
thirst so harsh it scratches us
and then you drag us to the brink,
the brink of eclipse you drag us, one by one
and leave us to rot in the mist.
Ghosts we are, the mist absorbs us it seems
you call us the leftovers, left over from last years dreams.

337

It's coming that time of the month again and I'm blaming the hormonal shifts in my body for the sudden overwhelming wish to have a little cry. I am not shedding tears. I refuse to even well up, but my throat is clogged and I feel that awful constriction of breath when you're trying not to get upset.
I swear I don't know how much longer I can stand this before I have a mental breakdown!

I've applied to 337 jobs now. In the period since finishing university. No one will give me a chance, no one is willing to let me show my potential. I'm not alone and that makes it worse, the graduates out there all scrambling over each other to try and reach a job, any job, it's excruciating.

Just give me a job. Watch how hard I'll work. Just give me a job. Give me a job. Give me a job. Give me a job. My minds deteriorating here. Give me a job.

Please...Please

I'm on my knees.
I'm in a hole and the light at the end is so faint and far away now. I'm begging, I'm sending this out into a wormhole of possibility and I am begging for it to reach out and touch something, someone out of my reality, my control. I guess I'll call him Fate. Please. If you can hear me, if you can feel somehow, then please...
Please.
Please let this be something.


Please.

slave line for book

I'd rather die free immediately, than live a few more moments as a slave.

Drama

I have a lot of unnecessary drama in my life, drama which would be easily forgotten and ignored if I could just get out of these four walls. I've had enough of this a long time ago but for goodness sake its the absurdity that drives me crazy. It's like Wonderland here, and from the new books I am writing I have decided Wonderland is far from wonderful, it's a place of living nightmares.