Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

Is life now simple and uncomplicated, where once it was complex, tangled and twisted.  Is time forgotten, wasted, where once we treasured every second.

 

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. Time is what we want most, but what we use worst.

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

 

Time, is something we need to fear, time would rush by or seem to be slow in pace, but it moved at equal keystrokes, each second the same distance as the last.


The future, will meet us and the past leaves behind us. We find ourselves reliving the moments, sometimes over and over, but never forget that the future and life is in front of you.

Time, ticks by, second by second...............

tick. tick

It is strange that the years teach us patience; that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/e/elizabetht387638.html#jlhuEdRLpgweUQb3.99

It is strange that the years teach us patience; that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/e/elizabetht387638.html#jlhuEdRLpgweUQb3.99

Garbled thoughts, of a confused mind

Simultaneously, as soundlessly,

    Spontaneously, suddenly

As, at the vaunt of the dawn, the kind

    Gates of the mind fly open

To its world beyond, the gates of the time,

    The noiseless gate and the ivory gate

Swing to, swing shut, instantaneously

    Quell the nocturnal rummage

Of its rebellious frond, ill-favoured,

    Ill-natured and second-rate,

Disenfranchised, widowed and orphaned

    By an historical mistake:

Recalled from the shades to be a seeing being,

    From absence to be on display,

Without a name or history I wake

    Between my mind and the day

 

Only this moment, wholly in the right,

    As, in complete obedience

To the light's laconic outcry, next

    As a sheet, near as a wall,

Out there as a mountain's poise of stone,

    The world is present, about,

And I know that I am, here, but alone

    Within a world, and rejoice

Unvexed, for the will has still to claim

    This adjacent arm as my own,

The memory to name me, resume

    It’s routine of praise and blame,

And smiling to me is this instant while

    Still the day is intact, and I

Am sinless in my beginning,

    Still previous to any act

 

I draw breath; that is of course to wish,

    No matter what, to be wise

To be different, to die and the cost,

  My mind, confused, dark as midnight

No honest equal, my accomplice now,

    My assassin to be and my name

Tis burnt of dreams, of thoughts apparition

   Fragmented fixed, contemplation delusion

 

    For a lying self-made pity,

Afraid of my living task, are dying

    Which the coming night will ask

So cold, the earth cakes the tomb

   The thrashing of the thunder, tears do form

As dying await, my fate is sealed no turning

     Solitary in life and death, the powers deemed

Decayed, forgotten, life expired

 

 

 

 

Journey to Death

First Chapter of Journey to Death ...... Publication date TBC

 

The scream rose from her throat like a tidal wave crescendo, beginning with the smallest screech to the heart wrenching, death tugging sound that couldn’t be ignored. Yet.  People walked by, tutting as they went, complaining of the noise, thinking they were simply teenagers messing around. It wasn’t until the all-encompassing silence and the bitter red blood spilled onto the pavement, that someone took heed. But then it was too late, her final breath had exhaled from her body, her limbs now unfunctioning.  The blood matted chestnut hair in contrast to the tinged pallor of her neck, her eyes blank staring into the distance, an emptiness of black unyielding pools of darkness, her body still warm but unfeeling.

Running feet pounded on the street as the people who had walked on by, now stood gawking, at the macabre scene in front of them, guilt and disbelief on their stone faces. Still no one moved closer, each scared, frightened what if she was playing a game.

A thin tall guy, his hair streak with grey, knelt down and touched her hand, feeling for a pulse, a sign of life, nothing. He yelled someone call an ambulance, but he knew they couldn’t help. Taking off his beige overcoat, he gently laid it over her lifeless body, talking softly to her, reassuring her that all was alright, everything would be ok. Mainly for himself, but also for the crowd, so that they thought she was still alive. Murmured voices, what, why, how, question that seconds before no one cared to ask, now they all wanted to be part of the horrific scene being portrayed before them, a highly developed sense of tragedy, the adrenalin pumping through their veins as they realised that this was real.  Unlike like a play on the stage or the cinema screen. Their fifteen minutes of fame.

Sirens wailed, blue flashing lights approached through the darkness, shouting, pieced the walls of the swallowing buildings, who is she, can you hear me, what happened. No one answered because no one knew. It was just another night of violence, another murder, another life extinguished.  It happened all the time on the streets of Bridgington, tonight was no different.

Tomorrow, all that would be left is the stain of dried blood on the dirty concrete, a single bunch of flowers wrapped in cellophane that someone had brought from the supermarket, and whispers in the club about some poor girl who had be stabbed or shot, or maybe a drug over dose, so much speculation, no truths no lies.

The newspaper would cover the story for a few days, people would be asked how they felt, why didn’t they intervene, so many questions all predicable answers, then it would be yesterday’s news, yesterday’s tragedy, yesterday’s life.

But her life wasn’t yesterday’s news; she was loved by someone, once.  Someone, somewhere was heartbroken, someone knew her story.  But at this moment in time, no one even knew her name.  For now she was just another Jane Doe.

 

 

 

What is your justifcation in this matter?

 

Why

How do you know
Why should I listen to you, or even talk to you
Where are the sources of your information

Are you prepared to back your words with actions
What do you stand to benefit from me believing this
What is the underlying assumption of your justification

 

Have you been reading my words

Do you understand my feelings

Can you help me

 

"HELP ME"

Every day we are told what to do, what to buy, how to behave, what to say, who to listen to..

But how many people actually listen to us.
We battle against big corporate companies whose rules we are expected to adhere to, and if we ever have the audacity to challenge those rules we can often find ourselves in the court room.

The little people no longer matter, and the older you get that becomes more relevant.

We condone those that don't conform, we are put in little boxes, and expected to behave the way society says.

I am told I am depressed, why, because I have days when I don't want to go out, I lock the doors and keep my curtains closed, shut myself away.
BUT ... I am not depressed.......

I am not..............I just don't like the world as it is today.. maybe tomorrow will be better!

 

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately,

to front only the essential facts of life,

and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not,

 when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

 

 

 

Time will let me go............

Time, a malformed deviant thing!  Sometimes it rushes by, others at a snail pace, never consistent.

In a perfect world we would know exactly how the time flows, we would never be late or early, exact moments would be so precious we would remember them in fastidious detail. 

So why is it that, some people just let it slip by unnoticed, not bothering to contact friends, family for weeks or months at a time. Do they have no perception of time?

Me…………. Well I notice time, I hate the way it controls my life. The way the morning hour interpolates on my day. The restrictions it imposes on what my life should be, the hours I should sleep, work, eat etc.

Whenever I have an arrangement to meet someone for example, I am usually early and wait patiently for them to be LATE……………

I get annoyed that they don’t let me know, and even worse if they don’t turn up at all. Surely it’s manners, it courteous to let someone know you can’t make it isn’t it?

 

Time, where does it go?

Does it disappear in the breeze or slip into the river and on to the sea?

Time and tide wait for no man, so the saying goes, well that is true... …..

Have we wished our lives away, wasting time, time that is so precious?

What would we do, if we could capture time and hold it future use?

 

 

 

 

 

Where am I going to?

Today I got in my car and drove 100 miles.... Nowhere and back!

I stopped at churches, walked round old graveyards, thinking this is where I will end up one day.....

I stood on the windy sands and watched the waves, the sound soothing but frightening too.

Sad, yes.. I wondered who would miss me. many people say they would, but you think maybe they would for a few weeks, months even, then it would be.. WHO?

Dream of a life............. what is a life

What is life?
 
We are born, we live, we die. how many people remember us after we are dead?


When tears never fall, and birds never fly,

Winter never ends, and children never cry

When the sun never shines, and the moon never glows

When darkness is too bright, and the river never flows

When the nights are not dark, and the days are not light

When forever does finally end, and the eyes have no sight

When confusion is so clear, and voices can't be heard

The sunset never fades, and no one says a word

When ears cannot hear, and the grass never grows

When silence is too loud, and the genius never knows

When strength doesn't strengthen, and flowers never bloom

When hearts can't be broken, and eternity is too soon

When the wind never blows, and the rain is never wet

When thunder can't be heard, and the sun refuses to set

When a dreamer cannot dream, and the obvious can't be found

When the ocean is not deep, and the earth is not round

When angels don't protect, and a fact is not true

When life can't be lived, and the sky is not blue

When the truth is a lie, and the fake becomes so real

The clock shows no time, and wounds never heal

When enjoyment isn't fun, and bells cannot ring

When a race cannot be won, and a singer cannot sing

When pain does not hurt, and enemies never fight

When rainbows have no colour and something wrong seems so right

 

Is this the day when I am dead
I am no longer in your heart or head


Or are we confined by those that others build,
because we have a need to be accepted

Forgotten, laying in the cold
Unopened letters, never unfold
Presents gathered in the dust
No names, imaginary friends I entrust
The television soundless, no one hears
My silent, nor senses my fears
Mice scamper, between the sheets
Of bed unmade as no one sleeps
Is my name mentioned in conversation
Or simpley dismissed in dissipation
Maybe one day, they will remember
A life once lived, till late September
Till letters piled high behind the door
See my life laid out on the floor
As questions asked, who is she
Never knowing, name of me
Dream of a life, what life is that
Doesn't matter now, its just an empty flat!




 



 

 

 

 

Fix me, for I am broken

Can we go backwards, back to happier times? PLEASE

Last night I had this dream............... or was it a nightmare............

The dream was a violent an unexplained tragedy, being slowly torn apart by the corrosive need to understand why, what my life was all about. Everything was broken, I felt broken, smashed to pieces, but my dream was nothing like my life, or so it is to the outside world.  
So where had it come from. Was it a warning?  A deep set subconscious......

I woke the tears dried on my face, feeling bemused that I was in bed, and not standing in the desolate wasteland, it wasn’t real. The whiteness of the duvet a cloud of comfort and reassurance, a cushion maybe for what was to come. Well, I wanted to stay in my comfort zone if it was.

The panic rose in me, the dream had been so intense it left me shaking. The sound of the clock chiming, it was only 4 am, what was I doing?   The dawn was creeping through the dark sky............

 

 

Gone, to late to care

 

My heart is stung by harsh reproof, I can only run,  constantly seek the truth. Do I believe them if they say another word, the trust does risk goodwill, yet still may fly off like a bird.

My dreams are quelled, my dreams are squashed, as I listen to the voice of reason, calmly state, don’t break the line, don’t change the mood. Whilst it is good, can’t change its course.

So I quietly sit by grey-green lake, the old relationship assessment take. I heard their voices, listen to that sound, and knew I had to leave to turn my life around. So I decided to bid one last adieu, and make today the final rendezvous, to leave without a word to face, that fate that awaits me, along the road of hate.
 
A cowards way to leave this earth, the darkness engulfed like ghosts in the night.
Though many lie and laugh with mirth, I can’t hear, nor see, nor feel, the icy stares aimed at me. Looking, now there is a  need to see my life on a different page. Till I can suppress the volcanic rage.

To beyond the mirror of the face, my life is clearer a different pac. I trip and fall make amends, but will stand firm but then stop before I cause offend.
You may look at me and see the fake, the smile not real, the eyes don’t see. You will never know the real me, I will forever remain a mystery.

The dice was thrown, I lost the game. They called for me, I slipped the frame.
Sky blue smudged with cloud, grey hoarse voice shouts aloud, yet you can not hear.
Final moment flashes by, the voices, silenced, the dream now gone incessantly passed.
Life has gone, life will die, the blood has dried, the eyes now empty. It is to late to say I care.


Forget the words, forget me, for I was never there.

 

 

 

 

 

Today is the first day of the rest of your life

Life is full of cliques’ we live by them.

 But the one that says ‘Today is the first day of the rest of your life’ is very important today, especially for me.

I am fed up with my life. I am expected to be here for everyone, if I don’t answer calls, text, emails, I get accused of not caring, not speaking, disappearing. But I have sent a text to 4 people this morning because I feel very down and sad, and guess what, not one person bothered to ask how I was. The one that did answer was concerned about themselves.   

In my relationship, I never push, all I ever asked is text or call me occasionally, tell me you’re thinking about me. But I get kicked into touch,.

Yes I know, I should do something to occupy my mind, but it easier said then done. I pretend my life is so busy, maybe that is the trouble, but even when I say life is quiet, it seems ten times worse.

I go out of my way to see people, arrange things, meet them for lunch etc, then as the last minute they say they can’t do it because something important has come up… ya right!!!!!

Today I have sorted cupboards, put stuff in boxes for charity, and stuff for the rubbish.

I am bored but I do have a spotless house, and tidy organised cupboards. J

I feel better for writing this, for few moments at least… still NO ONE WILL READ IT ANYWAY...
NO FOLLOWERS OR COMMENTS...

 

Take care