Respect

Respect from your peers, you gain more of it for following the norm and giving in to their pressure. Yet, you do what pleases you, you don't compromise any part of yourself, you show them respect for what they believe in, you don't force your own opinions upon them, and still you're shunned by them.

You just can't fucking win.

I was extremely distracted today. Sitting in my university's library, hoping to do work, but I felt the urge to go back to my poetry. Although, I had no inspiration. Until I looked up from my desk. Enjoy.

Work can be tiring.

The words begin to scramble.

Pages disperse.

Thoughts are lost,

The mind is distracted.

Eyes peer across

To find a smile - contagious.

A visage worth praise.

Eyes that pierce

Yet skin so soft.

Lips that pout,

So effortlessly.

Calm waves of the sea

Running down her hair.

A look of innocence;

Although one of experience.

A foreign beauty,

Unexpectedly motivational. 

Looking back at some of my older work, I found a piece that was written by someone else, hidden away amongst my shit. I kept it a secret, I hid it from from my partner because it was a poem I felt deeply about, but it was meant for another, my muse. I do not know who originally wrote it, but I would like to share it.

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
In secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
But carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
Thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
Risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
So I love you because I know no other way
Than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes shut as I fall asleep.

I have recently found my favourite description of what narrative poetry means. Its in the introduction to 'A Book of Narrative Verse', compiled by V.H. Collins, with the introduction written by Edmund Blunden. I thought I would just share it's wisdom:

"A good narrative poem is a long strain of music accompanying a designed movement of human lives and passions, various in volume, in harmony, in time; its charm is not quite that of drama, with its stir and grasp and interrogation, nor of the novel, vigorous in direct action and multitudinous in characters and conversations. It is romance in closet relation to the ways of existence, and asking no strange, sudden transcendings of the imagination. The lyric and the ballad (so far as we may use these or any terms with a sense of limits) require of us an immediate syblimity."

New Blog!

To find an easier way of organising my writing, I have created a new blog specifically for my rants, and any nonsensical bullshit I can think of. Enjoy!

http://ramblingpyschopath.blogspot.co.uk/

In a state of apathy
These words come to me.
Ne'er can I see
What comes ahead
When my brain is fed
The apathy within my head

Higher Education

Within these walls,
Within these halls,
Minds are forever
At work.
The topics,
In which they question,
Linger on, in
My own cerebrum.
And yet, the answers
Never do
Come to light.
Unless through another's
Words, or thoughts.
Within these walls,
Within these halls,
I contemplate my
Knowledge - Absent.

I haven't posted in quite a while now, which I said I would be spending my time re-writing my poetry book. Well, due to me realising I could do better, I have now scrapped it and am moving on to doing a different book now. And maybe writing a few short stories in the future.

Now with my summer I haven't been sitting on my arse doing nothing, my friend and I have finally set up our long awaited band Eleusia. We spent the last 2 months working on recording a demo and have just released it into the wild. So, if you enjoy music or just wanna hear the noise we've created then here it is:

https://soundcloud.com/jason-tomlins/sets/our-future-is-a-hard-drive


I will be back writing soon, but I am needed elsewhere for now. So long..........for now.

The First of Many

Getting shit done with my new leather journal, re-writing my poems for my book in there and any others I may decide to want to add to the final piece. Just me finishing the first of 40 poems, still need to design the entire thing, its going to be a fun few months.

Uni work complete.....me thinks it is time to write some poetry. Hopefully I am going to be able to update and rewrite my book which I have linked just in case you wanted to see the piece of crap before i make it a worth while read. Here's one for the meantime, and oldie I wrote about a girl who just took my breathe away:

Her slender figure is a sculptor’s work.

So touchable and kissable

Like a creature from heaven;

A fallen angel, a messenger from God

Awaiting a man for love, for pleasure.

To feel the warmth of another.

Her spirit deserted - lonely.

Time passes without feelings.

Her soul remains empty.

But like an artist’s dream her face lightens

As she finds the one to touch, to kiss,

To please, to love.

I hope it still is worth reading after all this time. 

A duo in the landscape of nerves.
Clarity speaks sharply.
It claims my focus and my tears
Through the cavity.
Greed, it seems, Revives desires
Left forgotten
In chapters before, no longer needed.
But forever wanted.

Tell me how, or even why
This horror show remains
Within the confines
Of what's now a prison.
A cage, if you will,
To hold untameable beats.
Ones that act in this horror
For the amusement
Of whoever thinks
My life belongs to them.
To whoever believes
My life is worth the time

Its Been a While.........

.........so now for something completely different:

Our attitudes change, and our bodies grow.
Our mind expands, and our lives potray
How we as People progress and grow up,
From child to adult. But, adult to elderly
We grow old and we as humans alter,
Our lives showing that our minds shriveled.
Our bodies broken, yet our attitudes remained.


My work has finally dwindled and I'm back on track for writing more poems and getting to see what i rant about next. And hopefully its no longer just Dhuran and Alex reading this and there are other people that i don't actually know. So then to you people i havent met, stay tuned for anything new.

Brief Intermission

Too much shit going on at the moment so please have at some older poems of mine and I shall be putting new material up in the next couple of weeks.



#16

Forever in his nightmares he shall lay.
Never again can this beast portray
That grim event of his betrayal
In his mind he whispers: “I did not fail.”

His halls of horror lead him to this,
Here he discovers his short-lived bliss;
His only companion, among the sights so sick,
A journey of his life now made horrific.

Driven to hysteria, a feeling shoots so deep.
“Pray the lord my soul to keep”.
His dreams, his body now is confined
To what lurks and creeps within his mind.

Discovery

Strip back the drapes,
Dig deep in the casket.
Remove all the pieces
That cover and mask it.

Discover its puzzle, unsolved,
And its maze, unfinished.
And let it speak.
No thoughts diminished.

Its language is old,
Its words imperative.
And now it speaks
Unto you, so tentative.

“Please, forgive my absence
From you and your mind,
Which is now incoherent,
Your thoughts now blind.

No longer will this be.
For I am the truth
Of what you feel.
I shall give you proof!”

Could you ever feel that way?

'Bout the yesterdays
Heroes and villains.
When society could fray

Through the latest act
In the global news

Where matters hang 

From the point -
The frontline -

Where men and women
Will fight and die

For their children

To live a life

In the midst of this
Hustle and bustle
Of the greed,

Of the red handed hypocrites 

Consuming the needs 

For those people

That live without hope 

And cling to their lives

With the fear that they will
Have to bury deep
And keep their view
Down their rifle's sight
Until there is
Change.
But who are the heroes?
What makes a villain?
How can we decide
Who should live
And who should suffer?

These two, I had no time for with concerns to titles. I hope you like numbers.

#36

In the moon's glare
She came to me.
A siren that sings
Sweet melodies.
The Beatrice of my life,
Of whom I’d fight for
To call my wife.
A notion longed for
Born in my fallacy.

#18

Embers, of an everlasting fire.
Sparks from the strongest desire;
Fading into the ground,
Without the smallest of sound.

Heat that can warm the soul
To make our mind and body whole.
Flames grow strong and wild;
All spectators are beguiled.

This spectacle grips the mind,
And as you and many may find,
It fixates the eyes
On the devils disguise.

So, I mentioned before that I have already released a book of my poems (not all of them). Here it is:

From Bird to Bird, No Sky Between

It would be nice if anyone out there could buy it, its a good read. I am still working on it so there will be another version done for this year, hopefully. New cover and updated poems, the whole shabang. I could do with more money right now, cheers.

An Oldie

Here's one for ya. A bullshit poem about time, which I wrote after seeing the title to a Johnny Mathis song.

Infinite Time

A clock with no hands
Wanders common lands.
Its purpose never spoken,
Its clients never woken.
Why must it be here?
Is it something to fear?


There isn't much to say to this one, just the fact that it might make you think about our lives in relation to time and aging. Or make you think shut up, that's stupid. Whatever, just read and enjoy.

Quick Message

Unfortunately, due to me being a slow reader, I have not been able to get any new posts into the drafting stage yet. I am currently finishing my long read of The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri of which I will be writing about, as well as his other work (La Vita Nuova), and about the man himself. As well as getting a few more of my poems out there and producing new ones, I will be writing about a few people that have inspired me in some way or I have found some interested in. So, please be patient, If I had known how much I'd be writing for this fucking blog I wouldn't have started just yet. Cheers.

Another Taster

After this long shitty weekend working on my assignments, I haven't had the chance to write anything new for me to finish this wonderful week and start the new one off on a high note. So I went fishing through my old work and brought out something that I wrote when I had a lot of time to myself, a delicacy that is hard to come by. Enjoy.

In Some Short Time

I had some time to think about my life.

Only five minutes; very brief.

I thought of my future.

Will it be filled with grief?

What about love? Family?

Is that who I will be?

How about my career?

How will I gain my riches?

Maybe I will live on the streets,

Later found in the muddy ditches –

Dead – no one to claim me,

No one to say they loved me.   

Where would I live,

If my luck allowed me money?

In a town, a cottage in the country?

A country where it’s sunny?

A place close to the sea,

Where the people are free.

So many questions to ask myself,

In this moment I seized.

But, I had my future planned.

All I needed was to be pleased,

That I could have a chance

And not just a glance.

Just a Little Taster

What is it
That causes the embers
To glow? To stay
Cautiously waiting.
A spark,
a way to become
That flame
That burned before.
Time has come
To its end.
It can no longer
Quench the fire.


This poem is just a little taster poem I thought I'd share. I wanted to try a much more modern way of writing poetry, which I don't tend to usually go for, as it may be more acceptable to some and maybe draw in a little group of you people so you can see how the oldies did it.

For me modern ways of expression aren't all that great, there are some gems out there obviously, but back in the days of constant murdering over religion (not much different to know-a-days, only know we use guns) poets would create masterpieces over years that would truly stand the test of time. Now it's different, there is a constant demand for everything so people will churn out shit everyday of the week. I'm saying that my work is any better than those out there now or those from years before, but I intend to give more than just words thrown onto a page.

Please keep an eye out for my work, which will certainly be better than this cowpat of a poem at the top of this post.

And just for those people who would like to just jump straight in I do have a poetry book available for kindle by the title, From Bird to Bird No Sky Between, enjoy you crazy fuckers.

Good Evening

Sup, my name is Adam and I just wanted to start something new in my writing as I've been writing poetry for a couple of years new. I've ventured into different parts of creative writing but poetry is my strongest form of expression.

I hope you, the reader, can just sit back and enjoy my poems and maybe the little rant here and there, I tend to do that so you may get some of that headed your way.

Also, if you start to think I'm being an a-hole or just want me to shut the fuck up, please let me know and I shall take it in consideration and probably carrying on 'cause I have no time to give a shit.

Welcome to my world!