Annual decline (a poem on how this year has felt)

Drain the well of words, see the lack of thought thereof and the realisation that twenty sixteen was. The year of dead dreams: now philosophy, ironically, has stagnated for all to see.

Subjective now objective the objective to subject them,

those who don’t agree, who dare not to see. racist liberal greedy illogical free

market closed minded. Bleeding heart, catastrophising.

Open then forced to close, like the case of our time, you stay in your bubble i'll stay in mine.

People of our planet causing constant verbal crime.

Support the change.

Triggered and deranged, hold back the wave racist white slaves,

No grey.

All clean.

Two poles.

All extreme. The fence wrenched down now the world is a battleground, a trillion words floating around, proudly yelling factual blurs, rage and cursing, homophobic slurs, one comment to another warring as lost brothers on every topic that we conceive.

Hear no evil see none too but speak it all and claim its for the good you do, debates no longer exist baiting is the key, cool kids getting edgy to swim in the screams. Two sides now two lines.

Parallels, one direction no change no shift, bullshit take a stride, turn, ride into the night with open eyes see the chinks in their armour and yours and mine. Arguments turn to war no victor, brains littered with bodies intellectual litter causing young minds to decay in fathoms.

have you ever heard the tragedy of humans reverting to animals?

Footnote: This is more of a spoken word piece that will evolve into that medium when i feel confident to do so, in the meantime here's the written poem.

~ Peace

The uplifting tale of a stagnant Drone

I: Drones lone moan

Drone woke up. Slide out of bed like drone does

What a drone won't do is not beyond me or you

Because we all think or do what the lone drone do-

No does because drones like a worker bee

Slowly shifting with a buzz blended with a background

Chitter chatter turns to fuzz-

Wait fuzzy, when words don’t fit to form drone finds it

Funny, like his t-shirt worn un-un-ironically

The design is so absurd it makes him feel solemn

See the drone isn't like the rest

He wears a black shirt to show he’s best-

Bestial is what I meant to say

 See the lone wolf has a dress code of its own

But the one in sheep's clothing this time it's the drone.

II: creative limit braking

Drones gotta leave home makes his

Own path but to do that he thinks that

New roads should be taken

Drone wouldn’t break his back in an industrial

Work pack

Or herd but drone has heard

That you can live life through spoken word

It's open and free for everybody

Even if  your stories shoddy or if

Drone has body of work doesn’t fit

The rest of the boring shit recommended

For not taking risk’s

See drones work is mean, obscene

Just makes people depressed see

You can be creative but you have to make it

Make sense in way that won't offend those on

The fence if life's worth living

Or if a lack of originality should make them livid.

Oh well…

Its okay drone can post online anyway

With random ants and faces commenting every day

Oh cool great stuff keep it up

Oh I love you work cant get enough

Read my stuff…

Oh have you read it yet hate to nag

Oh what do you mean its bad not true

Oh you don’t like well I won't compliment you

It's not clever or funny nor uplifting its droll

Your writing is empty and sad like a hole

It can be sad but don't criticize us

Use a disease if you please

Something we can't control

Or a drone who was bad evil mad

People are good happy and jolly

The notion we ruin is absolute folly

Shame that the writing is unlikely to molly-coddle

Prick like a holly splinters from a lolly stick

That’s how our drone writes painfully quick.

III: socio-tally/ progressive digression

Dot dot dash

Harsh but rash

A statement on the state of which our world lasts

Cycling sight inability to break chain

Aim for the stars in vain then claim

To ascertain that the old has gained

New

Meaning depth style weight gravity

Drags us down to where we came

Throw on ten of the same robes

Like the hole in youths earlobes

The styles roll on they go on

Slow us, move on

Reboot remake redesign

Realign priorities screaming

a drone Begging, on his knees

Ears bleeding

Tears green

With envy of the futures gleam

Possibilities of unforeseen

Drone cries for ten-years  wait

The future is a bait for the tech snake

Wraps our world in a hold so cold

It can hardly breathe over the smog

Cold is a lie, heat is the truth

But drone said change is good

Move forward it said we should

Change is like a grenade

Could say it’s a dud but put it to a blade

Explodes the world  before  the past can fade

so what can we do when the drone who cried fly

see’s the Icarus in those that lie

a foundation of the  cyber steamrolling nation

Change sees after this lab session

Progression of western put to testing finds

Tech is better left, alone

 Is what it leaves us

IV: troughs and trenches

This is the last I’ll be heard of.

I, the drone can't do it anymore.

These issues that riddle me are closing my life to a draw.

I asked a doctor, for help, the aid that I seek.

The response I got? Shallow and meek.

Told me I should pop pills, hollow out my soul to improve my mental state.

If not reduce the toll by explaining what ails me, so they can relate.

The issues that hold me make me wallow and cry.

I'm scared when I see people, or hear a laugh when I pass buy.

The illness is the horse that gets paranoia past the gates of troy

My inner voice doesn’t love me. My outer voice doesn’t work.

I can’t tolerate the seclusion but being surrounded makes it worse.

I didn’t want to take a pill. I'd feel weak and insecure.

I didn’t want to seek therapy. I couldn’t explain myself at all.

If a doctor can't help me  then I can't either.

Shaking is bad, trembling is worse.

It's like my heads a bank and my hearts the purse.

I keep depositing cheques but my balance is worse.

When I notice a loan that I never took out.

That loan is stuck in my brain.

It’ll never come out.

V: Ordinary obituary

Drone came

Drone saw

Drone lost

His thinking pricey, his life

The cost

He never tried to be good

(certainly wasn’t great)

Never tried to spread hate

(Not that anyone could care)

You could almost say

He was always (never) there

Loved by all cherished by many

(But when I was buzzing did anyone help me)

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah

Ceremony

He didn’t die, sad lies

He escaped from a life where the bugs couldn’t

Flie’s swirl round decay and feed off the rot

They feed and the fatten

Till there small hearts pop

They know there forsaken

Know that their

Lost

Flies see the future

Pointless

But they never stop.

Drone loved stories

Tales, books, poems

Remember how when you were a kid?

You flicked to the end of a book, Then closed the lid

Drone misses the days when he was a child

So when he saw his own story was sad, frustrating mess

Drone skipped to the end, Missed out the rest.

Cold cant Cover, Frost will fade

I crawl out my bed, the light is gone are my eyes even open? God, I can’t tell. the absence of light keeps me lost in my safety. As I leave the womb of comfort the ice digs into my knees, forcing me to halt my pace the feeling of loss perhaps an ex-lover's embrace. A lonely state that’s soon replaced, by those whose shoal I’ve been assigned, I say shoal why? Not only are we out of our depths, no longer are we in familiar waters, while we start at three, Non-disclosed comradery. Now we three bump into four more, battalions on a field of a glacial war. Where now is that grip I once felt from that icy witch, I know now that her barks worse than her bite, tundral bitch. This harsh reality of a constant solidarity surrounded by thousands of living things but all refuse to be seen. I shuffle slow still growing myself, big steps wide world. Where do we go now? Go back, maybe. Light draws in but the fog won't lift it rolls down the hills as the wind roars “leave” we don’t belong here that much is clear. I see the figures in the trees, the rustle of the leaves. This witch is like my anguish which is lost inside my thoughts, madness. The pain that hurts you most is the one you know is coming. Everything i feel is like a songbirds humming, the emotion it evokes is subjective at most, even hearing one note should draw out of us, hope. Were surrounded by infinities of things and beings you and me and the detail of it all is what draws out some beauty. Two held hands, a true horizon, the sun breaks out like the kindness inside, mutters of offers and other such talk a family linked in an early morning walk. I’m not stumbling now, my pace is brisk the dawn has broken no more shadows in the mist, just like the paranoia the veil is lifted as it rises with our spirits I see all the wonder we’ve been gifted.

Footnote: stuck in a forest for a few days one of pieces im working on for my uni course but i felt like uploading it in a more rough state as it has a bit more honesty too it.

~ Peace

What i do to stay creative (The hints in create)

This is a spur of the moment piece no title, no thought, nothing.this in an attempt to not only to keep everything creative going but, to anyone who is reading,  showing how i and others can keep their writings flowing, creative perhaps abstract but also, constant.I believe that keeping a creative flow going helps produce greater work therefore by doing a odd spouting of words i keep the creative cogs going so here it is.

love, loss, tithes of life.

pricks and pokes, people with knives.

no matter no purpose all matter, worthless ?

train of thought incorrect, grains of thought

better prospect

plant

watch

grow

seeds of thought let my mind flow

the water that nourish the thoughts that crush

take away a train, rearrange into a bus 

because the service is inferior 

the passengers unwell

there's a small fee to hop right on

but journey juts on and on

you pay for what you get

you pay for what you don't see

you pay for trying hard

you pay for being free

Footnote: regardless of the quality of this it is an remains a product of creative thought. If even one of these phrase can trigger a thought or an idea it was worthwhile but furthermore making sure that i stay focused on writing means that i still have creative processes going. if you think this might help i say go for it! one last thing its best to just type dont worry too much just type and see what comes out.

~ PEACE

The poem on depression

I want to begin this by saying that illnesses, which is what i believe issues like these are, should be dealt with. While i wrote this to help those who suffer to raise there voice and be honest about their issues, you as an individual must always be active. Problems do not disappear i urge everyone to seek advice or find help, simply just telling someone trustworthy or close what's wrong is more than enough. To battle with mental illness you need to surround yourself with positive things and people, never keep things inside your mind no matter how hard it hurts to speak out but most of all be active, seek the help you need.

The spiral

Why try you lie I die

at night that mind takes flight a cold dream a grip tight 

the blame lies the tears fly the screams cry    I sigh    I ask why

 watch the time

tick

tick

tick

stop

don’t say this tell me that curled up tight lone falling through cracks

what happened to me I see the mind pull away at its own seams

a lack belief in its own faltering being , slip in a dash solid infirmity solidly brewing

a lead coated brain, a hidden wound known to drain the toxins are tame

 slithering poisons gain ground like rabid fetid hounds thoughts creep in

seep in but no sleeping just weeping

a bad thought is like a reverse Rumpelstiltskin

bleakness weaves the gold into rotting sin

 it is the mind the Brain, the host of this game it’s a war lay your claim

 do you want control over relationship’s or your mortality and how to deal with this?

every second that should pass seconds are now hours and do last and seconds inside of seconds section you alone for the second time you think about the seconds it takes to end your life the seconds it takes for those to forget the seconds it takes to do what’s best they don’t want you there sick of every second now the seconds in your head these seconds you live off are waste of an essence there’s no sense all struggle

as those seconds wrap around, blocking the rational voices the graceful sound a bubble

now the haze stopped the graze of this self-hating movement

notice the time you’ve lost, days, you never moved in a mental grave you lay

you need to move seize the day.

A start of a collection: the drone

To begin this i want to say, Hi! This is my blog i'm mainly going to be using this as a platform to submit hold and develop my writing. Anyone who comes here is welcome to simply read, Comment on or critique my work as long as it is helpful i am not fussed. Anyway this is my first post of a section of writing feel free to enjoy!

I Drones lone moan

Drone woke up. Slide out of bed like drone does

What a drone won't do is not beyond me or you

Because we all think or do what the lone drone do-

No does because drones like a worker bee

Slowly shifting with a buzz blended with a background

Chitter chatter turns to fuzz-

Wait fuzzy, when words don’t fit to form drone finds it

Funny, like his t-shirt worn un-un-ironically

The design is so absurd it makes him feel solemn

See the drone isn't like the rest

He wears a black shirt to show he’s best-

Bestial is what I meant to say

 See the lone wolf has a dress code of its own

But the one in sheep's clothing this time it's the drone.