Unrequited Love

This sweet temptation of lies
Lures to the skies
In confusion, the threads can be frayed
The truth of the few is left in the shade

I tug at the rope of reason
My fingers they burn
Would you know
If I let go?

Sadly I watch as higher you fly
Clouds rolling by
Obscured in the glade
My truth in the shade

I tug at the rope of reason
My fingers they burn
Could you know
If I let go?

Icarus, fold your wings and drop
Wonderful secrets await
Before they fade
Here in the shade

I tug at the rope of reason
My fingers they burn
Where would you go
If I let go?

Smell the wild rose on your pillow
Cry in the arms of support
That’s how I’m made
Down here in the shade

One last tug on the rope
Fingers in shreds, not daring to hope
Beginning to fade
My love in the shade

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A Winter Morning

A smile for the early risers
And their patterns wild and stark
As they all criss-cross in contrast
With the brightness and the dark

Wide eyed people chatter
No strangers to be found
Charged with merry wonder
An elixir on the ground

Children scream and giggle
And play with joyful glee
Adults join in laughter
With youthful eyes they see

Yet some, they just can’t feel it
So let us shed a tear
For to them this magic wonderland
Breeds evil, hate and fear

Like manna, it feeds a hunger
White and cold yet warming
Tickles our souls in a sparkling feast
As it blankets o’er the morning

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I Don’t Believe In Atheists

I recently saw someone write “if you are an atheist then prove how we got here”, which is probably one of the daftest things ever said by a “Jesusy” type person in defence of their belief.

Can a “Jesusy” person (or any other form of believer) prove anything at all about what they believe? Most  “Jesusy” folk will smugly wield a bible and proclaim “the word of God” without knowing or wanting to know that everything in the book was written by man. Further to this; councils of men sat down many years ago and decided which writings should appear in the bible and all those which they deemed contrary to their collective views on matters were destroyed and the groups promoting such writings persecuted.

There is no proof of the existence of any type of deity whatsoever and believers are very fond of the use of the word “faith” to somehow make it all ok. What is faith other than a fanatical belief? If a friend of yours is about to sit an exam and they are worried about it and you are worried about it as to fail would be a minor disaster; you may say to them “I have faith in you”. What you mean in this context is I am worried that you might fail but I hope that you do not, so you use the word faith to disguise the word hope as the word is designed to sound better and inspire confidence etc.

In other context too the word faith is used to replace hope in order to fool that you have some firm conviction and knowledge about the matter in hand when in fact you don’t. So the word “faith” can be taken as hope and in its more aggressive uses; as a desperate and fanatical hope.

“jesusy” people all desperately and fanatically hope that a God exists and that all they have done and hope will happen , well,  will happen one day; Kinda like a kid looking forward to Santa coming at Christmas.

Enough about the faith mongers, what about atheists? Well atheists say they know there is no god but how do they know? Did god come and whisper in their ears “look pal I don’t exist and all those folk who believe in me are nuts”? That’s getting a bit silly, but again, how do they know? The simple fact is that they don’t know and they can’t know. An atheist will argue more vehemently about he/she knows and will often go in a big huff if you talk about the nature of knowing and how it is impossible to really know anything.

You might think whilst making a cup of tea “I know that I’m pouring boiling water into a cup holding a tea-bag but without direct unarguable proof, you just don’t know that you are really doing that at all.  For example, someone who is totally nuts might see you as a big monster and stab you in the eye with a sharp pencil. He knows that you are a monster as his mind tells him so – so under our usual accepted understanding of knowing; you are a bloody monster and deserve to have your eyes poked with pencils.

You have to agree that we don’t really understand what knowing means. In science there can be no absolute proof – we can only make assumptions towards proof based upon evidence: “jesusy people argue with this by saying in that case we cannot prove that absolute proof does not exist as there is no absolute proof to prove it does not”, a scientists reply could be “In some circumstances it can be safely assumed that if a certain event had occurred, evidence of it could be discovered by qualified investigators. In such circumstances it is perfectly reasonable to take the absence of proof of its occurrence as positive proof of its non-occurrence”.

It all goes around and around in circles, basically as none of it can be proved either way, therefore the Atheist is just as wrong as the “Jesusy” folk when he says “there is no god”.

An Agnostic is one who accepts that he/she just does not know and who requires positive proof before they can accept something as fact. We are all therefore Agnostic. The “Jesusy” folk accept that they do not know so they use the word “faith” to attain peace for their hopeful minds in place of proof.  The Atheist is an Agnostic who accepts that they do not know but who often says they are Atheist to sound either cool or trendy, or just to annoy “Jesusy” people.

Would it be positive proof if you forced an Atheist to sleep alone in a tomb and secretly filmed him being terrified?

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There Is No love In This World Anymore

The title of this comes from an old Buzzcocks song where at the end this line is repeated over and over into fade. Valentine day is almost upon us and I felt it was a good time to have a wee look at love, what it means and does it exist anymore?

From my experience I generally categorise people – so far as love is concerned into: The Desperate, The Fumblers, The Broken and The Arseholes.


Let’s look at the desperate first: I’m no psychologist and I have no idea why some people become so desperate to find love. Perhaps  their parents split when they were young or their parents just didn’t like them very much, who knows, but the desperate people seem to have a new “partner” every month or so and are in a terrible state when they get dumped. They are obsequious pleaders who may seem normal for a bit until perhaps a week into a relationship then they begin asking constantly if you love them, or asking where you were and what you were doing constantly, or why you never do this or do that. They desperately want everything now, and wrapped up in a big pink shiny bow and have no idea how to chill and just enjoy someone’s company.

Most can be nice folk and are able to enjoy others company in a social sense but as soon as they enter into a “relationship” situation their brain snaps and their crazy ideas of love rushes to the fore. They then try desperately to suck love out of the object of their desires; and no I’m not talking about sex, I mean like some big evil brute sucking souls out of folk in a movie. They try to grab it all at once and constantly need re-assured and more often than not become unable to function normally.

Everyone needs to be re-assured, that’s a fact, however; it is the constant need for re-assurance and suspicion and clingy grasping that makes the desperate, well a bit scary, making the object of their desire run like hell with visions of his nuts boiling in a pot or something. And just to clarify I’m talking of both male and female in a general sense – so might be visions of other anatomical parts bubbling in a pot. Hmm now I have a vision of two big boobs bobbling about in a boiling pot with carrots.

Some folk go through a bad period in their lives and become one of these desperate lovers, but it doesn’t last and they feel embarrassed about it later. It’s the ones who are consistently desperate who always get hurt. For me it seems that the problem they have is in not bothering to take the time to get to know folk properly. Most likely they have sex with people too quickly and believe that sex automatically means that the other person loves them.  Everybody knows that the world is packed with mere “shaggers” who see a poke as the be all and end all of everything, so either you shag and enjoy it for what it is or you require the enhanced sexual experiences gained when you love somebody and they love you back. In the latter case, if you don’t shag anybody until they have been with you for quite a while (whatever quite a while may be) then at least you know they didn’t just hang around for the chance of a shag – well unless they are an ugly big bugger with no chance of a shag elsewhere of course.


Some folk for whatever reason are terrified of the world and people in it. They more often than not function within society, but the world secretly frightens them and their social lives and relationships are haphazard. Some of these people become loud and obnoxious, some drunks or other substance abusers and some become shaggers. Most of them spend their lives fumbling around in the dark until they find another fumbling just the same, then they cling to each other to support each other’s fears and fumble in the dark together.

These fumbling relationships often last for a lifetime and others who didn’t know the people involved whilst they fumbled in solitude, often look on in jealousy at how they manage. The problems in these relationships arise if one of them ever figures out how to switch the light on.


You might think that the desperate are broken enough so if I split them then the true broken might be scary freaky monsters; if more broken than the desperate. This is not normally the case. The desperate have allowed their need to be loved to take over their entire lives, the broken are a different breed altogether.

I have no idea how people get to be broken, perhaps they got hurt too many times, but generally you can hear them sneer about love and relationships, shout about their independence and they normally become shaggers.

Most of these people became disillusioned about relationships and love as they met too many arseholes (next category), and they began to believe that the arsehole’s way is the only way to be happy and not to get hurt.  They shag arseholes or other broken folk then go their separate ways. Sometimes they even keep records of arseholes or broken folk that they can call for a shag.

Most of these people seem to be afraid of relationships and of opening themselves up to others. Normally you cannot find out much about them as they avoid discussion and will only talk on a superficial level; they are afraid of getting hurt so they keep everything bottled up inside and take no chances with relationships or love. Most never get beyond that state although may have regrets in later life.

There’s a song by Aimee Mann which goes “would you save me from the ranks of the freaks who suspect they can never love anyone”. These are the broken people.


Arseholes are the smarmy buggers who just want to shag, the sort who makes study of how the other sex works, their emotions, fears and likes. They then use these tactics to get a shag. You must have been in a crowd sometimes or other (whether male or female) and you saw one male smarmily wink across to a female in the group. Most women will normally tell you how much they like a winker, as that one small gesture immediately makes them feel comfortable in a crowd –especially if they are new.  Other men in the know however look upon winkers as wankers and know exactly what their game is.

Some of these arseholes will actually listen to what you say or ask others about you then go do full research on it all so that you will be impressed- and all for a shag.

Sometimes male and female arseholes enter in to a sort of relationship. You can often tell them a mile off by their false affection for each other publicly displayed. It is over the top and often they will talk about their sex life in public too. Mostly they call their relationships “open”, which means that they both realise that they are arseholes, that love has nothing to do with their relationship and that it is one of convenience.


Beyond all the categorisation does love actually exist and if so what is it?

To me love is about two people who seem to be on the same wavelength, who make each other laugh and feel good about themselves. Their thoughts and views are intriguing and you feel that you just want to know more about that person. You spend a lot of time together and you feel very comfortable with them. You trust them and know they are not an arsehole.

You feel yourself looking forward to being in their company and they let you know that they feel the same. When you have sex with this person it is somehow different from any sex you had before. You feel that you want to please this person and make them happy. You open up to this person and tell them your fears and ambitions and they tell you theirs.

You surprise each other often and show affection in different ways.

You feel that your life has changed in some pleasant way since you met this person and you wish to continue the adventure beyond what you understand. It is confusingly pleasant and you just want it to continue.

“Love is lies, love is ice, love is everything that’s nice, love is not as cold as ice, but that’s what love means to me”. – Another buzzcocks quote.

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The Fabulous Bee Skin Coat

What a spiffing day I can hardly contain my excitement. Jennifer Tristan, Nigel and I  have finally put our grand plan into action! We had met after tea in the old gazebo to plot a most wizard plan to earn pots and pots of lolly and finally make the old boy proud of me!

It all came about when we were lunching at a local hostelry for gentleman and gentlewomen, when we were approached by this fine fellow sporting a dashing moustache and tweeds! He explained to us quietly that he had been searching for many long years for some likely young adventurous souls, in order to let us into the great magical secret he had learned during a spell in the Himalayas!

Whilst strolling through the icy barren peaks on the way to tea with his old chum the abominable snowman, he happened upon a wise old fakir chap living in a cave. The old fakir chap was absolutely gasping for a woodbine after meditating in isolation for forty years so when given one by our new friend, he was so grateful that he gave him the secret of turning stones into gold.  He was told that it could never work however unless he gained the assistance of a jolly bunch such as we!

The great secret is one so wonderful that no one else could ever imagine it to be true and we are so lucky and excited to be chosen for this fantastic quest.

The great task that will enrich all of our lives forever more lies in the making of a fabulous bee-skin coat! No ordinary bees mind you, they must be the finest English bumble bees and the coat must be constructed by a true artist. Once the coat is donned, every stone the wearer touches shall turn into gold!

The first thing we had to do was find a true artist for the coat’s construction but luckily for us, this splendid chap came across the world’s grand-master of the bee-skinner’s guild who has been living locally disguised as an old tramp – in order that he may keep his secrets from the vulgar. All we had to do was to gather all of the silver in the old boy’s mansion and give them to the master bee skinner as a good-will gesture of our faith and to lend father’s roller to this splendid chap so they might travel to London in order to obtain the secret chant that must be said when donning the coat.

We waved them off this afternoon and they promised to return in two-weeks, giving us time to gather the bees for the ceremony.

Everything is now in hand and in a fortnights time we shall be rich as kings and queens – yippee! Old Arthur the gardener has been given orders that he must collect the five-million bees required for the coat within two-weeks or we shall give him and his wife to mother to be roasted for Sunday lunch, although she’ll probably make soup instead as their scraggy old bodies won’t have much to roast. He should have no trouble as he keeps a fine garden, which is just packed and packed with busy busy bees.

We then gathered my family together in the study and told father of the great news. He was so excited that his face turned a rather odd shade of purple and I swear I could see tears of joy welling in his eyes. Old ma-ma swooned to the floor as girlies do when excitement gets too much for their dainty little heads.

Oh how we shall live, balls, cruises, castles – hee hee – oh I could just dance with joy!

Must dash, as father is joining in the general fun and excitement by dangling himself from the ceiling, spinning gaily from the cord around his neck, so we’re off to skip around him singing in joy as he merrily spins.

Cheery pip!

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In the crisp of a midnight morning
Through aura of frost-tinted mist
I glimpsed for a moment Utopia
It seemed that such things could exist

No rushing around going nowhere
No ponders on trivia past
Dismissing the folly of others
The good things in life made to last

Creaking of long-seasoned timbers
Yawning in fresh virgin breeze
A welcoming touch of soft moisture
Sets a new day at it’s ease

Through sweet-scented meadows I wander
Summer-song soft in the air
reaching the place I aspire to
and smile as I find that she’s there

Shimmering embers caressing
Hush the sleepy terrain
Whisper with wisdom eternal
Morning shall come once again

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I Follow Therefore I’m Spam

I like to write, to rant and produce wee poems and stories. It’s always good if somebody likes what you say or agrees with a point (or disagrees) or gets a good laugh from something you wrote. I write generally for fun and because it amuses me and if it amuses someone else then that’s just great. I’ve looked all around this blogging place “Wordpress” since I joined in and quite frankly a lot of what I see just tends to put me off a bit.

There a lot of people on here who talk about “blogging quotas” as if it is all some big arduous task to write something  and the fact that they feel they must go through this dreadful ordeal in order to produce a piece of writing each day often means that what they write is a load of old stale pish. Who am I to criticise? Well who is anybody to criticise? Life is about making judgements and reacting in some way towards them therefore my opinion is just as valid as yours.

Don’t you agree that if it tortures you to write something and you force yourself to write just to meet a quota then what you write was probably not worth writing in the first place? Writing is fun; a way to express your ideas regardless of how insane they may be to others, a way to expunge everything that fights inside of you to get out somehow and of course a way for you to just cheer yourself up when you are bored.

Now don’t get me wrong, some people do not find writing easy for various reasons and perhaps what they write is not as polished as the next person’s or perhaps it takes them a week to write what someone else may write in half an hour; but if they enjoyed doing it then it was worth the effort and in time they will get better.

Other people I just don’t get are the ones who “blog” professionally: Folk who type reams and reams of crap about some product or service in order just to sell that service or product. Who cares? There are also those who set themselves up as some sort of well-informed guru, espousing knowledge to the masses regarding some topic or other. The guru ones are probably the most irritating to me as if you know anything about the topic at hand you often find big glaring errors.

One blogger I stumbled upon called him-self a “Web Developer” although upon inspection what he knew was about finding things that other people made, then giving instructions on how to glue them onto WordPress. This is not a web developer, a web developer is a programmer who makes the things that this lad squirts glue on. I’m a web developer although so far I know nothing about WordPress and I certainly do not see myself writing about web development anywhere here as  that would be pretty boring to me.

My point in all this is not to moan about what people are writing (well perhaps a wee bit as I like a good moan) but about those who follow. I have a few wee followers now which is nice, and it took me ages to go find out how to see who they are.  The first one I visited was some lad blogging about how great he is at blogging and how he writes professionally and then types reams and reams of crap telling other people how to be as good as him. He goes on about quotas and strain and stress and offers the dreaded E-book guides etc. How arrogant! Who indeed is he to tell people how to write? Personally I found all of his advice to be complete laughable rubbish. To get to the point of what I am on about here is why did this lad follow me?

He visited my blog once and followed then never came back. Did he read something on my blog that he found interesting and thought; “I must follow so I can go see what else he has written? No he most certainly did not. It is crystal clear from his blog that he is seeking anyone new to blogging and following them so that they in turn will go look at his and say “ooooh a genius who knows what it’s all about, I must follow him and eventually empty my coffers into his hands in order to gain more of his wisdom”, or so he can walk around boasting to his sad little friends (probably spiders in his mother’s basement) that he has many followers.  So he follows others for the sole purpose that they will follow him.

So far out of all the folk who followed me I think I have followed 2 back. I read the blogs of those who follow me to see what they say… if it interests me and I want to go read more then I follow. Isn’t that what it’s all about? It is the wriggling little worms desperate for attention that ruin everything and I look upon them as merely a form of spam to ignore.

If you do not like what I write then kindly don’t follow me as it’s silly. Thank you.

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