Sunday, January 13, 2013

A Letter.

I never imagined I'd be saying this. I thought of it, too much. Back then.
I've come to the thought of us, together again. What it'd be like if you'd have stayed.
It's hard to really embrace it again. So much effort went into gripping a hold of you, ever so tightly.
It seems pathetic that I tried. After what you did.

I always wonder how you think about it. If you think about it.
How you could have done such a thing.
I was alone. So alone after you left.

This is a letter.
A letter to the thought of you.

Here's a letter to all of you;
I am no one.
I am but a voice in the wind.
Carried from ear to tongue, eat to tongue.
Even the birds heard it. They whistled it in their songs.
The wolves, they howled it to the moon.
The moon sone down to the rats.
The rats, the rats.

They scavenge for their food. They lust over it. The thrill of finding something juicy to nibble on and then throw it away after their satisfied.
You are a rat.

Among the other rats, you're somewhat of a queen.
Surprising, really.

I would have died if it wasn't for you. A rat.
A rat saved my life.

It's such a shame you'll be rememberd.


-B.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

A Musical Post.

Well, I thought I'd add another section to my blog, not just the writing.

Truth is, I am an avid, obsessed lover of Music, as are several of you out there.
So here I am, posting music and pictures, might put some gifs up on here too...

*Changes page name*


I'm using my YouTube account to upload some songs.

Note: The videos are nothing fancy, at all. They're quick, no nice transitions or anything, well, I may do that, with lyrics.

So yeah, here is my first upload(s)

Some very rare Biffy songs. Four demo tapes from 1996.

Cul-de-sac
I Know 
Tremble
Unknown

You're welcome.


B.


Tuesday, October 16, 2012

What A Nice Shade of Blue.

What's worse?
A life full of happiness, or a life full of love?
One could lead you to the end, the other in a hearse.
What is definite is that love can send you higher, up to the heavens above.
Almost indefinitely, happiness can be a curse.
New to me, you combine the two and live up to the days.

One day, my love.
I shall carry thee to the skies above.
Through the trees, clear of the clouds.
Declare my love once again, just like I vowed.

I am for you only, my dear.
For I am yours. I wish for you to be mine, do you fear?
With all that I have and all that is true. I am with you.
This is nothing I have ever experienced before, nothing that I knew.

My darling, I am at my knees.
My heart in your hands, please seize.
Seize it while you can, for I am afraid of losing.
Hold it, caress it, take care of me, please.
My love, my darling, my dear.
You and I, our hearts are fusing.



Monday, October 15, 2012

The Tale of Jonny & Piper.

Walking home, a young boy was standing, gazing into a billboard that had a picture of a family looking as happy as can be.
It brought a tear to the boy's eye as it reminded him of what he did not have. But also, what he did have.
A house of atrocious sin and treachery.
It was truly a house of God.
But the worship was elsewhere.
Underneath a mans feet.

The boy had a complexion that can only be described as a terminal illness. 
This can be explained through many things;
A poor background.
Poor upbringing.
Poor childhood.
Poor parents.
Poor emotional foundations.
And poor relationships with is parents.

See, young Jonny didn't have much to look forward too. 
He did what he did to get by, he made his own world in his imaginative little head. 
It was a beautiful home, full of smiling faces and complex peculiar places.
He was quite optimistic for the future, but that may be him talking inside his Utopia. 
He tried to make the most of what he had. But sometimes, it was hard to shy away from the harsh reality.
The harsh reality of what was home.

It was an average day coming home, the awkward ride home with his parents, in complete silence. Listening to the radio staring out the window looking at the streaks of colour rush by and feel the nauseous bumps and cracks in the road.
Jonny was constantly scared of speaking to his parents. In fear that he would be belittled once more. In fear that once again be made a fool of, not just to others, but to himself. His darling sister understood what it felt like but she thought only to help, but could not for it would only make things worse, for everyone. 
That was the general feeling in such a household, fear. 
Fear of a man. A man that cannot be named.
That man was self-indulgent, egotistical and heavily opinionated with no justifiable reasoning. 

It is strange to think that such a monster could create and raise such a sweet, sensitive and selfless boy.
As for the mother, unbeknownst to her, she was living in a house of abuse.
Jonny did not blame anyone, as for he it was him that was at fault, in little ways.
The family were devout Christians.
Jonny, did not believe in such a thing. Although he found a false hope somewhat comforting at times.
He liked to think that something, somewhere, cared about him.
Maybe it was Jesus? He sacrificed himself for the comfort of others.
Maybe Jonny should do the same? At least, that's what he was thinking. Most of the time.

There are two things that can be truthfully said about Jonny.
He was nice and he was loyal.
If someone treated him with kindness, love and care, he will do the same and he will be yours forever. 
Like a dog to a mans side. 
Either it be a best friend or a lover, he will be there for you.  
Always. 

A dog, Piper. She was a big thing. Not a dog to be feared of. Sometimes she looked as if she was meant for killing, but really she was just a big ball of fluff.
She accompanied Jonny most nights.
Piper usually cowers away from the father and sits by Jonny's side.
Tonight was one of those nights.
Tonight was the night that Jonny feared most. 
His father was angry. No one ever knew at what. 
Little things sparked the anger.

As usual, the children escaped his view to their rooms.
Jonny dreamed of fighting back. But only dreamed. It didn't seem plausible that he could overpower a grown man.  
As he did every night, Jonny whispered to himself  "I will fight back, one day. I will fight back." Repeatedly until the words didn't mean anything to the blackened night sky.
He witnessed his father drag his sister upstairs to her room. For further 'interrogation' and abuse.
He liked to hit things. He did his utmost effort not to hit his beloved daughter.
Although what happened cannot be forgotten. Especially to such a young mind. 
Niether Jonny nor his sister ever forgot that night.

His father had struck his dearest daughter to the floor. 
He was shocked that he did such a thing. 
Even in his own mind, this was a wrong thing.  His biggest regret was, most probably, sinning in the eyes of God. 
A hand sits cut open and bloody on a motionless body.
She did not know what to do, or how to react. She got up as he left the room and closed the door behind him. And sat.
She did nothing, didn't speak or shed a tear.
She simply sat on her bed.
There she is, with her hair swaying and blowing from the air outside coming through the window.
With her soft cheeks bruised and her subtle bones shook, she sits by her bears and books.

This was somewhat of a calling for Jonny. To plan to take action. Appropriate action to stop all the abuse for good.

Years passed, still the abuse continued.
His mother still yet oblivious to it all.  The children were still living in fear. If you can call it living, their lives could not grow or be prosperous until this is over. They could not grow as people until this is all over.
Jonny's visits to his Utopia increased. Piper wasn't getting any younger.

Little young Jonny was now entering his manhood.
He was a young man. He had been waiting to grow older, to grow strong. 
Although, he was smart. He did not take every chance he could to put his plan into action. 
He waited for the right time.
The right time was now, December 4th. Jonny was stocking up on money as if it was food.
He was running errands for his grandparents as much as he could, he sold what he could of his belongings to his friends with the excuse of "I need the extra coppers", and ran a paper round delivering the local newspaper in his neighbourhood.
He stashed the money in a box named "For you both, my dearest girls" on his bed in obvious sight. 
Inside he hid a letter inbetween a few notes. It read - 
"Mother, sister, I am only a young man. But a young man has enough heart and mind to see what is there. Let it be good or bad, I see it. My dearest girls, there is no good in this family. No happiness, no joy. I only see the evil in which we call Father. So yes, you can guess that I am leaving you, not out of choice. You will realise later.

You will no longer be under this oppression. 
 I love you both. 
 Jonny x"

His father walks up to the porch, puts in the key into the lock. Throughout the house, all that is heard is the bolts slide away.  It's a sudden surprise to see your son sitting in the darkness of a room.
Jonny lunges forward and tackles him, stabbing him continuously until he stops restraining.
The sharpness of a blade is heard throughout the room, piercing the skin, gouging the tissue, destroying the muscle whilst leaking the blood onto the carpet.
He declared his freedom, a weight on his shoulders departed him, fell down into the knife and stuck one last blow. 
Jonny holds a mirror above his Father, with the words "This is what it feels like" written across in his Mothers lipstick. 
His Father lifts his throbbing body up as close to his sons eyes as he could and speaks his last word. 
"I'm so-..."
He drops to the floor and breathed his last.

There are many reasons why Jonny did what he did. He had a funny way of doing things to keep himself happy. The main reason was to make the most valued people free of the calamity, his beloved Mother and Sister.
The only thing he would miss, was his only best friend.
Piper.

As for Jonny, he sits in the darkness of the kitchen with Piper, once again, by his side.
Waiting for the body to be found, waiting to be taken away.
In his eyes, what he did was justified.


Jonny said he would fight back.
He did not say he would fight fair.


B.






Sunday, October 14, 2012

Do You Know What It Feels Like?

I've seen many people agree with one another that they know what it feels like to be put down, or made to feel unimportant or lifeless.
See, this is where perceptions come into play.
Everyone has their own ways of thinking and think very different things. This applies to near enough everything. Feelings and emotions to view and opinions.
If someone is more emotionally venerable to harsh comments by a peer, is it really an equal feeling to, let's say, someone is being verbally abused by their father?
It is individual perceptions, based on experience, mostly.

Although, this is but one example of perceptions.
For example, if someone says that they went through a bad time in their life.
What exactly is a bad time?
It appears that everyone's story can be 'bettered' in a sense. That their "rough patch" was worse than yours.
Which is a fair point. If you were abused by someone, became depressed, suicidal, resulted in self harm (I can go on, although I wish not to) then compare it to someone who is undergoing a lot of stress from exams, is being a victim of divorce and is being separated in homes and fought for in the courts, then it is apparent that many people see either or as a worse scenario!
You perceive something to be worse.
Obviously, we all have to compare a scenario to a similar one to balance out the pros and cons and then asses the situation and in most cases, hopefully you offer advice to the person in that problem.

Of course, I believe there is beauty in everything. That all the people that have been through a bad time, can help one another, help them cope and be there for them.
This is a very good thing to do, I can vouch for that.
I have done it many times before. It makes friends, helps others, solves problems and hopefully makes you feel better about their problem, and yourself.
If you help someone with their problems, either by talking about it or consulting with others for them to seek help, then I praise you.
Not in that way, I do not worship anything. Ever.

B.

A Short Fuse.

I'm on my journey back home from my true love's company.
I notice, once again the misleading vibrance of the river of tarmac over the near horizon. It catches me every time.
Gazing into the streaks of white, I see a black cloak swiftly move past my line of sight.
It was a strange looking figure. From what I saw, mannequin like. I felt as if I had to run after it, chase it.
It left the thought that it'd done something wrong. Which then created the feeling to chase after it.
I continue my walk across the riverbank road, a car passes by and drives over a bag containing some sort of object made of either glass or plastic, no matter what, it is now in shambles.
To my shock, I hear a murmur.

That murmur was a groan of agony.
An agonising pain that came from below.
From then on, I was alert and ready for something to occur.
In a split second, a train passes below.
It isn't hard for anyone to work out, and without a shadow of a doubt, the thoughts, assumptions and scenarios rushed through my melodic brain.

I continued walking, trying everything in my power to doubt such a tragic occurrence. That it could have been myself mishearing something. Seeing as I was listening to music, this was highly likely.

Although I could hear much around me even though I was enjoying the sweet sounds of melodic folk.
As I was saying, walking wearily along the path I come to the common corner. As I pass I begin to feel an unwelcoming flush. My suspicions begin to make me feel alert once again and I commence Ninja mode.
Walking past yet another corner by some grubby plants that look like they've been pissed on. Which on a Friday night near the 'town' is highly likely. Not to mention the smell.

I sense a presence near one of the bushes, close to a brick wall. Being the curious yet giddy mind I am, I turn the corner in a Doctor Who fashion and greet whatever was there.  (I regret this decision later)
Looking back this could have happened in two ways, I would have been silently embarrassed for myself, saying hello to what seemed to be a bush. Or I'd be greeting a complete stranger which could be a pervert, paedophile, alcoholic, maniac, or a lonesome goth.

To my surprise, I see the figure.
But I see the face.
A white face, with plastic like curves.
A black lined indent for a mouth and two black holes for eyes.
It was sickening, frightening and damn right shit scary looking inside the eyes. 
Almost every feature was perfect.
So perfect that it made a monster.

Out of fucking nowhere, the blackening figure attacked me,
jumped on me and rattled me round a bit.
Surprisingly, it was easy to escape from it's hold. It looked more powerful than it was.
I pulled the creature off me.
As it was somewhat laying on the floor, more like in a three point stance, I stupidly told it that I just wanted to talk. It listened, didn't speak. But listened.

Eventually, it bowed, in a 'V' fashion.
And swooped away with it's cloak.
But disappeared. In mid air.
Vanished. *poof*
Mind + Science = Fucked.
A note was left prettily spindling down through the air and onto the ground.
Gravity taking it's place. Oh, wait, what's that? Gravity?
WHERE WERE YOU WHEN HE VANISHED?

The note simply said,
"We shall be seeing each other very soon, Brett."
I was spooked out of my skull, yet had a sense of pride.
It felt good to be wanted by someone that I've never met before and that had just attacked me.

I walk away, dodging the three plated drain.

Strutting down the alley, a brawl appears from the midst.
This is common on a Friday night, so I mind my own business, it's not a big thing.
Until, I look closely.
One man, a fist fighter, is chiseling away at the others skull with knuckledusters.
By this point, my back is turned but I am frequently turning to update myself.
It was worse than I thought. Much worse.
The man was dead, very dead.
What some people would call "brains" were spewed across the pavement.
Many were crowded around at this point.
Speedily, I kept walking ahead. As the fist fighter was very fond with looking at me.

By this time I was far from gone, I was near a snooker club.
But something eerie was in the air. Something, very uncommon.
It was a smell.
And a colour.

It was the smell of old.
Like, dusty books you find in your grandparents loft.
And the colour black.

A strange mixture, but that's what it was.

I cross the road, and see a blinding light.
Two lights to be exact, headlights.
Car headlights.
The car was swerving in and out of the singular lane.
Nervously, I walk across the road onto the island.
Thinking that it was just a single swerve dodging a stray cat or something along those lines.

Continuously swerving, the car door opens, a amateur attempt at escaping a crash?
Possibly a drunk, again.

The car continued to drive, unmanned with a swinging door rattling in and out through the air.
The woman was dangling out of the door, with her seat belt still on. Now, it is apparent she is drunk and unconscious.
Even worse, she has a child on board, strapped in on the left side of the back seat. This now, to me, appears very worrying and I stand jaw struck as do many others around me who were smoking outside of the snooker club. A speed bump lay ahead, the woman completely dazed and unaware of what is happening. The baby, sound asleep.

It's amazing what children are capable of.

The car takes a sudden turn for the snooker club. The people, to put it simply, shit themselves and hide under the concrete. The automobile hits a concrete bollard, meant for these situations. The car flips and crumples itself into the surface of a six foot concrete wall. The mother flung out onto the pavement, hitting numerous objects; mostly bollards and fences. I assume that the seat belt was altered with, most probably by hitting one of many bollards laid across the pavement.
For the baby, the unknown troubled most minds.
All that was left, all that was seen, was a small teddy with a pacifier attached to the soft, fluffy hand.

Little of what was known to me, I was haunted by death himself.


"Everywhere I look someone dies, wonder when it's my turn."  - Living Is A Problem Because Everyone Dies - Biffy Clyro.


B.

Saturday, October 13, 2012

A Post On 'Society'.

One thing that annoys me, which may very well annoy many of you, is the ignorance of the general public.
Individually, most people cannot fathom to contemplate others.
Yet as a group, there seems to be a remarkable communal feel.
Close to a family unit.

Discovering the true nature of 'society' is easier done by looking at a small number of people from different areas of life. Which in the modern world is very easy.

The key is not to judge. Or you'll ruin it all.
There's no fun in judging. Seriously I mean, in a bad way.
Judging in a good way is fine.
If you do it correctly.
Evidence suggests that many of you aren't doing it correctly.

Individually I have found similar hatreds between people. I wonder why?
Sarcasm right there.

I'm getting new to sarcasm, it's a strange thing.

Anyway, individuals have an amazing amount of hate towards groups of people.
Which is wrong. Very wrong.

It can be on what you wear.
What religion you follow.
What football team you support and follow.
What internet browser you use.
What music you listen to.
What interests you have.

There are so many things that get frowned upon due to a lack of acceptance.

That's where I'm different.
I accept all.