How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?



I was head of Art and I got noticed

Within a year I got promoted

Faculty leader of creative skills

This is the part where it really kills

Building them up from deep rock bottom

With jealousy aimed at the job I'd gotten

A job that I had never wanted

That I only took because I cared

All of my decisions seemed to be haunted

By the ghost of a culture where they just don't care

Resting in the coffin of a lost tradition

Kids so bored they're turning white

Beaten down to bored submission

And everyone seems to have given up the fight

But they're still convinced that their way's "right"



How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?



We laid foundations, a team was built

The weighing scales began to tilt

But every time you made a shift

The goal posts seemed to start to drift

And this all caused a further rift

The final one I couldn't lift



How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?



Gossip and lies caused by others stress

Creates a catastrophic mess

Turns people's lives upside down

Gives off the sense that they're a clown

They're trying. They're just really down

Simply trying not to drown

Marriage ending

Friends unfriending

Children's lives are slowly bending

House and finance are up-ending

Mediation sessions need attending

Everything seems to need mending

And the pain seems to be never-ending



How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?



Professional life vs Personal life

Professional strife = Personal strife

Personal wife goes through professional strife

Personal strife =



"I understand what you're going through, but we need to think about the learners."



Stress in teaching is the expectation

Work life balance has no correlation

The pressures of a confused nation

Makes teachers into the poor relation



Goodbye btec, goodbye vocation

Hello Gove and his minds creation

Goodbye Gove and hello Morgan

Hiding behind a gritty slogan

Creating the pressure of pointless change

For teachers to correct and rearrange



How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?



"I need you to mark and enter all years grades

By the end of the week, I am afraid"



"I've got to take my daughter swimming

I've got to see my son try winning"



"Read through your teaching standards mate

And leave your children at the gate"



End of the week the books are done

But head and deputies are overrun

"We'll have to put these books aside

To push our children down the slide"



Let's flip it round and just imagine



"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm ill"

"You can't be ill the learners will fail"

"I need some patience, I need some time"

"The kids work needs to be sublime

Don't they deserve that? Don't you think?

Do you want to see your learners to sink?"



And there it is. The teacher guilt.

Because that's the way that we've been built

We care too much

We try too much

We give too much

We work too much

And we lose too much

Default 100%?!?

Like energy is heaven sent??

Like when your kids are down with flu

You just man up, there's work to do

We get ideas above our station

Of how this job is a vocation

When we stop and look around

The evidence just can't be found

Someone tells me what to teach

Someone tells me how to teach it

Someone tells me how to plan

Someone tells me when to plan it

Someone tells me how to mark

Someone tells me when to mark it

We work to targets, get appraised

Residuals to get profiles raised

It's industry. I rest my case.

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

Poem 1
A LESSON THAT I TAUGHT

I Teach!!
I taught...
Here's a lesson that I taught...
I had this lesson. It were ace in my mind!
The planning was tight, concise, well timed

Going into the room - my stage
Put on the teacher face, the act
(My phone is buzzing but I don't react)

Lights, camera, action! You're on!

"Hi guys! Come in, unpack your things!"
But I'm just thinking about why it rings

"Hi guys! Come in, take off your coats!"
For some reason now I'm thinking about goats

(Why ******* goats?
Why now?!)
I thought
(I need to teach a lesson on...
Oh crap! The whiteboards not working!) "****!!"

Right, try again...

"Excuse me Chelsea, that skirts too tight,
And too short and you aren't wearing tights.
Go down to student point and get yourself a note"

And now I'll get back to the lesson that I taught

"I ******' 'ATE SIR! HE'S ALWAYS TIGHT!!"

Class - "Totes! Hahahahaha!!!"

I think ... Look you little tots, all you're thinking about is **** ... and your tots and your shots and your tokes in her tote!
You think you're ******* clever but you're not!!

I say... "This is an amazing lesson that I've got!
Does anyone remember the last lesson that I taught?"

"No sir, we do not"
"You're boring sir"
"Are you gay sir?"

On a parallel universe, where I don't care about my career and my home and my children...

I think in my head for a bit, then I say...

"Look you little spaz, you think I'm tight?!? I've been sleeping in a mates spare room at night
because me and the mother of my kids had a fight
and everything in my life is turning *****
Because all I do is stay up all night to plan a ******* lesson for a bunch of little scrotes! Who can't even take off their coats, And sit and ******* listen to the lesson that I taught! I'm marking so much that my body's not taut and my mind spins round and round in thought (a word which you spell ******* tawt!)
Progress and differentiation!
The future of your education!
And I just hope that in some way, I might actually TEACH you something today!
But all you think about is **** and tats and texts and sexts and COD and Christiano Ronaldo and Justin '*******' Beiber AND YOU CALL ME GAY?!?
You spell thought ... T.A.W.T!! You're 18 for gods sake!!
How you gonna make a living eh?!
Totesport?!

A couple of them titter

And the rest go silent...

And I think I've won!

'Til one of them says "sir... I'm gonna get you done!"

"And you're gay"

"And you're a **** teacher"

The end

All the damaged people,
Vultures of the past still swooping high above
They look out over the future
But with a mind on the past
As they cross the landscape they notice shapes in the clouds and in the dunes
Many of them are beautiful
But a cloud is a cloud
And a dune is a dune
And there are always memories in those shapes of the ones in their past
So they stop
Unable to go back through the long trudge that got them here
Unable to move forward in case these dunes and clouds are the same
They test a few steps
Where the land seems different
But it's too different and they don't feel comfortable
The test ones that are familiar, a few steps
But even though this is comfortable, they are reminded of their past trials
"I can't do that again"
They stop
"I'll wait here, until the landscape changes"
The vultures continue swooping above

I want you to know that I care
But I want you to know that I'm scared
Like you
I've been hurt
Like you
I want to trust again
Like you
And I want to believe again
Like you
I've run so many times
Like you
I don't want to run now
I want to stay
I like you
I want to know you better
I like you
I want you to know me better
I hope you like me
That's all I want
To be a good friend to you
A true friend to you
I want to be there for you
To show you I care for you
And that's all

I had two lizards.
Their names were E's and Whizz after the Pulp song, which was apparently about drugs.
Lizards aren't like drugs.
They're just different.
You can't take a lizard to get high.
You could try it with the right kind of frog but licking a lizard just makes you look weird.
Plus if you tried to swallow one, it would get stuck in your throat.
Lizards don't like that.
Plus you'd get done for animal cruelty.
It's ok though, you'd have the excuse that you were smacked off your t**s on Lizard.
I looked after them,
But they kind of melted.
This was real,
Not drugs.
I hadn't tried drugs.
I hadn't licked a lizard.
Lizards aren't like drugs anyway,
but we've already covered that,
it's a bad analogy.
It was horrid watching them,
Think I over heated the tank.
I think it's kind of an analogy for life.
You can spend your life buying all the right food
Keeping the temperature just right.
But never enjoy your lizard  
Too busy thinking about food and heat.
Or you can just get on with things.
Enjoy your lizards,
crank up the heat  
see what happens.
I think life's better like that.
Not for lizards though.
Mine melted.
You've got to keep their temperature right.
It was a bad analogy.  

I'm still single if anyone's interested?

Poem 4
I'm going to give this context by starting off reading my old match and pof profile. This is genuinely real.

It's always hard to know what to say on these things so I'm just going to fill my profile with exaggeration and nonsense.
I would describe myself as a cross between Brad Pitts character in fight club and a sensitive fireman who likes kittens. Overall I'm pretty awesome. Kind, intelligent, hilariously funny, better in bed than a mug of cocoa. I'm a bit of a geek really. As a kid I just used to love drawing and watching cartoons. I have a ten year old golem figure which is still in its box. It's ok though. It's multiposable. I grew up on a farm. If you go back far enough there are signs of inbreeding. Which is cool because I've got extra fingers to tease you with.
I had two lizards when I was little. Their names were e's and whizz after the pulp song e's and whizz which was apparently about drugs. Lizards aren't like drugs. They're just different. You can't take a lizard to get high. You could possibly try it with the right kind of frog but licking a lizard just makes you look weird. Plus if you tried to swallow one I suspect it would get stuck in your throat. The lizard wouldn't like that. Plus you'd probably get done for animal cruelty but it's ok because you'd have the excuse that you were just smacked off your t**s on Lizard. Anyway, these lizards kind of melted. This was real, not because I was on drugs. I didn't really know about drugs back then. I hadn't licked a lizard. Lizards aren't like drugs anyway, but we've already covered that, it's a bad analogy. Anyway, it was kind of sad watching them, I think I over heated the tank or something. But they had a happy life before that, I looked after them.
I think it's kind of an analogy for life though. You can spend your life worrying about your lizard. Buying it all the right food and keeping the temperature just right. But then you never really enjoy your lizard because you're too busy thinking about its food and it's heat. So, the alternative is that you just get on with things. Enjoy your lizards, crank up the heat and see what happens. I think life is better like that. Not for lizards though. Mine melted. You've got to keep their temperature right. It was a bad analogy.  

Yes, I'm still single... But on to the poem

An ode to online dating - AKA online dating is a lizard in a tank

When you go online, you're  a lizard in a tank
On your own in empty online spaces
Your pea sized brain has drawn a blank
From all the empty, passing faces
As this one passes she gives a grin
She taps your buttons, turns up your heat
Your eyes rotate, step foot to foot
You hope that she'll dip her hand in
Frill your neck and show you want to meet
But she swipes to the rabbit coz he's got a cute ****.

Some "customers" just go to look
Some are scared that lizards bite
Some of them, their nerves are shook
By a previous lizard fight
Some wonder whether they should buy
But think they might get something better
Some buy, then put you on the shelf
Some people think you're worth a try
But switch for something to make them wetter
Makes me reflect upon myself

People are creatures led my habit
Distracted by your Lizard brain
Looking for someone to share your maggot
To change your colours, You try in vain

My frustration is 2 things
1. People expect everyone to be the same
2. You get dragged into meeting an expected role

Muscles, protection, hair, humour, genuine, confidence, normal, drive, good job, nice clothes, nice house, nice car, nice things

Beauty, slim, eyes, *******, legs, ****, no baggage, easy going, don't argue, work hard, play hard, independence, no shame

What if everyone doesn't have to be the same and going for what you always go for gets you what you always got? I've got no answers to it all.

I'm going to buy a lizard instead.

This is a poem about killing time
I'm thinking of ways of making it...

...
                                   ...
...
                                   ...
...
                                   ...
...
                                   ...
...
                                   ...
Rhyme

I... Um
I am...
Ahem,
(Mumbles) -Uncomfortable
Matt... I am Matt

So, I'm stood in front of you
And you're looking at me
And I'm talking to you
And you're listening to me
And your eyes are on me
And your minds are on me
Looking at me and listening to me and eyes on me and minds on me
And I'm thinking about what you think about me
And now I feel awkward
So I'm not coming forward
My movements seem backward
So, now you feel awkward
About drawing toward
Because I'm afraid I won't get the reward
Of your praise

So you're going to be polite!!!
Don't be polite!
I hate when you're polite, because I won't believe it!
It's not real praise so it doesn't MEAN ****
It's not much better than telling me I'm ****
But don't tell me I'm ****!
Please!! I can't take it!

So, now you're just getting bored and frustrated
Listening to me talking about feelings I've debated

I want to get off
I want to get out
I also want you to clap
And I want you to shout

So I'm tense and I'm nervous and we're all feeling scared
About if this rhymes good enough to convince me you cared

And then I fell over

I'm not taking a side
I think you're all daft
With words that deride
Afore and aft
It doesn't have to be snide
Trolling can be quite a laugh
But it lacks imagination
And creates an irritation
When you're ******* at it and use it as an excuse to just be nasty to each other and then you don't step away, and just keep arguing and arguing and arguing like you're in nursery, and nobody gets a solution because the whole thing is pointless and irrelevant and based on opinions that don't matter of people you will probably never meet and it's just so ridiculous I can't even end this sentence because of how ridiculous it all is and its made me forget about punctuation and sentence structure and everything because I'm annoyed at having to read such pointless ******* and I'm tired because here in England it's after midnight and I'm laid here reading ******* rather than sleeping when I just want to read some poetry aaaaaarrrrrgggghhhh and all I know is to make this line rhyme I need to end it in ation!!!

A rhyme about other trolls

Troll troll
You've got a big head
And you're made of stone
And you aren't red

Troll troll
You're in a film called the hobbit
And you're made of stone
And you're not a rabbit

Troll troll
You could be a rabbit
One made of stone
You could be red
Made of red stone
But you lack imagination
Like an Internet troll
Because you're head is made of rocks
And you were made by some sort of evil wizard or something
So at least you've got an excuse
Unlike people
Who lack imagination when trying to be a troll
Because they lack even the imagination of a troll
Who is actually a troll
But came in 6 movies rather than sitting behind a computer screen blaming other people for their loneliness

I'm off to fester in my own self pity, silently waiting to have my troll poem trolled by trolls who aren't really trolls. I'll be back tomorrow for more fun and games.

That's all folks!!

A sort of ode to online dating

For a while I've been on and off on match and pof
A few weeks back I went on tinder
Not long after, I came back off
Because, my life, that thing did hinder
It wasn't the people who wanted ***
Because there weren't that many ... Sadly
It wasn't being harassed by strangers
It wasn't even sending endless texts
But because it often ended badly
Their defences are up, in fear of the dangers

Shallow, surface, empty, rude
Fickle attitudes take over
Behind the screen he hides, this dude
Spreading his toast with mouldy clover
He's thinking of things he could do to you
He's damaged by an old relationship
Angry at women and wants control
He has expectations that can't come true
An old fashioned romance that's almost worship
There are people watching him on patrol

Sat at home she reads the message
He sends it again 2 minutes later
It just says "hi" within this passage
He's not the kind of guy to date her
Shes beautiful, she's bright, she's kind
She's only single coz she wants to choose
But the guys seem aggressive, lonely and strange
She's scared of the people she might find
And all the things she's got to lose
If she meets the one who is deranged

Now this guy had a real bad past
Punished by a cruel mother
He always felt like he came last
Wife cheated on his honeymoon with his older brother
He went back out and met girls to ****
He used them, bruised them and abused them
Taking back the power he lost
There's this one guy who's wife he took
Just to show him you could lose them
And that being with women came with a cost

Back online, he's there again
Another message saying hi
He's got new pictures and he's changed his name
She sends him back a message "bye"
Shes had enough of online dating
If they were in the pub they wouldn't dare!
She needed someone who was gentle and  real
She doesn't want to end up man hating
She wants to find just one who'll care
So she goes with a friend to buy a meal

As she walks in she sees this guy
He's smartly dressed and wears a smile
At the end of the meal her friend has to fly
But she decides to stay a while
Her and this guy, they get chatting
They decide to go and have a dance
He's charming, funny, open mind
He works for himself and makes good pay
As they go to leave he takes his chance
Politely, in a way that's kind
He asks to meet another day

The second date, they go together
The theatre

Poem 8
A series of very short poems and non poems about the normal things in life

There was a scrunched up bit of paper
It sat in the corner of a room
It was Tuesday

A rhyme about cheeses
Brie, Brie, I love thee
Please won't you get into me
Camembert, Stilton and craft cheese slices
That last one is not the nicest

At 4 o'clock each day, he ran
Except on the days he didn't run
On those days he did different things instead

With a start, he woke
His vision still blurred from his nights sleep
The dawn had broke
At the end of his bed was a figure
As black as coke
Murmuring the words he dreaded
"Wake up, it's time for work!"

A car drove by.
It stopped at the light.
The Lights turned green.
The car turned right.

There's some water on the floor
I should probably mop that up
But doing that's a bore
So I'm just going to leave it

I just picked up a *****
When I rotate it in my hands covering both ends the thread seems to be coming out of my fingers.
But it isn't
And I need to fit this door handle

It's tea time
I was going to make salmon
But I'd don't have any in
So I'll make gammon

The sense of loss
Remorse
He's dead
The end of a long cold winter
His batteries are finally flat
I'll have to call the RAC

Building a wall
Don't let them fall
You need to overlap them all

There was a cat who sat on a mat
In the middle of September
The cat walked lazily from the mat
It was still September

The miracle of growth
From nothing to something
The surprise when you haven't seen them for a while
Then, there they are. Big heads smiling up at you
Then you squeeze the head between your forefinger and thumb and wipe away the **** with a tissue.

On
Off
Colour
White
Up
Down
Light
Dark
Night
Day
"Timmy,­ stop playing with that light switch! You'll blow a fuse!

Hiding in a corner of a darkened room
Eyes covered hoping he can't see me
I hear the footsteps growing closer
A shudder down my spine
Is this excitement or fear?
Then I hear my fathers voice outside
"Coming, ready or not!"

David Cameron goes to the loo
He doesn't suspect a number 2
He ends up with trousers covered in poo

A Christian man and a Muslim woman sat on a train
I question, why do they not speak to each other?
Is this about race?
Colour?
Language?
Religion?
Gender?
Personality?
Coincidenc­e?
And who is at fault?
Who is ignorant? Who is afraid?
The answer is neither.
They were in different carriages.
On different days.
In different parts of the country.
There was no realistic possibility of conversation.

Many people dislike violence
The pained screeching puts many off
But if you're brought up with it from a young age
You can really start to hone your use of violence...
Sorry, stupid autocorrect!! I mean violins!!!

He enters the house
She watches as he walks past without speaking
Just like every day
He does not offer her a cup of tea
He does not offer to cook for her
He doesn't even look her in the eye
She looks down at her food
A meal for one
Again
She is alone
So she tucks the food into her pouch and goes for a spin in the hamster wheel... Wheeeeee!!!

There's a surprise on the way
A bun in her oven
I'm scared it might be mine
She's crap at cooking

What light through yonder window breaks?
Tis the garage light of the neighbour opposite
I hate that c**t

Back to work

I'm here
But I'm not here
I'm half lost in limbo
Somewhere between now and the past and the future
But off to the left a bit
And slightly south
Behind that bush
Wearing a banana-man costume

Why am I there?
Well, why be anywhere in particular?
Especially now
With no kids in
Boredom
And time
To dream
But nothing to do
Except tap tap tap on my phone

Trying to get back into it
Motivated
Energised
With no stimulus
So my mind flit flit flits
Here and there
Hither and thither
A failed date.
Jumping in a bush at college,
Drunk
How long will I work here?
Tony dressed as a zombie cow
Did that kid trace that or paint it free hand?
What will I teach them?
When's Dave getting here? It's been more than 10 mins
The hum of the computer
Girls, girls, girls... ***
Cuddles and company
Love?

How long?

I hope that tomorrow I can concentrate better than this.

That day we went to the beach
And you brought a suitcase
And a tie
Because you loved Mr Bean
And you loved Mr Benn
Bidderbin and Bidderben
And me and your mum
We talked about the water
The waves
Our shoes
Our trousers
Should we?
No towels or trunks
But you loved Bidderben
And you knew Bidderben was an ordinary fellow, with an ordinary life in an ordinary suburban house
But when Bidderben goes into the changing room and puts on the outfits amazing and extraordinary adventures happen
And when we turned around
Still undecided
You had transformed
Into a tiny little Bidderbin
With no clothes on
Doing your funny walks
And your ***** bouncing in the sun
Reminding us all how to have fun

We're stood on a blacked out highway going to who knows where. A floodlight shines on a group of workmen in road, slow. A passive aggressive sign says "Slow, My Daddy works in here". Gaz, Frank and Jim are gathered under the floodlight.

"That ****** lads dad never worked ere! That's bosses lad!"

"Mmmm..."

"Anyway, what's this hole for do you reckon? Gas? Telephone? Electric? Dead bodies? Haha!"

"Hope not"

"Hopeless more like! Why ARE we digging it anyway?"

"We? I'm digging! You're just talking ****!"

"******* Frank! What about owd Jim over there? Old ****** never does owt!"

"Grunt"

"Leave Jim alone! He's seen it all and done it all a million times! Poor guy must be knackered! If I still have to work at his age I'll ope you young uns gi mi some ****** respect!"

"Respect?! *******! Who's getting respect ere?! Not me! I'm in the middle of nowhere at night digging an ole in a highway for god knows what reason!"

"Look, Gaz, 'oles need to be dug. It's not our job to fill em. We just dig em up!"

"Yeah, but don't you wonder why? Like, we seem to be diggin up constantly! Same ****** area of the same ****** highway! Dunt anyone plan it oot so thi can do it all in one go?! Water, cables, all of it?! Its like we're makin work for t sake on it!"

"At least you've got ****** work! There used to be 20 odd of us on this stretch o road. Are you gonna dig or what?"

"Keep yer air on frank! I'll ****** dig, but I'm only doin it for you!"

"Well ****** me! I'm honoured! Shut up n dig will ya?"

Scrape, heave, scrape, heave

Sigh

Scrape, heave, scrape...

"Yer know what else...?"

"Oh, for ***** sake!! What?!?"

"These shovels are ****!"

"You're ****!"

"Nah mate! Look, handles are loose and shovel bit's weak as ****! If you lift too much thi just bend! It's like thi want us to ave to work twice as ard for t same bleeding job!"

"Well there's no worry o that wi you is there?! You lift ****** all!"

"Whatever..."

Heave, scrape, heave, scrape, heave ... crack!!!

"Told you!"

"Shut up smart ****!"

"Don't ya get it though?! We're nowt t them lot! Thi just use us n **** on us! Wi dunt even kno' where this place is do we? We just get a lamp post number and go! Where does this ****** highway go?!"

"Look, I don't give a ****! I just want to dig this 'ole then go ome and watch some TV and maybe get a **** before bed! There's a ****** sign over there anyway..."

Sign reads "He..."
The rest of the sign is broken away, probably hit by a car.

"Jim. Jim?! Jim!! ******* I think Jim's dea..."

"Consarnid!! Thundering eejit!! I int banna be deed, tha ****** loony! I wor banna geet some shuteye! Tha lod banging on abaat ****** why thar ****** shovlin *****?! Carnt tha led an owd bloke sleep?!!!"

"Sorry Jim. Just worried mi for a minute there. Are ta alreet?"

"Nah am nod! I wo avin a reet dree-um befoore tha wakened us! Megan ****** Fox wor sat o mi fay-us!"

In unison - "Hahaha! Tha owd dog Jim!!"

"Sorry Jim, It's Gaz, e's got more questions than a ****** 3 year owd!"

"Shut up ya miserable get!
Why do you reckon we're diggin this ole Jim? You've been doin it a long time."

"Aye... I wor yer wen thi started fixint roo-uds. It wo differnt then. Thi gi'd us reet too-uls n ad t reet ideas. Thi jus wanid us to dig reet. Bud thi dint like us knowin moo-ur than them lod! S thi gid us ****** all n wi started wokin unner leets i t deark. Nah ****** con see us then. Thas askin t rong quetsion lad! Ids nod why aar wi diggin t oil! It's why aar wi doin id int deark?!"

"Why are wi Jim?"

"Because we're expe...."

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep!!!!
Thud!!!
Vrooooommm!!!

"Oy!!!! ******!!!!"

"Es dead Frank! What the ****, What the ****, What the ****?!"

"What?!? Jim?!! Did tha get 'is number?"

"What the ****, What the ****, What the ****?!"

"Gaz!!"

"What the ****, What the ****, What the ****?!"

"**** Gaz, yer reet! ****** this **** I'm not diggin any more! I'm off ome!"

"F..f...fr.... FranFrank?"

"What Gaz? That were ****** up Gaz!! Jims dead!"

"B..b....bu... bury J..J..J..Jim"

"Gaz, tha'll ave t do it tharself, I can't dig anymore. Sorry. Im calling t ambulance n goin ome. You should too! Bye Gaz. Good luck."

"B..b....by... bye J..J..J..Jim..."

Scrape, heave, scrape, heave, scrape, heave

Slow. My Daddy works in he...

Block Me (I Don't Think That you Get How All That Made me Feel About Myself)

We met online
We joked about all the crazy people
The ones you block
Like the girl who wanted to wear my wedding ring
And got her son to give me a ring
Before I'd even met her
Like the girl who turned up in the night on my block
Like the guys who send you all the pictures of their ****

But they're crazy people.
Not like us
We aren't the type you block

We met
We kissed
We did more than kiss
I got to know you
I won't block you
If you won't block me

We both had big issues going on
You said it was hard
But you liked me
I said I understood
I was going through the same
"Yeah, but not like me,
My ex just blocked me out"
"I understand, I've been hurt too
She was a bit like you
But she blocked me out
But I'll support you
Just don't block me too"

I said I was fragile.
I said I'd been hurt - I'd been round the block
I said I needed people to show me understanding, even as a friend.
To show me they cared even when I fall apart.
I said it would happen, right from the start.

I was there for you
I know I was
Not like just a normal friend
I gave you my time
I gave you advice
I gave you my thoughts
I tried to give you my dreams - but I blocked them out instead

I want to let go.
I just can't.
But I don't want you to block me.
I don't want to be the crazy person.
Just don't block me.

I say "I'm hurting"
You hear "you hurt me"
I say "you don't get it"
You hear "you don't care"
I say "I want you to show me you care"
You hear "I need you to love me"
I say "it hurts being so close but not knowing how you feel"
You hear "I don't care what's going on in your life, you should want me anyway"
I say "I need to step away, you should block me"
I mean "I need you to tell me you care about me. I feel like I'm not good enough. I feel like I'm trapped in a revolving door, going round and round. I can't move forward because I care about you so much. I can't pull away because I'll miss you so much.
I can't suggest more because you'll pull away.
I can't suggest friends - I'm unhappy that way.
The only way out is to not see you
or to see you and hurt.
But I don't want you to love me.
I just want to know that you care.
That I matter.
That you're there.
When I need you.
And you aren't doing that.
And I'm hurting so much.
I want to handle it.
But I can't.
I don't want to make you hurt.
Only I need to hurt.
So block me."

Block Me (I Don't Think That you Get How All That Made me Feel About Myself)

We met online
We joked about all the crazy people
The ones you block
Like the girl who wanted to wear my wedding ring
And got her son to give me a ring
Before I'd even met her
Like the girl who turned up in the night on my block
Like the guys who send you all the pictures of their ****

But they're crazy people.
Not like us
We aren't the type you block

We met
We kissed
We did more than kiss
I got to know you
I won't block you
If you won't block me

We both had big issues going on
You said it was hard
But you liked me
I said I understood
I was going through the same
"Yeah, but not like me,
My ex just blocked me out"
"I understand, I've been hurt too
She was a bit like you
But she blocked me out
But I'll support you
Just don't block me too"

I said I was fragile.
I said I'd been hurt - I'd been round the block
I said I needed people to show me understanding, even as a friend.
To show me they cared even when I fall apart.
I said it would happen, right from the start.

I was there for you
I know I was
Not like just a normal friend
I gave you my time
I gave you advice
I gave you my thoughts
I tried to give you my dreams - but I blocked them out instead

I want to let go.
I just can't.
But I don't want you to block me.
I don't want to be the crazy person.
Just don't block me.

I say "I'm hurting"
You hear "you hurt me"
I say "you don't get it"
You hear "you don't care"
I say "I want you to show me you care"
You hear "I need you to love me"
I say "it hurts being so close but not knowing how you feel"
You hear "I don't care what's going on in your life, you should want me anyway"
I say "I need to step away, you should block me"
I mean "I need you to tell me you care about me. I feel like I'm not good enough. I feel like I'm trapped in a revolving door, going round and round. I can't move forward because I care about you so much. I can't pull away because I'll miss you so much.
I can't suggest more because you'll pull away.
I can't suggest friends - I'm unhappy that way.
The only way out is to not see you
or to see you and hurt.
But I don't want you to love me.
I just want to know that you care.
That I matter.
That you're there.
When I need you.
And you aren't doing that.
And I'm hurting so much.
I want to handle it.
But I can't.
I don't want to make you hurt.
Only I need to hurt.
So block me."

Another broken door
Another blocked passage
Little boxes made of pain that keep their contents apart
Don't pass through the broken door
It takes time to fix
The ones that are blocked take time to clear
But what's inside that box is precious
A beautiful cargo
Scared of being damaged
Like its doorway was
The open doors are easier
Pass in and out without damaging the contents
These contents are strong
They don't need protecting
If only the open doors were all safe
Another door broken
Another passage blocked
Little boxes made of pain that keep their contents apart

I want to catch a butterfly.
A pretty little butterfly,
Delicate, Beautiful, curving, intense, vibrant.

But not trapped in a net.
She chooses my rough hand,
Rather than a rich flower to provide for her.
Not a conservative or vain butterfly.
Not one that flutters around you,
But has an aversion to touch.

A butterfly that longs to be admired,
In all her beauty,
Only by me.
To land on MY hand,
Let ME stroke her wings,
With rough, sullying fingers.
Beckoning me,
With her soft fluttering,
And as I stroke,
Opening willingly to my touch.

Just a little at first,
Sensitive and nervous,
But as I respond with care
To her beckoning colours,
She opens wide,
So I can caress her delicate, vulnerable wings,
And play.
Until her colours stain my hand,
And she is tired,
And we rest together.

My ***** little butterfly.

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

Live for the weekend
Watch TV
Live for the weekend
Watch TV
Out on the town for the weekend
Watch TV Watch TV

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

Escape into your escapism
Get lost in your escapism
Trust in your escapism
Get trapped into escapism
Escape from your escapism
Escape from your self made prison
Escape the acceptance that's arisen

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

We're
Drones Robotics
Clones on antibiotics
Zoned hypnotic
Habitually ******
Artificially exotic

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

You're watching your *** life on Tv
A package holiday - pretend to be free
Post on Facebook how life should be
Focus your kids on getting a C
Lurching towards you - Hollow eyes
Pale Gaunt - Fed on lies
In systems that we all despise
Because you sat at home on your own
Or In a pub over grub
Or on a phone having a moan
Or a coffee shop pontificating
Or a lecture cleverly debating
Or an artists studio 'creating'
But you didn't ******* do anything did you?
You thought about it
You talked about it
You sat and maybe wrote about it
But you actually DID nought about it

Why does nobody do anything?
Why does nobody do anything?

What if we in our liberal pomposity
Followed up our curiosity
And put an end to a small atrocity
Instead of deliberating the big ones
Stop ******* telling people they're wrong and get off your **** and prove it.

Do something.

I'm suffering from a combination
Of boredom and anticipation
Literary constipation
Messing up my "mind's elation"

I need some kind of deviation
To move my thoughts out of station
A moving occasion
To end my dull procrastination

Drawing from an empty to barrel
And drowning in my sorrows

Sorry guys, this one is about football (soccer) and its effect on the current climate in England. Won't make much sense if you don't know about that, but have a read anyway and make what you will of it

Leather boot to leather ball
(Or more accurately
Leather/synthetic polymer boot to polyester/cotton blend with rubber inner ball)
Put said ball in the opposition goal
But ... that's not all...
It's a safe place for grown men to emotionally connect,
Without fear of losing another mans respect,
Or dealing with issues that we're trying to deflect.
It's how I connect-ed with my Dad,
When I was a shy and nervous lad,
And Blackburn Rovers weren't just really, really bad.
So... Me and my oldest discussed the best team England had
And the younger 2 waved the flag
That Hazel made at school;
Full of pride;
An England flag that looked like a Union Jack.

                          "We're back!"
Listening to the popular pre match pontification of pointless ex professionals,
And on Twitter and Facebook and in the papers and in the chants...
                   ... One thing is clear...

"50 years of hurt never stopped US dreaming!"
"This isn't about life and death, it's much more than that ...
"This is about national pride...
"Brexit!
"11 lads to show Europe that Britain is still Great"
By Britain... We mean England...
By England ...we mean our England...
"Born and bred me!"
By our England ...we mean ...
"Close the borders!
Turn back the ****** immigrants!
And **** Jonny Foreigner!"

Coz England... Is about to 'kick off'

A black man falls to the ground crushed by some foreigner
A pug ugly **** steps up

Rooooonnnnneyyyyyy!!!

England is great!
England is mighty!
We don't need Europe!
The sun never sets on OUR empire!
Coz we are the Greates...

****!

How can Iceland score?
How can little Iceland score?
How can ****** little Iceland score against mighty England?!?!?

It's a fluke.
We'll come back into it
We'll come back...
Into..

****!

How are we losing to Iceland?!?
And on
And on
And on

Until the end - 2:1

Sleepy heads lay down in bed
As grown ups pick their world to shreds
Self respect hangs by a thread
On buses making racist threats
As plastic pundits and armchair politicians
Vent their hate on Facebook

"When we won the World Cup in '66 it was because they had the passion and desire to succeed, not the money. They'll all go home to their posh houses and cars whilst we all give 100% just to put food on the table. There are too many foreign players in the premier league getting paid crazy amounts so the English talent is overseen. Until the FA step in and limit foreigners to 2or3 per team then we will always under achieve, cos we don't have the players to choose from."

Foreigners are to blame
Their foreign money
And their foreign players
****** foreigners

It's not the pressure of a green and once pleasant land?
Placed with green and jealous hands
On the shoulders of the greenest lads
Who were only on the green of that field
To kick a not leather ball with a not leather boot
For their country (and maybe for their Dad)?

I don't have the answers, but I ask myself, in another 50 years, what will we dream of?

Marcus Rashford played well though didn't he?!

Who wins?

Ask yourself this
"With all the conflict in the world...

Who wins?"

Where is our Ghandi?

Where is our Mother Theresa?

Fighting for entertainment...

Cowboys and Indians
Home Alone
Wrestling
War games
Call of Duty
Action movies
Saw
Boxing
Martial arts
UFC
War
Destruction
Death

Now, think of a boxing ring
Or more like an ultimate fighting ring
But with weapons
And nobody leaves until one of them is dead

Now imagine Ghandi in the red corner
And Theresa in the blue corner

Now ask yourself the big question

Ding ding

Who would win in a fight between Ghandi and Mother Theresa?

They're both small in stature and inexperienced
(Admittedly, they're both dead too
Let's ignore that minor inconvenience for now)
I reckon Theresa would kick Ghandi's ***.
There's got to be some pent up frustration from all those years of nunning around and no ***.
Plus girls fight ***** (maybe not all girls, but my sister used to hit me on the head with a cup)

And Ghandi chose peace
He wanted to change things
Theresa did it for a higher power

And now she's dead

I bet she's well annoyed!

I bet she kept the Mother title though
But now it has a different meaning
"Who're you?" Says Ghandi
"Your Mother"
Boom!!!
Smack down!

But I ask you this...
"Who wins?"














It's princess Diana. She snuck round the back while they were both distracted.

A seed
A son
He grows
He flowers
He blossoms
He bears his fruit

"See ya mum, dad! I'm off out for a drive!"
"No drinking flower!"
"Nah, just fruit juice!"

The fruit has fallen
It has ripened
It has over ripened
It has brewed and stewed as it matured
His fruit is strong
It's confidence intoxicating

"Last one mate!"
"Sneaky 3 and drive"
"Get em in then!"

More fruit

The tree, beautiful, flowers everywhere
Bountiful fruit
But the fruit is un ripened not ready to fall
Don't shake the tree

Crash
The tree shakes
The fruit falls
The petals fall from the flower

No more fruit now, it is rotting
Just flowers on a lamp post dying in the sun
Bearing a note saying
"We will always love you flower,
Sleep well,
Mum and Dad"

I was reading a dating profile...

"I wish I could find someone normal"
She says

I'm normal
I'm heternormal
Heterosexual
Young, Male, Middle class, White, Just normal
Not a minority - too normal
No label - just normal
People see me and just think "normal"
Too normal
I don't stand out - Abnormally normal

"Someone fun but normal"
She says

I'm fun
I'm funny
I'm a fun guy
With a toe covered in fungi
Your clothes would get flung high
While I passed on my fungi
I jest
I'm not just fun like a normal guy
I'm the best
I don't think or act like every guy
I'm a bit different I guess, to other guys
But I'm normal

"Why are there so many freaks?"
She says

I'm not a freak
I'm unique
I'm kind of a geek
I like antiques
I'm confident - I'm just meek
I'm slim, but I'm not weak
I draw and paint every week
I over critique
I go to this group where we speak
So, I'm different, but I'm normal... If you know what I mean.

"There must be one guy out there who hasn't got any problems??"
She says

I've not got a problem
I tend to overcome 'em
I take them down; I hobble 'em
Until it's not a problem
Give me risks and I gobble 'em
Solutions - I can cobble 'em
Unless I'm hurt - That can be a problem
It throws me off my thread
It gets stuck in my head
It throws me off my thread
I lose track of what I was thinking
"Why did she say that?"
It throws me off my thread
"That's not me is it?"
It gets stuck in my head
"Why do they think that?"
It throws me off my thread
"Am I meant to change?!"
It gets stuck in my head
"I don't want to be that anyway!!"
It throws me off my thread
"Why are we all meant to act the same?!"
It gets stuck in my head
"What's wrong with discussing it?"
It throws me off my thread
"I don't understand!"
It gets stuck in my head
"I want to know why you think that!"
It throws me off my thread
"Just *******!"

Next profile reads
"I'm looking for someone different. Let's take time and get to know each other."

I need to stop over thinking stuff.

Poem 3
How to raise kids

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

I got into to teaching to make a difference,
To add some joy to a kids existence,
I knew, so well, the hurt and pain
That kids in secondary school sustain
The tears and the fears and the dread and the...
"Ahahahaha! Look at his Nicks!! He thinks he's got Nikes but he's wearing Nicks!"
And how it switches you off and makes you not care,
Because you just don't want to go back there.
So, you wander into town to HMV
Til your parents feel let down when you only got an E
Until you failed Art and Graphics and Literacy
But at least you got an A in history...
Because academic subjects are "more important"

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

So I left 6th form and I needed change
And wanted to go to somewhere strange
(And new)
Somewhere away from all the drama
At 19 I went by myself to Ghana
"God bless our homeland Ghana
And make our nation great and strong,
Vow to defend forever
The cause of Freedom and of Right"
And I taught
Maths and English
With no books
And no training
And no observing
And I was ******* at it... Really bad
But somehow, i felt the change
Just because I cared and they cared

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

A few years later I started teachin.
GTP, hands on, straight in.
My teaching mentor was called Mr Hickey,
He smoked a pipe and drank down whiskey
(In school)
My first proper job was Bradford inner city
It was a bit rough and the buildin was ******
There we had a guy who was a lazy old ****
And he had kids tracing instead of learning Art
When I first got there I was overwrought
These weren't like the training lessons that I taught
These kids had opinions. They needed to engage...
To be taught in a way that suited kids of their age
I nearly gave up, because I felt so scared
But at the end of the day, I knew that I still cared

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

In my 3rd year I had this year 11 class
They wanted a good lesson and they wanted to pass
But they needed convincing and I nearly cried
So I tried and I tried and I tried and I tried
To listen
And react
To change
And Adapt
And those kids made me better
And for 3 years I got better
Our grades were sky high
The kids wanted to try
They wanted learn, they wanted to know "why"
But I got to the top and I needed to fly
Because I needed somewhere that I could ask the "why"

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

You have those moments sometimes in life, where you know that a decision is important, but you don't know why and you don't know which way is the right way to go with it. This was that point for me. Sat in the interview, saying I wanted to pull out but letting them convince me to stay. That was the point, I think where everything changed.

2010. New job. New government.

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

I was head of Art and I got noticed
Within a year I got promoted
Faculty leader of creative skills
This is the part where it really kills
What do you do when you just aren't wanted
When people are angry that you're there
When all of your decisions seem to be haunted
By the ghost of a culture where they just don't care
Where nastiness and gossip always bite
Resting in the coffin of a lost tradition
Kids so bored they're turning white
Beaten down to bored submission
And everyone seems to have given up the fight
But they're still convinced that their way's "right"

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

After so much pain, we were getting through it
We realised there was much more to it
No more easy working out of booklets
(The teaching equivalent of rhyming couplets)
But every time you made a shift
The goal posts seemed to start to drift
And this all caused a further rift
The final one I couldn't lift

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

Gossip and lies caused by others stress
Creates a catastrophic mess
Turns people's lives upside down
Gives off the sense that they're a clown
They're trying. They're just really down
Simply trying not to drown
Marriage ending
Friends unfriending
Children's lives are slowly bending
House and finance are up-ending
Mediation sessions need attending
Everything seems to need mending
And the pain seems to be never-ending

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

Professional life vs Personal life
Professional strife = Personal strife
Personal wife goes through professional strife
Personal strife =

"I understand what you're going through, but we need to think about the learners."

Stress in teaching is the expectation
Work life balance has no correlation
The pressures of a confused nation
Makes teachers into the poor relation

Goodbye btec, goodbye vocation
Hello Gove and his minds creation
Goodbye Gove and hello Morgan
Hiding behind a gritty slogan
Creating the pressure of pointless change
For teachers to correct and rearrange

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

But here's the thing. It's not their fault.
Sure, they've no idea MPs
They've less common sense than a piece of cheese
But all MPs really do is set
Some criteria that need to be met
A league table
Academies
Appraisal
Curriculums
It's nothing new. They've always done it
But it's given to schools to interpret
We don't lose money, we just get judged
We need conviction that can't be budged
We need to get a message out
To every parent, round about
And what this message needs to say
Is "we aren't doing extra maths today,
We're going to go outside and play
Because whatever MPs say
We'll do what's right for the kids
And here's why it's right you know
Cause we want to see your children grow
We're not just for levels, grades, progress
We're also here to relieve stress
We're also here to make your child feel
That happiness is something real
That in spite of all the crap you see
You can become head of art when you failed gcse."
Learn People skills
Determination
Creativity
Imagination
Honesty
Integrity
Sen­sitivity
And empathy
It's not an easy sell I know
You can't measure how people grow
You can't report or give a grade
But they're qualities that are heaven made
And maybe think the same for teachers
We're all very caring creatures
We care about how kids are raised
We don't need to be constantly appraised
Default 100%?!?
Like energy is heaven sent
Like when your kids are down with flu
You just man up, there's work to do
When you've got a quality person who just needs backing
Why give pressure and then threaten with sacking?

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

School - this week mark all your books
I need them up to date so I can look

Teacher - I've got to take my daughter swimming
I've got to see my son try winning

School - read through your teaching standards mate
And leave your children at the gate

End of the week the books are done
But head and deputies are overrun
"We'll have to put these books aside
To push our children down the slide"

And good for them. They work really hard. It's not a job to take lightly and they deserve to be there. But they don't have the time to step back and think "big picture"

Let's flip it round and just imagine

Teacher - I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm ill
School - you can't be ill the learners will fail
Teacher - I need some patience, I need some time
School - the kids need work which is sublime
Don't they deserve that? Don't you think?
Do you really want your learners to sink?

And there it is. The teacher guilt.
Because that's the way that we've been built
We care too much
We try too much
We give too much
We work too much
And we lose too much
We get ideas above our station
About how this job is a vocation
When we stop and look around
The evidence just can't be found
Someone tells me what to teach
Someone tells me how to teach it
Someone tells me how to plan
Someone tells me when to plan it
Someone tells me how to mark
Someone tells me when to mark it
We work to targets, get appraised
Residuals to get profiles raised
It's industry. I rest my case.

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

Or, put it another way.

I just think that teaching has lost all its common sense. And it's kindness. It behaves like an industry which is about getting results and meeting targets. There's nothing that measures people's happiness or how deeply moved or affected someone is by what they've learned. It just checks that they learned it. And we are given this guilt trip. That it's about children and that we are affecting their lives if we don't meet targets. We give up more and more because "teaching is a vocation"  "it's about kids", and yet schools use cover supervisors, cut subjects, limit choices etc to save money and get results. So the profession behaves like an industry but the teachers have to give their lives to it like its a vocation. It's not a vocation. At all. It's a job.

How can you raise kids that are in good health when you don't see the lies that you're selling to yourself?

I

I'm trying t' find my ID.
I think I'm missing it.
This thing,
This bright, shining light,
It's hiding in my blindsight.
I'm swimming in mist,
Trying t' find ... "I"

First I'm living
In my crib;
Clinging wrists.

Flitting my crib,
I'm Shy
Crying, whiny twit, missing bitty,
With stinky kids, kicking kitty.

I'm missing my crib.

I'm piling thinking bricks with big kids.
Slimy, smirking ***** hiss 'n' spit.
I'm sitting still in ill-fitting shirts,
shirking sight.
Hiding might blind ****** kids crying, "It's billy!!! Skinny ****!!" 'n' smiling in fits.
"Try finding kind kids x"
Finding "whys" in rising minds.
My mind grinds.
I'm kicking tins, spilling drinks.
Sitting in IT,
Sir chillingly insists "it isn't "fly" spilling drinks! "Shy" brings skills. "Why" brings ills."
I'm still shy.

This crib's tiny.
Tiny minds, blind by bling.
Fit chicks with *******,
Thick ****** thinking with *****.
I flit this Brit ****.
Brisk flight,
I find "I"
Simply shimmying "ir(o)n lik(e) li(o)n in zi(o)n".

In Brit, I'm still shilling it,
Finding thrill in it,
Hiding 'til it lifts.
I'm brisk fixing it,
I'm hiding in drinks,
Finishing in clink.
Trying things,
High by night,
Slinking by, finding light.
Thinking "this is it!! I'm in!"
Tricky light. Light trick. Sight trick.
Lying in my mind
It's still ****.

Is it?

His birth...
This child is my kid!
This brill kid!
I'M in this kid!
Big grin :D

First kid is big kid,
Mid kid is silly kid,
Quickly hitch my Miss.
Third kid. This kid, this girl is my girl.
Brill kids!

I bring my bling by flipping kids thinking bricks;
Fixing bits in thinking ink;
I'm finding it stinks.
Kids drink slick skills.
My mind chills with mind filling drills.
Kids grinding, crying spills -
"Sir, it's **** innit?
With missing mining, missing mills,
Im plying skills by filing bills."

I'm plying skills with mind pills.

Mrs "I" is criticising my id
Im minding my Ps n Qs
Biting my lip
Fists tight, shifting slightly
Slinking nightly
This is ****
Hit slight hitch
Hit BIG hitch
"'kin *****!"
I finish with my Mrs

Kids split 'twixt cribs.
Kids trips fix splits.
Kiss lips ***,
"Night night x"
"Light?"
Click light.
Right, "night!"

I'm hiding my ills in girls.
IT pimps, swiping right.
Primp ****.
Minging swill.
Fit chick.
Swift flirt.
Flirt, kiss, flirt, kiss.
Big ****.
Tight slit.
Milky spit.
Wiping ****.
Hiding ***** sight in mind,
I find it sticks.

I drift

Stick tight
Fighting my plight
Grin
"It's 'right"

Missing my crib
My ID
I'm finding my mind
Sticking with it
Fighting silly flirting ****
Try finding inspiring sights
My kids
My crib
My Inking
My Writing
My mind
My eye

I'm kind

I'm "I"

Recital 2

Hello, I'm Matt. I thought I'd read some poems and stuff then get off the stage.

Short poems about ordinary things 1

There was a scrunched up bit of paper
It sat in the corner of a room
It was Tuesday

Don't expect them to get better. My next is about my first recital which was a few weeks ago and didn't entirely go to plan.

A poem about social discomfort in my first poetry recital

I... Um
I am...
Ahem,
(Mumbles) -Uncomfortable
Matt... I am Matt

So, I'm stood in front of you
And you're looking at me
And I'm talking to you
And you're listening to me
And your eyes are on me
And your minds are on me
Looking at me and listening to me and eyes on me and minds on me
And I'm thinking about what you think about me
And now I feel awkward
So I'm not coming forward
My movements seem backward
So, now you feel awkward
About drawing toward
Because I'm afraid I won't get the reward
Of your praise

So you're going to be polite!!!
Don't be polite!
I hate when you're polite, because I won't believe it!
It's not real praise so it doesn't MEAN ****
It's not much better than telling me I'm ****
But don't tell me I'm ****!
Please!! I can't take it!

So, now you're just getting bored and frustrated
Listening to me talking about feelings I've debated

I want to get off
I want to get out
I also want you to clap
And I want you to shout

So I'm tense and I'm nervous and we're all feeling scared
About if this rhymes good enough to convince me you cared

And then I fell over

I genuinely did, off this tiny stupid pallet stage into a banner. I looked proper cool.

Short poems about ordinary things 2

With a start, he woke
His vision still blurred from his nights sleep
The dawn had broke
At the end of his bed was a figure
As black as coke
Murmuring the words he dreaded
"Wake up, it's time for work!"

I'm an artist/teacher really and I randomly wrote the title of this poem in a sketchbook about 7 years ago. I wrote the poem last week. Typical creative procrastination

Flowers on a lamppost
Dying in the sun

A seed
A son
He grows
He flowers
He blossoms
He bears his fruit

"See ya mum, dad! I'm off out for a drive!"
"No drinking flower!"
"Nah, just fruit juice!"

The fruit has fallen
It has ripened
It has over ripened
It has brewed and stewed as it matured
His fruit is strong
It's confidence intoxicating

"Last one mate!"
"Sneaky 3 and drive"
"Get em in then!"

More fruit

The tree, beautiful, flowers everywhere
Bountiful fruit
But the fruit is un ripened not ready to fall
Don't shake the tree

Crash
The tree shakes
The fruit falls
The petals fall from the flower

No more fruit now, it is rotting
Just flowers on a lamp post dying in the sun
Bearing a note saying
"We will always love you flower,
Sleep well,
Mum and Dad"

Yeah, I haven't really got a funny joke about that one. This links going to be a bit of a car crash really.

Short poems about ordinary things 3

He enters the house
She watches as he walks past without speaking
Just like every day
He does not offer her a cup of tea
He does not offer to cook for her
He doesn't even look her in the eye
She looks down at her food
A meal for one
Again
She is alone
So she tucks the food into her pouch and goes for a spin in the hamster wheel... Wheeeeee!!!

This next one was essentially me having a little whinge to myself about getting dumped.

All the damaged people

All the damaged people,
Vultures of the past still swooping high above
They look out over the future
But with a mind on the past
As they cross the landscape they notice shapes in the clouds and in the dunes
Many of them are beautiful
But a cloud is a cloud
And a dune is a dune
And there are always memories in those shapes of the ones in their past
So they stop
Unable to go back through the long trudge that got them here
Unable to move forward in case these dunes and clouds are the same
They test a few steps
Where the land seems different
But it's too different and they don't feel comfortable
They test ones that are familiar, a few steps
But even though this is comfortable, they are reminded of their past trials
"I can't do that again"
They stop
"I'll wait here, until the landscape changes"
The vultures continue swooping above

This next poem is ace. It's easily the best poem ever written.

Short poem about ordinary things 3

The sense of loss
Remorse
He's dead
The end of a long cold winter
His batteries are finally flat
I'll have to call the RAC

I'm a teacher and I started a new job this week after a few weeks of holidays and there were no kids in and I got bored of waiting for Dave, so I wrote this.

Back to work

I'm here
But I'm not here
I'm half lost in limbo
Somewhere between now and the past and the future
But off to the left a bit
And slightly south
Behind that bush
Wearing a banana-man costume

Why am I there?
Well, why be anywhere in particular?
Especially now
With no kids in
Boredom
And time
To dream
But nothing to do
Except tap tap tap on my phone

Trying to get back into it
Motivated
Energised
With no stimulus
So my mind flit flit flits
Here and there
Hither and thither
A failed date.
Jumping in a bush at college,
Drunk
How long will I work here?
Tony dressed as a zombie cow
Did that kid trace that or paint it free hand?
What will I teach them?
When's Dave getting here? It's been more than 10 mins
The hum of the computer
Girls, girls, girls... ***
Cuddles and company
Love?

How long?

I hope that tomorrow I can concentrate better than this.

Short poem about ordinary things 4

Hiding in a corner of a darkened room
Eyes covered hoping he can't see me
I hear the footsteps growing closer
A shudder down my spine
Is this excitement or fear?
Then I hear my fathers voice outside
"Coming, ready or not!"

A poem about killing time

This is a poem about killing time
I'm thinking of ways of making it...
...
...
...
...
...
Rhyme

This repetitious revery is fluffy and flowery but LOVE is REAL...

It's formed by us and fitted to our forms. By us. But its form is defined and real.

It may have started off as fluffy as the air we breathe, filled with light and butterflies. But now it's mostly solid. It fits to me and fits to you and it doesn't float away when you blow it. It has weight and substance.
I think real love is a practical thing. Love is a miner, not an artist. It works hard. It grafts. It digs deep into you. It gets ***** but it keeps going. It's honest and straightforward but at the end of the day it still wants a cuppa 'n' a cuddle wi' its Mrs.

Love does change. It grows... but like a bramble, not a rose. A rose gives up too easily. A bramble pushes through, even on hard ground. It works it's way into every nook and cranny until you feel totally loved. It may die back in a hard winter, but it always stays strong and true and bears enough fruit to make a good pie at the end of a hard day's graft down t' pit.

Love is a feeling but it's more than that.

It's knowing that when I'm a stress head, you're concerned but not stressed.
It's knowing I make you smile.
It's when you text me in a morning and say exactly what I say to you.
It's that even though we're miles apart and haven't got a *** to **** in, we still make do
It's when you watch me sleep... and don't complain about me snoring
It's knowing you want tos duck me as much as I want to duck you
And our kids...
Our kids get along. I think yours are ace and my kids like you.
But it's even more than that...
I don't feel scared now. Not now I've got you love. Not now I've got you.

Because I love you **

In a moment

I'm calm
I'm confused
I'm lost
I'm removed
I'm thoughtful
I'm anticipating
I'm excited
I'm fearful
I'm scared
I'm aware
I'm waiting
I'm hoping
I'm doubting
I'm questioning
I'm dwelling
I'm twisting
I'm challenging
I'm happy
I'm unhappy
I'm happy
I should be happy
I'm waiting to be happy
I'm happy with some things
I'm focused on the wrong things
I'm questioning why
I'm thinking I don't know how to end that poem. It's hard to think about what you're thinking when you're thinking about thinking about it.

The catalyst

Then it begins like drums building

Getting closer to you

The catalyst is a lack of control

It is a question I can't answer

And conflict I can't resolve

And in my head the drums build

The drums are repeating the same problem

A million times

In a million ways

The same rhythm repeats and repeats because I don't know the next line

I don't know how to change the beat

I'm trying so hard to solve the problem

That I'm tired from beating that drum

I'm tired, I ache, I need to go to sleep

But I'm trying to solve the problem

It won't stop until it's solved!

Or...

Until someone says...

It's ok Matt, it doesn't matter, we still care about you. Let someone else change the rhythm for you.



And then I'm fine



And I can sleep



and I can bang

whatever  

rhythms

I feel like banging



I'm at peace again



And all I want is to hold them and let it all go

Poem5
Into the Wilderness

Into the wilderness we went. Edhweirft and Hwyrflung swirled above us, blowing and bustling through the treetops. Watching. Threatening. But maintaining a safe distance as the trees protected us

Scrunch
Crack
Squelch
Scrunch
Crack
Squelch
... we went, as the gloam drew in. Druuuuuin!! Closer. Druuuuuuuuiiiiinnnn!!!!! Closer. It hugs, this gloam. It sticks. It holds. It cloys the mind with its drab-drab-grab. The breath is tight. It fights, for more, for freedom, to live, it must escape, but the gloam holds it inside you. The breath panics. It is afraid. It needs to be free. It escapes the mouth with a fight, then slowly raises up, toward the canopy. But it cannot swoop, it cannot flow. The gloam drags with a friction that burns and the breath is consumed within its mass.

Edhweirft is rattling in the branches of the trees above. Waiting for the gloam. Watching its vile, twisting display unfold. He watches. He sees. He knows. He understands. But Edhweirft is the trixter, the player of games, the jinxing Ju, the rogue andiggler. He is the north wind. He has no substance. He is force. He is energy. He wishes you to know that he is. That he lives. He is alive. He is life. He splits the gloam in 2.... Phoooooooshswipthwack! The gloam separates. It severs. It dissolves. It breaks down its density into its fractal construct. And the fractal shatters and chaos ensues. Dancing apart. It's essence. It's life glue. Dissolving. Dissipating. Fizzling. Sizzling. Fzzzzzz sszzzzzzzzzz......      
And the elements of its structure revel in the end of the gloams monarchy. This is despotism. This is revolution. This is chaos. This is beauty. Microscoppai scatter everywich. Hither und thither. It's chance now to create a New. This one Microscop. He is strong. His force pulls. His charm. His beauty. His power. His magnetism. It draws them to his new rule. A new form. A new structure. A fresh life. A gloam without the gloom.
Edhweirft continues to stalk. He is here. He is there. He shakes the trees as he comes in as if to break their hold on the sky and shake it from their rafters. He picks you up. He throws you to the ground. Then he moves on to his next victim, laughing in his breathy tones. Preparing and clearing the way. The way for his sister.
Edhweirfts sister, Hwyrflung, brings the TipTap. She is electrickery. She swoops with a crack and a bite. She brings the change. She creates the new. But first she destroys. She slices. Then nothing. Aaaaaooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!! She howls in delight. In the distance a tree sniiicpraks and falls down dead. Life gone. No more. This wise old tree. This rememberer of dreams. And play. Holding you high in his arms, protecting you as you climbed. No more. Goodbye old friend.
FizzzzzzzzzxxxxchchchccfrrdrdrffffrAAAAAKK!!!!
Another.
C­loser this time
TachooooooooommmmmmmAaaakakakrashhhh
The crack and the howl almost joining. Like great lovers drawn together at the moment of their deepest impending intimacy.
They wait, these two for little more than a fraction but the anticipating makes time slow down. As Hwyrflung watches they play their game, their dance. Fizzing and building their passion inside her deep black mass. Crackle... The first touch. Atoms rub. Heat generates. A light turns on deep inside. A light that aches for more. That aches for its release. Crackle pop. A short burst. Then recedes.

The wait.

...

The pause

...

The anticipation too great

...

Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhhhhkkkkkrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa­aasssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!
They erupt together as one! Light and sound. The power of their passion uncontrollable. A pure release, seeking its way towards its nearest destination. The place in can rest. The place it can seek its ultimate fortune. Life ending, life beginning, life changing.

And Hwyrflung hangs, still watching, but the passion of these two, so strong as it was, has sapped her strength and she falls to tears. The TipTap is gone, this is the Schoom. Heavy, thick and fast, draining her essence. Feeding it to the ground. For Hwyflung is not destruction, she is change. Her Schoom takes her pain and feeds its nutrients. It feeds budlings and saps and all the little scitterscatter looking for thirst. Until there are no tears left to cry and the TipTap returns.

Edhweirft swoops in to save what is left of his sister. He scoops her in his arms and whips her to safety in the canopy.

Out comes the God of the sky. He chases Edhweirft and Hwyrflung away with his warmth and smiles at their mischievery. He sends his Prysm through the TipTap, scattering a beautiful light.

And all is well.

We make our way through the wilderness and out, safely, to home.

That kid
That kid
That kid
Look at that kid
What the hells his problem?
Look at that kid
That kid

Why do you keep crying kid?
Why don't you stick up for yourself kid?
You should have grown out of this kid
Why did you **** yourself kid?
Why'd you do this to yourself kid?
You shouldn't dismiss yourself kid
It's weak to dismiss yourself kid

Why would you be sad kid?
Your life ain't exactly bad kid
You're obviously not a 'bad' kid
But you should appreciate what you had kid
YOUR family's still together kid
YOU'VE chances some kids never did
And the others are only kidding kid

You're a white kid
A middle class kid
Your parents work kid
You aren't 'round drugs kid
This is a good school kid
You're not a fool kid
You should be happy kid
You've no reason to be sad kid
Don't be wet kid
Man up kid

Why are you dressed like that kid?
Why's your hair so long kid?
Why are you wagging off kid?
Where's you work kid?
Why are your grades so bad kid?
That's not the target we expected
Your making us all look bad kid
You didn't understand kid?
Well, why didn't you ask kid?
Kid?
Kid?!

Because nobody listened.

Clinging ...onto...your...ledge
Gripping ... tight
The pain... Chasing through my fingers
As I try to hold on to what little of you I still grasp
The tightness... In my arms
As I try to be strong

The struggle - I need to be stronger, I need to get a grip, I need to pull myself up to your level, be a man, be stronger, forget the pain, get this man up, this man up, man up, man up, MAN UP!!! Are you a man or mouse?!?!
Hold tight. Fight. Look into the light
Of your eyes

Then let go...
...And fall
       ....Floating ....through the air...
Watching you drift ... away into the distance
And the vacuum ...     created by my fall ...
         ...Thins my oxygen
                   ...Dulls my pain and fear...
   ...And I look around me
And notice the beauty and freedom that I had forgotten ...
While I was clinging on ... to you
... Stretching out over miles ... I see endless possibilities ...
But one possibility strikes me most of all
I will crash
I will break
I will pull myself to pieces
I'm not strong enough to survive this fall!!

Then I notice
All the other people falling
Some faster... Some slower... Some further away... Some closer to the crash
Way, way above me,
in the distance,
are 3 small people,
fluttering and playing,
enjoying the freedom in the air,
relishing the experience of the fall.
Not worrying about the crash.
Just enjoying the view.

And I watch them play happily,
unaware and unaffected by the fall,
And all I'm thinking of for now is them,
As I continue my journey toward whatever may be...

The pointless emptiness of everything.
I’m stood here in this field trying to feel,
Trying to remember what it felt like to feel.
Trying to feel my way around this field and follow my feet
Follow my feet through the field to feel again
I feel the wind blow and I follow
I feel the dog pull and I follow
Stumble and follow
Follow my feet
I look to the skies for direction
This looks like a face... of a dog... if you squint and look at it funny
That looks like a hand pointing ... but it’s pointing to nothing, nowhere, no one.
There’s nobody there
There nowhere to go except where I’ve already been
Spent half a life looking and found nothing
Nothing to tell me I’m on the right track
Nothing to tell me that all of it - or any of it - had a purpose
I don’t know what I’m meant to do
Where I’m meant to be
I feel/see/hear things and wonder if it’s a calling
But there’s nothing there
Nothing that makes any sense.
So I just go home.
Cold.
And lost.

Days when I struggle
'N' nowt seems reet
'N' t' big stuff is consumin me
'N' then mi mates come round
Drink some beer
Eat some food
Talk some ****
Watch a film
All o' t' stuff as matters
They know
I could talk about t' big stuff
But I won't
They know me an' I'm safe
It dunt matter
What matters now is the size of a chimps *****

Matt... get up

Not in an angry tone, but in that slightly disappointed tone that your mum uses. The tone I use to myself at times like this.

Get up.

But how shall I "get up"?
Do I simply climb off this sofa and clean up that Lego my kids left?
Seems so... basic...
Or is this something else?
Does "get up" mean I need to "get" something that's missing from me? And what is this "up" anyway?
Up is higher, better, stronger, more positive, more productive, more useful, more, just ... more... more than I am.
Scary thought being more than i am. Not because I have to do more than I am doing. Just because I haven't done it already. That I already wasted so much time when I could have been doing more. When I could have tidied up the Lego and be using this very time reflecting on a job well done. But the Lego is still sitting there.

"It's not going to pick itself up."
There it is again

As I watch this Lego, still not picking itself up, I reflect on the lessons you learn from Lego.
One brick at a time.
Think outside the blocks.
Create something great from small beginnings.
Or, in the words of Clutch Powers "we build on each other".
Valuable lessons, if I get up.

Up. The opposite of down. The opposite of where I am on this sofa. Unless you consider my position relative to the ground. I'm not rock bottom. There are people starving in the world you know? No. I'm on a sofa. Looking at some Lego bricks.

Which still haven't picked themselves up.
Get up.
Get UP.
Up
UP
down?
No up.
Ugh
Ok
I'm up.

At last! Now get dressed.

When she came into my life, I was missing hope
Just barely released from the end of my rope
And learning again, how to cope

No hope to be loved, no expectations of kindness,
But she told me not liking myself was blindness
And I hoped I could find this

She gave me hope to be loved and respected, reminded me of all of the lives I'd affected, helped me let go of feeling rejected, still without trust, her kindness I tested, to see if my trust could be safely invested... And it could... Entirely

Why can't I see what she sees in me?
Why can't I let go and simply be?
I'm there for her but I'm not there for me.
I'm not free.

My friend Sergio said "the most painful is when you have hope,
When you know it's impossible it's easy to cope,
But unless you're a man with conviction of a pope,
And you're cursed with the dream of a chance to elope,
Hope will eat you up"

Why can't I see what she sees in me?
Why can't I let go and simply be?
I'm there for her but I'm not there for me.
I'm not free.

But I don't want to let go of a hope to love you
I wanted to think that my dreams could be true
That someone could show me my worth like you do
Stay close when I'm a stressed
Remind me I'm blessed
My fears all confessed,
The time you invest,
To make me my best;
It made me believe in me,
And I love you for that
Because I can't do it on my own
Yet

She was my hope,
But I must let go of Hope.
I will miss that hope,
But hoping for hope is hopeless,
And hoping for Hope is just hopeful,
And I hope beyond Hope I can find my own hope,
Without Miss Hope.

My little nut

My little nut is no ordinary nut
She's small like a nut
She's starting to sprout
She's so eager to reach the clouds
But with her roots firmly in the ground
When people see my little nut, they say
"Isn't she beautiful, isn't she bright?!
Are you sure she didn't fall from a different tree?!"
My little nut skips
My little nut makes me skip
My little nut makes my heart skip
My little nut calls me a poo head
And I poo on my own head
And I'm made of poo
But she doesn't mean it
It's just coz she's a little nut
My little Hazel nut xxxx

I'm bored of reading political views
I'm bored of watching the **** on the news
I'm bored of having to have and opinion
I'm bored

I'm tired of people wanting to fight
I'm tired of people who think their view is right
I'm tired of the views of the right and the left
I'm tired

I'm fed up with always having to judge
I'm fed up of people who's opinions won't budge
I'm fed up that I can't just get on with my life
I'm fed up

I'm sick of talking of David Cameron
I'm sick of talking of Donald Trump
I'm sick of talking of Boris Johnson
I'm sick of talking of Bernie Sanders
I'm sick of talking of Jeremy Corbin
I'm sick of politics

I want to talk about people and life
David Cameron is just a person
Jeremy Corbin is just a person
Not bad guys and good
Don't get annoyed with the guy at the top because he doesn't do things the way that he should.
Don't create a system where we put him on top and then moan coz he doesn't do it the way that we would.
Darkly sarcastic cynical views do little that's good. They leave me bereft
Don't split up the range and complexity of human ideals into a basic idea of right and left.
Right and wrong.
Them and us.
Cameron and Corbin.
Trump and Sanders.
Rich and poor.
It's not that simple
They're all just people
You can't lift one up on a steeple
And cast the other into hell
Some of what they say is right as well
We're blind men with an elephant
And our discussions just aren't elegant
And until we listen to opposing views
I'm just going to stop watching the news.

Nothing's left but it's alright

Have a voice
Give an opinion
Express yourself
Lay yourself bare

I'll tell you a story of a boy
His family are farmers - conservatives
At the bottom of the lane, the pub used to burn a cross on bonfire night. It held the letters KWW - Keep Waterside White
His Grandma is agoraphobic, xenophobic and racist who told him in no uncertain terms not to marry a black girl
Before he passed away, his grandad would shoot at people searching for magic mushrooms on their land
His father liked Thatcher, criticised the miners and the unions and was a casual homophobe
His mother judges women by appearance and thinks Nigel Farage is a decent bloke. Her place is in the home.
His brother works for the police
His sister rides horses
One uncle is a millionaire and CEO
The other believes that mental illness does not exist and its treatment is dangerous
The boy is christened, confirmed, went to an all white, Christian primary school and predominantly white, Christian secondary school.
He left secondary school and college with no qualifications through the arts. Only the important subjects.

There is another story about this boy but for now we will look only at these facts.

It may create an image in your mind

It would be easy to condemn this story
Sure enough it was condemned
By those who held the moral right
Opinions stronger than people
The boy grew fearful of people
Tried to hide his story
Became silent
Shut off from the world
Thought of the ways he could end the pain
Sought to become a different person
To deny his past
Outwardly this worked
Inwardly...

People believed the moral of the story was that he had overcome
They missed the point

Inwardly... Sometimes, the majority ... Can feel like the minority

If I said all of that, could I still express myself?
Would you listen?
Or would I be condemned?

Sat on a stationary train in Doncaster because the guy said my MOT would be done today. He said it would be done today or if he needed a part, he wouldn't start on the car so that I could use it tonight. But it wasn't ready tonight. And he didn't leave it until tomorrow. So tonight I'm on a train. Tomorrow I'll be driving a car. Today however, it's a train.

Just leaving Doncaster.

On a train. Not in a car. The car isn't ready until tomorrow. That's what the guy in the garage said. By noon at the latest. He's trustworthy right? I'm sure it will be ready. Sure. I won't be on a train tomorrow. No siree. I'll be in a car.

The lady just took my ticket.

I won't have to give anyone my ticket tomorrow. I'll be in a car. Not on a train. You don't need tickets in a car. You just drive it. Unless you like tickets. Then you could make tickets for your car and give yourself a ticket when you got in the car.

The trains horn just went off. It made me jump.

That wouldn't happen if I were in a car. I'd be in full control of the horn in a car.

I think I just found out why the horn sounded. A bunch of feathers just flew in through the window. RIP bird.

That might have happened if I were in a car. You can still **** birds in a car. But in a car I would have more of a sense of guilt. Being on a train isn't all bad I guess. Plus, if I were in a car and not, as is clearly the case, on a train, I wouldn't have been able to type out all my interesting anecdotal meandering as I chugged along.

That said, if you aren't enjoying reading all about this, might I suggest that you don't use Crown Motors?

My car is still there.

Not here.

I'm on a train.

Pin.

Here's a pin.
I know this pin is tiny,
Much smaller than me,
Inanimate,
Not capable of moving without my help.

I'm aware of all those things.
I'm realistic.
When I talk about the pin;
When I hold the pin;
When I show others the pin;
When others hold the pin;
I show my awareness,
Outer calm,
Rationality.

This is just a pin.

I show this because I'm afraid.

Not just of the pin.
(With its tiny but incredibly sharp point, that a person could place carelessly or deliberately so that it could pierce, several inches, into the soft part of my foot.)

But also because of how foolish I will look, in front of you, when you know how much I am afraid of this ...

One ...

Tiny ...

Pin.

Instead, I tell you of the pin, of its dangers, of how I manage its dangers by being aware of the pin;
By my knowledge of its sharp point;
by the knowledge of how to put that pin away, so that I can not stumble upon that pin as it pierces into that vulnerable part of my skin.

But I'm disorganised ... and in reality, when things are busy, I don't always have time to put away pins. I have bigger things to deal with, and... at the end of the day...

I enter the room,
aware of the pin,
afraid of its sharp point.
Focussed on the pin,
On the pain it would bring,
Were I to stand on it.
I step close to the pin.
How close can I get without that sharp pain?
I want to live,
Without being ruled by a pin.
So shiny.
So sharp.
So small.
So insignificant.
So painful.


Ouch!

I'll put that pin away now so that nobody can see how much it hurts.

Rebuilding the home

After nearly a year trying, I moved house
The house was tired
It had dated
It had lost the sense of who it was
It had lost all its character
Too much time with someone not attending to its needs
And it, tired and unloved as it was,
Didn't provide much of a home
Frustrated by its loss of self

I started by pulling down the ceiling
Get the structure right first
Dust and debris fell,
I wore a mask to keep from breathing it all in
The dust toxic with a touch of asbestos
I wrapped it up in the carpet that smelled of an old mans dog and threw it out

This weekend I knocked down a wall.
There were sledgehammers, crowbars, chisels, saws, hammers, electricity, falling timber and plaster, screws and nails.
I didn't even get a scratch on me.
Tonight I picked up a cardboard box and got a paper cut and it hurt like hell.
Sod's law!

Breaking down all the bad parts of the house nearly broke me
Pulling out the guts of it
Taking away all the unloved furnishings
The trappings that were there to make it a home but actually just held it back
Searching for the hidden character underneath
Everything was ***** - a building site

Looking at the beams
Wondering "would they hold?"
I needed a break

Eventually it changed
It started with the fireplace
I smashed through all the fake brickwork
Stripped the plaster
Needle gunned the paint
And there was the character
Beautiful, strong stone mullions
Aged and flawed but beautiful

I pulled up carpets and sanded floorboards
Changed the bathroom for one more in keeping
Painted, varnished, wallpapered
Added in all the things that I loved
The good memories
The hobbies
My artwork
My children's photos and toys
Filling the house with fun

I took things that were broken and made them new
Changed their form
A garage door to a bed
A smelly sofa to a garden bench
Made the broken new and beautiful
Seeing them in a new light
Making amends with the past

Talked to the kids tonight about me dating. They were really interested and happy about it. Told them I don't want to date at the moment and Tom and Hazel both said "well, when you get your house finished Dad, girls will like that" They're so sweet. I properly love my kids

Just before Christmas, I got the carpet and the laminate down.
When the kids saw the house all done up they said this...
Hazel... I love our new house!
Tom... It's the best house in the world!
Jake... I think the reason it feels like home is because of all the work you've put into it Dad.

We're home now

Who is this man dressed in a box who comes to me at night to unwrap and unravel the trappings of his day?
His manner is pleasant. He is welcomed here.
But why does he come this distance to offer me notification of such things?

Things like the moon and stars that are shining. I can see the stars. I know they shine. They are beautiful and I share his love for them.
He will ask me why they shine on us both when we traverse such distant paths. I answer that I do not know, we each have our path. His is by the sea and mine the fire.

Sometimes he offers to help me rebuild this fire of mine. Or at least to praise me for continuing to stoke it's flames. For the warmth it creates. With my calm. My logic.

Then he checks on the moon and the stars and asks me if they moved. But our paths remain.

Other days he will share his tales of the sea. Show me his sketches of birds made of octopus ink. How the Dolphins played. The words he passed to the sirens. And the things he would do if I were his siren!! "My fire would burn if you did that!!" We laugh. He asks if the stars moved. I wish to answer... Alas I cannot control the stars. He jokes once more about the sirens and passes out to sea...To see.

All at sea.

His deep, calm sea.

Sometimes he just waits.

He is quiet, but the conversation and questions hang all around him like stars. I wish to ask, but know I have no answers. I maintain my fire. So he waits.

Until

'You are... Special... Little star
Your fire has shone on me and lit my core in ways you can never know. Yet I fear that this fire is not for me. I fear that without my own fire ...'

He turns and walks away...

'It's hard to build a fire at sea. When you sleep, I can't hear you breathing...
Because you aren't there.

Do you think tomorrow the stars will move?'

I wish upon a star that I had an answer.

There's a fire in my belly
Today is my day
Look in the mirror
I look hot!
I make her laugh
I'm on fire!!
My days all planned
Firing on all cylinders!!

There's a fire in my belly.
A mixture of fiery passion and suffocating smoke
It drives me, powering my engines, turning my cogs, driving me on.
The harder I work
The more I care
The greater the passion
The more I stoke the fires in my depths
With each new challenge
More fuel to the fire
With each hard word
Fuel to the fire
With each broken promise
Fuel to the fire

Until

My engines burst
And I self combust

Poem 2
Sweaty Little Fingers

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 once I caught a fish alive.

"That's not a fish! It's a tadpole!"

1,2,3,4,5 once I caught a tadpole alive
I loved the little fella and I wanted him to thrive
but he was too small for me so I made him dive
back into the water.

1 little frog hopping around. I bend and lift him from the ground. I wrap him up all safe and sound in my sweaty little fingers

2! There's another one! Better than the other one! I'm gonna catch him before he's gone so he can be a friend to number one.

3. 2's a company, 3's a crowd. But I were only five and I just didn't really get how you could make a company with only 2 people working there (true story). So I picked up another one.

For after all, I've already got 3. I've never held four frogs before! Tiny little forelegs  held gently down, just so they can't hop around.

5 little frogs staying alive.
Singing "I, I, I, I'm stayin' alive!"
...Except, they were baby frogs, so it sounded more like "peep, peep"
...And their dance moves were more like...(demonstrate movements of a frog)

Anyway...

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 little hopping fellas all alive,
I set off down t' 'ill to show mi mum,

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 little hopping fellas still alive,
Runnin' all the way and havin fun,

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 little hopping fellas just alive,
I have to lean my hands ont' gate t' oppen it

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 little hopping fellas ... alive?
I run to mi mum where she sits

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 little hopping fellas ... Not... Hopping.

"Mum?"
"Aww son..."
"What ave I done?"
"Come 'ere son"
"Awww mummy!!! I killed em! I feel like poo!!!"
"It's ok Matthew I know what t' do"

So we went outside and did the best things you can do with 5 non dancing frogs and 10 sweaty little fingers.

We wiped off t'guts ont' garden wall, rubbed em ont, grass and went to build dens out of corrugated, asbestos sheeting instead.

Ah the good old days

I worked in Bradford
I drove back home along Bradfords crazy roads among the crazy drivers
Each day
At the same time
In the same place
I saw this man
No idea of his name
Or his story
But each day he ran
Holding two carrier bags
Full of carrier bags
Down the central reservation of the ring road
And as I drove home
Tired and weary from my days work
I would think to myself
Who covers for this guy when he's off sick?
He's running with more purpose than I do when I'm going to work
But he's here every day
Punctual
Is there a supply agency for running with bags?
I think it's a vocation.
Then I drove into the car in front of me

Decisions decisions

The butcher chose to remove the tail first today

He was a teller of tails.

He once told of a tail so long that he had to chop it with a French curving blade

The one he bought from Trevor down by the market.



Next the butcher decided to remove the left ventricle

"My mother always said I should have been a surgeon" he lamented

but she was a heartless old cow,

unlike this old cow.

He removed the ventricle.



Next came it's walking boots

Leather boots... Ironic

These boots were made for walking,

but where to?

Away... Just away.



Finally he decided to take the cows head,

and in its eyes he saw his reflection,

covered in blood,

tired,

rough.

Doing things some people would detest him for.

He looked at that man and thought to himself

"Is this what I want to be?

Is this all that I am?"

The question hung in the air with the smell of raw beef.

And he smiled and said,

"This is what I am. I'm happy with this."

And he hung the meat in the window to show his craft.

Poem 6 edited
I know and understand the cynicism of most on this topic, but I can assure you that I have not invented any of this, so treat my poem with the seriousness it deserves.

It is a tale of forgotten events.

Things I'd pushed away from my mind as a child.

Things I did not believe we're real.

The dark.

The uncanny.

The Unknown.

I'll begin...

The Evil Tree.

To get to the gravestone we had to pass an old tree
One with a terrible history
A tale that ended, evilly

We walked through the dark woods toward the evil tree.
The mist hung the way it does normally,
but in an evil way.

The trees around the evil tree leaned away fearfully
Or some of them leaned towards the tree,
but less toward than they'd normally be
If it weren't an evil tree

The evilness of the evil tree
was so great that it hid it cleverly
By looking just like every other tree
But evil

Its roots were evil roots
Taking evil nutrients
That looked like other nutrients,
But evil

The evil nutrients fed the evil trunk
Like an evil woody chunk
Filled with standard sappy gunk
But evil

The evil gunk was in the branches too
The branches were evil through and through
They were deepest, darkest evil brown
With evil moss up and down
Swaying in an evil way
Like other branches day to day,
But evil

The branches followed on to the evil twigs
Twigs thinly evil; branches evilly big
Growing out ShArP AnD POINTY!
Like skinny arms, evilly jointy!!
But at the ends of these twigs...

Unlike ordinary twigs...

Were leaves,

BUT EVIL LEAVES!!!!!
Evil leaves!
EvIL lEaVEs!!!
Everywhere were evil leaves!
Some of them high in the trees!
Some of them were on the floor
And on the graves I saw yet more!
Evil green
And brown and red!
Many of them just lay down DEAD!

And if that were not enough...

I walked toward this evil tree
Unaware how evil a tree could be
As I bravely gained upon this pillar
I saw a hungry caterpillar
It was crawling in the normal way
Like caterpillars do every day

Slowly, it crawled
Creeping
Twisted and contorting its body
Edging ever closer
Toward me

I innocently reached down to pick him up

And that's when I noticed

The bite marks

In the leaf

An evil leaf!!

Time seemed to slow right down
I noticed too late, the evil brown!
I saw its evil greeny hue
And it's evil hairy back
Looking like other caterpillar do,
that don't give you a heart attack
Tick and tock
The time passed by
I saw the evil monsters eye
Raised upon an evil stalk
Wondering if he could scream or talk
What would he say?!

He'd say...

I'm an evil caterpillar
I will maim and devour these leaves
Not just the evil, the innocent too
Their life will be a tasty filler
And as their branchy mother greaves
She can watch me as I chew, chew, chew
Just like other caterpillars do
But evil!

And then I'll grow an evil cuccoon
One with plenty of evil room
And hang high in the evil branches
Where nobody would take their chances

Outside, it's still and eerie calm
Inside I start to dis embalm
Myself
I flay my skin
And then begin
To change
Evilly!!

And after many evil days
You think you've lost my evil ways
Until I break
I'm born anew
My evil body grew and grew
The most hideously evil things
A pair of pretty butterfly wings!
BUT EVIL!!!!!

And as I had this evil thought
I realised that I was caught!!
The caterpillar crawled on to my hand
But ...
strange enough I felt just grand!
There was not heat nor evil sting
Just this tiny little thing
I realised he wasn't evil
Less evil than a common weevil
I lifted high, held him aloft
When suddenly he fell back off!

I looked down on him, like a God
Lifted my foot and then I trod!

I now know what happened you see
He passed his evil on to meeeeeeeeee!!!!!!
Mwahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaa!!!!!

An online dating conversation I had...

Rabbits or robots?
1 choice only
Detailed explanation required

                                                                     Rabbits

Explain please
(P.S. You're pretty)

I reckon robots would win in a fight

Unless it was a battle of cuteness

But I'm not really sure how a cuteness battle would work?

Some kind of dance off I expect

The rabbit would shake it's little rabbit tail

The robot would... Do the robot

The robot would lose points for originality

Plus bunny tails are cute

Robots don't have tails

Unless it's a robot bunny

                             Hahaha, I've got an image in            
                             my head! You're bonkers!

** do you think would win a fight between a robot bunny and a bunny with robotic limbs?

Who

Not **

That's disrespectful to women

Unless they are actually a *******

Then it's just a statement of fact

Although that's probably not a PC term

They probably prefer ****** creation officer or something

But **** them... stupid '**'s

                                Well, I'm glad I'm not a
                                *******! Ur crazy!

Hi, I'm Matt, I prefer "creative"

Crazy isn't PC

Plus I'm fit, which makes crazy ok.

And clever

And funny

And amazing in bed

I sleep like a pro

Ive been practising every night for years!

No wet beds or anything

Well...

Not often

                      I'm actually laughing out loud! X

Sometimes it just warms you up a bit when it's cold

                        You sound very interesting and
                        Good at a lot of things

You're cute

I fancy you

I'm going to pull your hair and chase you round the playground

                                        You make me laugh
                                        And you're cute too
                                        And very very cheeky
                                        Msg me later?

Sorry, I've got to watch a dance off between a robot rabbit and a rabbit with robotic limbs, seeing as you didn't answer my question :(