Twirl-ing in a place that doesn't quite feel my own,
I have forgotten my core while talking to people,
I don't quite know.
Absorbing thoughts and theories,
I lost the connections of my own.
Not physically, entirely, lost,
but some what found.
Isolated, unsure of what I am;
Or want.
Breathing finally and thinking of my soul which twists itself in side of me.
It's shy and strange and.... Off with the fairies.... I suppose
Facebook reminds me
morbidly of my past...............is that?
Is that really me?
The bit
that seems so lost.
Or had I forgotten it way before...
way before I breathed my first breath of
consciousness?
Wednesday, June 23
Lacking Alacrity
An observation
This is a rather clever device for those that often get flies in their kitchens..... or those that are students, everywhere.
It has some sort of chemical coating on it that attracts flies to the flower and then glues them to it. You hear them struggling and buzzing for days.
After about the second day of hearing this 'poor' fly buzzing, and struggling trying to free itself from the ever so sticky trap.
I decided to take a closer look, watching it flap and buzz its little wings.
I feel a little guilty but the buzzing was rather annoying I decided to glue its wings down. In the hope that the buzz would stop and as surprised to find that that so distinctive house fly buzz continued. Admittedly quieter but the wings where no longer movable.
So is the buzzing noise not the vibrations of the wings against the air but a vibration or movement from another part of the body.
Can anyone tell me WHAT MAKES A FLY BUZZ?
Wednesday, March 17
The Lion and the Ladybird...
A ladybird once told her that
things left unsolved play on the brains of all involved.
Worms of self doubt attack when she thinks of an apple
firmly stuck, forever floating on the shelves of her memory.
What is this? Is this this feeling of that emotion
often clenched with roses and all things warm and fuzzy?
she squirms.
The unreplied and blinking for her attention.
Flattered and unsure,
drowning in her reading.
Paddled to deep?
It may not mean this at all.
Knowing their paths will cross once more
right now she's still reminding her self
to love a love that's that's pure.
There's so much growing to do and places to explore.
They are heading towards the same horizon,
where the sun sets in cascades of colour.
Why rush when she's so muddled
playing cruel games to be shore
paddling in tides of waves
too close, now to far
Her heart is cracked and so she toys
with others and more.
She daren't touch his it just in case
she forgets the warmth and
drops it to the floor.
It's been on my facebook for a while now, and I hated it once I wrote it but now, now that feeling that motivated me to write it has left me. I like it much much more.
Tuesday, February 3
The Snowman
Wind swirls the flakes
this way and that
melted on contact with skin
individual and shy.
Over coffee
silence is held
brain cells zoom
along lines of doubt
bundled up on the surface
of glass.
It dissolves when touched,
A pool drizzles from your
Knee, leaving
Finger prints on
Icy jeans.
Miss-matched? Unsure
each affectionate
ray,
a warming brush
Too much..
..Too much
melted on your chair.
The layout of this poem is all wrong considering blogspot... seems not to realise that tab indentation is actually an important element of writing... Although the lay out help this poem is important I'm sure you get the jist of it.
Friday, December 26
pedal stalling?
quote from the original Rayman
We all enjoy pedal stalling people. By putting them in a golden throne they become untouchable and something to aspire to.
I'm an old school gamer. We had a PS2, it was great but it was my brothers so when my parents decided to reclaim the TV. I was no longer able to use it as it was no longer in the fount room. After that I never really picked up a console again.
Being reunited with the PS2, I began to question the concept of the hero and its influence on society.
We all believe that a Hero will save us from the injustice of the world. Some Batman/Superman/ Spiderman figure will fight crime and cure us from the cruelties that fill us with fear.
and how can we expect them to?
What has happened to the idea of the community that looks out for one another?
The Hero figure is the one man that shouts out for what is right. Is not afraid to say: "Oi! excuse me! Stop right there!"
Monday, December 1
Perpetual Cycles
I'm sure that as we get older we start to realise repetitions in our lives. The way we react to things is purely through our experience so far in our lives.
Friday, November 28
Brownie Points- The helping hand
I have been attending my university for two and a half years. In the first year I found out:
I get Proof reading as its often a trait with dyslexics not to notice typos or grammatical problems. I think its because of a few reasons:
- We have read it through so much we know what should be there, so our brillianly imaginative brains just correct it for us. This sounds odd I know but really I know I do this.
- We have very little understanding of grammar and spelling. The rules we find most difficult are rules that if we ask why the response would have been "It just is. Ok."
- Speaking and writing has very little in common. We write like we speak and I suppose thats why we are called imaginative.
The problem. Its very simple. Very few students actually manage this. You have to have the essay compleated before the Deadline. Then it can be Read Marked and Updated, but another trait of the Dyslexic is procrastination syndrome.
We are offically the best at procrastination. I can sit at a computer screen happily not doing anything for hours. My panic will start when I have to produce a 3000 word essay in less than eight hours. I have to trick myself into believing my deadlines are actually a week earlier.
EVEN then the essay is not compleated until morning it is due it therefore its very rare that I get my essay in for proof reading.
As usual my grade is sugnificantly lower than what it should be. This Dyslexic help thing is really not working is it? So using my wonderful creative mind I go to see the marker of this essay an ask the question: I HAVE BEEN ASKING FOR TWO YEARS:
"Is there any way of getting weekly help with learning grammar?"
I'm sent to the proof reading place and I ask again. The response is oh yes your Dyslexia Tutor can do that with you. We will arrange a meeting.
Why the hell did they not make me do this right when they found out I was dyslexic? I have sat there watching the changes being made with out being told Why, How and When for a while now. Thinking because I'm dyslexic I will never understand it any way, but no they could have just offered me the help that would have aloud me to LEARN and improve.
I'm not saying my work would be perfect. I would have just picked up on a few things that I missed at school and the proof reading deadline would not have been so important.
And also then there would be no reason to used my RETARDATION as an excuse for not knowing. We all learn ways around things right?