“Love We Carry”

My first was tall and blessed with her figure
The cigarette curling smoke from her lips
And the smirk behind the bottle she tips
Unaware of how she held the trigger.
As for my second, his heart was bigger
Too sweet for more than the littlest sips
Both too soft to adapt to simple dips
Actions rushed with far too much vigour.

I loved them both, and to this day still do
Though all along I saw the coming end.
No regrets linger; there’s nothing I rue
For each love lost gained me a friend.
I am lucky to know feelings so true
And surely with time, my heart will mend.


❤ Never regret loving someone ❤

“Happy Birthday, My Dear”

I wish you a happy birthday my dear
But let me say before we all begin
Relax, you have nothing you need fear.

The longest friend will be the first one here
She will present your present with a grin.
I wish you a happy birthday my dear.

All at once the rest will start to appear.
One will offer a drink spiked with gin
But relax, you have nothing to fear.

They will eat their food and sip at their beer.
Two will argue; you know who will win.
I wish you a happy birthday my dear.

Yes you will be scared, fighting each tear
Until he sets his warm hand on your skin.
You relax. You have nothing to fear.

Then, come the night as they disappear
Something like love will bubble up within.
So I wish you a happy birthday dear
Now relax, you have nothing to fear.


Note: All mid-line punctuation indicates a beat.

Happy 17th to me 😊

“Welcome” – OR – My Stupid Idea

Welcome to my story
Welcome to my space
Welcome to my narrative
Let me find your place

The story’s one of sadness
But also hope and joy
With a surplus of dogged love
Be it to girl or boy

Now things may not filtered
Or censored as they “should”
But I won’t hide an inch of me
I wouldn’t if I could

Welcome to my story
Be it formed in rhyme
I hope that you enjoy my voice
And thank you for your time


“Since when do you do poetry on here?” I know, I know, just hear me out.

For my Creative Writing coursework last month, I ended up doing poetry, and now… I’ve kind of just got the bug for it. But I was writing all these poems with nothing to use them for, so I thought hey, why not do a weekly poem? I have no idea how this will work but I really want to try it, so I hope you don’t mind.

Thanks! ~MusicRocks807

I Is Idiot

You know that staple in cartoons, where someone is running off a treadmill and goes off the end? And you’re left looking at the screen thinking, “Who on earth could be that stupid?”

Yeah? Well, guess who.

I will clarify: I didn’t fly off flailing then faceplant the floor. That would have been spectacular to watch, but I don’t think I’d be able to return to that gym again. So no, no bone-breaking.

To be fair, I didn’t expect a stellar training session. I’ve been quite ill lately; I missed karate and a gym slot last week, and I had felt like death itself. While a little better by now, I’m still suffering from a hellish chest cough. Which, as you might imagine, is aggravated by aerobic exercise. So in a pretty logical move, I asked my mother who had already been what we’d be doing.

And I quote, “Oh, there’s only a bit of aerobic at the start, and it’s not too bad. You’ll be fine.”

Said “not too bad” aerobic bit was actually run 1K as fast as possible, rest for 2 minutes, and then do it all again. Now in my opinion, that’s pretty bad, so I was understandably nervous. But I’m a tough gym-ster, so I hopped on the treadmill and did my 1K anyway. After my 2 minutes of rest zipped by, I sucked it up and carried on. I had to hold onto the handles of the machine, but that was okay.

Unfortunately, about .3K in, my breath gave in and I began sputtering like an old exhaust. Naturally, I let go of the handles while I coughed. This was a mistake. You see, my eyes closed instinctively while I was coughing, so I wasn’t aware of what was happening for those few seconds. I was however, vaguely aware of a strange sensation. It took me less than a second to realise that I was falling.

Oh god no.

My eyes snapped open. I leapt into the air. A quick landing. Bounced back up again. Grabbed the handles. Ran. Thanked the Lord I never hit the floor.

Honestly, I’m kind of amazed I handled it so well, considering my reputation as a clumsy fool. Other members of the gym – previously unacquainted with my… uniqueness – were, however, very alarmed by this. The poor man on the adjacent treadmill almost took a tumble himself. But I finished the exercise, so it’s all good.

So yes, I’m an idiot.

This isn’t even the first in my line of impressive gym recoveries. You’d be astonished at how often I have to save myself from a box-jump disaster. Clipping the box, tilting the box, outright missing the box… I’ve done it all. My only real strategy is to jump out of harm’s way, so if I ever encounter a problem where that isn’t possible then I’m in serious trouble. But so far, so good.

There isn’t really an aesop or message for this post, if I’m honest. Maybe pay attention on the treadmill? Don’t hurt yourself in the gym? Just don’t go to the gym, period? I really have no idea.

This was just so unbelievably stupid that I felt the urge to share it.

As a man…

TheGhostWriter

CAM01736

As a man of old school culture, you spend your entire life learning what it means to be strong. We grow up learning principles from our fathers that make us who we are as men. We learn to love, serve, help, and protect those we care about. I for one was brought up by a man of principles, my father was very hard on me and my brothers because he knew what it meant to be strong in this world. We were shaped into men of integrity, taught never to back down from evil, never to turn away from someone in need, never to let our emotions get the better of us, and most importantly, to never compromise… Even in the face of armaggadon. We were also taught to respect women, honor our elders, and to always put ourselves second. As a man, I acknowledge what I was taught, and…

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Nothing to Lose

Fellow non-conforming, fandom-driven, nearly-socially-inept general mavericks should relate to this, I think.

So this month, I started Sixth Form to do my A-Levels (whole other post coming about that, watch this space). My four relatively local (i.e on this island) friends, however, did not; they literally all ditched me to go up to the college on the other end of the island. Which was okay, because they’re doing their own thing and carving their own paths and yadda yadda yadda, yay for them. But see, they’re all on the same campus; I am alone on mine.

Bar one new ish-friend and a few acquaintances-I’m-too-shy-to-trouble-with-my-company, I’m basically left to my own devices. Leaving me with tons of time to study, which is awesome and really useful, actually. So why am I complaining?

Because I’m still worried about seeming “weird” for my personality.

Which is completely ridiculous. I sit by myself at lunch, I sit alone in the library and I basically refuse to speak in class to anyone who’s not a teacher, but woe betide that someone should think my Fluttershy badge is stupid. Reading fanfiction is perfectly fine and entertaining, but if anyone even glances over my shoulder, I’m locking my phone down ASAP and throwing it into my bag as if it has burned me with the shame.

Only, I’m not ashamed. My only regret in terms of fanfiction is how freaking weird some of my darker experimental pieces (A Second Chance, Things You Can’t Be Taught, etc) ended up, but even then I wouldn’t want to delete them. Just, y’know, put some cautionary notes before them. At the end of the day, they’re part of me, and now I can tackle darker and more mature themes with less weirdness 🙂

So my basic point? There’s no reason at all for me to feel bad about my interests or my traits. I’m completely okay with them and they’re not harming anyone. Which is why my crippling fear of people finding out about them and thinking I’m weird entirely stupid.

But I didn’t write this post to just leave it unresolved. No, I wrote this because I have had a fraction of an epiphany.

Here are the facts:

• I am okay with myself and my interests

• My close friends and boyfriend are okay with me and my interests

• There’s nobody else I’m close enough to be deeply affected by the opinion of if they aren’t okay with me and my interests

In short: I have nothing to lose.

I might as well just sew all my cool fandom patches onto my new leather jacket (it’s fake, don’t worry) and parade them, because why the eff not. I might as well read my fanfiction and fangirl over new episodes, because why the eff not. I might as well write my coursework from a pansexual POV like my own, because why. The eff. Not.

What’s the worst that could happen? My acquaintances don’t awkwardly sit on the other side of the lunch table and ignore me? Nothing to lose.

Now, I do appreciate that other people with this issue may be of a better social standing than I am, so maybe you have a little more to lose than I do. But honestly, if those people are going to reject who you really are and what you really like, then they probably weren’t worth keeping in the first place. Trust me, I learned that the hard way; remember Carly because we’ll be coming back to her in the future.

At the end of the day, you’re you. You can’t change who you are or what you like; those kind of things change and develop on their own, but you can’t force them. As long as nobody’s getting hurt (and you’re not breaking the law or anything), then there’s nothing wrong with you and you shouldn’t feel the need to hide yourself.

My Book of Life

Something you should be aware of: I have a lot of mental issues. While none are officially diagnosed disorders, I consider them as such (I have a whole other post about that, don’t get me started on self-diagnosis).

I have struggled a lot with these issues, but this post is not for pity. It is to explain one of the ways I am dealing with them, as well as figuring out some ideas for my future.

A notebook.

It may seem stupid, but I have a Life notebook. It contains a mish-mash of things; from tattoos I want to get, to skills I want to learn, to traits I want to have. All the stuff I want to have in my life. While it may seem like a silly idea in theory – and yes, I know I sound like every useless school listening service ever by suggesting it – I can honestly say that it really helps. Thinking about things I want to do/see gets me through my depressive bursts, while writing it down satisfies my anxiety’s desire to have a plan. Plus, it fills time productively and is actually pretty fun.

If you are unhappy with an aspect of your life (which everyone is, don’t lie), then a good way to work towards correcting it is to write it down. You don’t need to sketch out every detail to scale, but having a basic note will make you more likely to actually do it. Studies have actually shown that physically writing the idea down is more effective than typing it somewhere, but if you need to use the Notes app on your phone, do it. I mean, you might want to up the security on your phone afterwards if it gets personal, but still do it.

By taking the time to evaluate your hopes and dreams – or your “bucket list” – you can actually learn a lot about yourself. For example, I discovered very recently that I’m interested in a medical career, which I had previously written off long ago. I also discovered, by virtue of writing a “keep in touch” list, that there are some ‘friends’ in my life that I am perfectly content to lose touch with. And that’s okay.

I would like to go to university. I would like to foster a child. I would like to skydive. I would like to get my black belt (that may be a little harder though xD). Had you asked me a few months ago, I would have been adding a lot more “might”s to those sentences. Now I know some things I would really like to do.

If you’re not certain whether or not you want to do something, a good indicator is when it physically aches. You may not know the feeling, but if you get a physical tugging in your chest or butterflies in your stomach at the thought of it, then put it in the book. That feeling doesn’t always come though, so don’t live your life waiting for it; take some chances and it’ll come to you.

My personal Book of Life is decorated with quotes on what life means to me. Yours can be whatever you want. Whatever life means to you. Love, laughter, money, success; whatever is most important to you. Most of my quotes are about love and happiness, but that doesn’t mean that yours have to be. Life means different things to everybody.

… I wasn’t intending for this to become a meaning of life thing, but okay.

My original point was: having a physical record of the stuff that interests you is a great motivator in the darker times, and can also be a fun project in the lighter ones. The best of both worlds, if you will. I already hate myself for saying that, now the song is stuck in my head.

Didn’t I warn you guys in my first post that I go off on tangents? I think I did. I hope I did, anyway.

At the end of the day, your life is your own; you have to create it as you create yourself. However, when it all gets a little heavy, you might not see the light of the future in the tunnel, so having a solid reminder of what’s out in that light can help pull you through.

Whether you decide to make a Book of Life or not, I wish you all the best with your hopes, dreams and journeys through dark tunnels.