The Me You Once Knew

Please forgive me for not posting but I've spent 30 hours on planes in the past 2 days and when I haven't been flying I've dealing with everything surrounding the flying. It's been an exceptionally busy time of late and I don't see things changing but I'm determined to keep this going as being creative must remain my priority.

So I'm going to do today what I've done before and write something completely spontaneous. I've been told many times recently by friends and family that it's great to see "the old Josh we know and love" around again. I have at last managed to shake most of the monkeys off my back (there's a few pesky hangers on but I'll deal with them in time) and have now solidified and am putting into practice the attitude to life I've been striving for over quite a few years now. This has been the subject of my recent posts.

So here I go - a spontaneous poem about my new attitude to life.


The Me You Once Knew

I've heard you talk of the me you once knew
And I'm proud to say he's back like never before
I look back at all my many great falls and it's true
I've struggled to attain the great changes I've sought

But persistence has proved itself in distance and now
I see life like I had always hoped that I would
It takes much effort each day to climb my way up this tower
But viewing the world from the top does me the greatest of good

For now I view the world from my positive lookout and don't
Spend all my time looking down at the ground
I grab hold of life's obstacles with a bold look and won't
Ever let negativity get my hands and legs bound

It all seems very cliché when said in this way but I
Must say that I feel that it's very much a fact
That if you want good things to always be happening you must strive
To be positive of thought then make sure that you act

As talking's never enough to get you past all the tough things which
Life throws our way every day without fail
But if you make the commitment to take steps and not dig a ditch
Then you'll be walking down your life's happiest trail

My Fight To Write Began Here

I've continued searching through the old poems I found but I must say there is little I really want to post. Not because I'm concerned of criticism but simply because it reflects a person that I simply am not anymore. There is a lot of very negative writing and I don't want you or I to dwell on it. I certainly expect I will write plenty of deep, serious, dark poetry in the future - I don't believe anyone is truly bright and positive all the time. It's just not natural - but it will be written by the person I am now while in a down moment, not by someone lost in the depths of negativity and depression.

There is one thing that I would like to share though as it's very relevant to this blog. I was given a large leather bound writing book 4.5 years ago, in which I have stored all my sheets of older writing, and in the inside-front page I wrote this poem. It shows just how long my fight to write has been going. So much so that I only started to make any ground in the fight in the past 2 years and wasn't actually getting ahead until the past 2 months since I started this blog I feel. The moment I wrote this poem was a big step in the right direction.


My Fight To Write Began Here

Almost ten months of borrowed time
This book has waited for my jilted rhyme
One simple purpose for it to yearn
That my days if doing may soon return

We have traded glances across the room
Touched once or twice amidst my fetid gloom
How disappointed it has been to wait so long
Without one single line, let alone a song

All it wanted was just a little of my time
Any rhyme to define these many thoughts of mine
Just a little would be enough, no great demands
A moment every day, a touch of pen and hands

That would've been enough, I know to be true
For things to change and my age bloom anew
But nothing, not a single pen stroke found
Its way to stay on these pages bound

Yet after so much time the moment is here
Though be it another moment of pain, tears and fear
And despite my neglect of this big part of me
It has patiently waited where I needed it to be

Now with your help I hope I might not go insane
We'll build this dream together and never go back again
 

Life Is Now

As I mentioned yesterday I found a pile of my old writing so I'm giving you a little trip into my writing history.

I may have written mostly dark, brooding material in the time before this August just gone, but this poem shows how long the ideas that I now believe in so strongly were already seeds growing in my mind back when I was younger. This one is about life being today. It was written around 1996 I believe so it only took me 14 years to finally put these words into action!

Reading this also makes me remember how much of a serious-minded, philosophical 18-year-old I was. To honest, I've been much like this since about 12! I "grew up" a bit early. Even when I was 6 or 7 and someone asked me what I wanted to be I wouldn't say "fireman" or "policeman" or something else common. I wanted to be an astronomer. Serious adults felt the need to tell me that there wasn't many jobs in astronomy so I should reconsider. They said the same thing when I readjusted my ambitions towards archeology at age 8. Hmmmm, I wonder why I ended up so serious. Note to all adults - let kids have dreams! There's no need to inflict reality about job availability on a 7-year-old who wants to be an astronomer!

But I digress. Back to the poetry.



Life Is Now


Life is now
Don't ask me how
No need to bow
Just be

Don't stray either way
Or you'll make yourself pay
For staring at yesterday
Be free

If there's no way you can change it
Worrying is more than a little strange
Lit up by firey faces
From long forgotten places

Now is always a memory
So it pays to plan ahead
Bad fades, good remains
Using a positive head

They all taught me "why"
But one taught me "how"
The next taught me "where" & "when"
But "who" is the question now

It's harder to see
When your eyes aren't the key
We all want to be free
But how

Only know your way
And though it may help to pray
The answer today
Is now!

Flash back

While going through some of my things recently I found some of my earliest poems from a pad I used to write in between about 1992 and about 2000. Seeing all my traveling this week will make posting difficult I'm going to write a few posts in advance featuring some of this old writing just to show you what I used to write. I'll still be writing but I may not get time to do more than post a pre-written draft so it's a good chance to do this I think.

This will demonstrate one very interesting point about my writing. Up until recently my writing has always been very dark. I had always gotten a ribbing from The Stuns boys about how I never write light hearted or positive lyrics. But that's changed dramatically recently. It's turned so much that I've actually been struggling to write anything dark! This has been quite a shock to me. It's nice to write the way I do now.

Here is a quick excerpt from something I wrote in 1996 while staying in my friend Brett's caravan in Seabird, Western Australia, if I remember rightly.

Eventually all, even the toughest stone
Shall before loves tyrannous throne
'Til all that has been said and done
Passes as the setting sun

So pretty dark stuff as you can see. I might give you all of that later in the week but right now I want to give you another one from a little later. Mid-1998 if I remember rightly. It certainly epitomizes the dark tone of my writing nearly constantly in the time previous to starting this blog. Although I did find one really positive poem, which showed that the attitude I have now is something I've thought was best and have working on a lot in recent years. I think what's so interesting is I wouldn't say in hindsight that I really knew deep hurt and pain then as I did in times following but obviously at that time I felt I had. I guess I had a flair for the dramatic also.


Thoughts Of Solomon

Hello darkness of loneliness
I know not what lies within and less beyond you
I used to see you less, I used to sleep through
Now I know your confusedness

I can feel my friends
They are around me, they comfort me, or at least they used to
But they don't create light, they just help me get through
I see not the bends

Remove the blanket black
As can only be done by of whom there is not two
You must be there, I must meet you, I must be with you
But my heart continues to crack

Many a prophet false
There have been, I have followed, I've seen what they do
As many as the sand grains they have ground my heart into
When comes the marriage waltz

My heart of sand it lies
Yet never it lies about love, but again stirs up its wasted brew
To soon be spat out by she who's love is not true
Light, I must say my goodbyes

As the many bees, birds and bugs fly around
My loneliness black enhances their sound

Steven The Beaver

For a little while now I've wanted to write a poem directed at children with a good life lesson involved. Last night I had a moment where I had to be reminded of my own ethos on being action focused and not stressing just thinking about the logistics of life's challenges. So I wrote this poem today. I hope you enjoy it.



Steven The Beaver

The river wore a layer of orange and red
As leaves fell and grey geese flew south overhead
Steven the beaver paddled by his Dad's side
He asked "Where are we going?" and his father replied
"To find a good spot for a dam to be built
Using timber and twigs and grasses and silt
So we can transform this shallow river you see
Into a safe place for our big family."

Steven got thinking about this task at hand
And quickly felt bewildered by this mission so grand
For as this river swirled, swished and bubbled on by
Much timber and twigs washed along for the ride
So he said "That sounds really hard - it'll take until spring
And I have no idea where to even begin
I can't hold much mud in my little hands
Or move all the wood that this big job demands
The river will wash things away just as fast
As I can find something to replace the last."

By now Steven's father had stopped near the shore
And listened to the obstacles that young Steven saw
The when Steven had finished his worrisome rant
His Dad said "Son, you should never say 'can't'.
For although building dams is difficult for sure
You just take one little step and then take one more
And gradually those little steps add up to a lot
Until one day you've done what you once thought you could not

So with these thoughts in mind a location was found
And soon they were gathering wood from all around
And packing the mud one small handful each time
Until the great river couldn't break through their line
And as the waters rose Steven said with a grin
"We've done it! All we had to do was begin
Then with each little step we completed the task
Regardless of how hard it seemed at the start."

So Steven learnt that when big tasks come around
There's no point in getting all caught up in your frowns
As just taking small steps - any action will do
You'll always feel happy when each day is through

Similes, Analogies and Apologies

I'll start with the apologies. I haven't posted for a couple of days quite simply because I couldn't get any time on a computer to do so. I'm sorry (I say this to myself as much as anyone else) and hope to make up for it in the coming days.

I've always been known to use a lot of similes and analogies. I guess I'm just a fan of them. They can illustrate something in a way that makes more sense and provides more clarity and insight. I have a favourite analogy, which involves telling a little story. Here it is.

A group of people are diving on the great barrier reef. First they dive in the calm inner waters, protected by the outlying reef. Then they go out and dive on the outer edge of the reef. When they're finished a person asks the diving guide, "Why is the coral out here so much more colourful and vibrant than the coral in the calm areas?" The guide explains, "The coral in the calm waters is protected from the rough seas, there's less sea life eating at it and in general it doesn't have to fight to survive. The outer coral has waves crashing on it, all sorts of animals nibbling at it and does have to fight to survive. All these challenges result in the coral being more colourful and full of life."

This is an analogy of life I think. All the challenges and struggles you face are what make you the interesting, colourful person you are. I find this helps me accept my experiences as having a positive overall effect, all being crucial on my path to being who I am. Life is tough and no-one wants to face any more struggles than required, but avoiding anything that might challenge or hurt you is like living in the calm waters I think. I would rather live with the risks and the challenges and the struggles and be the most interesting, colourful person I can be.

I'll move on to the actual creative part of my blog, a bit of free verse I wrote yesterday, containing more similes and analogies. This is pretty out of the ordinary way for me to write, but it was what came to me.

A big phase of my life is officially ended. My time based in London and everything that went with that (with the exception of The Stuns - we'll be pushing forward despite our geographical separation).


Have you ever had a moment
When reality drops
A phase of life is completely over
A new path forming under your feet
As you walk
As you watch
As all your ends tie up
There comes that single moment
After you've said goodbye
To someone or something
And are walking away
Your back is to your past
Your future plans within your grasp

Pure joy and sentimental sadness mix
Like eating a really good curry
With your favourite ice cream on top
It's pretty weird
You know you're a bit crazy
But you're doing it
And you're surprised to find
That you're actually enjoying it
In some strange way
That simile is untested
But I think it's the best comparison I can make
And I feel pretty sure that if you try it
You'll understand what I'm trying to say

This feeling is largely due
To being in uncharted territory
You're moving away from a known shore
In pursuit of a new land
With some idea where you're going
But you can't be sure you'll get there
But you're trying anyway
Knowing the adventure will be worth it

This is where I'm at now
And although I'm having some trouble with the how
I'm excited and happy to face the challenge
Because I know that's what it's all about
Sailing to somewhere you've never been
Trying not to sink on the way
Making repairs and adjusting your direction
After a big storm has passed
Keeping yourself moving in the direction
You think will get you where you want to go
Even when you are feeling discouraged
Enjoying a day of slow sailing
Through clear waters
The sun on your face
The wind in your hair
With more open water ahead
And soon enough more storms and rough seas approaching
Then that day comes
You see land on the horizon

Changing My Tuning

One thing I've always been intrigued with is alternative guitar tunings. I think Jeff Buckley is my most respected influence in this department, but there are many others. Today while playing my acoustic I very spontaneously changed my tuning to C-A-D-G-B-D, which for those who don't know is quite unconventional. The lowest string is tuned down two tones and the top string down one tone. The following is me just experimenting through some different picking and chordal ideas. I'll refine this down into a song soon I think.

And if you're wondering what the bangs and clangs in the background are it's just my friend Wayne, that I'm staying with in London, doing the dishes.

Alcatraz

While in California recently The Stuns drummer, Ed, and I went to San Francisco for a few days, taking in Yosemite on the way. Here's a few photos.

1) Ed & I next to a Yosemite Sequoia


2) Me with an incredible Yosemite panorama at sunset


3) A random saloon we stopped at on our way into San Fran


4) ...inside that Saloon. Those are US dollar bills stuck to the roof!


5) Alcatraz Prison Island with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background


6) Inside Alcatraz


7) A cell in Alcatraz as it may have looked in its day


8) The view from the Island back to San Fran city


There are many other photos of San Fran but I won't bore you further as Alcatraz is the point of my post today.

Here is a video showing the view from the island back to the city and the Golden Gate Bridge


And this one is shots from the inside of a solitary confinement cell. Scary stuff if experienced more than a few minutes straight, and the prisoners would do a few WEEKS straight!!


I found the interviews with former inmates on the Audio Tour the most intriguing and this poem is inspired by one man's story of his release and how much he felt lost, alone and scared in the city that had been his home.


Alcatraz

I remember that day so clear
Joy and anticipation mixed with fear
Walking out through my old home's halls
Then stepping free of those prison walls
I had no idea where to go
As the slow bay ferry bobbed to and fro
In fifteen years I had not heard
From anyone - not one single word

Admittedly my Mum had died
And Dad walked out when I was a child
But there were people I'd called friends
Though I figured most had met their ends
And a fair assumption it would be
We had near escapes repeatedly
But in my heart a knife cuts still
That Kate never came to that water bound hill

I loved her so much words can't say
Yet she's been but a ghost since that grave day
Maybe I could find her now
Just the thought and sweat drips down my brow
What would I say after fifteen years
Would we embrace with smiles and happy tears
Or would she pretend to not know me
Or worse, be married happily

The city creeps closer - a merciless giant
My fear grows more no matter how defiant
I try to be, because I know
I've little life left to fight this foe
The ferry docks - I walk on down
The pier towards my old home town
As people, cars and trams fly past
I feel this moment may well be my last

As I don't know how to live beyond
Those walls I'm now reliant on
Now Alcatraz, my island home
May be where I feel less alone

Create

It seems like my stress levels and my creativity levels are inverse - and right at the moment, with a lot of loose ends to tie up before leaving the UK, I'm feeling rather stressed. So for the first time in a little while I feel like I'm struggling to write (falling asleep any time I sit still is hardly helping either). So I decided to just write about that. Sort of beat it at it's own game I guess.

Create
Seems quite straight
Forward
But I sure would
Argue
That's no true
Statement
If your day went
Badly
Or just plain madly

Stressing
I'm now confessing
Afflicts
My meager wits
Often
To a hasty coffin
Maybe
Help me baby
Unwind
Inside my mind

Create
See, hardly straight
Forward
And I sure would
Adjust
What it is I must
Today
No further delay
Desired
Just feeling inspired

Parting Words

I'm having trouble getting my posts onto my blog as I keep falling asleep at my computer. It's definitely time I accepted that I need to sleep more, regardless of how much I have to do.

I watched a young couple silently leaning on each other and holding hands on the train today. They had somewhat sad looks on their faces, I was on the Piccadilly Line heading towards Heathrow Airport, and there was a suitcase next to them. So I wrote this.

Parting Words

It's a long train journey
But not long enough
I try to absorb the feeling
As our hands softly touch

And the smell of your hair
Your head on my shoulder
This love like a diamond
Never getting older

The weight in my chest
Is from a growing bowl of tears
That's been filling since the day we met
Now to spill out over years

I cherish this moment
Like all that we've shared
And wish that goodbye
Didn't need to be said

If only this moment would never come
But now it's here, so please listen my love

You're everything I've dreamed of and more
Since I first saw your face somehow I was sure
But now you have to go
When we'll kiss again I don't know
But I know my love for you will only grow
You're my one true love
My heart has told me so

Gretchen, Don't Change Direction

I'm not exactly renowned for being concise. But I am working on it. And today I have a good example.

The following are lyrics I wrote a couple of days ago. To explain a little (this is why I'm not concise - always explaining) the "verse" sections of the lyrics are from one perspective - the cynic - then the "Gretchen, don't change direction" section (that's a lot of "tion"-ing) is the positive perspective - the motivator.

Gretchen, Don't Change Direction

Just disappear

A new way is waiting

It's fun to run

Everyone needs a gun

Get out of here

These analysts debating

Won't fix this up

It's still a half empty cup

Gretchen, don't change direction

All you need is a little correction

Gretchen, don't change direction

All you need is a little conviction
There's a long way to go

That's the point you know

Waiting for when you're old

Means today is sold

Gretchen, don't change your heading now

Give up your dreams

You haven't got the gumption

This other way

Keeps the bankers at bay

No need to scream

This is a fair assumption

You've done your best

Now just be like the rest

What makes you think

You deserve much more

Don't you ignore

You'll break your neck

Just look at the risk

No pen therapist

Can lead the way

When you're where you are

Shooting for stars

I'm telling you

You never reach

With your little feet

Don't listen.

Gretchen, don't change direction... etc...

Way too many lyrics! By the time yesterday's writing session with The Stuns was over and I had a chance to thoroughly review this what I had.

Just disappear tonight
There’s no more time to fight
You got to quit sometime
Why you putting it off

Gretchen, don’t change direction
All you need is a little correction
Gretchen, don’t change direction
All you need is a little conviction
So push through
It’s what you need ‘cause this is you
Got to believe, not a read through
This is your freedom, your life, your love, just go

You know few can invent
What makes you so different
The risk is evident
What if you don’t get up

Just look around
And you will see what normal people do
And there’s a reason why you will too
It’s time to see you’re just like me
And I’m not happy

Gretchen, don't change direction... etc...

You are wrong
I’ll show no fear
You are wrong
Get away from here
It’s time to go

Hmmmmm.... OK - so there's still a lot of words there. But it's an improvement. Baby steps...

Mistaken Stranger - The Song

After such huge blog entries of recent days it's time for a short one.

I'm going to give you a sneak peak into a new song The Stuns have just written. The lyrics for the song were posted on an earlier post - Mistaken Stranger. This is just a handheld recorder in our rehearsal studio. So nothing special quality-wise, and not a very balanced mix. But you'll get the idea. Let me know your thoughts.

We'll playing this new song at The Barfly Camden, London, this Sat 13th Nov. I'm looking forward to it.

A Savage Storm At Sea Subsides With Low G

This is yesterday's post but I was unable to get internet access in the past 30 hours to post this. I'll post today's (Wed 10th Nov) later today.

To start off our last morning in the Lake District we hiked up Skiddaw, one of the highest peaks in the UK. We didn't go all the way to the top as we were short of time, but it was an incredible view, particularly with the fresh fall of snow on the fells. The freezing north-easterly breeze was absolutely blowing a gale. We were standing on an angle leaning into it at times. Thanks to Scott from Greta Hall for providing us with appropriate clothing for the occasion - without which we would have frozen. He also provided us with a whole lot of fun by teaching us one of his children's favourite pass-times - "burfing". It's "body surfing" down the hill face first on your stomach. It's great fun! Here's some footage, starting off with some footage of the breathtaking view. Just note that the raging winds make some loud sounds in the camera microphone.



As I've been promising, here are some photos taken on Day 1 of the trip, at Crosthwaite Church where there is an effigy of Robert Southey inside and his grave outside. The effigy is an actual death mask so it's exactly how he looked (except made of stone of course) at the time of his death at 69 years of age. See a likeness?














I really like the Metrical Tales Southey would write (refer to yesterday's post). Simple stories directed at children, so written in a very entertaining and memorable fashion. Here is one of my own written while I was in the Lake District. Certainly not as good as his but I had fun writing it and hope you do reading it also.


A Savage Storm At Sea Subsides With Low G

A savage storm brewed this night, in eighteen-o-four
And when it struck it was like nothing I'd e're felt before
It knocked me reeling from my feet to the floor
And the mizzen mast split as if made out of straw

On the decks my men clung to what e're they could reach
But some learned a lesson only sea storms can teach
Below with the passengers Friar White prayed and preached
While my parrot Rodondu did endlessly screech

My first mate Donald May burst into the map room
And hollered "I fear we shall lose the main sail soon.
The men try to tie it down flat to the boom,
But already fourteen have been swept to their doom

I didn't reply, there was little to say
It seemed certain we'd all meet our death this dark day
So I rose from my knees and decided to play
My precious violin, although struggle I may

So I lifted her up from her box with her bow
And sat down to counter the ships to and fro
I struck up one note, very long, very low
Ignoring the screams of the children below

But as my sad melody picked up its pace
I felt a wry smile get wide on my face
And the dance of my elbow and fingers did race
'Til the sounds of the music had all else replaced

Through all my fiber flowed the little violin's sound
Quiet calm deep inside me did silently resound
Then gradually spread from me to all around
Then what happened next will forever confound

For the crash of the waves on the ship suddenly
Seemed less every second, as is if noticing me
And in order to listen more diligently
Thought it best they arrest the tumult of the seas

Before long did the ship float in favourable calm
Though the sea only minutes before struck alarm
I checked all guest's cabins, violin under my arm
And found Beethoven with his manuscript, both bearing no harm

To Robert Southey

I'm writing this from Robert Southey's study in Greta Hall. The place where he did basically all his writing in the last 40 years of his life. It's quite an honour to have this opportunity. Had the National Trust made the highest offer rather than Jeronime and Scott (who now have 7 charming children - 4 at the time of purchase!) I would not have this opportunity. I am extremely grateful to have been able to spend many hours in this room today.



I wrote a poem, addressing Southey, while sitting in here earlier today. I then took the opportunity to video myself reciting it. Here is the poem and video;



To Robert Southey

You are here - I know you to be
In as much as your spirit lives on inside me
For through the blood of five generations has passed
This passion I'm now celebrating at last

And it fills me with pride, this day finally here,
That I may be writing, my heart filled with cheer
And not gravely obsessed on the trials of my past
But rejoicing - I am truly living at last

And this small secret so long I have kept
This poetry that on pages silently slept
Is now being exhibited for people to see
That all may know this special facet of me

For though few may read, much less care for my rhyme
It puts joy in my heart, as it did you in your time


Note that I also did a video of yesterday's poem and have posted that video to yesterday's post, so take a look at that if you're interested.

It was very windy overnight after a lovely day yesterday, so there was a fresh fall of snow on the "fells" (hills/mountains) today. Below are some photos that I took.







We also went to the Lodore Waterfall, known in Southey's day by the more antiquated title of the Cataract of Lodore. He wrote a quite celebrated children's rhyme about this waterfall, which has been turned into a number of different illustrated books, such as this one - http://www.amazon.com/Cataract-Lodore-Robert-Southey/dp/0805019456



Being a very unique opportunity I also took video of myself reciting 2 of Southey's Metrical Tales, directed at children largely, as I fondly remember my Grandfather reciting these to me from memory when I was young. I also took photos of these poems from the book I read them out of - a complete collection of Southey's works from 1845.

Here are the aforementioned for those who are interested;



















I'll post more photos from yesterday when I post tomorrow, such as photos of Southey's effigy, so people can inspect the similarities in our faces.

The home of Robert Southey

I'm writing this entry from Greta Hall, the home of my ancestor Robert Southey - historian, biographer and poet laureate to King George II and III of England between 1813 and 1843. I won't rabble on with more details here but if you're interested then here's the Wiki page. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Southey

I feel very happy that my long-anticipated trip to his home in the picturesque Lake District of England's north-west is happening now and not at an earlier time as planned, before I started this blog. It's great to share this experience here as it does serve to demonstrate the reason, genetically and environmentally, that I write poetry. My lineage to Robert Southey comes through my mother's father's side of the family, and he would tell us of Robert Southey and recite his poetry to us from a young age. I believe this is where the interest to write poetry was first spawned, although it has always been something that's felt natural and innate. I share many similarities to Southey, physically and intellectually, which is extremely interesting to observe, considering they've persisted through five generations. It think all of us would be surprised at our similarities to our ancestors, and I'm thankful that the life, works and personality of Robert Southey are documented in substantial detail so I can get a firm feeling for the man he was. Although not particularly renowned now he was about as famous as a poet could get in his day.

Among a few things I did today, along with my older brother and other friends staying at Greta Hall, was go down to Derwent Water, the large lake next to which the town of Keswick (pronounced Ke-zick), home of Southey for the greater part of his adult life, is located. Here are some photos.


Greta Hall - home of Robert Southey, his family, and the family of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Still a family home but partly used as a Bed & Breakfast.


My older brother Caleb and I out outside Greta Hall


Derwent Water


Part of Keswick town with the peak of Skiddaw behind (180° of above shot)



We also went to see his grave outside Crosthwaite Church and his effigy inside. But more about that tomorrow. Here is a poem I wrote today on the shore of Derwent Water.

I'm adding to this post the following day as I had the opportunity to spend considerable time in Southey's study today, where did nearly all his writing in the last 40 years of his life, and while there I recorded myself reciting this poem. I also changed the word "hills" to "fells" which is what they're actually called.

Here is the video;



Derwent Water

A chilling wind whips Derwent Water's green shore
My face, hands and feet quickly freeze to the core
I stand here and soak in the sight before me
Knowing something quite similar did Southey once see
And with much inspiration to call on this day
I'll try to convey the trees' casual sway
As they huddle in groups orange, yellow, green, brown
The oldest inhabitants of old Keswick town

While rising behind the grey water's expanse
Majestic fells roll their romantic in-trance
As silver clouds flow past peaks scattered with white
Like-coloured ducks float in the icy delight
On a grassed rise nearby shaggy sheep graze and lay
Watched over by grand Skiddaw every day
Small wooden boats sail, and as in Southey's time
Ferry keen Lakers to the small isle so sublime

Such beauty highlighted by buildings of stone
Make this town a place most would like to call home
As would I, if the chance were presented to me
And live as did Southey from 1803

Fireworks and Bonfires

For the past week or so the evenings in London have been punctuated by the random explosion of fireworks. Yesterday was Guy Fawkes Night here. A long-standing tradition that will never die in the UK. Read more info here as I don't have time to explain further, but it's very interesting - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Fawkes_Night

Here is something to capture the spirit of the night and the spirit of true love.


Fireworks and Bonfires

The night was black before the bang
Then out it rang
And my world would never be the same again

Whistling, crackling, popping light
The sky was bright
Shall we no time forth forget that night

As the hours, the days, the years pass by
I realise
That these fireworks, this bonfire could never be denied

For they mark the moment our lives changed
And history's page
Will re-tell that moment for an age

As if Guy Fawkes carried cupid's bow
I'll always know
This bonfire will never lose it's glow

It Will Never Be That Way Again (Perspective)

Doing more writing, but not having any more time, I'm working hard on trying to write spontaneously, with minimal thought. You have to bare in mind with that statement that I'm someone who thinks WAY too much, so "minimal" should be taken comparatively to my normal amount of thinking.

This poem was just a spontaneous run of thoughts and images that became a story, sort of in front of my eyes. It seems very literal, but really it's a parallel for many areas of life; the extreme fluxes and temporary periods we go through - usually (or should I say hopefully) learning an important lesson and being forever changed.

If I could sum up this poem in a word it would be "perspective" and hence I've added that to the title. A change in perspective can radically change the way we appreciate and value things. Our priorities and focus can be dramatically shifted by even a small change in perspective. It's a powerful thing.

I would like to take this opportunity to point out that Australians spell words such as "colour" or "favourite" as I just did, with the extra "u" compared with US spelling. In case anyone in the US was wondering.


It Will Never Be That Way Again (Perspective)

All the colours changed first
And then they blew away
Leaving bare twigs and barren beds
In what felt like a day

We wondered how something once so good
had turned so very bad
Once we were falling slow
Now on the bottom of the bag

"Well, at least things can't get worse"
Was the common comfort thought
Yet no comfort did we feel
Just a hard wooden floor

But in just a few short months
That floor seemed very good
Compared to the pavement which strangely
Feels harder than wood

Not to mention lacking once so standard things
Like a window, roof or door
A bare room is sure better than
No god-damned room at all

It felt like we were fighting
For our lives each frightening day
While in tireless pursuit
Of any possible way

To get food for myself
And this precious girl of mine
A half eaten burger
Was a treat at that strange time

I feel a deep seated shame
At what I did just to get through
But I know that what I did
Was simply what I had to do

I had a fresh black eye
The day my friend found me
It had been seven long years
Since we shared a dormitory

I was barely a shadow
of my former self but yet
They knew that it was me
and soon we had food and a bed

Our true smiles returned with effort and time
And those trials are far away
But one thing that I can say for sure
Is that I'm thankful every day

It will never be that way again

We Ride The Train

As I've mentioned before I've done a lot of traveling. I've been trying to think back today on some of my experiences and attempt to paint a brief picture, a scene, with my writing. I've been listening to songs by artists like Sufjan Stevens, Simon & Garfunkel and Fleet Foxes and really appreciating how they tell a simple but moving story or just paint an interesting scene.

This poem is a reflection on one of the many train trips I've done. Sometimes alone, sometimes not. Sometimes striking up conversation with a complete stranger, other times sharing a conversation of looks alone. I hope this paints a picture for you.


We Ride The Train


Black rain falling heavy
Onto ancient stones
And bright green leaves
And broken homes

Short breaks of brilliant blue
Glimpse of bright and light
Amidst thunderous screams
Please hold me tight

Old man alone
Old woman same
Young girl with hopes
We ride the train

Loud voices fade
Just eyes alone
With smiles and jokes
We travel home

You Are The Sun

I realised today how close I am to filling my little writing book. I've filled the final third of it in the last 6 weeks! So the blogging is working. I feel more positive than ever and more confident and spontaneous with my creativity. 

To think I'd never shown anyone my poetry until I started this blog. I've written songs, but even then not in any bulk way (not like this - http://www.songsfromthehowlingsea.com/ - so impressive). So it's great to be writing every day. For anyone who has a creative bent I recommend finding whatever you need to find to help you commit to doing something EVERY day, without fail. If you manage that you've already succeeded. 

Here is another romantic poem, as seem to be flowing from me like a river right now. For those who've only met me in recent years, or have listened to The Stuns debut album (http://www.thestuns.com), this sort of writing must be quite a surprise coming from me. 

I guess all I can say is that it is for me, too. I've been writing pretty morose stuff for a while now. I've had a pretty testing 5 years or so. It seems I have a new ribbon to my bow. I'm sure there's still going to be plenty of heavy emotional stuff from me though - so don't worry Emo fans.


You are the sun
You are a bright light over everyone
Your warm rays end the night
Melting my heart as each day's begun

You are the sea
The daze of waves that overpower me
Reclaim love and I from needless graves
And wash mind, soul and body clean

You are the earth
From which true beauty sees its birth
From which all structures' strength ensue
Where my seeds grow, bringing joy and mirth

You are the breeze
Fresh winds that move and soothe with ease
Never stagnant, each day blowing through
All directions, speeds and intensities

You are my fire
Without fail each day burning higher
Guiding me when I've gone astray
Consumed in passion and desire

You are my love
So pure and dazzling as the whitest dove
More beauty than the whole world has
And you fit on me like a molded glove

The Stuns explore a groove...

Firsty - I've put a poll on my blog page. It's on the right. Have some fun with me and vote.


As I mentioned The Stuns are currently writing songs for their next album. We've been making some good progress and will have some new songs to perform at our Barfly (Camden, London) show on Saturday 13th November. 

I was tempted to show you a sneak peak here but I'm a little hesitant to give you too much information. You may have to be patient (or come to our gigs) if you want to hear new songs. Although, if the guys approve, I may post something later in the week. 

For now I'm going to give you this little snippet of a groove that Ed broke into in our writing session today, which we then proceeded to "jam" over for a solid 8 or so minutes. I've cut the start off as I didn't want to scare you off listening. But if you have the time and inclination have a listen to how the original idea slowly changes and develops. Little ideas get passed around and someone else changes their part as a result. I liked playing the groove and it's always fun challenging yourself, not only to listen to what others are adding and react to that, but to dig into your creativity for some new ideas to move the groove forward. The last minute is us getting a little "Pink Floyd", just because we felt like it at the time. 

If you like really fast drum fills but don't have time to wade through the whole track skip forward to about 3:30 for a little bit of Ed Thorn cutting loose momentarily. 



As I previously mentioned I now have the myfighttowrite@gmail.com address if you're having any trouble posting comments but want to get in touch with me. 

Lastly - you'll see a "Donate" symbol has appeared on my blog page. This is simply because I'm a typically poor, dedicated artist who doesn't want to take on a "real job", but to keep writing it needs to make me some money. No-one is offering to publish my work right now, but if you think it's worth paying for you can show your support for my writing by donating. 

If you want to donate to The Stuns I advise you go to www.thestuns.com or iTunes/Amazon (etc...) and buy yourself a copy of our stunbelievable debut album.

Crossroads of 3rd and Wilshire

Sleep. I really need more than 5 hours in a night sometime soon. I survive though and I seem to get more done so I guess that's why I keep letting this bad habit reign.

With the above in mind I'm getting straight to the point. A piece of creativity from today.


Crossroads of 3rd and Wilshire


At the crossroads of 3rd and Wilshire
Stood a little blonde boy with a familiar voice
He asked me what I was doing here
I said I'd come to make a choice

To take this moment by the hand
Or do what others think is right
To be true to what I know I am
Or face this choice another night

I'm gonna do what I want to do
Even if this jaded world don't want me to
I'm gonna do what I know feels good
Even if this jaded world don't think I should

At the crossroads of 3rd and Wilshire
I looked that blonde boy in the eye
I told him the path you choose starts here
He grabbed my hand without reply

And together we crossed to the other side
Not alone and ready to be true to what we know
Is what we're meant to do, and never hide
But walk, heads up - this is the way to go