Some words on extremism

I believe that when I have suffered real loss it will be much more appropriate to commentate on events that so far
I have only been involved in through my obsessive consumption of media

and possibly my greatest material will unfold through some grand tragedy but it is fair to say that my life has mostly been blessed with safety and stability
and clearly I have no right to push any opinion I might hold on anybody

standing here against the wind on any given Friday when the night is getting late with nothing but a cigarette and headphones for company it is impossible to feel anything but despondent and lonely
especially when everything I read currently leaves either a wounded heart or a sour taste with me

anyway it seems we have no choice now, the world is indeed polarising whilst I barely struggle to make it through the week and drive on through my apathy

hatred, intolerance, violence and despair have become daily but this is because of the actions of the few, not many

I will not be subdued, I stand here strong for the west, I guess I am Charlie but mostly I am me

and whatever is thrown in our direction I will continue to be

And now for something completely different... A small selection of my paintings

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the pursuit of happiness

so you know who your friends are
at 2.23am on a Monday morning
and it's too late for music and drinking whiskey out of a champagne glass
anything positive is only just enough at this time
so push on through the reasonable
the whole building is aching and creaking with the sound of bass
but it is far more important that some words get through the shell to you
so fuck all the responsibilities of tomorrow
and keep on getting older and older and older
nothing brings any more joy
just keep finding excuses to escape
a walk into the wilderness
a walkabout is due
but not yet
it will come but there is still much to do
if it is possible to internalise something that is intrinsically powerful and external
none of this would be essential
a subject I discussed very recently with a very important person in my life
anyway
I was there
destroyed gang life and that
yes I beat all that
we lived hard and never had to draw gun
I flew back down south
and yes the pace is slow compared
but I can breathe the beat whilst watching sunsets
and green hills
and rivers flowing
and yes I am sat
2.53 drinking whiskey from a champagne glass
heavy beat in headphones
not quite where I was 5 years ago
but progression from there
happiness is almost impossible to achieve
but you can try to obtain objectives
I got a few
but plenty still spin round my head
with stars in time with beats
and alternate criticisms still ringing from early defeats
I still hope to beat on through you
and destroy anything you ever said
rebuild then some
so I reckon this is almost done
destruction now for everyone
like I said whiskey in a champagne glass
and this says something about what I think about holding your chin up
so hold down
and hold your chin up
another whiskey and we will be strong
forever
and on and on

Things fall together

The year following the death of two great Africans
I have never seen storms like this
The wind tears and screams our cities apart
The bold steely creations of man have been swallowed by the sea
And water fills our homes
Disrespectfully
Washing away the clutter of a modern English family
You only have to turn on the tv
For angry pink faces publicly venting their frustration for living too close to the beach
A million miles from the intense African heat
Of the savannah or Sokoto streets
A little more hot and a little more beat
Without two loud guiding voices

Yet the dream is still alive and thrives
We still have Half of a yellow sun
And it makes our relative degree of suffering a million miles from real plight
I get wet, unfortunate
But I survive

another day, with grace

I guess that's it...
when the rib cracks
the lungs and heart aren't too far behind
and the view doesn't need to be the hardest or the night the darkest
to spin an entire world around
and tears fill the eyes
it's in breaking and breaking down
we find the wings to create beautiful things
and the greatest understand
that the worst rooms in town are the source
of all the best and most destructive pictures and words crafted by man
by pen and by hand
and it all builds
day on day
to one of those sparkling
magnetic evenings when
in waves the starlight fills
through eyes
arms
fingers
to paper
to new eyes
lungs
and hearts

the great unwashed

the people who go all the way crazy
who kick and scream and kill and maim
the terrible few who fall so far
from basic levels of decency
that they lose even the core of humanity
and exit society
are probably not so unlike you and me
but a little more scratched
a little more dogworn
and beaten

they eat and sleep and work and pray
like you or me
they probably even had dreams
once

but the knocks kept them down
the sheer weight of it all
a cross to bear
that somehow shifted a potentially great
and important member of this western democracy
into a sadistically wrong
and tragically destructive note in history

a smile or two
or a kind word to a stranger
every now and then
might make that little bit of difference
to the otherwise bleak and terrifying life
of a potentially great
and important member of this western democracy
so close to the edge
you will never know

or maybe it's far
too late for all that
now

Your life is more important

another poor soul
leapt from a tall lump of concrete
not far from here
and that's just how it is in this town
these days
the frustration and rage
is building audibly
but with no outlet
our destruction is fired inwardly
and too many are being lost
to the cowardly
decisions
made by the unaffected
in The City
and it's enough to make a man
consider the point of his very being
to the point of
considering
a ledge somewhere
or a gamble with trains
pills
a hundred steps
or stairs
to look down
on a gamble that will never pay
but
it's sometimes
easier
to
jump

holding on

the sun brings a new electricity to my feet
as the wind forgets to push against me
and I pretend to run across the street
or at least jog when you can see
and we race to meet at the pier
in our own passionate way
on this brightest of days
I hit top speed and forget the silly plays
the terrible mistakes
when things fall right
and into place
with eminent style and grace
I rarely stand tall
but when there
I stand tallest amongst them all

I'll take the road

it's too early to go crazy just yet
humanity is still young
keep your chin up kid
we have time to learn and grow and discover
and ulitmately survive
he said
it's just a shame we won't be here to see it
because it's no joke
the way life can give and take away
see just this morning
I found myself staring at screens
and pages
and pages
and pages of nothing
and I got to thinking that it's all well and good
for the last man out
who gets to stand either triumphant
at an innings well played as the universe coughs it's last
or even to stand defeated before
the skys tear themselves apart
but you and me
we are history forgotten
not even a footnote
there's a room
somewhere
with an hourglass
in my name
and yours
as well

dreamy season for drifters

this man in dark trousers with a deep frown keeps staring me down
he follows me on walks through corridors and hallways
always talking
always shouting
where were you when the legs came off
and we were writhing around on the carpet
spitting up feathers
tearing up fluff?

so I took a swim on the living room floor
because I just couldn't stand to watch the pouring rain anymore
in the middle of summer
besides my mouth was so dry
I ate the last apple and sighed
which made the puddles outside
seem like an oasis

the lights flicker almost constantly
and the windows rustle like leaves
like they know we build the electricity from trees
and dead animals

and they say we're running out sooner rather than later
but the cars keep on eating
and the streets keep on eating
and everything is fed
as it should be
but the things we build never feel as right
as real
as perfect
as anything that nature built in the first place
with no design
but an impossibly beautiful
precision
and
sense of time