So I'm A Bit Of A Jerk (I Have To Be Sometimes)

So maybe I'm an ass.
I might even be a absolute
Pain in your neck but you know,
Deep down,
That's what makes me the lovable
Social reject that I am.

If I was perfect
Would you really have kissed me
Under the moonlit treetops
In the park near the pizza shop
Where we'd just eaten greasy peperroni;
I could still taste it on your lips.

Don't judge me by my actions,
Love me for who I am.

I know I'm no prince charming,
I never wanted to wear the crown.
But I'll hold the door while you walk through
Even if I trip you along the way.

'Cause if I was perfect
Would you really have kissed me
Under the moonlit treetops
In the park near the pizza shop
Where we'd just eaten greasy peperroni;
I could still taste it on your lips.

Don't judge me by what I do,
Just love me for how I feel.

I don't want fame, don't need fortune,
At least no more than anybody else.
I'm happy as I am and when I'm with you
I'm about as happy as I can be.

So let me ask you this;

If I was perfect
Would you really have kissed me
Under the moonlit treetops
In the park near the pizza shop
Where we'd just eaten greasy peperroni;
I could still taste it on your lips.

Don't hate me because I'm mean,
Love me 'cause I don't mean it.

Natural Repetition

Human beings are simple creatures.
Nothing more than advanced mammals
Without the excess hair.

We follow rules, patterns,
Patterns of behaviour,
Behaviours define who we are
And yet they also make us
Nothing more than generic.

We are individual machines
Following our individual programs
But that is all we do.
We follow our programming
We act out our behaviours
Independence is something everyone has
But not from themselves.

Now you think
What the fuck
Is this twat on about.
You can't be independent
From yourself.
What a stupid
And completely erroneous
Suggestion of an idea.

To which I say,
Shut up.

And continue,
People are predictable.
No, I can't meet a stranger
And tell him how he'd react
To stepping in a pile of shit,
But I can give you the reactions
Of any of my friends.

And no matter how many shits
They step in, they will not change
The way they stop and grimace.
Or the way they try to wipe it
On the pavement.
Or the way they take their shoe off
And beat it against a wall.

This is what we call human nature.
It is a simple case of reactions
And feelings.

I know how you'll react to this.
Most of you won't even read it.
Of those who do,
Maybe 85% will actually leave a comment.
At least one of those comments
Will be childish and pointless,
And probably monosyllabic.
Another will be long and thought-out,
And equally pointless.

But I don't write to entertain
Or even to try and teach you
Something,
I write because it is what I do.

Whether I do it well
Or whether I step in shit
I am simply following my programming
Just like everyone else.

Life [In All Its Glory]

Spending too long in a world
Of stone and glass, you will
Forget life's more simple pleasures.

I'm not talking about standing and
Staring, no. Nor will I make any reference
To daffodils.

But show me someone who does not
Find a sort of pleasure
In watching a bonfire burn.
The smoke rising and writhing
With the gentle wind,
Rearing up as a snake before
Sliding away through the long grass
And the trees.

Find me a person who would not
Want to pick a fresh apple from a tree
And eat it, knowing they'd helped it grow.
After all, although a fruit caused Adam
And Eve's untimely exit of Eden,
There is nothing to be ejected from here
So let them eat.

Would it not suit any man or woman
To be able to lie on soft moss
And gaze at the sky during a clear night?

So Davies can have his time
To stand and stare.
Wordsworth may wonder
Among his daffodils.
Give me a fire and an apple tree
And I will show you the true pleasures
Of life.

Stab A Young Heart

You told me once or twice
That it was all OK.
That it wasn't a big deal, what we did.

Well I disagree.
To me, it was something.

You forget, I think, how young I am.
Or was. I've certainly grown up since then.

In young hearts,
Cupid's arrows leave lasting scars
If they shatter.

But not to worry, I don't hold it against you.
After all, to you it was no big deal.

And who can blame you
For thinking so?

To you I was just a boy,
Nothing new. Nothing special.
And you may have thought you were just a girl too.
And who could blame you?

Lost At Sea

The waves come crashing down

As my mind is carried on a sea of emotion.

Thoughts fly around as gusts of wind,

Billowing the sails.

My compass does not know which way to point,

It is confused by the writing mass which surrounds it.

All hands, man the deck!

Keep her steady!

But the only hands on the deck of my mind

Are my own.

And these hands cannot calm the waters

As Jesus once did.

They must simply try to keep this ship afloat.

Man the rigging!

Hoist the sails!

Alert the captain!

But I am the captain,

And the hands on deck;

The first officer,

And the chief engineer.

This is my ship, and this ship is me.

With a snap the mast breaks and crashes into the deck.

My hands are trapped, and without them

The winds of thought and waves of emotion

Will capsize my once proud vessle.

Now it is sinking into the depths..

Down..

Down..

Down.

11 Days

Day 11,

Counting down and saying my last goodbyes.

It's ironic; everyone seems to be leaving before me,

But I'm the one who's going away.

I'll miss these people, these friends.

And I know they'll miss me.

Day 10,

I'm standing before you tonight for the last time,

Squeezing as much time in with friends as I have left.

Dancing, shouting, generally having a good time.

These are the times I want to leave behind,

Memories of carefree nights when we ran in the rain.

Day 9,

Writing letters of application

Which I've been putting off for far too long.

Hope to have a job waiting for me

When I get back. Or at least some voluntary work.

Day 8,

Last time I'll play around with the guys

At Battle & Brew; if they even want to go.

Cramming in as many kills and points

As I can handle in one night.

Day 7,

Packing begins.

This is by far the most daunting task.

Moving the entirety of my worldly goods

Into one, very big blue suitcase.

I'm not looking forward to day 7...

Day 6,

Packing continues;

Or rather, packing starts after on day 7

I took one look at my room and decided I was

Too tired.

Day 5,

Packing becomes complicated as I run out of space.

Perhaps neatly folding the clothes was a good suggestion.

Room returns to general state of dissaray as suitcase

Is emptied.

Day 4,

Take a break from packing

To wish farewell to anyone who is still in Atlanta.

Although most everyone is gone already,

I am sure I'll find someone to distract me from that suitcase.

Day 3,

Pack, pack and keep packing

Until everything fits and anything that doesn't fit

Goes into storage. Whatever is left behind

Is thrown out.

Day 2,

Return all those video games I've borrowed.

Apologize for having only just gotten round to it,

But explain that I was busy. Packing.

Sell Xbox to friend. Hope to dump some games on him too.

Day 1,

Mope around in general bordom.

Said goodbye to everyone,

Packed and re-packed everything,

Nothing left to do now but sleep for a final night in my large IKEA bed.

Final Day,

Boarding the plane.

Goodbye, America.

You shall indeed be missed.

Mistakes Are Made

Thunder crash

And rain down lash

Onto her seared skin.

See her as she stands

Blood running from her hands

And the water at her feet turning pink.

Do you see, she cries,

Tears run from her eyes

And the salt mixes with bloody rain.

Watch her fall down

At the eyes of his frown

And she lies in the dirt and stones.

She thought he was the answer,

But he was nothing but more questions.

Will she ever learn?