I am a secret to myself...
I feel like i haven't written on here for a long time, I haven't done any kind of journal writing for such a long time that I feel that im all in a muddle but not from anything going wrong or from anything in particular, i think its just because i haven't had time to work it all out!
I have tomorrow off work, which is exciting, as that means i have a 4 day weekend, we have a bank holiday on monday so two 4 day weeks at work as well! I'm going to Bextival (not mine sadly another becky) which is where a load of Em's mates get together in a field with tents, a bouncy castle, beer and a camp fire for the saturday evening and we just have fun, it will be ncie to be carefree and drunk, being me and em together with people we like... Just lots of relaxing this weekend...
Work has been a little boring to be honest, no work so im playing alot of checkers and browsing the internet which as much as thats fun i finish at 5 and feel guilty for not doing anything, which is stupid as there is nothing to do... then in the evenings i have so much to do that im busy all night till bedtime and it just gets a little tiring...!
I want to go away again, i want to see my US friends and new places, but my money is so little in value that i need a year to work and what not...
I submitted my writing to a little booklet for this writers festival that im performing at, the group im with (warwick words writers group - like classes with mitch but without grades and textbooks) have decided we need our work printed, so thats kinda exciting, ill put one of my poems under this entry for you to read... id like feedback but i knwo you all might be busy...
I miss freedom, multimillion £ companies making trolleys aren't freedom, even the paycheck isn't... I guess i've just got itchy feet and feel sad that i missed so many people n my trip...
<3 xxxxxxx
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“Avocado’s are my favourite fruit”
I am tired of trying to make the breath
Escape from these shallow thin lips
That have spent so long muttering the worth
Of those patient lines of virtue.
“I could sleep forever in this soiled safe”
I see a dozen women parading together
My own feet are barely recognized within
They include themselves amid a woman’s world
Walking amongst the sky high scrapers
Amongst their sky high shoes.
“A dreary and wasted life for a girl.”
It was the Rosenburgs that made me worry
There was a beginning of these feelings
Though I tried to loose them long before
New York took its toll offering maturity
That no one seemed to tender but would take.
“I am going for a long walk”
Conventional boredom seemed to haunt me
Hypocrisy belittled my imagination
I found that truth was a mirage against
The thundering rain of my purist notions.
“No raincoat is ever water-repellent”
I bled away some of my fierce identity so that
Against a new backdrop of home coming delights
I couldn’t bear the regime and my words
And voice became so quiet they died inside.
“You can’t coddle the sick people”
I could sleep forever in a darkened hole
I would find a slit of light and burst it
Against my ashen skin until each
Breath was taken and I found myself
Pressed between the sheets with merely
Tulips to suggest the world was spinning.
“I wonder what I thought I was burying”
I have tomorrow off work, which is exciting, as that means i have a 4 day weekend, we have a bank holiday on monday so two 4 day weeks at work as well! I'm going to Bextival (not mine sadly another becky) which is where a load of Em's mates get together in a field with tents, a bouncy castle, beer and a camp fire for the saturday evening and we just have fun, it will be ncie to be carefree and drunk, being me and em together with people we like... Just lots of relaxing this weekend...
Work has been a little boring to be honest, no work so im playing alot of checkers and browsing the internet which as much as thats fun i finish at 5 and feel guilty for not doing anything, which is stupid as there is nothing to do... then in the evenings i have so much to do that im busy all night till bedtime and it just gets a little tiring...!
I want to go away again, i want to see my US friends and new places, but my money is so little in value that i need a year to work and what not...
I submitted my writing to a little booklet for this writers festival that im performing at, the group im with (warwick words writers group - like classes with mitch but without grades and textbooks) have decided we need our work printed, so thats kinda exciting, ill put one of my poems under this entry for you to read... id like feedback but i knwo you all might be busy...
I miss freedom, multimillion £ companies making trolleys aren't freedom, even the paycheck isn't... I guess i've just got itchy feet and feel sad that i missed so many people n my trip...
<3 xxxxxxx
-------------------------------------------
“Avocado’s are my favourite fruit”
I am tired of trying to make the breath
Escape from these shallow thin lips
That have spent so long muttering the worth
Of those patient lines of virtue.
“I could sleep forever in this soiled safe”
I see a dozen women parading together
My own feet are barely recognized within
They include themselves amid a woman’s world
Walking amongst the sky high scrapers
Amongst their sky high shoes.
“A dreary and wasted life for a girl.”
It was the Rosenburgs that made me worry
There was a beginning of these feelings
Though I tried to loose them long before
New York took its toll offering maturity
That no one seemed to tender but would take.
“I am going for a long walk”
Conventional boredom seemed to haunt me
Hypocrisy belittled my imagination
I found that truth was a mirage against
The thundering rain of my purist notions.
“No raincoat is ever water-repellent”
I bled away some of my fierce identity so that
Against a new backdrop of home coming delights
I couldn’t bear the regime and my words
And voice became so quiet they died inside.
“You can’t coddle the sick people”
I could sleep forever in a darkened hole
I would find a slit of light and burst it
Against my ashen skin until each
Breath was taken and I found myself
Pressed between the sheets with merely
Tulips to suggest the world was spinning.
“I wonder what I thought I was burying”