See you tomorrow x

I need new books. The others have been there for far too long.






And so dear Readers, another day concludes.



The Olympic Torch xx

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

This year has been a trying one, I'm sorry I've been more naughty than nice but hey, it wont do any more harm for me to write you a letter, huh? So, hows the family? I trust Mrs Claus is in good health and as radiant as ever, we simply must have you over for dinner over the New Year! Is Rudolph still leading the way for you? Good ol' Rudolph :)
So, shall we get down to business?
This year I would very much like..

• A pony
• A magical castle
• A unicorn
• World peace
• An end to poverty
• Political stability
• A pretty dress
• No hunger
• Some new make-up
• An iPod that I'd never use
• Racial equality
• A walk-in closet
• My hair to obey my every wish and command
• The snow to disappear so my daddy can come this year. You know how much I hate to love criticising other peoples efforts, and I'm sorry about that, but last year it was a tad last minute, do you remember? He only made it back into the country on the morning of January 1st and although it was a huge relief to have him there, it kind of put a dampener on the whole holiday. I'm sure he'd like to be home as well. He's missed enough celebrations this lifetime already don't you think?

Anyways I must be going, there are gingerbread ready to come out the oven and decorations to put up. Thank you very much for your time and patience,

Love SJ
xxx

Dam Dum Dom.

There, the colour schemes a little warmer now :) (and it matches my new pyjamas, but that's not the point)

The Days Are Getting Darker

So I'm having one of those days where...

In the Waiting Line.

So she's got two.

She's got more and re-casting her fishing line.

They don't have one/any.



Why do I feel so...shelf stacked?



The Olympic Torch xx

Never Will You Be Taken For Granted.

I just had the most awful daydream.

DO YoU  KNOW ThE
MUFFIN MAN?


The Olympic Torch xx

Common Wealth Games.

last friday i got a hefty bit of news and a decision to make.
i need to tell them.
it wont be easy to say the least.
one hurdle and with any luck, there wont be any need to jump again.



i had a dream last night.
i had drifted off to sleep sitting on my windowsill.
in the dream, instead of falling down, i had fallen into the sky. have you ever dreamt of such a thing?


The Olympic Torch xx

...-sighs-

About Me (Hobbies / Interests / Descriptions)

Hi Mr Blog,
How're you? Yeah I know, the weathers b'n shite hasn't it? Ah well, only 6 months and 26 days until the first day of spring. That's a date for the calender for sure.


-awkward silence-





-awkward turtle-  -awkward jellyfish-




Y'know, in two months time, it'll be your first birthday? Maybe we should go out for a meal or somethin'? That would be nice, wouldnt it? Steak? How do you like yours? Rare? Me too! Wow, we have so much in common! Who'd have thought it? -chuckles-


See you around then,


The Olympic Torch xx

Scratched CD.

Dearest Readers,
     How empty my evenings have been without you! How many weeks has my subconscious craved your company and loyalty? I tell you; too many.

But yeah, seriously :P
It's something like the ninth day of college? I'm wrong, I'm sure, but laziness prevents me from working it out fully. I'm likin' it. It's good, a tad lonely perhaps, without that Jesus-Gnome talking about things I'll never understand :P Everyone is so tired. My tutor is like me. In 200 million years time. That's getting on a bit, you know? Respect your elders, bitch. Racist, sexist, fascist, yeop..It's okay, you can stop pulling that pained expression now...nope, now thats a grimace...Pity. Thanks mate, thanks a bloody bunch.

The Hunger Games isn't so bad -the book that is- I've just finished the second one. Four hours. Personal best. I think its pretty much safe to say that I've had enough of love triangles with a fickle mind at the root of it all. I'm hungry now (back in five minutes) Om nom nom. Stupid big print. I didn't even need my glasses :{ What kind of book does that make it?! Gahh.

Oh emm Gee, I haven't mentioned the Blue Ribbons yet! Well, now they have. Have I told you just how groovilicious/funkilicious/adorizzle they are? I'm sure you can imagine :D

Well guys, I would dearly love to say more but my general overseer prohibits this.

I wish you all a good night and the sweetest of dreams,


The Olympic Torch xx

Ladies and gentlemen, please, welcome back to the stage...

As a few of my peers have pointed out, having multiple blogs but few posts is a little bit...

Elvis has left the building.

Dearest Reader,

I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say 23062010 is a very special number to people. I know someone who feels that way. You probably do, too.

And when it comes to typing my umpteenth blog post, I can't help but be part of this tradition.
It is a very special day, indeed. Not just because this is my 157th blurb, but also because today is the first day of the completion of school. I am through with their examinations. I am done with their Boards. We've waved each other a nice goodbye. One that makes you want to say 'hello' again. Whoops, I've lied to you.

Anyway, since this is the end of a chapter, I am forced to treat it with a little extra importance. And with treating it so, there is an important announcement I'd like to make.

I am not going to blog anymore on Sorry, Dinners here...

I never knew I'd have to say it so soon, but they've told me that there is no better time than now.

So, adiós muchachas, and adiós muchachos. It has been extremely prodigious contributing my thoughts to the Internet, where not many people cared.

I will be logging, blogging, poemogging on The Interlude. over the summer and then September onwards I'll be doing the aforementioned on Chapter 4 which is still work in progress.

Good night everyone, and thank you for coming. This is your host for the evening,


The Olympic Torch xx

Uncles and Oil.

Yes lovelies, I know this is my THIRD blog of the day but I thought this one had to be shared.
It's a poem written by my Great Uncle Mike when he was first diagnosed with Alzheimers six years ago.
Morbid but beautifull, it was written to his wife Isabelle.

Old Love.
His bones were crumbling columns of sand

that blew apart when she breathed, and scattered
grains across the canyon like memories.

Once, while he was sleeping, she sewed shut
the tiny tear on his temple where the nightmares broke in
with a single strand of her tawny hair.


Once, while she was sleeping, he planted seeds
in the corner of her eyes, so her sorrows
would always bring her flowers.

-Michael Rattle. Aged 72 at the time but only 30 at heart.

This one I wrote after reading an article about the recent BP oil spill. Bastards.

Deepwater Horizon.
We stab the ocean and it bleeds oil.

Pelicans lick poison from their wings
along the shore, where dolphins wash up
slick and black as million dollar lies.


Pelicans lick poison from their wings
with their eyes clouded and hungry.
Slick and black as million dollar lies,
they watch, waiting to be washed clean.


With their eyes clouded and hungry
the black suits shrug their shoulders.
They watch, waiting to be washed clean.
A freckle on the ocean’s face, they say.

The black suits shrug their shoulders
as the black blood pours in barrels.
A freckle on the ocean’s face, they say,
smiling with a row of drills for teeth.

The black blood pours in barrels,
stealing sunlight from the seafloor.
Smiling with a row of drills for teeth,
we stab the ocean and it bleeds oil.



The Olympic Torch xx

Faux Pas.

Right now, I'm feeling like this.
Right now, I'm this and thating to this.
Right now, I'm making a plan to feel a little like this later on.

Whoopsies. I've used my blog as a tiwtter again.


The Olympic Torch xx

Nap time.

Sleepy, sleepy, sleepy.

It's almost over isn't it? This era?
The tapestry that was being woven now needs a hammer and nail.
That mixed medium dosser has bounced back some b-e-a-utiful acoustic sounds.
I hope the wools, ribbons and threads will improve with age. I hope the string instruments agree.
Hope. Twice in as many sentences.
The tempest has approached again. I hope their thunder will be the soundtrack of my summer.
Thrice.
Their eyes, they're so bright. They are my lightening reigning power surges that leave be humble, grateful, maybe even fearful.
The bolts of electric energy remind me of frayed ribbons. Look closely and the streaks of illumination will appear to be blue. My Blue Ribbons. A force of nature. But not mine, their own.


The Olympic Torch xx

Go on without me.

That shall I talk to you about today?
I'm listening to Mornings by Portugal The Man. I've heard worse (Y)
I'm sat crossed legged on my bedroom floor.
I would write you a poem, but what would it be about? (you may leave a comment with sensible ideas)
I want to read Water for Elephants. The reviews have been good, but its only £6.99. That means the publisher thinks it's crap.
This is one self centered monologue blog.
I have an overdue library DVD. It was due in on the 9th. Oops.
I'm dressing up as a penguin tonight for some waitress job for some 40 year old's 40th birthday (£30 for the iPod fund)
I'm now listening to Better Than Love by Hurts. YouTube it.
I'm going shopping later. But before the later when I help a gnome spill and spray Bubbly over the 40 year old's guests. 70 bottles. Fizz Pop Bang. hows that Snap, Crackle and Pop, did I do it right?
I'm going now.
Bye.


The Olympic Torch xx

Present Tense.

Just some random thoughts;


I rarely use furniture, is that weird?

''Remember that time when we set that sheep on fire with the flaming arrow?''   ''Yeah mate, good times''

''Nah you weren't being a moron, you were gangsta''

''You're so badass, you make badasses look bad''

I have on average 4 freckles per centimetre squared on my forearms. Spare time in maths tests is never wasted time.

Wouldn't it suck to be a bear of very little brain?

''Ohhhh, it's clouding over''

....om nomnomnom

Why does the beauty of this evening make me want to weep envious tears?

It's been a while since I had a Date    (hehe I love word-play)
Time to move the furniture around my room?

Note to self: Always wash hands after chopping chilli's...don't want to end up like him.



The Olympic Torch xx

Monty!

Big Surprises.

Howdo folks, its been a while huh?

well, heres a  quick recap of this past week;

Mon-exam & revision

Tues-exam & revision

Weds- a one day break from exams! yippe!!...and more of the 'R' word
Thurs - exam & that's right, you guessed it, revision! (cue M. Mc'tyre skip)
Fri - will be an exam and won't be any revision
Sat- who knows
Sun- :D:D:D:D:D No Chico, its not your time. Its PUPPY TIME!!!

Yeop yeop, we're going to see the little canine on Sunday morning (grumble grumble) and...AND..fingers and toes crossed there is a fairly substantial chance that we'll have a lot less leg room on the way back. But, damn that 'but', it all depends on how the wee lad is. The poor thing has been stuck down in those cold cold kennels with a spot of Kennel Cough. No matter, he is a resilient soul, he'll pull through :D

So, here he is! Monty, a cross between a greyhound and a whippet and hes bloody gorgeous. Ladies and Gentlemen, Monty Moakes :D

The Olympic Torch that will have comany when she next streaks past your door xx

Rain, rain, go away.

' 'Rain' by Mother Nature '

She sets up and dims the lights
Her orchestra of wind blowing through lush green trees
Builds from a whisper to a forte
Crescendo!
Beautiful lightening cast blinding light in a white dangerous rhythm
Thunder drums quietly, then boom
And it stops...
To let applause ripple through the valley which she lingers
Until it stops in the early hours of the dawn
With the sun peaking over the glittering hills
Her song has finished
She slips away and hides in solitude
To write another song
To shatter earthly silence
Once again to amaze us all
And shower us with 'Rain'


The Olympic Torch xx

Love like a melody.

I. ADORE. THIS. SONG.

Play it loud. Very loud.

Uuhh, I'd tap that.


Enjoy!


The Olympic Torch xx

Will it ever end?

Days like today don't come and go every day. They show up at your door only once, and even though they don't ring the bell twice, they tend to last long enough to remember. It's like a melodious series of events, really. A lot like life. In a nutshell.


Today, the calendar informed me that there isn't much time for school to end. Coincidentally, it'll take just as much time for everything else to begin, as they say.

But hasn't everything already begun?

Ponder.


The Olympic Torch xx

Things.

There has been a lot of this going around lately;
Don't do this. Do that. That's not right. Do that. Are you sure you want that? Don't do that! Do this. This is odd. Stay away from that. Never do this. Ever. Don't do it. Is that the right thing to do? Do it. Don't do it. Do not do that, ever. If you do that, you'll make a mistake. Don't do it. You'll regret it. Don't do it. What is right, what is wrong? Don't do it. I don't think you should do that. You know, you'll wish you did this when you see other people have done it. Do it, then. But don't do that. I don't think it's the right thing to do. Don't do this. Do that. Doing that would result in something unfortunate. Why would you regret it? Because you live by standards that are beginning to collide with things that you want to do. They don't allow you to do them. So, I'm regretting it both ways. Doing it, and not. So, I'd advise that you don't do it. Do not, ever in your life, do that. Maybe in the future, you'll wish you didn't want that. Make the right decision. Don't do this. Do this. Don't do this. Do this. Don't do this. Do not do this. And who are you to tell me what to do? You're a blind man in search of a path even though you don't know where to go. Any path will take you there. So take my advice, don't do this. Do this. Don't do this.
 
Things. Gah. Who needs it?
 
 
The Olympic Torch xx

Clumsy Angel .

My clumsy angel with your broken wings,

Hurt beyond repair.
Mocking tones, but still you sing,
Of love and hope, never of despair.
Come down, come down tonight,
I'll try to mend you with my hands.
The echo of the past crashes like a thousand tides,
No one showed us to the land...
Like sleepwalking in a dream
Everything I see and touch is new.
Don't fly away into the sky...yet,
I dont know if i have you.
Lift me from these shadows,
Redemption is right where i fell.
And that old feeling, those lies resurface,
Salvation might just be another hell.
Teach me how to grow them wings, I wish to fly,
My clumsy angel, you're never good with lies.
I know i dreamed you a sin and wished you goodbye,
And I know I don't belong in heaven,
But it's not wrong to try....


The Olympic Torch xx

Philosophy on a whole new level.

Today I asked myself a question.



Do woodpecker birds get motion sickness, brain hemorrhage and headaches?


The Olympic Torch xx

The moon is in your eyes,
It stays low, but its on the rise.
A shadow falls down on everything you leave
There is a light upon everything you seek.

Now write you're own poems you lazy arse!

The Olympic Torch xx

Plural.
she lays there
on that bed
on those sheets
except its not her.



The Olympic Torch xx

Mwahaha

Muse.
You came to me like words, broken

And I turned you into a song.
Humming your sweet tune devoid of sorrow
I walk down the roads that might take me somewhere.
Far away but still near, always
Close to you.
You said I could mould you.
Shape you free, and yes you were
Like clay.
You came to me like a revolution, forgotten
With all the idols washing down brick walls,
Like promises from my ear.
With all the heroes burning out, turning into statues.
Everyday they play, dance away
To ashes, dust
It never changes, catatonic
Like paper planes that take flight,
Only to be still.
Like hollow flags that are raised, beautiful
Just to sway in the wind.

You came to me like a stranger, lost
Went everywhere with a rear-view mirror,
Karma dice, colours, music and sanity in tow.
Always contemplate how far you’ve come.
And still, you told me the way a tree bends.
Always lament how far you’d go.
Told me where to follow, lead.
Told me all the things unsaid,
Blasphemous whispers in my sleep.
Shelter, sparks
I feel tonight.
Never knew cold fingers running down my back
Could feel so warm.



Just something to piss a certain little blonde off  :D


The Olympic Torch xx

What happened there?!

Ah, what shall I tell you today my dear readers?
Shall I start off with what I'm doing?

Well, I'm sat at the picnic bench in the eastern corner of my garden on the patio. I'm smelling the spring roses that are oh so beautiful today. I can feel the grass tickling my toes in that special way. I can hear the tinkling of the neighbours fountain. I can taste the cranberry and pomegranate iced fruit tea I made just 3 minutes ago. What can I see? I can see summer, hope, tranquility. Although like the wind I can't see it, I can sense the times changing. For the better I hope of course, but wither way we'll learn more about life, the people in it and ourselves no matter what kind of weather comes our way. Agatha Christie once said ''I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.''  Mrs Christie? I couldn't agree with you more. Life at the moment seems to me to be just like a marriage; 'for better or for worse' life could go on, I suppose you could say. It's supposedly all about balance, but its achieving that balance that is the exciting bit, the best bit. In the wise words of Ed Byrne the comedian ''Falling in love is new and exciting! You never know where the path is going to lead you! And then, once you're in love, it's....Fine...''
Oh, Arctic Monkeys has just popped itself into my head (via my headphones) . Each day is like a song in a way. Tomorrow will be. I don't know the words for tomorrows song. I'd love to leave you with a poem, but nothing I write down says what i want it to say. I've searched on the Inter web but all to no avail. So. Sit there. Think of you're own poem. Think of your own thoughts. Think of your own senses, feelings, attitudes, family, marriage vowels with life, songs, smiles, frowns. Learn my friends. Learn with an open mind but a little shade.
I wish you all the sweetest and bitterest moments on this cliche metaphorical rollarcoaster ride.
Peace out with a sprinkling of war (because without the sorrow in this world, we wouldnt know of sympathy.)
Bless your god, (or alien if you belong to the religion of Scientology) for giving you the gift of feeling the wind upon your face.
 
 
The Olympic Torch xx

The Tragical Death of A, Apple Pie Who Was Cut in Pieces and Eaten my Twenty-Six Gentlemen, With Whom All Little People Ought to be Well Aquainted.

A was an apple pie.
B bit it,
C cut it
D dealt it
E eats it
F fought for it
G got it
H had it
I inspected it
J jumped for it
K kept it
L longed for it
M mourned for it
N nodded at it
O opened it
P peeped in it
Q quartered it
R ran for it
S stole it
T took it
U upset it
V viewed it
W wanted it
X, Y and Z all wished for and had a piece in hand.


Just a little something something

The Olympic Torch xx

Room

Okay, I'm bored. So I'm going to show you my room. There's part of it. Please note the half eaten bits of pizza, the James Bond DVD and the two day old cup of water. Yum. Have fun Paedophiles.

The Olympic Torch xx

I am ready. I am fine.

I used to be colourblind
coffee black and egg shell white
Pull me out from inside

I am ready
I am ready
I am ready

I amTaffy stuck, tongue tied
Stuttered shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside

I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am covered in skin

No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded,
and unfolded,
and unfolding

I amcolorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside

I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am.... fine
I am fine

Colourblind by Counting crows.

The Olympic Torch xx

Desk.

Desk desk desk.

I have one.

Its pretty.

Its mine, all mine!

Its a big'un.

I have a  chair too.

They make me feel like da boss.

The chair is blue.

And it spins.

SPINNY BLUE CHAIR!

With arm rests.

Here I am, with my new desk. Herman. Thats it's name, Herman. HER-MAN. that name makes me laugh...name division...Her Man. Makes me wanna sing. Makes be wanna sing scissor Sisters. Yap, sure does. (8) She's my man and...well, you know how it goes. The chair I'm calling Kylie. I'm calling my Boss Chair Kylie because, (8) I'm spin-nin a-round, move outta my way... :D

Oh. Em. Gee. NEW DESK!

HOWARD! ON HERMAN! Unashamed office appliance sex.My BAMF boss face. Youre fired.

The Tricked Out Olympic Torch xx

Oh.

Oh crap I'm gonna miss them.










The Olympic Torch xx

The Rain

So I wrote this one a while back, on a napkin, in Starbucks...waiting for the rain to stop...yeah..

The Rain

The rain finds a way

Through shattered, broken windowpanes,
And cracks in the ceiling.
Through keyholes in the walls, and
Peeling white plaster.
Through the doors that only open for some.

It makes its way
Through borders and barbed wires
That can’t be bought or cut.
Through places with names we can’t pronounce,
And gaps in praying hands
Maybe open or closed,
Lifted to the sky.
Sliding down your neck and chin,
Into your bosom.
Through the song of the bird that,
Has learned to sing.

And it will come,
From the news in the television and
Songs on your radio.
From mouths and eyes that refuse to shut,
From the crevices on your skin
Bones that are dried but not hollow.
And through the wind that blows
Across these shores,
The rain will find a way,
Drown the sentries of your heart.

Prolog.

Written in Geography.


Untitled.

The storm in your breast
Is nothing new.
It’s your heart,
Beating still.

The stories in your eyes
Are never old.
They always lead
Somewhere else.

The lines in your smile
Sand dunes.
Rising, falling,
Never the same.

There were times when
I’d wish you’d burn, and
Keep at it.
Burning.
The fire inside will never cease.
Unlike the winters, gone
But you remain.

 
The Olympic Torch xx

Untitled.


Look outside to the streets to see the seasons change


Beneath your window, the things that wait

The road disappears, singing, and you

Hum and mutter the songs you wrote.

That same hurt, unknown, alone, unnamed

Behind the word, hiding

Raids your mind like wounds you hide.

Forces a tear, makes you smile.

And until it wears you out, like

The moment you turn and forget about the time

You danced and were beautiful when you said

The world moved with you

Well, you are and it still does.

 
 
 
The Olympic Torch xx

Remembering you

Remembering You. (For my Papa Bear.)

Show me pictures of yellow streets

And all your walls
Without a name

I want to see your city shining
In shades of white
I want to see it dressed
With red lights
Remembering You.

I want to dance
In all your haunts
Hear stories from old men
Then lose my way.

Remind me that happiness
Is still worth its weight in gold
Find me
In blue of the night
Within bodies that shouldn’t be sold.

Spin this path
Like my grandmother’s hair
Black and white with a little brown
Take me to your lost green land
Where I’m waiting to be found.


The Olympic Torch xx

Midnight.

Midnight.

Midnight burns away too fast

Leaving childhood on my tongue.
When I slept safe, without walls
Without a sound.
With a fear of silence
And what lay in the darkness.

Midnight crawls away too soon
Early for voices
The morning rushes,
And brings to light,
What we know we will find
Shadows running on the streets
Toes that grip the floor
Empty glasses and ashes.

Midnight flies away too slow
Like a bird late for spring
Sprung from her cage
Tired and reminiscing.
She curses every feather
And never looks down.
And like a familiar bruise
When midnight is through
Every shape has a name
Her scent remains.

Where no one knows of the days to come.

In my head,
She sings of roads.

Yep, I too am anxious of the future.

The Olympic Torch xx

Car Sex.

This photographer must have used a very powerful lens to be able

to photograph this scene. Check out the pictures - one by one.

Yep, I strained my eyes through the back window too.

The Olympic Torch xx

Aww!

I found this picture on google, how adorable?!

The Olympic Torch xx

Starry Night.

So, today I've been a busy little bee. I've blogged, I've schooled, I've eated and drinked. Right now I'm in the process of cleaning the biology culture that has be known to be my bedroom (in past lives).

D'you know why I'm doing this? So I can turn my bed around so at night I can gaze at that beautiful dark, black, dark blue, saphire, azure, violet, peacock blue, delft, aqua, navy, steel, cobalt, royal summer sky that resembles a draping cloak of velvet that had been lain over this small inconsequential planet and sprinkled with shinning gems only found in an infants eyes. Falling asleep under the tempory watch of those all consuming burning globules of hydrogen gas of hundred of years past. Saving up for a telescope(Y)


The sweetest dreams, I wish you my dearest readers, blessed bliss for you all.

The Olympic Torch xx

Simply adorable.

So, I was up at my Nan's at Easter, she gave me a box, telling me how she knew how in love with vintage stuff I am. I paid no attention to the old ladies ramblings I admit. But. On rememberance of the aforementioned box, I took a little peek. I LOVE MY NANA!

Its a bloody stationary set! Wedgwood Archive Collection. Swee-eeet!

Grace Nolan, LOVE YOU!

The Olympic Torch xx

Another poem.

Disturb Me


disturb me for the one whose given up


for the one who’s perseverance has run out

disturb me for the heart that knows no love

that looks everywhere else to find their worth



disturb me for the one who lives in chains

for the one who’s captive in the prison of their shame

disturb me as a former prisoner of despair

whose warden was her own jealousy and fear




burden me so I can see your heart

that my hunger might be for something more

teach me how to serve 

with words of grace and hands of love

i long to feel the dust around your feet

disturb me

disturb me in the places of my heart
that have hardened, become numb to life
disturb me out of comfort zones
remind me of the passion with which I once burned

disturb my happiness
that I may seek joy in you instead
disturb my busyness and noise
let your whispers be my guiding voice

burden me so I can see your heart

that my hunger might be for something more

teach me how to serve 

with words of grace and hands of love

i long to feel the dust around your feet

disturb me




The Olympic Torch xx

Barium Chloride.

Aren't we good enough? Not smart enough? Voting for the wrong party? Too loud? Am I too much of an idiot to be graced with your presence, your approval? What do you want? What would make you happy?
Do you have to look at me like that? Are you that insecure? I'm sorry my IQ is nowhere near yours. I'm sorry my attention span is like that of a small rodent. I'm sorry I'm lazier than H.Simpson. I'm sorry I can't seem to change the fucking tune. I'm sorry my vulgarity embarrasses you. Am I really worth so little in your opinion? You used to be such a big part of my life, I'd tell you anything. Now I'm paranoid. What do you say to her when my back is turned? Do you laugh? Bitch? Moan? Threaten? Imagine your life differently?

Will you actually miss us? Me? Them? Will you?

I'm sorry you're not happy. Really.



The Self-absorbed-illiterate Torch xx

Portrait of a Politician.

This may appeal to some of you, I was watching the debates n everything of TV and it pissed me off. Big time.



Portrait of a Politician

A canker
Who cankers the very wood
Wherein he stays.

A climber
Who sucks
The marrow of those
Who nursed and nourished him
With pills and potions of power.

A snake
Who stings and bites
Those
Who managed milk for him.

Makes promises
Which
Never means to fulfill
Wears smiles
Which
Emerge not from the heart
Preaches precepts
Which
Flouts with impunity
Propounds principles
Which
Violates with a vengeance.
Swears by poverty
But shuns the poor
Castigates riches
But sheathes the rich
Declares war on corruption
But shields the corrupt
Loudly advises frugality
But rolls in regality.

A living and licentious example
Not
Of service-above-self
But
Service-unto-self.

Of time there is a mean,
And there is no hook;
But things go not unseen,
Not without a look.

People running round
But, then, they stop
To hear, to listen, the sound:
A million ears to drop
To the drum roll of the ground.

The Olympic Torch xx

The moon, the bear, and the brickwork house..

:D
Took these a few days ago because the night was just...yeah.

Whadda you think?

The Olympic Torch xx

Eh-y

Today I was told by a man with a blotchy neck and an allergy to tree pollen that unless I get certain grades I'll basically become the pariah. So I've come up with some possible careers, please, be patient, I do realise the chances of me being qualified enough for these are very small...peace out.

I'll become a Thai-dye wearing gypsy. My caravan will be my home and will be pulled by a flea bitten mule that's on the verge of death.

I'll work in M.Dons with multiple facial piercings, purple hair and various tattoos of dragons and moths, maybe a spiderweb on my neck.

I'll become a Self-Help Group addict and live on benefits.

I won't be able to afford a mobile, I'll communicate through smoke signals.

If I'm lucky I may be able to scavenge meals from bins.

I'll move illegally to Holland where I'll become a hooker/stripper/kiss-o-gram/prison inmate.

I'll become an artist's muse. I will have his child and I'll call him Sorrow, after the kid in Tess of the D'Urbs but will then leave him after he hits us in a drunken rage.

I'll be a hobo living outside of Sainsburys and if for some reason i feel classy enough, I'll move to the outside of Waitrose and sit in the cast iron carriage thing with a decidedly depressed expression on my face.

I'll busk next to the guy in town with the toy drum. I'll play out of sync with him on a toy banjo.

I'll move to Spalding. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, where? exactly.

I'll become a one hit wonder. The wonder will be how they got the technology to actually make me sound okay.

I'll become a cleaner with gambling issues.

I'll move to Vegas where I'll be told to wear a lot of feathers and sequins and to pop my hip and smile like so.

I'll move to Suffolk and work in a brewery, wear shorts all year round and stink of cider.

I'll become a fraud and change my name to Hope Springs for the cruel irony.

Maybe I'll become a cannibal and be admitted to a asylum where at least I'll have a cell to myself.

I may just disappear one day and be found 2 weeks later in a ditch in Deli, India.

I'll become a stunt woman and live up to my name as The Olympic Torch. My party trick will be setting myself on fire, same difference to every other day really.

I'll become an old maid working in a library, a prison library.

An assassin.

A bus driver.

Maybe I'll become one of those people hired to hold other rich peoples lipstick and keys because their husbands don't want them to buy them clutch bags to complete outfits because the purse is £200.

Maybe I'll sell my body to science.

       Just keeping my options open. Feel free to comment on this one x

The Olympic Torch xx

We're gonna get fonkaaay.

(the title is spelt phonetically, my spelling isn't that bad despite what the general public think :P)

Anyways,
I've got some loverly new tunes for you to groove to my friends, nice light summer stuff y'know? So, here are the names of the weavers of the processed beats that got me in that summer polaroid mood;

~Sunset Rubdown
http://www.myspace.com/justchoke
~MGMT
http://www.myspace.com/mgmt
~Band of Horses
http://www.myspace.com/bandofhorses
~The New Pornographers
http://www.myspace.com/thenewpornographers
~The Yeah Yeah Yeahs
http://www.myspace.com/yeahyeahyeahs
~The Drums
http://www.myspace.com/thedrumsforever


I seriously recommend a simple mass download. Just shove them all together in a playlist and simply listen and escape. Does magic to long tedious car journies. Such talent, me thinks. L'appétit de la bonne musique!

The Olympic Torch xx

Undeserved

There you are my dears, all a glow, my saving graces.

I adore you Blue Ribbons, truly I do.


The Olympic Torch xx

Pretty much.

Surprise! Bet you didnt see a poem coming your way did you? no sirree.


Liquid Fire

The crimson sunset above

The magical horizon orange and purple
Setting fire to the sea
The warm golden soft sand
The crisp colour and rhythmic sounds
The birds swiftly on the ocean
Setting movement to the sea
The people counting down
As the night sky slowly takes over
The beauty of the Sunset
The soothing crimson sun
Being kidnapped by the moon

Summer Autumn Winter Spring
It gives the same effect
And no matter how hard you try
Your mind can not be taken away
By such glamour

All day your waiting for it
It's the time when you relax
And all of your worries swept away
It's the magic of the Sunset



The Olympic Torch xx

Bizzaro.

Today I found a blonde hair located in my left eyebrow. Curious.



The Olympic Torch xx

Mish Mash Mosh, Real Good Nosh.

What shall I write to you about today, dear readers of my palm?
Do I tell you about my dreams?
Do I tell you about my day dreams?
I'll tell you about the conclusion I made after waking up to the dawn chorus;
If im not cremated, I want to be buried in a biodigradable casket with my body facing the East so I can wake up to a brand-new day with colours that make one's heart stutter, facing the future if you like, and then when the sun sets, its warmth will last longer on my back. It's a slightly morbid way to wake up I realise, but its a nice thought isnt it?
I can't see the point in repeating my worries and woes. All the words I know have been sold to everyone I am blessed with. My dictionary doesnt solely belong to me anymore, every word belongs them. Them. Ahh, them. They're worth it. All of it.
I have a new favourite flower - Peonies - theyre stunning. Big an blousy and in your face but oh so fragile. Picsearch them?
Today a phrase or a saying, whatever you want to call it, came to me from an old book I can't remember the name of. It went something like this;

When we are bore unto this world we are born whole. No tears or frayed edges; whole. Whenever we lose someone or find someone, their importance is measured in the stitches of our seams. I have just won the lottery, and with each beating pulse my thunderous heart echoes, the seam is repaired. Each pulse regains the lost stitches. All due to that one person.

Something like that anyway - my weak mind doesn't do it justice.

Well, thats all for now. I'll keep you posted (hehe, blog humour) if I have any other pointless thoughts

The Olympic Torch xx

Dearest Readers,

Dearest Readers,

Over recent weeks a few of you have asked me about the things I have posted.
I'm going to have to ask you not to.
I use this blog as a way of getting things off my chest- like a diary if you like. Y'know, being bitchy if I want to, whining if I should so choose to do, write poetry that might be about people or might be about other flavours in my life. It's my place to just write to nobody in particular at all. I like this little cyber slice of Moakes Pie. Everyone can savour it, covet it or loathe it perhaps. I like to think that I can just have my few rules on here? Rules like;
-No commenting unless I specifically ask in the blog for them.
-No questions at social events, meetings or places such as school, parties and sleepovers
-No questions or comments at all really. *
Harsh, I know, but there it is. Please respect all that. Im sorry if I offend you with this or in my posts.

*I'd just like to mention also, that you are welcome to the pictures I post, to the poems I am never content with and the memories and lessons I bequeath to you, my dear reader, just make sure that I have my name somewhere on it. Especially the poems and pictures.


The Olympic Torch xx

The sun, it shines.

happy, happy, happy :)

The Olypic Torch xx

I've seen you, far away
Vaguely, I recall, you were in dismay.
Coz once a pretty, dainty young thing walked past,
You offered all, hoped everything lasts.
You took two steps back, to avoid a bad fall.
then realized she's not worth it, not worth it at all.

Now all you do is drink
hot tea,
in the hopes that someone
will set you free.



Liberate me?


The Olympic Torch xx

Gone.

ne me quitte pas.

I sit down here, waiting.
all I've got now,
is a apple in my left,
and my pen on the right.

The Olympic Torch xx

Maybe.

Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.


The Olympic Torch xx

Phrases of the day.

Me: ''Trust me, I'm a Jedi.''

T.V. C''Thank you ellipses for helping me...trail...off...''

Uncle R :'Fee fi fo fum''


Aunt F :''Who was that dear?''
Cousin M: ''I dunno, King Shit of Fuck Mountain, I think he said''


''Caution, this car turns into a robot'' (bumper sticker on the M25)

Cousin Bobert : ''Sarah, you have the grace & poise of a crackhead rhinoceros''

Hannah says:
gah...makes me feel positively ill
Sarah says:
shouldnt it technically be negativly ill? y'know...because, being ill is a bad thing?

Cousin T: ''I find the church so exciting my soul has a boner''

Cousin B: ''who do you think would win? Narwahl or zombie''

The Olympic Torch xx

A last minute prayer

Dear God,

PLEASE dont let me die today because of that blasted bike!

The Olympic Torch xx

CRAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!

I FOUND ANOTHER GREY HAIR THIS MORNING! SOMEBODY SHOOT ME! PLEASE!?!

PLEASE!!!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I'M ONLY 16! WHY GOD, WHY!

The AGING Olympic Torch

Cry me a fucking river.

In america.
House sharing with some really great friends because I failed my physical in the army.
Cancer. Ovarian. Cervical. Breast. Bowel. Brain tumour.
I'm cooked.
I get angry because everytime I share the news the word 'sorry' is uttered.
Why do people apologise for things out of their control?
The love of my life(faceless, nameless) turns up on my doorstep.
This is how the scence is played out;

''Sarah? Sarah- Jane? Helloooo?'' John's calling me, I know I should answer.
''Yeah?'' It was harsher than I meant it to be. Bitter on my tongue to speak to such a kind sweethearted man like him.
''Some bloke to see you, says its important''
My sigh is exasperated and childish. The floor where I've been lying for far too long creaks like my grandmothers joints when I push myself up off the oriental rug. The door's moan adds to the sorrowful tune thats quickly become the only song I hear. The floorboards protest as I make my way arthitically down the staircase like a woman in her 80s rather than teens.
''Who is it?'' I call down.
''Find out yourself you lazy arse'' I couldnt help but laugh.
I wait until last moment to look up from my stiff toes to see who it is.
There, shrouded in the hallway light looking like a tortured angel He stands. He stands, I stand. Time stands. He shouldn't stand there. He should be walking. Away. Away from me. I am Death.
I ask him to leave because I can't bear for him to see me as weak as I am. Dying.

He asks for one final embrace. ''You need to leave, please''
He takes my hand and walks me over to an arm chair where he sits down. I crawl onto his lap and curl up against him. For the first time since diagnosis I bawl my eyes out. He holds me together. He keeps my colour from escaping the lines. He stops the sweater from unravelling. He stops the shell from cracking, so to speak. We laughed together once, we lived together too and now, in this small cell, we cry together. Sharing the emotion and grief.

Then I woke up and cried. Weird huh?

Poorly written and not very dramatic but hey, youre the sucker for reading it :P

The Olympic Torch xx

Nice.

Anybody seen this years Calvin Klein models? wow.



The Olympic Torch xx

Little Boy.

The little boy died again last night, hit by a car.
There was nothing the paramedics could do.


The Olympic Torch xx

Nightmare.

The boy died last night. Cancer. I didn't know. When I found out, I tried to stop him from giving up. I tried.
I beat someone up too. Slammed him into numerous walls on the way to the front door when he refused to leave. I asked him nicely. He just wouldn't take the hint.
I can be rather scary.


The Olympic Torch xx

Erm, just wrote this one..its from the POV of a character in a book I had just read. Fairly boring book, I won't bore you with its name. All you need to know is that it was the breaking fluid tube. Death by asphyxiation.
Stolen Moments

Let me take you to another place

When nothing ever seems to matter
It's just you and me
We can take flight like a thief in the night
When no one and nothing else takes up our time
Finally you're only mine
Each and everyday I'd walk with you right by my side
But instead we have to hide, sneak around and lie
Just to spend time alone
If lovin' is a crime, I'd rather do the time
And leave the world behind
Stolen moments with you.....


The Olympic Torch xx

Its a silent song I hear

There's a buzzing in here tonight.
A gentle stir right at the bottom of me.
And i've decided to let it ring.
I want it to move.
Move until I have something to show.
Move until I have no other option
but to let it carry me away.
Humming deeply into my ears--
It is brushing its rhythms against my thoughts
And I'm tip-taping
Its subtle tones.

The Olympic Torch xx

Hopeful

I heard this quote last week at the end of an episode of Criminal Minds. They have quotes at the beginning and/or end of each episode and this one really spoke to me. It’s a section of a poem by Emily Dickinson.

“Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all.”

By the end of last week I was ready for a reprieve and found it in this quote. Then after hearing this, serendipitously(Big word!) I also resumed reading a book I had ‘put away’ some time ago as I just couldn’t get into it. Now I can totally get ‘into it’ and it is food for this ravaged soul.

I am reading Anne Lamott’s “Plan B Further Thoughts on Faith”. If you haven’t read any of Anne Lamott’s books you have no idea what you’re missing. She writes with such raw honesty and it has helped me to know that where I am is just that…where I am right now. No excuses or apologies.
That said I am HOPEFUL that the ‘thing with feathers perched in my soul…’ is alive and kicking and ready to tackle whatever comes our way.


The Olympic Torch xx

Reality.

Life is really there
Whether you choose to see it
Or not. It exists.

It is separate.
The world is not subjective--
relative to you.

People don't dis'ppear
Once you've exited the room;
You self-centered twit.


The Olympic Torch xx

When I've Run Out Of Words

When I've nothing left to write

And all my other thoughts are
Too private to type
Or too me to expose
Or too vapid to admit,
I read.

And oceans lap my toes.

The skies open,
And the hands of God
Are sculpting mountains.
I feel the lips of a
Long anticipated lover
Softly brushing against my neck.

I am lost.
Lost in the words of another.
Lost in words of Divine Inspiration.
Lost in the words of the world.

I am happy
And free of
My ever churning
Torrent of words



The Olympic Torch xx

Promise?

If I ever go into a coma and theres no chance of my waking up.

Switch the machine off.





The Olymic Torch xx

Mm. Yes.

Today I did a lot of thinking. And research. I made quite a few discoveries. I rediscovered a scar on the back left of my head, why it’s there is a long story that takes us back to the nursery school of my youth, Eastwood and a boy called Ryan with a stupidly long nose. He was a bastard gotterdammnte him. Anyway.


I re-read a couple of books and learnt how to commit the perfect murder. Good to know these things right?

I also decided that in the unlikely event of yours truly moving to America, I would move here;

(Portland, OR) Because the pictures are pretty and it’s green, lots of lovely trees :) and it frequents my dreams like a bar. It seems a nice enough place, not too shabby, not too clean. Finally, I really like the name. It sounds like Oregano, the herb, which makes me smile because its my favourite herb. Whenever I dream about moving here there’s always a little boy somewhere in the picture. He always runs up to me and leaps into my arms, I wonder who he is.

I had two dreams in as many naps (disturbed night) both of which I was in the army. Can somebody please explain to me why the armed forces are such a large part of my dreams of late? Everybody knows that discipline + work + me is an unbalanced equation! It isn’t quite right! Little boy pops in again in each of these.

Nightmares of late are the same too; a friend is in a coma or dying of some form of cancer.

Just come up with a quick analytical recipe for these three ingredients;

A big commitment that I respect and kill to honour and preserve. Travelling in the line of duty whatever that should be a big enough commitment for me to need to be stationed there permanently and the child, a ward? Aunty Sarah is what he always calls me. So that could either mean that I become a blood relative to a boy who can no longer be cared for by his mother (why America confuses the hell outta me at this point because Anna’s a home bird) or he’s the child of a dear friend –I’m a God-mother?- The friend dying. Is this showing to me how deeply afraid I am of the word you use for that final farewell? I’m not too sure.



I’ll add more later. I need to do some work, IA and Geog.

Aliens abduct me now!



The Olympic Torch xx

Why Lord, why!

Gah.
Why do some teachers have to be so nice?! Bleh!!


The Olympic Torch xx

Firefly
I was searching for the moon one night
I was searching for some light
But then there was nothing bright
There was no moon or star in sight

I walked and walked through the town
My heart still in a frown
I wanted to see a circus clown
That I might feel upside down

I just went on and reached the park
And the night was deep and dark
The birds won’t sing, the dogs won’t bark
Yet something made its mark
I saw a firefly, small but bright
It was alone in the dark night
It came near me, thought it would bite
But it just sat and made me feel alright
It flew around my hand
It flew around the ground
I thought that I should stand
And follow it around
It brought me into places
I never thought I’d see
We ran and played races
Until we reached a tree

The tree was at the top of the hill
It stood strong and still
Then I started to feel
The firefly was becoming ill

And as soon as it lost its light
The sun came shining up so bright
A tear came running down my face
And though it’s gone, something stays

I have always kept in mind
In the dark you’ll always find
Some light or someone kind
Because if there’s hope, you’re never blind

The Olympic Torch xx

Piano Love.

I know, it's a bit soppy etc. But here they are, in no particular order  :)

~ Moonlight - Claude Debussy

~ The Rose - Matthew Cook

~ Brahm's Lullaby

~ Claire de Lune - Claude Debussy

~ Moonlight Sonata - Beethoven

~ Sugar Plum Fairy - Tchaikovsky

~ Divenire - Ludovico Einaudi

~ River Flows in You - Yiruma

~ The North Sea - Michele McLaughlin

~ Solitude - David Nevue

Many sweet dreams to you my readers,

The Olympic Torch xx

I don't know.

gee guys.
I dont know what to say.

I need to pee, that much I do know.
I know I'm in trouble with The Gnome.
I know I'm wearing blue pants, yoga pants and a top 'n' hoodie.
I know that I absolutly adore my friends hence the motherdinosaur syndrome.
I know that we might not see each other everyday as of september.
I know that I really really don't want to share them but have no power over their choices and that I wouldn't want to even if it was offered.
I know they're gonna make new friends and walk different lines.
I know I loathe the thought of there being a chance that one day, not too far away, that we may and probably will drift and I'll lose them completely.
I know they will promise me once they've read this, we'll be friends forever, that they love me and will miss me too and that theres no chance of us never seeing each other again after the next stupidly short two years.
I know that I can't promise the future and that they know they can't.
I know that I still want to all the same.
I know that whatever happens they are all intelligent respectful and passionate people and that's all they'll need for success. (success being a doctor or lawyer or the beautiful job of being a mother who loves and can be loved. Who will be loved.)
I know that if they asked me to, I'd let them go and let them move on.
I know they'll be safe.
I know I will be.
I know they'll make new friends in different circles.
I know I will.
I know that it would be magical that if we were separated and then united due to those social rings. It would be a miricle and a blessing.
I know that I'm afraid.
I know that should I ever be able to master the funeral march, writing a piano solo about them will be next on the agenda. No words. Thats what I'd call it, it would be simple and classy and exciting moving to sweet.
I know the ending to that single element symphony would have a thoughtful ending.
I know they would never hear it.
I know playing that cheeky little number would make me cry each time.
I know that this fear is a good thing because it shows how much of a big deal this new life is.
I know I'm going to change.
I know I'm not always going to be this fuzzyheaded ginger with a foul mouth and a tendancy to be a fully accomplished hypocrite and snob with a ego too big to fit into a lift with more than one other person in it.
I know they probably won't like that.
I know that where ever I go I will have a spare bedroom, couch or floor with their name on it should they fancy a cup of tea in my finest bone china with a gingerbread biscuit on the side...or water.
I know theres a world waiting for all of us.
I know this gypsy future scares and thrills me at the same time.
I know its a fresh start, a new beginning.
I know that they love me or will at least miss me no matter how much they deny it.
I know that I love them and miss them no matter how much I'll deny it.
I know that someday I will have to mutter that fatal farewell word and mean it.
I know that it hurts just thinking about it.
I know that it scares me so much more than any needle, doctor, monkey.
I know that Sir James Barrie who wrote Peter Pan was right when he made Peter say

" Never say good-bye because good-bye means going away, and going away means forgetting."

I know they won't talk to me about this blog because I'm asking them not to.


A lot of knowlege.

A lot of unknown.

A hell of a lot of amoré.



The Olympic Torch xx

p.s. I know that I've decided to create a new blog for Collyers. Sorry, dinners here is for you guys only. It's special, my firstborn, it needs to be left pure, for you guys, The Blue Ribbons.

New Book

The opening paragraph;

Brain tissue clung like wety grey lint to the sleeves of DR. Kay Scarpetta's surgical gown, and the front of it was splashed with blood. Stryker saws whined, running water drummed, and bone dust sifted through the air like flour. Three tables were full. More bodies were on the way . It was Tuesday, January 1, New Year's Days. She saw her assistant lift the shimmering block of  organs from trhe chest cavity...''



Delightful, don't you think?

The Grossed Out Olympic Torch  xx

House strikes again

Medical humour at the dinner table (well, over the phone anyway)

Wilson ''So let ,me get this straight, you spent the last two hours wanking yourself to a medical journal?!''
House ''Yeah, I'm surprised it took me that long too, usually I'm not into that whole foreplay thing''
Wilson '' A medical journal on heart coronaries?''
House ''There's no way those valves on the double page spread are real!''

The Olympic Torch xx

Dr vs Lawyer

Today, a minute ago, just now, the 23rd day of March, I asked me Mam whether she'd prefer me to marry a doctor or a lawyer. Heres the gist of what she came out with;

''hmm...both have great pay...stressful for them...different humour...kinky doctors...hard and fast...cars...city...party dresses...holidays...whores...utensils...peach juice..I remember when...then he...a case..pictures and evidence...gueneys...gloves...mysterious suitcases...suits...''
-sighs-
Mothers...

I didnt catch all of it, those bits are the parts I had recovered from the shock of the previous in time for  :L

That last sentance made sense in my head, promise, unfortunatly..sorry.

The Olympic Torch xx

A Little Late But...

Halloween sucks.


Stupid costumes. Stupid shitty sweets.

At least there's no mention of Jesus.
Bless you all.

The Olympic Torch xx

hehehe

From a random show;

Me: Do you love me Mum?

Mom: Of course.
Me: Would you love me if I was gay?
Mom: Yes, of course. You’re my daughter, I will always love you.
Me: What if I was bi-sexual?
Mom: No, because then you’re a slut. You have to pick one or the other.


The Olympic Torch xx

Trepidation

Even more than Mondays, I hate Tuesdays. There appears to be some conspiracy constantly looming about that day when everything seems to pile up and ends up due Wednesday.


Tuesdays probably take the lion's share of the blame for my increasingly prominent panda-like features, especially around the eyes.
I suppose my being born on a Tuesday just makes this one of the little ironies of life

The Olympic Torch xx

Einstein

I wonder if he ever wanked himself..


The Olympic Torch xx

When flies buzz around your head..

You know how when it's so hot that you can literally see heat waves penetrating the ground, your mind just shuts down in spite of the fact that you might be having a potentially argh-worthy paper in the coming week? It's been one of those days.


One-and-a-half wasted days when I should be making desperate love to poetry and Mansfield and I spend it with my mind drifting all over the place. But it did settle on one disturbingly interesting, persistent thought.

Have any of you ever wondered, when you're standing on the edge of that 15-story building, what it would feel like to just jump? Given the fact that I'm an altophobe, I definitely find it strange that the idea's been tossed around in my head for quite some time. It didn't help that re-watching that particular episode of Bones served to rekindle an old flame.

I think if my mother ever found out about this, I'd be sent straight back into therapy, but I'm not particularly suicidal. I just wonder what it'd feel like. I don't really know how to explain it. I think we all have those days.

Maybe if I ever get down to it, I'll let you know from the other side.

The Olympic Torch xx

Change of Heart

It must be love. Nothing else explains:
the unbearable longing which I'm left to quell in your absence.
the frequent trips to the cafe, even if I'm broke, just to see if you're there.
the horrible twinge of jealousy when I see you with someone else.

the overwhelming joy when it's just you and me, alone.

how I don't want to share you with even my closest friends, though I force myself to do it with a smile.

how I want our little moments to last forever, if they could.

how, when it comes to you, money is nothing. And that's a big deal.

how you make my heart ache so much in the face of such sweet temptation.

how I want to loathe you but end up sinking deeper.

how I can honestly admit to myself that I love you.

This is for you, my dear Spikey Delicia Latte-Vanille. No other mass produced coffee machine operator will capture my heart in quite the same way.

 
The Olympic Torch xx

It's been a while :)

I don't have a solid reason behind my sudden hiatus of sorts. I can't say that I've been so busy that I've had absolutely no time to update, because I've spent quite some time sleeping in front of the laptop out of boredom, even during the three week holiday we had in, what, 2009? Even as I type now, I'm due to return to Nowhere in a little over twelve hours after the emergency break due to the H1N1 outbreak.


I had a random thought but it flew away before I could type it out. :(

Oh well, good night. :)

The Olympic Torch xx

Elasticity

I wonder how much it stretch it takes to break a rubber band.

-yells-      ''OI! TILL! GET YOUR ARSE OVER 'ERE''

The Olympic Torch xx

Dear Pricks (tweaked drastically)

As pointed out to me by an insanely prescious friend, I get carried away and make my opinions sound like facts.

I apologise to anyone hurt or offended by my ramblings, I havnt been put into certain situations so I cant speak from experience.

The Olympic Torch xx

Dear God(should you exsist and just hide to taunt and puzzle agnostic-athiest-scientists world over)

Dear God,


If you’re anything like the dude in the Torah or Morgan Freeman; you’re probably not my biggest fan. Plus, you’re really busy listening to the prayers of devout Jews who keep kosher and don’t do shit on Fridays like me the model athiest/agnostic (although, technically, I fit the latter criteria…and when I feel fat, I skip the BLT for lunch). Anyhow God, when you’re not overly busy burning bushes on top of Mt Sinai, please take a quick read through my letter. If not for me, then do it for the environment.

God, I don’t ask you for much, as opposed to those whiney sissies who constantly bombard you with their silly requests for a soulmate. I don’t bug you with requests for a winning lottery ticket either; although I do think you should consider it; just imagine all the good that can do. I'd continue my education and wouldn’t ever have to go to work instead I'd bugger off to faraway lands and that would make a lot of people happy.

But enough of tangent deliberations. The reason I’m writing this letter is that I’ve been noticing certain patterns that have drawn my attention to a few shortcomings in your intelligent design. I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job; you’ve been doing it for eons and you’re probably better at it then I would be as well as Bruce Nolan. Although, I am a really quick learner and I've learnt from others mistakes (namely Mr Nolan aka Jim Carrey) and am looking for a part time job. My resume is enclosed.
Anyhow, God, every couple of months I get an urge to restock all of my bras. So, for the past week I’ve been doing some undergarment shopping and noticed that every goddamn store is out of brassieres in 34D. Which leads me to believe that either 1) you’ve made too many women with my boob dimensions, much to the pleasure of many men or 2) you’re not producing enough kids in third world countries to work in bra factories?

Maybe you’ve been taking some time off? I’m guessing that’s why men invented plastic surgery and halter tops. Sometimes, you have to take the bull by the horns, right? Or maybe the prayers of men have been drowned out by the exploding Chinese population. I feel you God, one Chinese person is hard to understand…I can just imagine how tough it is to decipher the prayers of two billion.

God, I’ll be stopping by La Senza on saturday. Please make me a 32D by end of today.

Best Regards,

-The Olympic Torch xx

Cooter and Gomer

Stanley died in a fire and his body was burned pretty badly.
The morgue needed someone to identify the body, so they sent for his two best friends, Cooter and Gomer.
The three men had always done everything together.
Cooter arrived first, and when the mortician pulled back the sheet,
Cooter said, 'Yup, his face is burned up pretty bad. You better roll him over.'
The mortician rolled him over and Cooter said, 'Nope, ain't Stanley '
The mortician thought this was rather strange.
So he brought Gomer in to confirm the identity of the body.
Gomer looked at the body and said, 'Yup, he's pretty well burnt up.
Roll him over..'
The mortician rolled him over and Gomer said, 'No, it ain't Stanley '
The mortician asked, 'How can you tell?'
Gomer said, 'Well, Stanley had two assholes.'
'What? He had two assholes?' asked the mortician.
'Yup, we never seen 'em, but everybody used to say:
'There's Stanley with them two assholes.'


The Olympic Torch xx

She WAS pretty hot..

After watching a guy stare at a girl going past I turn to my father and say,

''Awed, yes, mystified, yes, drunk - I think we both know the answer to that question ''


The Olympic Torch xx

Damn crow.

''And that's when, the crow said 'your eyes look tasty!'''


The Olympic Torch xx

Today a little birdy tol me..

Today I was told that I was solid, luscious, and slightly acid. Gee, cheers mate.


The Olympic Torch xx

About rain:)

Some of these I wrote last summer (if you can call it that) when the 30 odd members of my family and yours truly were abandoned on a dorset cliff to fend for ourselvesin tents with gale force winds blowing with its obnoxious dinner-date rain. Others I wrote this evening while listening and looking at the rain greet us hello. Enjoy xx


Bitter-Sweet
Stinging your face

Harsh rebukes
Thunder roll
Flashes of pain
Dark and furious
Waters of rain

Fading slowly
Anger receding
Soft and gentle
A caressing touch
Earth renewed
A fragrance spread

Showers of love
Moods natural
Wondrous chameleons
Nature's ways
Loving and harsh
Bitter-sweet

(this one doesnt have a name yet)
I pull in that fresh, cold air, which only a storm can bring.

The rain is light, the dewy wetness,
I walk along, among majestic shadow,in the light of grey clouds.
The air is fresh, as I inhale a deep breath,
With the light wide above, a whiteness in the grey.
The wind taps my back, and scales past my neck and hair.
The breeze is pleasant, as I delight in the reflectory puddles and raindrops.
I walk along, breathing it in,
On my path home, the work of day is over.
And here I go, one among the many,
enjoying the momentary solitude, as I dwell within the mind,
and commune through thinning crowds.
And you, tapping rain drops, bring me home.

Musical Tear (cheers Mozart and Debus)
Cymbals are crashing as thunder.

Flutes play a gathering wind.
Swirling trumpets are awestruck wonder.

Violins strike as lightning,
Basses play a fear resounding.
Senses are soon heightening.

As crescendo sounds,
The hurricane blows through,
Drum drops grow louder, harp astounds!

Sudden silence causes heart's delay,
But one soul shattering melody is heard.
It breaks across numb minds as day.

A single lyre plays fading rain,
Falling like trickling tears
Mark depth in Poseidon's pain.

Lyrrrics.

The faces all around me they don't smile they just crack
Waiting for our ship to come but our ships not coming back
We do our time like pennies in a jar
What are we saving for

There's a smell of stale fear that's reeking from our skins.
The drinking never stops because the drinks absolve our sins
We sit and grow our roots into the floor
But what are we waiting for?

So give me something to believe
Cause I am living just to breathe
And I need something more
To keep on breathing for

So give me something to believe
Something's always coming you can hear it in the ground
It swells into the air
With the rising

Rising sound
And never comes but shakes the boards and rattles all the doors
What are we waiting for
I am hiding from some beast

But the beast was always here
Watching without eyes
Because the beast is just my fear
That I am just nothing

Now its just what I've become
What am I waiting for
Its already done

Believe, The Bravery

The Olympic Torch xx

Love and Longing.

Yeop, another shitty poem that I havnt quite finnished yet.
This one I wrote after reading Time Travellers wife, its kind of  a combo of him talking to his wife and then talking to his daughter. Err, so yeah, sorry about its lack of structure and touches of americanism. Just for those who cant quite put their finger on the bit about his daughter, the bit about saying the words is when he tries to sing to stop himself from fading. Well, here goes.

Love and Longing
Goodnight,

Tomorrow morning isn’t far
I will be interesting
When you’re alone and feeling bored
I watched a city cry, I thought I lost you in the fall
I thought of everything, I cannot lose you anymore

So won’t you stay? I’m drowning in the rain
Darlin’ say the words and I will stay the night

I’m just the trouble that you need
I’m just a year away from when the future swallows me
And when you’re left behind
It takes a lifetime to be seen
Cuz something happened here
Somehow we’re younger in our dreams

So won’t you stay? I’m drowning in the rain
Darlin’ say the words and I will stay

You’re different, and all the rest are the same
Yes, you’re different, and all the rest are the same

The Olympic Torch xx

new blog name?

Baroness von Bloggenschtern, what do you think?

leave a message after the beep :)


The Olympic Torch xx

Youtube :D

Crazy Sweeds dont ask how i found it:L

Have a nice day:D



The Olympic Torch xx

Fail

''I love these little rare moments, its like having a little sister!''

''I am your sister''

''..Oh..Sorry Anna...''


The Olympic Torch  xx

How are you?

FUCK OFF WITH THAT QUESTION!

Aww, bless :P

Matty

Sleep my sweet heart,
For you shall find
Nothing will protect you
As much as your mind

It analyses situations
Thousands of calculation
A secretive detective
Solving and predictions are its speciality

Sleep until nothing’s left
Sleep until the world is gone
Sleep until it’s cold
Sleep until the world is blackdream my darling

Do the impossible
Run from the worst
And snuggle in your duvets embrace
That sucking thumb is giving me royal approval

Dream of a better world
Dream of a bright future
Dream of the perfect life
Dream of what will never be

I'll turn the lights off
Just so you, dearest babe
Can explore the treasure trove
That travels with you everywhere

Shh, hush sweetie
Don't you wimper and recoil
You're safe here with me
I'll hold you in the arms

Sleep, sleep,
Walk your own way.
Earlier the night,
The sooner to start a new day.

Do you mind if I watch you sleep?
Dream and roll over
avoid the monsters
and the light

Sleep soundly
Sleep peacefully
Sleep deeply
Sleep forever

That smile on your face so precious
An exposed pajamad leg
Your hair splayed around you
Like spilling starlight

Nothing can hurt you
No one can get you
You’re safe now
Just close your eyes, baby.

Watch you sleep my love
when I kiss
the tiniest sample
of skin on your cheek
and know you wake
when I'm gone
and am gone
until again you sleep.

I’ll be with you soon
Wait for me.
For now,
Just sleep.

The Olympic Torch xx

The Fire....another shitty poem.

He walked toward her
a fire-stick in his hand
and spoke softly.

'This is fire
my gift to you.
It is safety from wild animals;
heat for your food;
romance for your life;

Igniter of Passion;
The Secret Furnace
which fuels the Sun;
the Starry Blanket
which covers the night;


the Milky Way which burns
hot-blue.


The Heart's Flame
is Cobalt Fire too.


She touched his fire-stick
and felt the burn.


He grabbed her singed hand
and kissed it

saying:
Fire too
burns
human things;

Passion too
sears souls.

'But how, ' she said,
'shall I know fire which heals
from Stinging Fire which
burns my soul? '

'How can I be sure my fire
is safe fire,

that all my passions
are healing flames
and not destructive ones? '

He, said 'Fire is like touch;
go close enough to feel the warmth
but don't press too much
or the skin recoils.

Fire is like two kissing lips;
go close enough to feel the heat
but pressure too much
you chip the teeth.

Fire is like making love;
it can sweep you away
but be sure Fire's Obit
brings you back
ensuring sure you don't get too close to the burning Sun.

Be the bubble-bee sampling nectar,
not the moth obsessed with flames.

Use fires' heat
but regard more its light;
for Fire is both;
heat is good
light is knighted.

Fire correctly lit
is a balm of both.

The Olympic Torch xx   (hehe, fire, torch. get it? :P)