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