Archive for July, 2012

I sometimes wonder where all the years have gone

And this song

Starts up in my head

And it says maybe you’re just too well read


My how you’ve grown

Look at all the chances you’ve blown

Is it time for show and tell

I guess not but I’ll be sure to see you in hell


Another year rolls by

And all I remember is the sound you make when you cry

Was it just for my benefit?

Because now I’m feeling less than terrific


I’m not sure where this bus goes

Or why it’s so slow

But I’ve got this map in my hand

And I got a feeling that it’s time to make a stand


The miles stop and start

But they’re curing my broken heart

I’m a dreamer without a dream

A leaf floating in a stream


They say dead men tell no tales

But there’s no nail

In my coffin just yet

Just a bunch of regrets


Perhaps I’m too young to be feeling this way

I just need to take it day by day

Let my imagination hitchhike out of this nowhere place

Because life’s a journey not a race


It seems rather bizarre that every time I put finger to keyboard, I have this urge to apologise for my recent lackadaisical approach to blogging. Well to hell with that! Instead I am going to delight you, my dear reader, with some thought provoking if somewhat fanciful ramblings courtesy of my dysfunctional mind.

My mind, bless its soul, is a leaky contraption at the best of times. Supremely talented at storing irrelevant obscure facts but prone to forgetting vital information at the most inopportune moments. “Hello Douglas, it’s so good of you to come to my party.” ‘My name is Randolph!’ “Oh, well they practically sound the same.”

I’ve been working like a dog recently. Actually I’m not entirely sure that’s true. I’ve known a lot of dogs in my time and they never seem to be doing anything constructive, unless of course chasing a dragonfly in the back garden counts as being constructive. Hard work is sometimes like a drug. It consumes your thoughts to the point where if you’re not working, the only way to pass the time is to think about work. It’s a sad state of affairs if I’m blunt. Regrettably I have not been immune to its charms, if I can call it that. I swear if I start developing grey hairs, I’m going to pack it all in and become a professional wino. But let me not start hyperventilating here.

As a clear cut demonstration of how little time I’ve had to myself, all I’ve read in the past two months is a copy of Men’s Health magazine. Rather ‘mysteriously’ it was titled the Sex Issue. But surely if you’re actually having sex you don’t have time to read? Wait a minute, what does that say about me? Awkward moment. Oooh, look a peacock, such pretty colours. I think I handled that well.

In other news I had protein oats for breakfast. If I’m not mistaken this means I can sit and stare at my computer screen all day long and I’ll still develop muscles. It’s a pity life doesn’t actually work like that. The only thing I’ll develop from sitting on my ass all day is haemorrhoids. Regrettably chicks don’t dig haemorrhoids, well not that I know of, although it’s probably not something I’m likely to bring up on a first date anytime soon. Suffice to say women can be judgmental and stuff. There’s a fine line between having a sense of humour and just being plain weird. Thankfully I’m such a snappy dresser I’ll never be considered weird. After all it’s hard not to look awesome in paisley.

Chronic Compulsion

Posted: July 9, 2012 in Poems
Tags: , , , , ,

She stuttered her broken words

Like captured birds

Festering in a cage

They were all that remained of her pent up rage


I turn the page


It’s a new morning

Broken glass is falling

Cutting my feet

I die a little each time I sleep


Our memories weep


An affair of the mind

The truth is hard to find

You’re my one regret

A scar that’s hard to forget


I pray it’s not permanent


A kiss is just a kiss

I hurtle into the abyss

Where light fades to black

I’m reminded of everything I lack


Including you and I can’t have you back