SOme CAll Me ToNy

Ramblings, thoughts, ideas. My ways of killing time and not people.

I cannot be certain but this feels like the first day since we met with absolutely no contact. It’s so strange. I keep looking at you in my mind. Watching you walk away over and over. Hearing you tell me you want to leave or think I should leave. I hope you find someone who can be what I’m not.

I hope you find someone who loves you as much as I do but can express it in ways you appreciate.

I hope you find someone you love like I love you.

I know I can’t be with anyone now.

The bright and shining colours blurred the ghosts ever there

Learnt to live with past mistakes and hide within her hair

Her eyes so vibrant, called to me and perused the darkest depths

Further than her mind could think or I had ever known

Now another ghost standing by the wall

Another victim I dream about and call

Silently and audibly, always wanting more

Knowing that to try, would kill us even more


Do people fall out of love? Do they stop loving? Or do they just realise they weren’t in love to begin with?
Is true love a once in a lifetime event, or do people have multiple true loves? Is it dependant on the individual?
Is love commitment?
Is love unity?
Is love understanding?
Is love blunt, brutal and blinding?
How can people claim to love whilst leaving the person they’re professing to feel for?
Is love a crutch? Is it crippling and addictive? Do people become dependent on it? Should they?
Is taking a break the same as leaving forever? Does the former inevitably lead to the latter?
Why do people think reunions work? How do they deal with the awkwardness? The walking on egg shells and skirting around issues so as to avoid repeating past mistakes? Hoping that what they ran from has left more than running back to what they were drawn to?
Why do people seem to see potential rather than what is there? Does anyone see what’s before them?
Is love helping people with their problems or helping them just live with them? Is love living with things or improving them?
Why don’t people see that love really is like water? It changes form and becomes a necessity but can drown and break just as easily as it can heal.

Something’s Got To Change

And she said it again twelve times this hour

Something’s got to change

I said it’s so strange how this happens

Like a wilting growing flower

Her eyes had grown cloudy

Mist dropping down

And the skies all started to rain

I said you tore my umbrella

When you borrowed it last

But I learn to live with the strain


She said something’s got to change


Her hair and her mood had gone blue for the week

And the squeak of it all hunched me well

I said haven’t you tried something else

But she cried and told me not to speak

She painted her eyes and coloured them well

Her lips were cliche impressive and soft

I put on my hat and grabbed her coat

The sleeves tore off, I tried for a joke

She told me to try harder

And I just choke


She said something’s got to change


We’ve grown daily apart and together again

But the rain keeps on blowing

We cling on and let go and your hands start to slip

Our knuckles are red from the pain

The bruises don’t show in a physical sense

But the hedges are getting cut down

I tried to rebuild them but she told me to walk

Then grabbed onto the strings

She spun me around said help me decide

I said it’s up to you it’s all in your mind


She said something’s got to change

I Love You So Very Much 

“I love you so very much”

It’s not a string of happy words

It’s love but paralysing hurt

Not the kind that holds you still

That kind that grabs your heart to kill

When everything’s wrong and it feels like night

And day are the same old grey way

When your coffee is like water

And your water is black

Where your mind can’t hold a thought

Not through the lack of trying

But because that love stops your soul from dying

I love you so very much.

But We’re Not Racist

Nazis, UKIP, KKK, National Front, BNP
It’s all about protecting us from them
We’re not racist, we just want them to go
We’re proud of our heritage and where we’re from
The things outside of our control
Everyone is brainwashed by education, by society, the media
Taught to be ashamed of our colonial past
We’re not slavers anymore
We want them to leave
But we’re not racist
They create problems here
But we’re not racist
They should learn to be like us, speak our tongue, pray like us
But we’re not racist
Differences are fine so long as they conform
But we’re not racist
They preach hate, they are scum and should die
But we’re not racist
We’re not hypocrites
They start in ones then queue by the thousand
We’re drowning in a sea of foreign
They outnumber us
It’s not proven but it feels like it
Why should we help them?
What have they done for us?
What did we do to them?
Why do we deserve this?
Leave them to look after themselves
Why do they flee their lands?
I’d like to see some of you face bullets, bombs, starvation and the kinds of poverty that connect your spine to your navel
But we’re not racist
We’re proud
Proud of where we’re from because we chose that ourselves
We chose to be from here
We chose to speak this way
They choose to run
They choose to bring their fears
They bring their gods and tongues, their children and their cooking
We get the takeaways but mow down the rest
Get rid of it
Diversity thrust upon us
We never asked for this
But we’re not racist


A thousand hums swirling around
Feeding as it hovers over well-trodden ground
One voice cuts through it all
As it cries, it all stops
Was it worth it?

I Am Crow

I am like nesting crow
In this hall of mirrors
The reflections are all real
You may never know
Your words suck air
I still soar above

So yeah, ramblarama. (Not a poem… duh)

So I’ve not been writing a whole lot lately. Spent a lot of time playing guitar and catching up on books I’ve been meaning to read (there are currently six piles of books I’ve not read in this room and that is not counting comics. Currently halfway through Psycho) and films and various other things. Got back into drumming which has been really fun, I used to drum a lot years back and hadn’t touched a pair of drumsticks in ages.

Currently listening to KoRn, in case anyone’s wondering.

So Anselmo has announced Down won’t be at any European festivals, eh? Well, it isn’t surprising really. Sure, if you’re a fan, (like I am), that’s pretty disappointing, (even though I’m not planning on going anywhere Down were meant to be playing anyways). But at the same time, given everything that’s going on with him and all the hype and controversy, I think he needs some time away from cameras and microphones and stages whilst things cool down and he figures some stuff out. I’ve seen his apologies and he’s been called out by every prominent metal musician with an active social networking presence but still.

I watched Scream 2 recently and I hadn’t actually seen it before despite having seen Scream far too many times. It was alright, it’s not as good as the first and it’s less of a Horror and more of a Thriller, I guess? If that means anything? Also, the ending made me laugh where Sid and Gale both go shooting that body. That amused me more than it probably should have done. That film is also a lesson on how to reference films in films from the classroom discussion on sequels, to all the references to Nightmare on Elm Street, (thank you Wes Craven), to the various Friends references.

So I’ve been reading a lot and playing a bunch of instruments (or trying to) and catching up on stuff so not really been working too much on writing but there is stuff in the works and there will be more things coming.

So yeah. Anyways. If you read this thanks. If you’ve read any of these, thank you.

Have a good day

Is Childhood Real?

Beyond the physical aspect of growing and development, is childhood real?
People grow, evolve develop all through life.

“As soon as you learn death. As soon as you learn you can be hurt, that’s when childhood dies”.

As soon as a child is born, everyone around is rushing to get them to being adults. Get them walking and talking and dressed like miniature adults and we’ll gush over it then suddenly one day they’re immature, babyish and need to grow up or else life will leave them behind. They need to run and get in the race of life, run round the wheel and have a good future.

Childhood is real for as long as the swing is in the air.

“When childhood dies, its corpses are called adults and they enter society, one of the politer names of Hell.” – Brian Aldiss.

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