Search

SOme CAll Me ToNy

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

Suck

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.

Just A Fish

Dipping fingers into the river’s waters
Touching all the water on all the earth
The rivers do not get jealous
Oceans demand no loyalty
Love the waters and they all love you
Advance recklessly and they will have their way
They give life and take it away
We obsess and fixate on their way
The ebbing and flowing, their wild nature
Their having no single nomenclature
I am but a fish swimming the depths
Searching for things, I know not what yet
I ask River’s help as she shows me the way
Allowing in light at the break of each day
I see other fish and the coral and krill
Wonder what delights, fears and thrills
Could be in store for one such as I
Who swim so blindly
I’ll figure it out as I search for food
A place to sleep, and look at the view
Try to take it all in but there is too much
Drowning in the life that circles me
Addled by life, by death
The sea is my prison
The water’s disease
I cannot leave and step onto shore
I cannot leave and live again once more

I’ll write something better later…

You were just a man
Yet so much more
We all loved you
And you knew what for
You hated the fame
But the only one
That you have to blame
Is yourself, starman

You were too damn good
You did too much and none of it
Was ever truly understood
As and when it was done
By the time it clicked
You’d have laughed and moved on
Under pressure you may have been
When you hung with the killer queen
But you were our Mr Stardust
Only dancing out with John
Teaching change as a person is a must

Showing us all the art of growth
Teaching us to see the world in a thousand ways
Your message will live on without you
We promise to teach it until the end of days

Care

What language is that you’re speaking?

The one where you don’t care
The one where you ignore the world
Just sit and play with your hair
Eating your dinner as people starve
Watching TV blinking at the gunshots
Completely unmoved
Completely unfazed
How do you do it?
Did it hurt too much to care?
Did you learn to stop?
Did you ever truly care at all?
About anything or anyone?
You don’t want to help
You don’t want to cry
It doesn’t bother you
When a hundred people die
It happens every day

Terrorism has no religion. Terrorism has no colour. Terrorism has no nationality. Murder is not acceptable or justifiable in any situation. Death is never acceptable.

Love and support all humanity.

For Paris and Beirut and Indonesia and Japan. Nous sommes le monde.

The Price Of Being Female

Desecrated, violated, penetrated
The innocence once consecrated
Phallic weapons making men feel tall
As they prey upon those they see as small
Flashing images burnt into minds
As they long to go back to more harmless times
All are now threats
Claiming fictional debts
As fruit meant for taking
But the ground they are raking
Another soul’s land
As they try to stand
On their own two feet
But all the eyes they meet
Seem to know what was done
To that damaged one
Walking a grey line
As hounds shout out “Fine
Sexy, gorgeous”
No beauty to these words
These bullets just hurt
Pulling at skin
As they act on these sins
On these victims they take turns
Victims preying their souls will burn
The price of being female

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: