ten roses and ten daffodils

ten roses and ten daffodils
embraced in a romantic vase
not a word, neither a promise
in silence spending their days.

side by side up they rise
soft petals overlap and caress
diffusing fragrance in the breeze
are they two or just one less.

the flowers, yellow and white
sadly in isolation spend their time
each blindly seeking the other
finding but their own kind.

being

create me
fill me
with vibrations
i have been sessile too long
cease me
begin me.
see me
waiting, wanting
working, praying
watching, saying
speaking, listening
but not being.

hopeful delusions

i sit as the bus rolls
heading southwards,
moon looks down at me
from the night sky off East.
not quite full
and not quite crescent.
the perfumed body
placed beside me
fills the night's scent,
as my thoughts wander
far off to the north
across the city lights
across the water.
not a care though
i close my windows
and enjoy the darkness
that surrounds
feel the night's sounds
confusion, chaos, wants
boil froth inside me.
darkness comforts
it also obscures
my alighting point
across the river of cars
i meander along the paths
of my delusional mind
and think of what
i may have left behind
think of what may never be.

Squeeze the Soul

It is difficult to believe that back in the sixties The Beatles were considered "pop". Back in those days, "pop" meant popular music, and fortunately the audience must have had a good sense of music because unarguably tons of "pop" from the past has the musicians soul all over it. These wide ranging emotions that acts such as the Beatles and the Velvet Underground, to name a few, incorporated in their music captivated the minds of their generation and scores of kids to follow thereafter.

Considering this it is quite a sad state of affairs today when the mainstream music industry is owned and operated by all of five major, money grabbing, socially irresponsible corporations. Somewhere along the line from the days of Led Zeppelin and the Doors, music took a back seat to marketing and profit driven corporate culture. From the days of being cool by playing good music that touched that hearts and souls of listeners, being cool has now become wearing fashionable clothes and being in with the crowd. The music has become quite secondary. In essence the attitude is there, but the music is not.

What is it then that causes such a situation? Could it possibly be because of the youth of today, or with respect to the few of us who are conscious, the majority of the youths today, who are so engrossed and captivated with the celebrity obsessing culture in this media saturated world, that they lose their sense of reality permanently?

Whatever happened to being yourself? I see young kids emulating their favorite celebrities and trying to be like them as much as they possibly can with their noticeably smaller means to do so. Does this society we live in erode these young souls' sense of identity so much that they resign their lives to being someone else, instead of what the core of their soul has to offer?

The questions are vast and the answers few and far in between. However, sad as the situation is there is hope. There is hope in the wave of new music we have seen recently. The decline of chewing gum "pop" artists such as Britney Spears, and the rise of indie bands such as Franz Ferdinand, and more recently the Arctic Monkeys, coupled with the fact that true rock is making a comeback in different shapes and forms via bands such as the Strokes, and more neo-rock bands such as Porcupine Tree is very hopeful. The fate of generations rest on these souls who stand for good music, and on our responsible shoulders.

On the issue of the pervasive corporate culture which has so taken over the music industry, we now have independent labels and promoters giving these big names a run for their money. Corporate types in suits are holding emergency meetings behind their closed doors, on their heavy oak, ebony and mahogany desks trying to figure out how to battle these knights who stand for all things true. The advent of P2P systems, and the internet savvy generation has tipped the scales in our favor. Now all we can do is wait and play our cards right.

A lot of shit!

After a full day of classes and related work, I expect to come back home, have a cup of tea, surf the web for a bit, eat, read, sleep, just the usual, nothing out of the ordinary. After all it is a Wednesday night and I am not the party animal I used to be. I knew however that there was one problem that I had to sort out. This was nothing out of the ordinary though, such things happen. A blocked toilet cannot be allowed to bring me down. My day so far had been pretty good, why should a let a little bit of blocked shit ruin it for me.
So I thought.
I came home and called my landlady and asked her if she would kindly send down a plumber to fix the problem. There, done!
A few minutes later, a young gentleman and his comrade in arms, an older person with a mustache walked in. The young man asks me at the door, "Where is your toilet?",so nonchalantly that I almost told him that our premises were for use by residents only. I figured he must be here for the plumbing job though and I led him to the toilet.
He was there only for the show though, as I found out as the events unfolded. The older man, who was supposed to be the "plumber" and full well knew that it was a blocked toilet we were dealing with here, with massive stress on the word blocked, proceeded to take care of the situation by FLUSHING the toilet.
I stood with my mouth agape, speechless, unable to comprehend, overwhelmed with the man's stupidity.
"Why did you flush it?", I asked. It is a blocked toilet. I did not hear the words of his reply, and all I heard in my mind was, "I am sorry, I am stupid." Following this they left, with promises to come back the next day with better equipment, and crew.
I let it go, angry though I was. Anger rarely helps in such situations. I closed the door separating the restroom from the kitchen area, as the water with fecal matter in it, I might add, restfully flowed out onto the back yard.
As I was in my room, trying to shut the smell out from my senses, I heard another knock on the door. The two comrades were back, with a much older bespectacled gentleman, who I hoped, so earnestly hoped would be a plumber, a real plumber who would rescue us out of this terrible shitty situation.
With a lot of hope in my heart I led him to the toilet, and watched as he surveyed the situation. I cultivated faith for this old hand, and placed my sanity and sanitary life into his hands as I turned away to make sure that the two previous trouble makers were within eyesight, only to hear the sound of running water, which, unmistakably was the flush in all its glory.
"Noooo!", I yelled, but it was too late. The flow of water was now in a much worse case scenario, and the situation had turned quite crappy to say the least. As I held my head in my still clean hands, I heard the incompetent crew discuss the situation. I had lost all hopes by now, and when I heard the flush going down a third time, all I could do was laugh.
I laughed out my anger, frustration and anguish. Sometimes all you can do is laugh at life. What else can be done?
And now I sit here making full use of my outlet, hoping tomorrow shall be a less shittier day...

Snore, snore, snore
till the early hour of four
and then turn over
and snore some more.

Snore, snore, snore
lying awake is such a chore
go right to bed
and snore all you have in store.

Snore, snore, snore
its the sound that I so adore
never mind the sleepless
trying to sleep right next door.

Snore, snore, snore
and penetrate the night's core
what do I care anyway
when I cannot hear anymore.

Snore, snore, snore
for to the calm it is bedtime lore
and for they who are anxious
a sound to truly abhor.