Wednesday, 13 October 2010

Love Is...

Love is always impatient, and usually unkind. It always envies, often boasts, and is endlessly proud. It can be rude, and is inherently self-seeking (either in a philosophical sense or otherwise), and cannot avoid keeping a record of wrongs, either yours or theirs. True, love does not delight in evil (yet can sometimes be complicit with it), but rarely does it delight in the truth, if the truth does not live up to its hopes. It tries to protect, tries to trust, can't help but hope, and is defined by its perseverence.

Yeah, I know the Bible. It just needs to be corrected for the modern romance. Love is cruel, it is bleak, but now and then, rare as it may seem, it is beautiful.
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Monday, 11 October 2010

The Valley

This will show up on Facebook. If it does, you'll notice that it's recycled. Just wanted to reshare.

Tell me all about your silent questions,
The images of life you fail to lose.
Talk about the long and rambling lessons,
The heartless anguish placed in front of you.
I've been down to beggar's end within a
Minute of exertion; I've been
Stripped apart by vagabonds with
Gloves made out of gold. I have
Walked across the valley with a
Donkey on my back, and I can
Tell a thousand stories that should
Never have been told.

Images and photographs of madness,
Lines of black and white, depicting grey.
What your eyes have seen, no-one could fathom,
What you can recall, no-one could say. I have
Seen a row of palisades de-
Fending empty spaces; I have
Witnessed refugees campaign for
Rights they've always had. I have
Seen the towns of concrete turn in-
To a sea of snow, and I have
Seen into the blackened souls of
All the nation's glad.

Resonate with life's emphatic madness,
The tinkering of bells and measured weights.
The litany of lives you have encountered,
Obituary passages await.
I'll recite the speeches made from mounts of
Manufactured diamonds, I'll re-
Late the frenzied feeding of a
Thousand hungry birds. I can
Tell a story resolute and
Free from tailors hands, but they run
Few and far between, and they have
Apathetic words.

What about the men who walked beside you,
The ones you passed on roads of blackened glass.
The faces you have coloured in your libraries,
The memories of people that don't last? I have
Met a thousand socialites with
Blood upon their dresses, I have
Knelt with sullen faces in the
Shadow of the flag. I have
Studied with a poet, but I
Never saw his face, and I have
Met a thousand children living
Out of plastic bags.

Tell me where your path leads from this moment;
The journey that awaits beyond my door.
Imagine all the roads you may encounter,
The choices you can make, or else ignore. I will
See the face of tyranny with
Holes within its pockets, I will
Cast my piece of gravel with the
Millions I can't see. I will
Watch as boundaries fall, and new ones
Spring up in their wake, and I will
Reminisce on times I never
Witnessed, when we're free.

I will
Stand without a hesitation,
Free from selfish doubts, and I will
Point my finger proudly at the
Ones we've singled out. I will
Ride the waves of emerald wastes, be-
Reft of shallow waters, and I
Challenge all who hear me to ex-
Plain what it's about.