More doing than dreaming

Right.
SO, I am spending the last night of 2010 the way I haven't spent hardly any nights for the whole year.
Watching films, thinking about the future.
This year I am going to pass my driving test, graduate, travel and go to a festival.
less nights out, that sort of thing.. more doing than dreaming.
I'll hear the fireworks at midnight and raise my beer to those of you dreamers too.

If the walls had cameras.

Festival bands and fashioned hoods
Bright colours and question mark drugs
Unlit memories in Leicester clubs
Homely mugs filled with roll up stubs

value food and Human alarms
tripping into the enemies arms
Union vouchers and drunken texts
Getting rid of one loser and moving on to the next

Lecture rows and heavy eyes
All nighters when a part of you dies
Assignment warnings, ringing in deaf ears
Too much Daft Punk and Budweiser beers

Too much everything, so much to learn
Too much abstract where logic is concerned
Too much bullshit for one person to see
So unfortunate, that that person is me.

Stunned to silence.

When someone says something that makes you think over and over again in a way you don't like thinking.
It is far too overwhelming.

Starting to think like Samuel Beckett.
Starting to live like a character out of a Camus novel.
Starting to realise the submerging truths that were always there.
Starting to learn.

In another dimension, losing eye contact, feeling sadder and sadder about the way my life
is spiralling and I am not sure I can deal with the way my life is cut in half.
And the way I live in these two different worlds.
I'm not sure I can deal with me any more.
I am just not sure of anything.

Look away quick, someone is going to get hurt

Aren't we self destructive by nature?
You don't have to physically harm yourself to be suicidal, it's all these things we do because we are trying to defy death
Anyway. We are all dying, no matter how soon or long.
Face this truth and you will live like me, you will live like you will never see tomorrow
you will be in a copious amount of trouble, and you will have people that hate you
and you will never know what the next hour of your life will be like
But you can live on the clouds for so long before some life lesson crashes you down,
and when you are hurt, and when you are down you will feel the earth beneath you.
I am trying to defeat this philosophy, i am trying to become numb so none of you can hurt me ever
again.

Love the way you lie

Here is day, it has stole me from slumber.

The time is now, I won't wait any longer.

Thank you barriers of my heart, for saving me.

And fuck you, dreams of those who are chasing me.

We must write, for the sake of writing

We must leave the houses, of those who seem uninviting

Goodbye for now, I will think of you from time to time

But you never were and never will be mine

Truth is hitting hard, sober life is putting us in danger

Don't think anything when you see me with a stranger

Don't think of me when you are alone

Please delete my number off your phone

In hope, I will also pretend

That was a short play, and this is the end.

Light my cigarette, take me home.

This is a play.

Complete darkness.


The sound of a girl coughing in the night, you can hear deep breathing and then a chesty cough.
Rustling in a drawer, glugging of medicine and then silence

silence apart from a ticking.

Rattling of a empty inhaler. Coughing, deep breathing.

silence apart from a ticking.



She slips away into her dreams.

The end.

This play lasts 8 minutes,
There are no props, no stage settings and no actors. The sound is played through a P.A. system.

Come with me & see how I see

Each and every day I wake up and I know, that the dream I had will be gone, I know I won't
dream again until another length of hours, I know I'm racing the clock again.
I have no idea why I am who I am, but I know that I am what I am.

I don't like silence unless I am reading alone.
I don't like feeling uncertain
I don't like figuring something out and not confessing it
I don't like being told what to do.
I don't like feeling ashamed of myself
I don't like people who try to contain/control/correct me
I don't like the world.

I like the people I live with
I like realising the truth, and coming face to face with it
I like my friends
I like the fact I now decipher my friends rather than make friends with people I don't know and
don't care for
I like the fact I am honest with myself
I like the fact I make people laugh
I like my drive to work
I like the fact that family is whole again.

& I like this boy. I guess time is telling me that I will never know what could have been.
Fates a sad thing.

Wind me up, put me down, start me up and watch me go..

No time for the telephone,
no time for personal breakthroughs,
No time for anything really.
So, after all the work is done, and the rehearsals have put my body into a state of dizziness
I do feel weak about him.
I haven't got energy to be tough, I just have to be honest.

Drunken phone calls spit the truth,
you swill the words around in your mind,
the day after makes you feel hungover even when your sober.

Today has its errors, like every other day

I wake up, I stir from my dreams, and the first thing I think is, I hope I am not alone.
I am not the player you might think I might be.
I just don't like sleeping alone.
But it still frightens me, ever since my childhood, sleeping alone, you can feel that cold whisper behind your neck, the cover can't get over you enough, the dreams you had you can't hold onto long enough, you are forced, you are merged into reality.
Love in the summer is a joke, this is for the people who want contractual relationships and I think that is so much bullshit.
I don't know how to access my feelings any more, I cannot work out how to work a relationship at all, all I have learnt up till here is that relationships is for the older generation as these young ones, these relationships we seem to fall into as youths seem to fall away from us quicker than our own sense of reality.
University, it simply deteriorates our sense of reality. But the problem is that, when we go 'home' to our home towns we are forced to become part of that society where in which, after university, all we do is try our best to detach ourselves from it. I miss it, so much, My home town, but I know that that life is over, that life for me is gone.

Tomorrow always has deadlines

My fingertips are so cold because me and my sister Jasmin and my housemate Sale are burning logs out in the garden and listening to daft punk on high volume...drinking beer and forgetting our worries for as long as we possibly can.
One more time.
I think I need to stop getting involved with these guys who are so confused with themselves it is literally impossible for them to be straight with me. They only seem to set out to mess with girls' heads but I also think they are the people who will be partly responsible for when I do meet someone that I will love for the rest of my life.
Right now, I'm going to drink a budweiser and think about how I feel at peace with the world even for a moment, even for a night. Tomorrow always has deadlines.

Zara

Living at 113

It started at around 6am on a sunday/monday morning.
we ended up paying women to dance on our laps and broke several miscellaneous items while moving my things into 113.
Crazy would not sum things up.Honestly.

Twenty summers later

Life is to let
for me and for you
life remaining
life continuing
life beginning
life in lancashire court
The home we made inside
the place where we reside
how samey
how lovely
always feels so rush and go
if not it feels so humid and slow
either way its home I know
one or the other
always
always in lancashire court.

Always be inspired

Thankyou Don Mclean for being my lead inspiration, for creating pure poetry
and a true understanding of humanity and art combined.
Forever yours.


Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...

Longing to dissapear off the radar

"I was meant to tread the water, but now iv'e gotten in too deep"

He thinks: You are a girl and I am a boy, we in our genetics want different things in life.

He stumbles:You will agree to this moment here because you like me, because you think you are different and can change me, because you think that the inevitable is so far into the future that you can afford to live for now, because you are naive.

Well you agreed but you seemed a little angry at the end
You seemed speechless with no words to defend
You said I was just another 'wanker on the shelf'
I think maybe you were just angry at yourself.

Now you walk right by me with so many words more to say
you could have said it all before but we both know
the right time is too far away
what was, was and what is now is
If you gave up something for me then well, more fool you.

He gets out.

Ladies, C'est la vie.

Lights turn off.

Taking cover here in these walls,
remembering the reasons I took these falls
staring at photographs with memories stapled to the sides
wondering when this is over where there will be to hide

Hanging on a threshold feeling too tired to care
I look around this room and wonder if you were ever there
would your bones have to break for you to remember?
it's okay, cut loose, I'll see you in September

Smoke in our eyes, maybe we never saw
all the wrongs that were there before
dreams seem to leave this room and leave me alone
I'm wishing too much, I'm arresting my phone

words may escape these moments we'r not sharing
because your presence isn't up for caring
shadows are filling my room but
how can i ever say you left too soon?

stop trying to get in my life, im here to serve you.

£3 in tips if you shake them hips for me girl
I'm not kidding you you are gorgeous,
my wife's got nothing on you,
you sell draft? where is the manager then?
i'm not having it.

in this cheap and neon lit micro cosmed world where you come here to drink, violate every rule under the polish bouncers nose by pushing into the girls and making the men smash glasses and inevitably end up at the bar abusing the bar staff and using every line under the sun to try and make a difference to our moods at fag breaks, there's really just one response isn't there?
fuck off.

Do it in the memory of the people who did it before you.

I get up in the morning and i drink my coffee. Nescafe if I'm lucky.
If my mother is dancing around the living room or doing the dishes or
putting on her make up my mood is lifted from the gray remains of my dreams
and i want to dance alongside her.
If i hear a good song on my little blue i pod which has survived through several messy handbag emptying times and being frozen because it's owner doesn't quite understand
the meaning of casing up a metal object in order for it to work..(lesson learnt) well if a good song starts to synchronize to the beat of my stride
then i am dancing down the streets of Burslem to pick up a pint of milk and some ciggies.
If i go around to my friends house and she tells me of when i used to pick the scabs of my legs in primary school or come in wearing the opposite of everyone else, well I'll laugh at how the i haven't changed that much.
And a million drunk strangers can tell me I'm beautiful when im out and still wander off with someone else and the smile won't fade from my lips. I can do an extremely long and uncomfortable shift at a nightclub and not complain about the pennies paid to me. Earning my own money is inspiring to my little brother.
Its my birthday at the end of the month, the date happens to coincide with the day i need to pay my rent which is as scary as the thought of getting back with an ex.

Realistically, you can sing the words to a song without meaning it. Truthfully, we just want to show off our voices.
Zara

250 miles ahead

There is a life out there for me you know,
there is wisdom for me written out on a road sign,
there is a love of the world in here you know,
and maybe a person somewhere waiting to be mine,

There is a stronger woman in here now you know,
there used to be a confused girl on the road,
there was a love rewritten for this century you know,
and that's a love that has to go,

There is a plan for the future on my map you know,
I'm going to go with my gut instincts this time,
I'm fed up of looking for a future with someone,
when I'm missing the future that's mine.

I know you've been burned, but every fire is a lesson learned.

there is no escape except sleep lately,
even then sometimes i sit up and stare vacantly around me,
just remembering, or trying to provoke wishful dreams,
there are all these things that i need to do,
to keep up with the world,
sometimes i wish i could just travel with the road, or watch the moon in the dark
for hours,
time has begun to mean nothing,
because time escapes us all at some point or another,
its the only thing we are racing against at most points in our life

I had forgotten what life is for me here in my hometown,
sometimes i wish i had stayed.
But then my double life co exists in Leicester, in university
there are actions i have taken there which have outlined me as individual,
here i have blended into a group of hopefuls at a quiz machine in a bar,
I continue to dream for my future,
its the only motive i have to get up really,
being hurt and lost by a string of on and off relationships,
it doesn't matter though does it, because time also heals us,
it helps us to forget
it does not help us to forgive though.
wish it did..

There is someone i can't get out of my head,
he lives in my dreams
cliche. Hope he's okay, hope he comes back safe.
zara
xx

At my sis's new house.

End of year two at uni and my philosophizing is definitely becoming more sporadic.
As is my writing, this is because I have been far too busy living my life
to be writing about it. it is far too vain to sit down and write when you
have not stood up to live. I know someone who is going traveling in a couple
of weeks, and I am going to miss him. But I also think I need to get my head
out of the clouds and start grasping my own summer.
This is my first single summer, no attachments really. I am really confident that
I am going to spend the entirety of it with my family and friends so I'm all excited for that.
My sisters went to see Lady Gaga at Birmingham NC the other night and I am
practically green with envy, but at least they had a good time. I'm listening to her
pretty sweet Monster album now, looking around this officey room where my sisters boyfriend does his work. There is a small golden globe on the left of me and a few photos of my sister on the right. As for this computer..its a massive Mac Yak computer with everything included. This is her life and I'm pretty happy for her, but I can't help but think I don't want any of this stability sort of thing.
weird.
ciggie time

It's late and I'm thinking

This city was drafted by a typewriter.
What I want to do, every hour of every day is write on it
and graffiti more on the world.
We have painted our names in a great neon light to be remembered
thinking that God could see it.
He can't because the earth is a vast blue and green
a tranquil serenity blistered by war
We jump coast to coast looking for the answers
we look through train windows pretending to look for truth
when what we are looking for is ourselves
we are looking for a purpose.
If i can live on this world till today and this moment,
still confused and littered with flyers of religion and action and society
and still still still be as blank minded as when in my own body at a year or a moment old
then I suppose we will reach old age with the same lack of knowledge and lack of truth.#
The world is a great big deafness, surrounded and hated by war of every kind.

I want to travel and not to pretend that I want to see the world, it is easy enough to
imagine. I want to move around from this spot I sit in and know more without the fools around me
telling me that I am uneducated, unable to learn without a degree.
A degree is a scroll of paper, a few years taken away from us and stapling us into the goverments control. It is not for our own good. it is putting us in a place and holding us down. Those who do not seek education, seek something else about life.
What is it to be intelligent? It is seperated into two categories...1. Common knowledge 2. academic knowledge. Where is the rest of it?
We are living on the edge.We are liars! We are protesters and we are deaf.

My ode to Fred

Oh Fred. Where are you

We have been looking for you for hours

Through drunken crowds and cold streets

We have been hunting for days

We even found Wally. He was hiding from Chuck Norris

I leapt across the market tables looking for you

And we wore our best dresses

For you Fred

We even contemplated look alikes and homeless people

Shelley has been getting impatient

So I write this ode to you to thank you

For the banging sounds on my ceiling

The note on her door

The annoying and terrible friend of yours who needs to talk to a therapist about his

Cuddling fetish

And probably it’s your fault she broke my little pink bracelet

(She WILL buy me a new one)

Thanks Fred

You’re a real goode’n

p.s. come back, shut Shelley up.

a thought

We are buried underneath our memories,
Never mind the dirt
There are photographs stapled to our skin
Because we live in the past
We write endless poetry
Searching for a sliver of talent
We wonder and dream
Of a world which doesn’t crumble beneath us
We hang on the arms of friends
Wishing they were real
We insinuate our feelings
Scared of the worlds reaction
We lie to save ourselves
We are human
We are.