The Actor

All we are doing
Is putting on an act
Our bodies stage props
Ancient and cracked
Our hearts the electricity pulsing...

Through sound monitors and stage lights
Mechanical doors and Camera flashes
The scripted lines of our life re-unites

And as we get up each morning
We reach into our very own actors’ wardrobe
To wear today’s latest trend
Worn all across the globe
So there is no individual cast
Of actors fighting for their part
Instead we divide them up
In class, intelligence, talent and art

Next comes our debut performance…
Do we want to be pretty or plain?
Strong, weak... a protagonist, a fool
A hero won or victim slain?
The choice is ours – they’ll never know
That we wrote the script
And sowed the very threads
We came prepared, equipped…

To be anything you want
To be the idol of your dreams
The flawed hero, handsome villain
Our faces forever on your screens
To pause and play and fast-forward
To your heart’s content
And when you are bored of us
There will be another to fill that boredom like cement

But all this acting, all this pretending,
Faking, bending-truth and fact
Isn’t at all that healthy
Perhaps it was all made to distract?
Maybe we should all open our eyes
And see that we are not standing upon a stage
We are standing on grass, beneath clear skies
We are not wearing any kind of cloak or disguise
We are here not to act but to improvise.

Waking Up

I recently put up a YouTube video of a poem I wrote, hoping to perform it 'Slam-Poetry style' but my performace style is awful! I have a looooot to work on (including being able to recite my poem infront of a camera)!
   So here is the video in all its mediocre glory (and poem below):

Waking Up

What happens when we wake up and realise
That we've been living all these lies
That good and bad stand side by side
What happens when we understand
That we're being fed right into their hand
Us 'the people' - the 99%
Forced to believe sin and made to repent
But it’s too late for any kind of formation
To replace the current system that beats half-heartedly to any occasion
There's no more truth to fall back on
There's no light to be shone
The darkness consumes any flicker any flame
But we're already too blind to see through this game
The fascists are just a disguise
The communists take pleasure in being their alibies
Republicans are harvesting oil
And the Democrats believe in earth and the land’s soil
Everything we've been told has turned upside down
There's no monarchy, no jewel-encrusted crown
And there's wall of apathy
Put up to control the victims in society
The ones who worked and slept and ate and wept
The ones who want money, a 2-bedroom house and job security
The ones who died of old age
Forgotten long ago when they succumbed to that rage
Years left to be alone
Their dignity ripped from them the moment they were put in a home
Their own family telling us they can't see what we see
Their mind has gone, there's no point in making conversation
They’re in a better place, their heads no longer capable of realisation
And then they die and their life becomes a tomb
Forced into a coffin, there's no such thing as death coming too soon
When you're 83 and put of sight
You were never quite right...
And now were all too susceptible
To be anything but replicable, predictable
It's too late to write on banners and walls
To speak against money and spam phone calls
So we all go back to our beds
Feeling drained from our hearts to our heads
Thinking is the last thing we need
I mean we've already planted the seed
What more do you want?
Red paint and your own debutante?
You need to go back to reality
You don't see through the eyes we see
We've had ours closed all along
There is no right and wrong
Good or evil...
Just money and people

'We'll sort you out' blues...

They say it'll all be over

In a month or two

You'll be much happier when

You stop feeling the way you do

It all takes time you see

I mean... what did you expect?

Your problems are only ours

When helping you is easy

And by that we mean pills!

Lots and lots of pills...

It doesn't matter if they

Turn your brain to mush

Until you forget your own free-will.

But it'll all be over

In a month or two

And then you can go back

To doing whatever it is that you do...

And then it may start all over again

And there'll be more pills to fix you up

And catch you out of the blue.

She Only Had Herself to Blame...

After reading 'Inspector Calls' by JB Priestly and Marilyn Monroe's biography, I put the themes together along with my own ideas (arguably the weaker components to this poem) and created this; 
(Still think if it as a draft, not sure when and if I'll come back to it though)



There once was a girl,

pretty as can be.

Grew up in an orphanage,

Never did see her family.


She was told they would come for her

One day, when she was older,

They said her pa would pick her up at 12

And carry her upon his shoulder.


When the clock struck 12

And noon had come,

Every day she would wait and wait

Thinking they were just running late.


But as she reached the age of 10

she realised they never were,

and they never would

come to collect her.


She grew up pretty fast

And began to hate her looks,

She learnt no-one would take her seriously

Never think she was into books.


The orphans used to call her names

Or pretend she wasn't there,

Then she began to use her looks

And they began to stare.


The boys would whistle to her

And beg her to come near,

The girls would talk behind her back

Hoping she would just disappear.


But time came to pass

And she was no longer adored,

Only good for one thing (Or so she thought)

A night out, a meaningless fling.


Some pills beside her bed

To help her sleep,

Were discarded on the floor

Amongst a dirty clothes heap.


She saw the bottle there

And thought of all her life,

Thought of each and everything

And all the troubles she was supressing.


Those pills are now inside her stomach

46 to be exact,

She was calm when swallowing them down

She saw death as a 'matter of fact'.


Now her body rots inside the earth

Below the ground we walk upon,

You see, it's never our fault

The poor girl; we shouldn't dwell upon.


She was always such a hopeless case

We knew it was bound to happen,

I think you'll find it was customary

She got what she deserved,

No self-respecting girl would have done the same

So we can only put herself to blame.