We Live On The Cusp Of Death Thinking It Won't Be Us

I'm currently off work with food poisoning erghh!! So I've been lying in bed reading and listening to music.

Since I've started writing I don't seem to be able to stop. I don't know if its good or not, but at this point I don't think it's inportant.

I've never tried to work out what makes up this bundle of hurt, but slowly and surely it is making sense of itself.  Its an odd sensation to see my emotions in the page and to discover to what degree I had abandoned my heart. I'm slowly unravelling my feelings and most of my work will be dark until I break through the mass of un treated emotions.

I wrote four poems today, this is the first.

Limbo
GHB tore a whole in a family
Friends for life was the way 'twas gonna be
He was on an E when I first met him
Just a kid of 16, who fuckin let him in?
Small town so families lived together
He got a taste of it and made him a leper
Constantly in causality, behaviour fucked up
But he's our brother so we drew the line and picked him up
His thirst was too strong, he no longer gave a fuck
Then it was too late GHB won the ruck

If you're looking for a high look somewhere else
GHB has ripped apart his family and his true self
Man you'd be lovin what you're missin
Life is funny when someone you love ain't listenin
GBSLL

Gem x

On My Journey Doth Blow

So today sat in my office today I began to listen to Macklemore.

He's the first rap artist I've actually spent listening to and I have fallen completley in love. His tone, his voice his struggle and his honesty.  Such beautiful music.

I'm no stranger to music, I've spent my life hunting out new bands, re listening to classic albums of every decade. Becoming obsessed my albums which I play over and over and over again until I cant bear to listen to them again for at least another year.

In my early teenage years my brother introduced me to Madchester and all the trippy music that came with it. He showed me the meloncholy of The Smiths along with the party scene. I'm a lover every genre apart from Jazz, Rap, R&B and Screamo.  But who knows now.




The Human Condition needs a remedy
Existing is gettng harder everyday
Pain, stress, money and reality
Combine to isolate, disaffect, benality.

Freedom is what I desire
Escape the heartache of the choir

Feed the hungry, clothe the weak
Take those wankers out their seats!

Make laws that make no sense
encourage applause that incense
leave people poor with no attempt

The rich get richer, thats true
But who the fuck are you?
Pay the tax that could feed you
While cat fats ignore VAT
hide sacks of vast cash in banks that WILL crash!


I'm either having a break down or getting better. I'm not sure anymore.  What I am sure of is that I am enjoying the feeling of weight being lifted from my shoulders and the burn being dampened.

Gem x