Tag Archives: path

Less pride more prejudice

You are less pride and more prejudice

Which makes what you say a pot of piss

The presumption and lies you spit about

Hoping that it will have some clout

To turn me away from my path

Away from my nice warm home and hearth

But you don’t know me, not even half

That’s what makes me watch and laugh

Because you are a baby when it comes to bitching

I bet you think I am sitting and itching

When in fact, I laugh and pity you

Because you are not worldly and have no clue

About how life is and how it works

And how people deal with stupid jerks

Who are so far up their great fat asses

So short sighted they need glasses

Just to see the end of their nose

Not seeing how their actions and words expose

The very thing they try to mask

So that’s why I sit and bask

Laughing so gaily at you in the sun

Watching you throw shit in the fan – is fun!

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New York Swamp Park

I had a dream last night where I was on a hill looking down at white rooftops of a town all around me, I felt like I was in Scandinavia somewhere, the style of the houses were like that.

Three women were looking at me, because it was snowy and I was dressed in something as thin and flimsy as a slip out in the street, in the snow, on a hill, looking about me – they laughed.

They tried to communicate with me but I was awkward and I turned into a gold and white swirly ball of light and flew around them once and up into the air and far away.

I realised I was flying fast all the way over the ocean, everything blurry and the wind dampening my clothes as I zoomed through the air.

Once again I found myself heading towards New York.

When I landed in New York, I landed outside a building that may or may not be a museum that had black statues inside of alcoves of the outside walls.  When I landed I looked younger than I am now, not much younger, but I had the figure I am working towards.  I was wearing pale jeans, pink trainers/sneakers with cartoon characters on and I was wearing a My Little Pony themed T-shirt and cross body bag.

I saw newspapers all over the floor of the street and the streets seemed quiet to me, there were people around, but not as many as I would expect in New York.

I knew that a long way away somebody I wanted to meet was there, but I didn’t know how to get to them. 

I decided to walk to what I thought was a park over a little brook. 

When I got there the path became narrow and had wooden sheets here and there along the path and I realised that either side of the path there was lots of water and big gnarly trees and the water was shallow and had big and I mean massive goldfish, some so big they swam so slowly because of their size.

What was confusing was this park looked too much like what you would find in Florida, as the water was shallow, swirling with grey misty like substance in the water, the whole park covered in moss and gnarly trees, reeds in the water and small crocodiles.

One of the crocodile was attempting to eat one of the huge goldfish but the goldfish was actually winning the fight and I was confused by that and told an old man about what I was seeing and all he said was “yeah, they give as good as they get here”!

I continued down the path and things were getting darker and more mossy and slippery and there were more wooden sheets along the path that made the path really rocky and I kept on for some time until there were small gaps in the path which meant I had to jump over to the other side or fall into the water which was scary as there were crocodiles around and then continued for a little way and then I abruptly came to a dark red door. 

I opened the door and there was a scruffy large old man balancing on a tall stool in the corner of the room but in a section of the room that was in the water and there was a small crocodile in that water.

In the other corner by him, the old man who spoke to me about the fish pushed passed to sit in the other stool only he wasn’t balancing so good on his stool and I was afraid for him.

I saw there was a larger stool in the middle for me which was lower down near the water by about 6 inches and I had to hop from this platform, covered in brown newspapers and wooden sheets to get to my much larger stool – the stool was so large in fact, three adults could stand on it with elbow room.

I stood there and felt confused why I was there and there was a little murky window covered in algae and grey substance around the edges of it I was peering out of – the men was like – no point looking out there, you won’t find anything.

I was looking once again in the direction at a different point of where I felt I needed to go to see this person I wanted to see.

I turned around when I heard a noise behind me and a guy in his 40s entered the room with sheets of paper on a binder all messy and falling apart – he looked like a stereotypical rock fan, in a rock of the 90s T-shirt in burgundy colours and he had thick black curly hair to his shoulders.

He spoke like a proper dude and was about to introduce himself, when I hopped off my stool to be back on the first platform with him – he said to me, aren’t you staying to let me read you your past so you can determine your future and see what’s there because of your past?

I said, um no thanks, I don’t want you to pry into that as its personal and there are a lot of people in my past I don’t want you to read as its confidential for them and wouldn’t be fair to them!

He said, but you haven’t decided to live yet – let me read something to help you decide.

I said, no thanks, I will be fine; I need to go over there and find someone.

He looked through the window confused and looked at me and said, he isn’t so sure I should and he was upset he couldn’t read to me.

So I ignored him and went out of the room, jumped over the gaps in the wooden sheets and literally ran as fast as I could all through the whole narrow park and there were people on the path moaning at me and saying I could knock people into the water or fall in myself and it would be my own fault! 

I ran till I got to the edge of the park and at the park gates, where there seemed to be a very posh looking man in a suit with white gloves and I had to wait to leave whilst he checked a crystal – when he checked the crystal he opened a black box and held a red book in his arms and looked inside – he said well done, you may leave and he gestured I could go.

I walked to the left rather than the middle path he was expecting me to take and I walked down the street till I came to a market stall and I was looking at stickers – when the person I wanted to meet found me looking at things at the stall with a friend of theirs and they came over to me astonished I went to find them.

They hugged me from behind and were talking excitedly to their friend about who I was.

I pointed and I said I was going to come looking for you over there, I pointed to the far left of the city and they said, but I live over there, pointing to the far right!

I literally woke up right the realisation.

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Filed under Dreams

What do you see?

So, the huntress is being stalked

I see them in the shadows when I’ve walked

I know they are following my way

I know they are learning how I play

I hear them tittering and I hear them talk

About how far I have walked

But I amusedly walk on

Because they are only a con

I don’t believe what the shadows say

I only believe that they play!

Because why are they hiding away from me?

I think they’re afraid… do you agree?

Too scared to come and talk to me

Or afraid of themselves, now what will it be?

I walk on – maybe forever

But when I hear them… I think…. Whatever!

It’s just a child’s game to you

You enjoy this thing you do

No real intention behind your words

To think there is, would be absurd!

I’ve grown enough to know

The lengths that silly people go

To find amusement in their boring lives

By spreading rumours and lies

I continue on my walk

Maybe someday we will talk?

Maybe not

Why should I care?

If you are still watching from over there?

No business of mine what you do

Unless there are lies that you spew

If there are lies, why did you do that?

Have I offended you?

If I have, then tell me how?

I don’t remember our spat…

I was just walking this lonely path

I didn’t mean to fill you with wrath

I am just ambling through my life

I didn’t mean to cause discontent or strife

So why do you follow and why do you talk?

About me on my path and where I walk?

I don’t understand your mind at all

Maybe I am just a fool

But I am curious why me?

And why so interested you be?

I don’t get it, so I continue on

All these games make me feel wan

It has simply gone on too long

And I need to know, why me?

I am unassuming and I am plain

I have nothing to lose or gain

I sleepwalk through this life of mine

Literally just biding time

I’m bored with life and I have lost my spark

It isn’t fair, if you just lark

I just want to get through my life

Without any more cuttings from a knife

I just want to stop bleeding

I just want to stop needing

I just want the pain to go

I am tired of hate and woe

I live in the shadows for a reason

I have been burned by the hot season

No longer do I wish to feel

My only wish is to heal

My second wish is to remember one thing

What it was like to be happy and sing?

Is that so much to ask of life?

I’m fighting against the after-life

But I am losing strength and heart in that

The deep blue is my habitat

I just wish I knew the truth about you

Why do you watch this creature blue?

What fascination is there about me?

I look in the mirror but I don’t see…

What curiosity is there in me?

Except of course, to capture me…

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My authenticity as an author

What is my authentic self as an author?

What are my passions and experiences which seem to flow into my work effortlessly?

Basically, what makes this author, this author?

It’s not unknown if you have been following me for some time now that vampires are a huge passion of mine and that once they were all absorbing and my main if not ultimate focus?

They are still in my mind but is now swept away into a corner and regarded with a sense of guilty pleasure nowadays, which is a shame. 

But other than my vampires who am I as an author?

I like anthropomorphic animals (human like animals) and animation movies which have animals as main characters or heroes; to me I can’t get enough of movies like that!  I love reading books on the perspectives of animals, such as The Animals of Farthing Wood, Fluke, Charlotte’s Web, that sort of thing.

Being shamanic off and on throughout my life, I regard myself as having an unusually deep understanding for both nature and animals and anything primal really and yes, that does make me a Walt Disney fan.

I am a deeply spiritual person too with very philosophical ideas – this can be seen in some of my work but not all of it.

I do believe in miracles and magic, I believe in soul connections and spirits, so this belief of mine goes into my work a lot.

My work can be very profound and intense; it’s what I’ve seen in past reviews on my blog, in emails and from other people who were fortunate enough to get snippets from me in private.  Because I tend to throw in my philosophical thoughts, my spiritual education and I forget that sometimes for some people, they’re not ready for that kind of depth yet.  It’s a part of me, it’s a part of who I am and mostly I don’t realise I do it.

That’s my magic, that’s unique to me and when you follow your authentic path in your own writing, you will discover things about yourself you never knew too, it’s a kind of therapy a kind of gas-lighting oneself.

I love dragons and monsters, I like seeing them as misunderstood creatures, creatures that aren’t bad at all and in fact could be rather helpful but have their boundaries and they expect respect.

I like characters that are inventive and quirky, a little strange, maybe forgetful and definitely misunderstood by societies they live in, because they reflect who I am.  I am proud to say I am an air-head with little understanding of logic, that has an interest in science though not a brain to really fully grasp it and a memory of sieve – put all of this into a pot steaming with spirituality, creativity and free love and you’ve got me… a messy soup.

I am a mixture of Caractacus Potts from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Carl from Van Helsing 2004, Miss Bat from Worst Witch, Miss Trelawney from Harry Potter, Lucille Ball, Wendy Froud, Bjork and Bob Ross!  You get the message… I’m a mess!

I love writing lengthy descriptions of natural scenes and observations including as many if not all of the five senses all at once.

I have a deep sense of decay of both mind and matter, I understand the damaging effects of humanity on the Earth and I write plenty of dystopic sceneries in some of my stories.  I love the idea of nature taking back the world, after humans sought to destroy it! 

I love characters like Poison Ivy, Pocahuntas and The Lorax for this.

I have a deep sense of survival in me, from both being raised semi-feral in a North London garden with a violent family and because I have a Girl Guides attitude of “Be prepared” and a deeply seated understand of impermanence – that you can often see survival as a theme in a lot of my stories.

This is why I love characters such as Katniss Everdeen from The Hunger Games, the TV series The Tribe, Rambo and so forth. 

Because I have experienced severe mental health issues over the years and lived with several people who have far worse issues than I do (I have never needed to be medicated for example, like they have) I can fully understand what it means to live in an asylum and how the public treats people who have a history of that environment.  I also understand and have witnessed several times people literally descending into madness to the point of both murder and suicide.  Yes I have seen a person killed in front of me that is something I’ve kept to myself until now.

I have also witnessed several people trying to take their own lives, dying of a stroke right before my eyes and other horrible things.

Experiences which are hard to write, but can’t be wrote properly unless you’ve truly experienced it.  I am not saying try to experience that sort of thing, goodness no!  But you can understand how an author’s authentic self can further their writing by putting in their life experiences into it!

Characters such as Jack Torrance from the shining, John Kramer from Jigsaw, Janet Frame from Angels at my table are reflective of very similar people I have known as well as several characters from the movie The Crow.  I’ve known very edgy, scary people who don’t hide the aspect of who they truly are to anybody!  A few of these people have been put into isolation by the authorities but there are others that have evaded this somehow!

In my experience it is the weak ones that get caught and dealt with, the really nasty buggers never are!

Injustice is another thing that crops up in my stories from time to time based on this.

I am afraid to say some readers may find some of my darker materials frustrating as justice are rarely served in a fair way; I tend to take people to a very primal place.

Some of my characters are kooky, childish and fun, but should really be responsible as they are adults but they struggle with that reality – therefore I like characters such as Mr and Mrs Luxury from the blue bird, God from Dogma, Brennan and Dale from Step Brothers and Sarah Sanderson from Hocus Pocus. 

I have a passion for characters with big egos and sarcastic humour so I am often drawn to personalities which are played by actors such as Alan Rickman, Tim Curry, Glen Close and Robert Downey Jr.  Those characters seem to be fighting against the odds with a pack of brainless lucky heroes who are out to ruin their plans or gas-light them in some way in my stories.

Comedy is becoming more prominent in my stories as time is going by as I am no longer hiding my sense of humour from the world; this is a transition that is not welcoming from Paul.  He prefers my more serious stuff, but that’s not being authentic to myself!

There is even comedy in my darker stories and horror these days, lightly thrown in.

I was given an article to mull over by Paul the other week about how dark humour is an early sign of dementia; I am not paying any attention to that!

Societal changes and upheaval are a theme in several of my stories, hence my love for dystopia.

I dislike romance, so that is at a minimum – but there are some saucy scenes now and again in my adult works, in fact I have been known to write full on erotica in a past blog as short stories, but I deleted them after a while and that blog – I also did it here for a short time too, in the early years of my blog as I was told I was too graphic and should really have it as a subscribers content.

That is something I am thinking about doing actually, subscribers short stories of both my erotic works and vampires, as well as a subscriber incentive of giving 50% off the purchase of poetry anthology E-books I am planning to publish by the end of summer.

I love certain sports and you can see which I am into by the books I write, I love wrestling and combat sports in general so there are plenty of fight scenes in my stories as well as ancient warfare.  I am very keen in ancient warfare history and gaming.  I know a lot of the terminologies and so there is little research needed for me when I write those scenes because it’s a passion of mine.

I am not afraid of killing off characters but I am not a maniacal character serial killer like George R.R Martin, but not far off it either! 

Death sells as good as sex in my opinion.

I like hard-core no nonsense and dominant characters that don’t like a lot of fuss, so there is at least one in every story.  My favourite character is a wild hermit woman from the Dragon project I am writing; a sort of mix of Miss Trunchball meets Nanny McPhee and Tarzan!  Again, crazily based on people I’ve known, as I have said before… I’ve known some strange people in my time and exaggeration can go a long way, especially when story writing!

So you see a lot of my ideas wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for life experience and a knack for exaggeration for entertainment value.

Though I keep my non-fiction as honest as possible, I can use that experience and exaggerate it for fiction!

This is how we writers do things; it’s how we give you the books we write.

Or those who have actually given their work to an agent to get published, that is!

I’m not far off to be honest.

I won’t give you a deadline or update until I send my work to an agent, but for now – let’s just say, I think it’s going to be sooner than you think – a lot sooner!

So there you have it – my experiences, my passions and my work and why it is uniquely mine and why you will struggle to try and copy it!  You are not me and even if you were to go off and research the character references and include the subjects I’ve mentioned in this blog – you won’t ever reflect me, but only I can be purely me and only you can be purely you!

Thanks for reading!

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Filed under About my work

Produce amazing literature

I have a remedy for this and a remedy for that

Which idea to pick of mine?

I have an idea for everything; my mind is like a shop of time

I will make it, I’m sure I will

For each idea I have, is a time I should kill

Every little thing that’s me, is all the ideas that you can see

How you will write them I do not know

For I do not follow the path you go

I have my own and a wonder it is

It’s a shame to steal another’s bliss

It’s a shame not to accept who you are

If you did you’ll go as far

As I have come with my ideas

And through the blood, sweat and the tears

Produce amazing things to see

In literature, that is made like me

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You are loved by God

I am a light bringer, changer of faith

My words are spoken softly my image locked in wraith

I am gentle with my words, soft like a summer’s breeze

A little hazy you will feel, but I hope to bring you ease

I kiss you on your soul, yet you feel it not

For you are tied and contorted within the Devil’s knot

You don’t know that path you have, is a path you should not dwell

You are afraid of primal things, like punishment and Hell

But those things are not to be feared, for they cannot touch you so

Hell is not a place, where mortals are doomed to go

No

Each soul is special and unique

Each soul is loved by God

You will be forgiven at the end of life

Don’t think it rather odd

You can’t understand what it’s like to be God

To love you when you’ve sinned

Because nothing can ever love like God, my beautiful wunderkind

So hear me now and rest at ease

Hell is not where you are sure to go

Because you have lived a life of lies doesn’t mean God will hate you so

No

He knew you before you were born

He knew each step you’d take

So how can he punish what he has made?

Do you think he makes mistakes?

No

He doesn’t and you should know

Because everything is perfect, he has made it so

So away with your fears and bring in your trust

That everything is as it should be and that these things are a must

You cannot do anything that is wrong

Because God has allowed you to sing your song

But do not be blinded by pride and decay

Because God sends in people to change and to sway

Each little step you are sure to take, to ensure that everything is perfect

Make no mistake!

There is no bad decision as long as you learn

Which person is the one of which you should turn

Which event is a lesson and which is a lie

Which is Gods path and which is a try?

So trust in God that he has your hand

And you will realise all is grand

So off you go and learn the way

Reach out to those who help you sway

Keep out of harm and join in with love

Smile, be happy because you are loved!

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Mould the clay

Not now, cries the raven

For I am weak and worn

My wings are beaten and torn

I am tired and forlorn

Yes now, little raven

He tells her in her dreams

That time has come it seems

To mend your wings for war

No more, says the raven

Yes more, says the voice

So we can rejoice

When the new dawn has come

You will be warmed by the sun

And you will ache no more

No more?  Asked the raven

No more, says the voice

But you do have a choice

This path or two others

Choose wisely for you sisters and brothers

You lead the way

You mould the clay for which land they will play

On that fateful day

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Confusing paths

Confusion hits me like fog

I can’t see which way to go

My heart says one thing my brain another

Which path to take? 

This or the other?

So I think about things deep and true

And then the answer came and I knew

The path to take is the path of love

As love is far better than the other stuff

I appreciate the warm embraces

The kind words and happy faces

So why not choose this path right now?

If I don’t I am sure to fail…

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Avoiding fate

I was chasing dreams that I only half want

I had to keep pushing because they haunt

And I can’t get away from what the fates have to say

I have to take it on the chin and let things be this way

Too many years I have pushed against it

Only to find I have leant against it

And to find that fate has moved my path

I am walking in a circle, please don’t laugh

I can’t get away from those things

The universe keeps making my path as rings

So I can’t walk away from the light and the fame

Because another path will be the same

Why can’t my fate be about love and togetherness?

I feel like a bird, but I am featherless

So I can’t fly to another path

I know it sounds stupid, so please don’t laugh

It has happened before

And I closed the door

To open another, only to find more

And I can’t believe how much this has happened to me

Constantly opening new boxes only to see

The same gift of life staring back at me

It’s a weird sort of thing a weird tragedy

My life is opened for all to see

Whether I like it or not, whether or not I agree

So should I give in, to what fate has to say?

Or can I escape this fate someday?

I don’t know, but I am giving up

The next door I open, I don’t think I’ll shut

Because the fates are determined this is what’s for me

Even though I partly don’t agree

So I will sulk on and open that door

Because I can’t keep on running anymore

Each time I close it, my life gets worse

It is like the fates have said, then be cursed

So I am terrified of closing that door

In case life gets worse, some more

So here I am, giving up with fate

Taking what’s given even though it’s late

Because I don’t need to make any more mistakes

So here I go…

Trusting fate

And no sooner had I finished this poem I saw the clock said 15:55 = 555 again.

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Lost Lion

The raven sees the Lion

The lion doesn’t know

The lion slowly roams

Which place does he go?

The raven knows his destiny

The raven knows the way

But the lion doesn’t see her

Maybe he will some day?

God had put him on this path

But he is in denial

Stricken by his heart of morals

Scared he’ll be put on trial

So cautiously he takes his steps, deeper into the sands

Hoping that somehow things will become clear to him

A miracle in his hands

The raven tries her best to tell, to shout – I know the way

But her voice is drowned out by his fears

As he tearfully prays

So many signs she have given him

To show him the path is near

But slowly he wanders off too far

So that he doesn’t hear

Too many times the raven caws

Too many times unheard

Too many times the lion has walked too far from the bird

God has told her have patience dear

Let him find the way

Soon things to him will be all too clear

Right now the fogs too grey

But the raven sits in worry

That maybe he’ll roam too far

That maybe he will become lost

Just like the fallen star

But God said that he will be fine

All he needs is a rhyme

A rhyme to find the way

So the little raven sits on her perch and sings the rhyme today

Will he hear her, I don’t know

But we sit and watch and wait

Because nobody is like the lion

The lion is strong and great

The lion has a purpose

And it is not safe to tell

But all you need to know is

The lion frees us from Hell!

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