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Friday FeelingThe weekend gets carried from one to the next and
routine fills the gaps.
The job, the wife, the kids, the money
are all part of sanity's mask
in life's dreary party, perceptions, objections,
the lemon fresh stench of the morally right.
A regal conformity shackles the soul which slips,
without struggle, into natural moulds.
The "noble savage" imprisoned within
loves to hassle, to whisper:
"When the week's over, let me slip my leash,
I ache to tell, to feel, to tingle.
Desires, white lies- get them for free
without any brakes, unleashed and on-leave."
Phone around houses ,"Are we sorted yet?"
Can't wait till that thing's down the back of my neck:
That chemical saviour that holds me to ransom.
That key to the gates where the savage is hiding
being smothered by waves of dark smelling bile
and the excitement is building.
I see myself there
that tune with the shapes,
that heroically lifts me,
and snaps the rope that sets me adrift
from the place that my head finds so fucki
Why I want to writeI want to write because I feel that there is something magical which is lost in the nature of conversation. Whenever I try to explain something during a conversation I find myself constantly saying, "It's hard to describe", or, "I know what I'm trying to say but......". Writing allows me to slow down my thinking process within a vast network of meaning and interpretation. During spontaneous conversation, words are often used and abused in the lazy name of comprehension. Writing taps into the gaps in your mind where emotions, atmospheres and feelings relating to past experiences are suspended like ghosts searching for some kind of outlet or release.
My experience of writing has been sporadic. I remember how good it felt to write stories at school. To create your own reality from your mind and put it on paper for others to see. No one ever saw it exactly as you did though. After leaving school, years of form filling, letter writing and scribbling down brief notes, h
Brotherly loveA telephone rings in a darkened hotel room. A lap-top lies open and glowing on the table. An expensive suit hangs from the mirrored wardrobe. A male figure enters the room wearing only a towel, switches on the light, then answers the phone as he sits on the edge of the bed.
Hello...(pause) Is she definitely still round at my Grans? Has she calmed down any?...At least she's safe now though, that's the main thing. Was it the neighbours who called them?...I'm usually the first person to complain about their interfering but it just goes to show you eh?
The thing is mate, I trusted him. I trusted him not only with my house and everything in it, but with my own flesh and blood. I would never have let his wee fella out of my sight for a minute. Jesus, what am I doing here? I should be at home with her telling her everything's all right, everything's all right...
The man stands up and runs his hand through his wet hair, tilting his head back. His teeth are gritted and his
10 Rules for Expectant Fathers10 Rules for Expectant Fathers: The Millennium Edition.
1uring the birth of your child, (for details of attendance see 1984 edition) do not consider yourself to be as important as anyone else in the room. Know your place; you are invisible.
2: It is your duty to inform relatives and friends of the arrival with raw emotion.
3: Actively involve yourself in all aspects of maintenance in the first few weeks after the birth of your child. You may find that this helps to pre-occupy your mind, easing any anxieties over the reality of the situation.
4: Do not loose your temper. The psychological atmosphere which arrives with your child, should help to sedate any irrational thought processes.
5: Your life may now be divided into 2 distinct parts; Never look back at part 1 with feelings of regret, it is your duty to remain focussed on part 2.
6: Adopt a sleeping style which allows you to monitor the breathing pattern of your child whilst still resting, with eyes closed. (see article on; "Limbo
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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