Beautiful - (Poem)

Beautiful

He, of the beautiful face and voice

he has grown too.

The melting point - memory and muse, fuse

those dark days, when danger and death

were ever so close, engaged in a duet

And now, looking back,

through the maze

in a haze,

all alone to make sense of what’s left.

His song still enchants, his sounds still enhance

the dance of life and the living

He, our idol, still around, still so fine,

yet alone, bereft of his bass

Genuine and true, feeling blue, I have no clue

Like a ghost, with no grave, with no rest

I pull back,

sense the lack,

Stability gone, undone at the seams

He, like me, is aware but can’t see

Past emotions weren’t always the best.

Old Shoes (Poem)

17.3 Old Shoes 

A pair of stilettos, beige, brown and black

Now on their last legs, displayed on the rack

High heels that strain, my calf muscles in vain,

Wolf-whistling and whispers, no pain, no gain

Pity the ground turned to mud in the rain

Coz one heel got stuck,  what utter bad luck.

So, so sweet (Poem)

So, so sweet

My friend flaunts her figure in front of me                           

cute, clever cream curls on a cake catch my eye                   

black forest berries, brown chocolate, cherries                     

Dare I dream and desire, let the diet drift and die…            

It, stares back stoically and seems to smile                            

lustfully, longingly, my look full of love                              

calorie control curbs our encounter                           

will It make my backbone break, like a battered boxing-glove.                  

Sustaining my stance, I soldier on but                                   

surely a small sliver, just one simple slice                              

No remorse later, nor righteous regret,                                  

it’s just once, it’s not twice, it’s not thrice.                            

Sugar shouts shamefully, shows off its wares                       

and Trojan-like, tries for a truce, what a tease,                     

I falter, I fail, forever the fool,       
a paltry, puny, petty piece, just a taste, pretty please.
                                       

        

Hair - (Poem)

Hair

The first year of sixth form, the boys are there too,

Michael Jackson, Dire Straits compete with Kung Fu

Equations and theorems explained to the whiteboard,

They’re making no sense and striking no chord.

A shiny round patch, as pink as the panther,

Bald headed professor, he was quite a ranter.

I’m bored and annoyed, this was not maths

Deft fingers work quickly, turn hair into plaits.

Two antennas emerge, in place of a fringe,

And with just one look, if eyes could singe…

Fuming and foaming, he points a finger,

At me, then the door, and I, dare I linger?

Oblivious and puzzled, I look for a reason

I’m being sent out, but committed no treason.

I tell the headmaster I am at a loss

‘You mock with your hair, that’s why he is cross.’

free writes and clusters

I enjoy clusters. I find that clusters triggered by abstract concepts engage me more than ones triggered off by concrete words like physical objects. I seem to get stuck more easily when the trigger word is an object. An abstract concept usually gets my emotions rolling and words flow easily. As with psychology, word association really has no rules, so any word can lead to any other word and the connection isn’t always obvious. It reminds me of Edward Debono’s lateral thinking books.
With freewrites it’s a bit different. So far, I haven’t yet managed to write first thing in the morning. I can’t really function without having a coffee first. I keep a dream diary, but when I write on waking up, I only jot down words that remind me of what the dream was about and I usually write up the dream right after I’ve had coffee.
Somehow my freewrites do not seem that free. I need a trigger. So I guess, I’m writing focused freewrites. If no word comes to mind, I choose a number, go on google news and click on an article, I count the words to the number I chose and that becomes my trigger word. I was surprised that it even works when the trigger is a silly word like a conjunction. My free writes consist mainly of phrases, miniature pictures of thoughts and ideas,  they're mostly disjoined and won't make much sense to anyone else. Am I doing it right?
I prefer typing to writing. It’s faster. Many of my notes are on my laptop. However I keep a notebook on me when I’m out and I jot down things: phrases, descriptions of places and people, impressions, storyline ideas. I do clusters on the notebook too.
Another thing - no one is allowed to browse through my notebook. There’s so much that can be misconstrued or misunderstood and taken totally out of context. What’s in there is only for me, and with good reason, I don’t look good in straight white jackets!

Addressing Writer's Block

I've haven't been writing for very long. I've never experienced prolonged periods of writer's block. Of course I do doubt myself and my capabilities. I doubt whether what I'm saying is relevant to anyone. Is it original enough, is it good enough, is it worth taking up anyone's precious time to read my thoughts?  However I plod on. If anything, I write about not being able to write. Writing's a good way to externalise messed up thoughts and give them some form and order.

However there are the times when nothing comes, no ideas switch on the lightbulb, blank pages stare back at me, I nibble my pencil in frustration and try and wait patiently for the next big idea to arise from the depths. When nothings happens I get depressed, the more I give in to these feelings, the deeper my descent down the spiral staircase of vacuous mind. Nothingness replicates itself profusely and with determination.

Snap out of it. I tell myself this often.  I've got this set of cards that came with my design thinking course. They're simple solutions which nudge you in a different direction when you're feeling creatively stuck.  They actually work. I  usually just pick one out at random and follow what it says. 

Here are some examples:

- Let chance decide.
- Choose a different perspective.
- Go for a walk.
- Take a risk.
- Be playful.
- Sleep on it  (I do this one often :)
- Taste, smell, listen, touch, look.
- Rally your friends
- Act out your problem.
- Make a wish.
- Change the scale.
- Keep it simple.

No doubt we'll all go through this horrid phase of creative standstill, when words and ideas don't seem to co-operate at some point or other. I do hope my little contribution will help.

England - Quo Vadis?

It is with feelings of shame, regret and slight anguish that I'm writing my first muse about the current situation in England. It seems like riots are the order of the day. Youngsters gone mad, feverish frenzy, looting, arson, mayhem, madness. I turned on TV and watched our prime minister speaking about sick sections of our society. Why and when did it all go so wrong and what’s the cure?

What makes our youth go to such extremes? Some people mention the lack of possibilities, that youths see no clear future prospects, austerity cuts in the budget affecting students. But surely a graphic designer, a teaching assistant and a couple of university students are not people who can comfortably be stratified as being so poor and destitute that they need to loot? It’s not about money. The daughter of a millionaire who was charged with rioting and looting in court today is proof of that. None of them were famished, they only went for the alcohol. They are not shod in tatters, they looted designer clothes and footwear. They communicate using costly high-tech blackberries and iphones and stole the same. 

Why did you do it? “Because I can get away with it” was the simple, straightforward answer. These are just collective tantrums of a disaffected young population, whose idea of role-model is a rapper talking about his ho, or a drugged celebrity slurring incomprehensibly on a morning TV show. Good, honest, altruistic people are not considered cool. The youth of today hails with the cry of ‘It’s me, me, me and if there’s anything left it’s more for me’. This is an individual-oriented philosophy gone terribly wrong. It is ego-enhancement without the right props.  You are cool if you can get away with murder and you’re a jerk if you get caught.  And you’re wicked if you’re good. That says a lot.

Of course some of these youths just got caught up in the situation. The ring leaders mapped it out using today’s technology. If a Twitter message tells you to go to the town centre, it’s cool, the in-thing to do. So the youngster joins the group, maybe stays on the periphery at first and watches the cool ones at their best. Then a thought occurs, if they can do it, why can’t I? So there they are, dragged into the mayhem by the pull of the crowd.  Crowd psychology diminishes the sense of individual responsibility. Together we can be bad. There is safety in numbers, you know.

What of the media? A piece of breaking news shatters the doldrums of an otherwise boring and uneventful summer day, the newscaster brightens up.  Lets go for it, lets sensationalise it; and in the process inform whoever has no blackberry where their friends are and where it’s all happening. London’s burning. The cool youths of the capital are rebelling. We, in Birmingham and Manchester are just as cool. Lets show them.

The young man from Croydon knows that the prime minister and the mayor of London are on holiday. Why should they have a holiday when he can’t afford one? What about the austerity cuts? Now they’ll have to come back and face the music. If policing is not a priority for the prime minister, why should it be one for him? Actually he’s all for it. The police force in low spirits, having to reapply for a job they have held for years, the police also  know about safety in numbers and their numbers are dwindling.  Better for him who loots and sets fire to the carpet shop because there’s nothing in there he can steal, less chance of being caught.

So what will save us? Community spirit? Setting up vigilante type groups on every street? Surely that would be the short term solution until Boris convinces David not to touch the police budget. But what of the long term solution? How do we instil good values in the youth of today? How do we give them good role-models they can look up to and emulate? Me thinks there is a whole load of soul-searching to be done…..