The Second Coming...

Yesterday turned out okay in the end. Who knew? Though today I have a limp, a head cold, and a sore wrist (keep your thoughts to yourself)...

It's amazing how the smallest things can affect your mood. Music for example. I've been listening to a lot of Mumford and Sons, and when that banjo kicks in an the epic, emotive, awesome jump starts the song, I tend to smile and thrash my fist with the beat. And until yesterday, my favourite poem was The Second Coming by W.B. Yeats:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Dark, apocalyptic, and wonderful imagery, I hope you'll agree. And then we started talking about poetry during our daily commitments, and Biddy suggested a poem I should read, and it sounded like a very intelligent person wrote it. The Blind Men and The Elephant by John Godfrey Saxe. It's a good read, if you haven't read it only eight stanzas long and it blows apart almost every single religion to date, by saying you're all sort of right but at the same time, you're all incredibly wrong...

I got to speak to Wodge again last night, we chatted about this and that for hours. It's good to know that she's still around, and kickin'. And the gauntlet has been laid down, real-world fiction (lol) will be written soon! Thank you again Wodge!

But now the new dawn is here, I feel like death warmed up, but today is a new day...

Carpe diem...

No Reservations...

Today I have decided that I am going to write...

I don't know what yet, but I am going to write something. I've sort of tidied the house, and I have of course watered my Pumpkins, made myself breakfast, even though it was disappointing without the usual Banana and non-stale cereal, and put the washing out.

I have also decided that I don't really like PG Tips, Typhoo is my tea of choice, one sugar, and a drop of milk. I know, I'm common.

I am now watching No Reservations, and I am enjoying thoroughly. Oh damn my neediness for Chick-Flicks!

Why am I telling you all these things? Well the truth is, to get my mind off a few things. And I imagine you can guess which few things those would be...

Planning birthday parties that wouldn't be approved of or holidays that will not happen is not a good use of my mind, though it would be a very nice thing to do...if I had the money.

Now I had best go and do some writing, perhaps respond to a letter I received while I was away. I don't know, something needs to take my mind off things.

And while I remember, I would like to inform you that I am not Cardiff's International Poet of the Year, but oh well. I'm not a good poet, I know that.

Carpe diem, until next time bloggers...

Addiction...

Hi, I'm Tom and I'm an addict...

Well I wouldn't go so far as to say addict but I have been playing an awful lot of Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood, and namely it's multiplayer. Now, if I was someone else I'd probably go ahead and tell you it's good bits and its bad bits in a sort of review type thing, but I'm not someone else, I'm me, and as such I'm just going to tell you that it's great.

You'd enjoy it I'm sure.

But that's not the only reason I find myself writing today, no today I found myself marking work like a teacher or a lecturer. I didn't actually find anything, well much, wrong with the piece - as you know Brady - and all I actually did was suggest things which might strengthen or weaken the piece, depending on what it's original writer wanted it to do in the first place. And damn, I thought to myself, is this really what teachers/lecturers do?!

What else should I tell you today?

Well I received a letter from the Cardiff International Poet Competition inviting me to the award ceremony. I don't quite know whether or not this is a good thing. Either way I cannot go due to a tragic case of having to sun myself next to an Italian Pool when the ceremony is taking place. So I don't quite know whether that'll effect my chances of winning. It probably won't.

As for the holiday itself I'm almost packed and have everything I need to take and have and take, did I already say that one? Anyway, I've got my stylish hold-ors collectively stacked one on top of the other and ready to be shipped. Before I get away with this wonderfully homosexual or feminist image of multiple bags I shall quit while I'm ahead. I've not packed, and I'm limited to a small bag and a carry-on - OoooooooooooOOOooooooOoooooh Maaaatron! No, not that sort of carry on.

Anyway I should probably get back to killing my friends and some strangers...on Brotherhood of course. I'm not a homo. And that's a homicidal not GAY!

And yes, a friend of mine, the Master has recently rejoined the ranks of the bloggers, and I think you should read her here. She has some unfortunately funny situations on there and they're all true, as unbelievable as they might be. Enjoy!

Carpe diem, until next time bloggers...

You Word Twisting Red-Coat!

Hail all those of our race and not.

I have been mortally offended. Have you ever been British? Have You ever had an American friend? Has she ever told you that you were a 'word twisting Red-Coat'? Well I have. But less of that. Is Red-Coat really a derogatory term for the British? I think it could be, but then the term Red-Coat sort of makes me proud. It reminds me of a time not so long ago. A better time. A prosperous time. A British time. And as a friend of mine would say (Hi Clareg) - it all came to ruin with America, we let it slip out of our grasp and so the world fell. People now prefer coffee to tea, they speak ungodly english, and they have no manners. But then, that's me talking about the British Empire as if I were there - Pish posh, toff toff, pip pip, tallyho, and chucks away!

I am Welsh. I am British. Therefore, if you are not any of these denominations then I own you! And you know it (I kid, I kid - Hi Duckface, Sunshine, and Tag).

We've crushed the Rebel Alliance, by the way. Smeccles and I finally trounced the pathetic rebels. I destroyed their tanks while Smeccles destroyed their leaders. And then we captured their Princess, killed their Jedi, and did all around bad things to them. Wookies hurt. Aren't you glad I parted with that vital piece of knowledge.

Today I met Jimbo's brother (one of them). He was a quieter version of Jimbo - though still as quirky. Wodge, Pill, and I were greeted with a big hug from him. It was all really bizarre, but then it doesn't matter. Jimbo's family is our family.

Moving swiftly on...

Yesterday I posted, what I would describe as, crap. So I posted another one. It's much better, you should read that one instead. And in the latter one I promised some writing. To be honest, I haven't done as much writing today as I thought I would have done. I woke up at 10, fulfilled my morning routine, watched this week's Glee (which was Gaga-fied), and then called my dear Mum. Whilst doing this Wodge and Pill returned to the flat, and then it was lunchtime and Jimbo and his brother arrived to meet everyone. So a relatively busy day which had me spend the longest amount of time in my Pj's, I've ever spent conscious (yes I still wear Pajamas, and yes I call them Pj's). But writing I promised you and writing you shall have.

The Meadow-Field Dance

The Meadow-Field Dance

Is quite a place to be.

If you catch it by chance,

I'm sure you'd quite agree.

The bees and birds stare

As the Daisys stand tall,

And dance in the Meadow's Square;

It is the Meadow-Field Ball.

The Buttercups join the fray.

Music bounces all around.

Behold the dancing bouquet

When the Meadow-Field Queen is crowned.

Dandylions skip, jump, and shout;

Taking Daisys and Buttercups alike.

They all dance, all about.

Until the Thunder's strike...

Rain brings the Ball to a halt;

The drops have shattered the romance.

Wait until we sing and exalt,

It was the Meadow-Field Dance.

What did you think? Did you enjoy? You know you did, and you should tell me you did. Comment, and tell me how much you loved it. Compare me to Wordsworth, Chaucer, and Blake - all at the same time. You know I know you know you loved it.

Where next? I think that's it for another day. I would like to thank Wodge and Pill for feeding me this evening. Cod and Mash is a weird thing, but I ate and enjoyed nonetheless. Mmm...Fishy Mash.

But that's me, until next time bloggers...

Salutations, Shalom, Hello, Greetings...

Hi, I'm Tom and I enjoy life.

People say that they enjoy my company, and that my ideas and insights are welcomed and informative. I have the Smart Persona, the aura of a smart person - I don't believe this for obviously modest reasons.

I know many people, all of whom say some slightly differing accounts about me - though there are some definites that they might all agree on:

1. Appearance: I haven't weighed less than 20-stone in almost 7 years.

2. Age: I have definitely been told that I was born in the wrong century, and that I would be more at home in a quaint English countryside as a farmer in the 17th-18th Centuries.

3. Laughter: My laughs vary, though I have been told that my are one of my most memorable traits.

More about me:

I'm tall. I don't drive. I can eat. I don't have to eat. I'm single. I 'moo' when I sleep. I have written a poem while fast asleep (this was recently). I've broken my leg and walked home on it (this was not recently). I can cook good food. I never do. I speak the Queen's English and no other Language (well a little French, but that was a long time ago). I have a fear of the dark (namely outside in the dark). I have been mugged (this explains the dark thing). I'm writing this for the sake of writing this (so stop reading if you get bored). I have a deviantArt account (http://ajaxthegreatest.deviantart.com/). I want to become a successful writer. I don't think this will be possible (but we'll see). I've just finished the 2nd Year of a Creative Writing Degree in Carmarthen (I hope I've done well).

More interesting matters:

Okay, so let's talk about the 'writing a poem while fast asleep' bit. It was last week, either Thursday or Friday morning, and I wake up. My notebook, which had been sat on my desk, was now flat open on my bedside table. With pen lid on floor and scriblings on the page. I had subconsciously written, what appears to be a love poem. This poem details a certain fancy for a certain someone - let's call her Chaplin (well my flatmates tell me that the poem seems to edge on for the liking of Chaplin, at least). So it would appear I like Chaplin, whether I knew it or not. Chaplin being this girl who came down from North Wales to stay with us in Carmarthen for a few days (that's right, just a few days). So she came, she went, and I thought that was the end of it.

She being the good friend of my flatmate - let's call her Bells. Who is going out with Tag (okay I'm carrying on with the whole anonymous thing), who might just be reading this right now - Hi Tag - if you know who you are. So they, and my other two flatmates, Wodge and Pill, have been trying to set me up with just about anyone - or so I've been told, and it has been strongly hinted at. Especially with one of my other flatmates, HB Sauce.

Anyway, so she came, she saw, and she apparently conquered. And now I think I quite like her - well my subconscious seems to be hinting towards as much. And I've been writing more of the same poems - not in my sleep - but on the recommendation of my American friend, Clockwork (this being the sort of self-therapy I apparently needed). So I've embraced the dreams, and now, as of June 1st, I have stopped having them. I miss the vivid dreams - I think I miss dreams in general.

But that's me, until next time bloggers...

P.S. The Poems are found on my deviantArt (http://ajaxthegreatest.deviantart.com/) I imagine you can guess which ones they are.