Raven girl

She's so sad and her bodies not moving.
Locked in her room cos her minds going crazy.
Her raven hair is shining
But her pale skin is starving.
Hidden in the darkness.
Sunken lightness.
She is so special
But she doesn't know it.
I see her music moving through her rigid elbow
Leaking from her soul.
Sound fills her world but it's all blacked up.
Draw up our love and keep fighting back.
Sun fading backwards fast through the clouds in her room.
Her large hazel eyes hold so much strung up.
Your tender and gentle I see al your fear.
Girl your so blessed but I can't get in.
Your feelings messed up
China doll you put out so strong.
Just let out whats wrong.
Your lips are quivering under red paint. Ruby red.
The girl without finger tips.
Cut off lock of hair.
Don't cry little sister.
Not without letting it go.
Run with the notes and play with the keys.
Feel the fresh air and escape to wild sea.
Follow the river.
Music run free.

Head

The wolves are out dancing under the moon
She's running on her mind and tripping on her skirt
It's reaching her ankles and she's naked once again.
Limbs glowing white under the howling skies.
The flying isn't fear
And the wind is free and fixed on her fierce burning stare.
My feet feel the earth, pounding the ground.
Nature's spell stole on her smile
Whip her fast and ruin her body
Thorns through her heart
Are briars to her finger tips.
Stabbing means EVERYTHING.
Blood is thicker than her skin
She is bleeding from her eyes
She fell in love with the wild things and now the haunting won't go away.
You wont get her back
Her wings got torn off
Her hair collecting feathers
Leaves poking through her skin
Her lips stopped speaking but snarling and spitting.
Ravenous hunger for flesh upon flesh.
Mud up her legs.
Closer to dirt. Ripping at scabs on her heart.
Cos her head is the earth and her hearts buried deep.
The darkness is light
And the stars her angels - She's in love with the wolfman and she lost her head.

Pink daze

In the pink dress
She hovers floating above the sea
An ephemeral future.
My dreams are all the time
If only they could fill all the grey and  stop to breathe.
Reality doesn't matter to my soul but it inflicts my body.
If I could escape the monotonous daze.
The repetitive repetition of existence.
The over and over and over and over of the pointless
Materiality of empty existence.
Time flows and is wasting the thinking
Freedom tied and bound and suffocated in the lesser mundane
Life running through wasted water.
Ged rid of this burden.
Society sells the sun to the soulless.
And be free.

Morning

When the morning comes I can be human again.
I don't run from the light.
Just chasing life.
Being a wild thing is a choice not to be changed but I still love.
It is beautiful.

Violet eyes

What closed hearts we have.
Who truly understands themselves and tells how they truly are?
To say I feel
Or to act the way they know?
To see your tears -
The one who knows my little limbs and shone into those violet eyes.
Violet eyes - first sight was you.
To say I know you!
But to know the world...
Give it all to you in an instant,
You gave it to me.
Please stop and see
Your good heart.
My breathe would not exist without your blood
Yet your heart set fire to my mind.
Remember painting the sky?
The wind can save you.
Time for us three.

Black box

Maybe if we had stayed inside the black box where we found ourselves in the beginning, or at least returned there, we could loose our perception of reality and live with out fear. Not being able to see but feeling you smile. Who knows where it ends. Just keep on walking and listen to the children laugh. The black box is where it began. Where my sense of sight was numbed but I knew myself. You knew yourself. Or maybe neither knew anything but it didn't matter because all that could survive was blind innocence. When ones eyes are switched off and the boundaries of space are lifted who knows when to stop. No wrong can be done in a black box. Darkness. Pitch black darkness. Can you see the way through with your mind? I just wanted to cling to you and know that nobody knew or cared. If we stayed in that black box would we be free?              

New Love

1.freedom is to love
2.slightly superstitous
3.yes

... there is nothing more perfect than unrequited love...



(guess what my answers are too)

back and notes on bulls and bloodshed....

I am back from holidaying in Andalucia and have an infinite list of posts to start on and many photos that need uploading...

I had a fantastic time with Alex and my family; it was peaceful and happy and sunny and very hard to come back. Holidays seem to take away any worries and you seem to live in a world of perfection. The holiday bought everyone closer and I think even self discovery... stepping away is a necessity.

I think I need to write about one thing first...
BULL FIGHTS!!
On a trip to Malaga we managed to visit a real life bullfight. I wanted to see it, Alex wanted to see it... everyone did apart from my sister.. but she was just nervous.
Bull fights are a contreversial subject... bloody, cruel, patriotic, majestical, ceremonial... it was all of these things.
Personally I do not think it is right. I didn't quite know how I would feel but it defenately had an affect on me.
Sitting in the ring we were surrounded by spanish people, the mood was high, live musicians played spanish music... everything was defeantely happy, pure and wonderful. The start was ceremonial, beautiful and proud. The matadors strong, majestical and heroic but as soon as the first bull was released an overwhelming sadness came over me. It was so small, pitiful and humbling. it wasn;t this angry beast I was expecting. I immediately started feeling what I thought it was feeling...
Pain as it's skin was stabbed...exhaustion, humilation, weakness as the matador prodded it urging to fight. This bull was too effeminate, too lovely.. I imagined it's friends, it;s paretns... this wasn't a bull who wanted to fight... it just wanted a hug?
The matador jeered as it watched it die... this bull died for human pride.. an unworthy cause.
My sister, Alex and my Mother were concerened but excited, desperate for more.... it wasn't personal... I stayed but it made me angry ... there is nothing I could no about it!
The next two bulls were stronger more fierce, there pain didn;t hurt me nad the matador's fantastic but I still can;t condone this sport. Yes it is traditional, beautiful, and brings the peopele together but we live in a modern world which is searching for freedom. Animals are now seen as worthy beings with rights... yes we eat animals... but I am not sure anyone enjoys there killing.
I think spain needs to find a new way of keeping the glory of the matador but not the bullish behaviour.

Tweet Tweet...

Bird song is the sound of spring. It makes me feel alive. We are lucky to live in a country where we can here this. In London I miss out but waking up next to a forest tells me life begins.


Aside birds have always made me feel free... you just need to take away the cage.