Je voudrais un croissant s’il vous plait – moi j’ai faim!
Gosh, been so busy this week! Been drowning in coursework and homework, and then there’s work and my voluntary work for Derian House. I’ve struggled to find any time to do any writing, but I will treat you to the first chapter of my novel ‘The Long Way Home’. It’s about a teenage boy who has to come to terms with the fact that he’s gay and find his place in life where he feels accepted for who he is, and can call home. I guess at times it can be considered a little soap opera, but…I’ll let you decide as you read more and more of it.
Otherwise, life hasn’t been filled with the most interesting of events. In my very little free time I’ve been slobbing around, buying punk rock jewellery on eBay because that’s how I seem to roll these days (I need to stop buying so much on there…). Oh, I’ve also been writing a lot of poetry, because again, that’s how I roll.
Anyway, without further ado, I’ll post Chapter One of ‘The Long Way Home’ for y’all. Hope you like it.
Canst thou knock and break my bones?
Maybe if not for a little hesitation,
Sprawled I’d be, atop black and white,
And thy driver will come and cry apologies
Or be cold and continue regardless.
But be it no matter, dear speeding car
For the pain you drive through my body
Would never compare to that through my soul.
It compresses upon my shoulders,
A pressure unwanted-
Ha, fool; a pressure wanted doth not exist.
Stupid statements may spell my end
For I will not face death today
Nor tomorrow. But one day, I pray
I will no longer feel this pain.
But no one mind must worry, for I
Will never let my bladed hand slip
And my throat will never suffer a slit
From me. Nor suffer lacking breath,
For a coward canst not deal that hand.
Or is a coward the one who can?
For they leave when the going gets tough
And I pity them, as much as I do their family,
For feeling so down as to want to
Move these last six feet low;
Several feet towards the Paradise (or Hell)
Which they now belong to
In peace my hopes do plead,
But who knows the consequences of actions?
By golly! Why so morbid?
A poem of death and pain fills the heart
And beats away good feelings that once embraced it.
Again my mouth is floating; I shalt hush now
And I shalt forget thee, fast car,
For thou art the fool, not I.
I had a sudden idea for this new story, so here’s the extract I wrote. More to come, but I doubt that happening any time soon.
Hello there, and welcome to my blog! This is my little den to write any stories, poems, or rants that I have falling off my fingertips at the time, and which you can read and either compliment or criticise. I need someone to tell me to get my head out of the clouds if that’s all I’m doing after all.
Warning: this blog is NOT about how I bit a piranha who had mistaken my toes for sausages… Good times… No. It’s a metaphor. If you have any bonkers idea what it means, please don’t hesitate to comment with your theory. I would lurrrrve to hear some of these!
I’m also hoping to cast and direct a play I’ve written, so fingers crossed that will actually happen, then you can read me gloating about how well it’s going…or whining about how crap it’s going. One or the two. Maybe you’ll even be treated to videos to do with it, and other projects that I get involved in later on in life.
Hokay, I will shut up now and you can tell me to piss off. Then you can live your life, I can have my whiskey, and we can continue the show ‘Who’s Drunk, Who’s Not & Who Eats Bananas’. Bananas? Where did that come from?
I’ll be tapping soon. Ciao folks!