What the fuck is up world.

I turned this wordpress thing off so I could sort out a proper website and then never got around to the coding, shrivelling this blog into a husk all the while ignoring the domain name like an ugly stepchild. Eh. No mas.

So screw it. I’m back to yell into the hole that is the internet. Enter the crickets. The redcoats are back. And I feel like a goddamn Starboy right now.

The frenzied feeling that time is running out for you to make something of yourself. Ugh.

comes the mania

it’s coming
do you hear it?
for you
me
all of us

the colour of the sky turns
a shadow creeps across the wall
the tock strikes deep within the heart

weep for your loved ones
there is little else to be done now.

abdul j

Ronin

an hour a day away from the perfect life
instead i continue my wanderings
roaming the earth without a master to devote myself to
committed to no purpose,
i am a ronin with naught but a pen
there is no roof above my vagrant heart
my blade dulls under the open skies
as i flit from employ to employ

Abdul j.

I meant to write something else I’ve been pondering on. Instead I looked out at my garden and this came out. Whoops.

wanderlove

i fall in love too easily
with the spring blossom on our apple tree
with the cacophony of bird calls on this overcast evening
with a rhubarb bush grown wild
a broken fence and upturned milk crates
i dart from one thing to another
the object of my affections everchanging
i am a fickle lover
indecisive even in this one garden

the world is too large for me, my loves
i can never see it all

abdul j.

From the 2010 album The Wild Hunt:

Camp Nano started yesterday, I’ve yet to begin on that. Also National Poetry Writing Month (Napowrimo?). I’m more hopeful about that one I guess. In American news, the Supreme Court just dropped the ball on another shitty decision. What I wrote about that is below. HIMYM also finished recently and I feel very mixed and disappointed about it all. Believe it or not I want to write something inspired by that too. And then of course my new Rumi selection came in the post and the first poem has already blown me away.

..Is The New Black

citizens may unite but baby, money talks
and freedom comes at a premium
sold to the highest bidder
gavel struck by the robbers’ court
I hope you got that extra
extra justice supreme

and if not, make do with your free lunches
full stomachs and empty souls
watch them as they handwave away the dinners
these are not the tax cuts you are looking for
Paul calls the kettle black
or should that be ‘inner city’?
they swear to Christ, we’re all of us still equal
separate yes, but equal
the greens segregated from blacks

Abdul J

How did I not hear this song earlier? My favourite busker covered it in town on Saturday when I was with family. And then I heard it again over the radio yesterday whilst with friends.

Portrait modelling for uni students. My favourite building and a tripod-mounted DSLR. Bad cigars and okay coffee. Pirate party. Captain America 1+2. Pizza, fried chicken and melty chocolate cakes. Central Library. Getting an old coat back. Good weather and B&Js. Mother’s Day. All in all, great birthday weekend, Friday included. Live, laugh, love.

From 2012’s All The Little Lights:

Camp Nano starts tomorrow. What.

I wrote a poem today and it turned out a little too grim to comfortably share. Maybe on a slow day when I dont give a shit. Here’s one from yesterday. I dont write poems often, but I’ve been on somewhat of a binge lately (probably the most I’ve done in a month ever at a running grand total of.. five). This one’s almost a little humourous. Please excuse the Greek mythology: I dont mean to sound like a pretentious douche, I’m just a sucker for dead civilisations for some dumb reason.

I couldnt find the song I wanted to put up so instead I went with the mythology thang and chose this one. It’s by a Northwestern Brit so I’m a little partial but it’s pretty cool stuff imo. From the 2013 album Engravings, enjoy:

Labour of Words

a handful of words spill out as the axe strikes
Athena is born fully grown fully clothed
and the pressure eases for a time
then Metis the muse, no, rather the witch
begins her hammering once more
utterances reverberate in the mind
the head pains, groans for relief
clove it in two with your axe
or strike me down with a hammer
give me peace again

Abdul J