Remember the Long Blondes?

You'll be holding all the tickets and I'll be paying all the fines

Who's gonna love you?
Who's gonna fall far behind?

So, when it comes to songs such as the above, it is quite tragically painfully difficult to remember, three to four years on, quite how much they meant to you. Once all your friends, your falacies and your foes start raving about itm and the facebook status' that used to be obscure soon become predictable...

Once theings as lovely and pure and raw and as wonderfully wordily, lyrically and luxuriously lovely as this end up trending on twitter and being tattooed on indie/emo girl's fat thighs, they lose that certain je ne sais quoi...

But, then again, Skinny Love, even now, means the world to me, and more.

I forgot

Just how much I love this song.

Toothpaste Kisses

Dedicated especially for my leggy lady (and of course, to Little Miss Birthday Brat - Penny Lainne).

All my love, forever ever more. 

Tree

The tree of life is life's tree, for life is a tree.

The roots are your past, the trunk are your soul, the branches are your life's love, and the leaves are the kisses you have yet to share.

Mantra

Awesome as she, in all her glory.
I was that girl, and he took it from me.
She pummelled it out, gave me a fresh look.
I wasn’t theirs to have, but it was me they forsook. 

I will be that girl, the ray of light.
Even with only myself, late at night.
I can fight this suffocation, I truly will.
I see what I was, what I became, but I’m me still.

Sick of the future, yet afraid to push the past away.
Clinging tightly to the pain, but I will break free today.
Plans were made, dreams wrung out.
Never had I felt such loss and doubt.

Yet now, I have the chance, to leave behind
Those things, those hurts that had left me so blind.
I have the fire, determination and rage
To take back that girl, yet war need not be waged.

This personal escape, this chance to seize.
I’ll be the girl he fell for, but one he can't squeeze.
I’ll take it all on, and I will win.
This vile competition, riddled with sin.

To rise above it all, to take it in my stride.
It was me they broke, but I’ll retain my pride.
The future is bright, orange they say,
Mine will be tainted but I’ll chase it away.

New people, a new way to smile, 
To see clearly, it may take a while.
Yet I know that these scars can fade,
And new light, new love will be made.

Old #5

We saw, we heard, we felt, we knew,

That you were for me and I was for you.

We flew on together while time stood still

My soul, my heart, only you could fill.

I gave you it all, my meaning, my ‘me’,

I truly believed I’d set you free.

You took what I gave, you had everything,

Then you squandered it all, now just a fling.

She poisoned your heart, turned you back into you,

I was left here alone, I knew what was due.

She took you away, wasted what we were,

You let her do it, with her long legs and her fur.

I watched hopefully, still feeling your light,

But I’m still alone, alone every night.

Your lies cut through me, they continue to sear,

You’ve left me broken, consumed by love’s fear.

I know who you are now, and I know what she is.

I know what you did to me, and how you just hid.

We will never go back, but sometimes I feel,

That if you could see again, you’d help me to heal.

What the heart breaker said to me #1

A love that came on quickly from the start
And faltered when those yearnings of the heart
Had entered into darkened parts of mind,
A conscience swift had left her love behind.
And birds will cut across his longing gaze,
A kiss for hours will turn to sleep for days.
At lunch they might remember, now and then
but know that it won't taste the same again.


He could not bear the weight that would compel
The soul to break for having loved too well.

Old #4

I want to hurl him into the world in my fervent fury of affection.

I want them all to see me ache for him. To know how he fills me to the top.

I want to broadcast our passion to the nether regions of consciousness.

I want people to know. To want. To envy.

I want to hurl you into the world in my fervent fury of affection.

I want them all to see me ache for you. To know how you fill me to the top.

I want to broadcast our passion to the nether regions of consciousness.

I want people to know. To want. To envy.

Old #3

Aching for you while you ache inside yourself,

I yearn for your health and comfort, and for my satisfaction.

You are blinded by these shuddering stabs of pain.

You hurt all over, and I hurt to see you.

All we need is each other, our bed, our love.

Yet this sweeping sickness pulls us from warmth and joy

into a shaking ball of moans and a listless, loveless lover.

I fear for your pain and that you suffer more than you should.

Witnessing these weaknesses seems cruel and dark.

Desperate to numb your feeling, yet you are helpless.

My touch is nothing. Yours would be everything.

Your body churns and bucks.  While mine brings only discomfort.

Our last night of love in golden luxury, tainted by this curdling, blackened pain.

Old #2

We pretend we’re less than we are

With our whisky kisses and denim creaks.

We lose ourselves in each other

Amongst endless aisles and empty streets.

We leave the world outside

Preferring purple pushes and eternal sleep.

We can’t retrieve ourselves

Unrestrainedly together, we speak.

We say the words they all say

But we feel them here, true and deep.

You are my discovery. You are my midnight treat.

You are my gratification. You are my reckless heat.

Old #1

Transmission of thoughts through just a look

Eye contact sharing a passage, a page, a book

Presenting a state of perfection

Our lock and key connection

Adoration and emotion in complete purity,

Filling us with a mutual security

I long for you, I ache for you, I have you.

You’re mine, I’m yours, this is ours

Brazen

Our brazen decadence cuts through crowds,
Young delights, we ring out so free, so loud.
Violet heat stretched through time,
For all to see, to know he's mine.


Yet knives stab through, blunt at time.
Midnight tears. So dark, our deep guilt chimes.
Fire. Flames. Her ash smothers our light.
Lost in chaos, his hand held tight.


We sail on in passion, irretrievably bound.
Honest faith. Truth is our sound.
A warmth stronger than we'd ever known,
He sees it in me, how much I've grown.

Yes, I flee from you

I flee from you under dark of night, 
Hoping that I do not catch your roaming sight. 
For if you wake while I am running from your charms, 
You might try to catch me back up into your arms. 
You do not understand my cumpulsions deep. 
Nor why I take to newfangleness steep. 
But surley as I stand in darkness now, 
I shall tell the truth to you, this do I vow. 

If faithful to you you desire me to be, 
Faithfulness is required of you back unto me. 
And take not another maiden to your heart, 
or allow any other to fill my part. 

So then when my shoulders are once again bare 
And my arms are around yours so broad and fare, 
You shall not worry about me in the morn, 
I will still be there lying beside your form. 

And when this is fulfilled I will be 
Happier than ever, 
And I shall no longer flee. 

I'm sorry to admit that I am uncertain of author of 

the above poem of beauty, please enlighten me?

Heart Ache for the sake of Heart Ache is a lie. My Heart Aches, here, now, always

Darling to listen to this again, after so long, actually hurts me hideously.

But, then again, it also makes me horrendously happy at the same time.

Nostalgia hits home, hard

All of the painful but somewhat cathartic nostalgia that was just posted on the freshly refurbished new blog has gotten me back in to a lot of bands I forgot I had such a passion for - these include the following...

So this is how you spell it

So this is goodbye? 
So this is how you say it. 
These are the words, It's the voice you're using,
It's the picture you've seen.
 
So this is goodbye.
So this is how they say it.
This is the time it takes you 
It didn't take you a lot now did it? 
It didn't hurt you a lot now did it?


So this is goodbye.
So this is how you spell it.
Where you place it in your mouth...

What happens if I didn't hear you? 
What happens if it wasn't serious?


Well I was around,
Maybe it was you I came to see,
Maybe it was you who invited me.


I remember your eyes were on me. 
I remember your eyes were on me.

Goodbye...

Offerings from TheDrunkenIrishMan - take 1

I warn you of mothers and brothers, uncles and friends,
of your grandfathers, fathers, lovers and men,
of women, children, first timers and veterans,
for our dreams are raped by expectations,
for those of us who dare to have them.

I warn you of liars, beggars and business men,
of so called prophets, and reaching an ultimate end,
of history and future, and that of written pen,
for our dreams are raped by expectations,
for those of us who dare to have them.

I warn you of cocks and cunts, love and lust,
of waiting for dates, in the pissing muck.
I warn of sorrys and nos, yeses and maybes,
for our dreams are raped by expectations,
for those of us who dare to have them.

I warn you of firsts and lasts, nevers and things to pass,
of clothes and naked, and the greener grass.
I warn of listening and silence, shouts and whispers,
for our dreams are raped by expectations,
for those of us who dare to have them.

I warn of fuck and bullshit, and things that come in ones,
of multiplying and devils, riddlers and nuns,
I warn of books and americans, and people with guns,
for our dreams are raped by expectations,
for those of us who dare to have them.

new venture

the soundtrack to my life is now a blog:

CHECK IT OUT lovelies!

Wawh-wawh

So, I let the bath over flow, a tiny bit (and it's a big iron Victorian style bath, of the dark ages) and it leaked into the light fittings, and my Dad had a fit over it. I think I've now been disowned... Dear me, not quite the relaxing bath time I'd had planned for before bed time.

Scrappy #1

Guess Who?

Answers on the back of a postcard please.

...Only Mr Brad Pitt in his pre-Jolie days. And yes, I made this when I was still fucking about in year 10 art lessons. So suck on that one, mother fukkkha.

This is the beginnings of a collaboration of my stores of beautiful and inspiratinal images, words and old copies of Vice, Vogue, Elle and various IDs and NYLONs that have caused me to become a manic and highly skilled scrap booker.

So, wait on that one kids, it'll be worth your time. And check out the new blog when you can. I do commissions and favours and gifts of the scrap booking kind, so gimme a shout if you're interested - they make TREMENDOUS presents....

I cannot feel my feet

You're my tears, you're my blasphemous poison,
You taste so salted and so saccharin.
Oh I have drunk ten cases of you, darlin'...
And I cannot feel my feet.

Wicked Games

Screw Loose

So baby, darling one, look at you.
So you're trying to play me, to take me on a ride?

Well honey, I don't do rides.
I do rollercoasters, and thanks to all your bullshit, the screws have shaken loose.
Do you really want to go on a ride that will terminate in your own untimely death and my thankful peace?

A hassler is a hassler is a hassler

HIM: I don't like hassle.

HER: Darling, you are hassle. But I hear it.

I shall cease forthwith.

 

Fare-fucking-well baby.

Just don't do the drunken calling me from a friend's phone at 3 in the morning and expect me not want to hear from you again.

 

Tsssh. Whatever, play on.

But you know, I've already won the game.

 

HIM: Doubtful.  

 

HER: Nah.

But I HAve missed you. come bother me some time, or not.

it's your call, but it'll be something of a loss for you, or us both, les deux, if you decided I wasn't worth your time, because I know for a fact that I am.

But, darling, all you do is prove you aren't worth mine. But still, fool as I am, I do continue to like you.

But, then again, whatever, none of that is important, just as my new bff valium keeps telling me.

So whatever, see you around, if ever.
Or never.

Well-being

Well-being or being well is not just a state of present, past and future comfort, health, satisfaction and contentment in al "well" forms. Well-being is more than said state of mind. Well-being is about doing well, feeling well, thinking well, living well, breathing well, eating well, giving well and receiving well.

Remember this, for if you forget, you may never be as well as I, or other well-beings.

The Unreal Pirate's Words #1

My parents have never really understood the person I am, from the moment I was born, to now. They have tried, maybe not as hard as they should have, and have failed as quickly as they entered into the conversation to succeed, I don't blame them for this, I'm a hard person to understand. I come from a generation separated from them in all but the fact that we share the current present. 


I have changed who I am on numerous occasions and forgotten the many versions of myself that have contributed to who I am now. Perhaps now is the time I most understand who I am but then again tomorrow, I may wholeheartedly disagree with it before I wrote it down. 


Just because something is written down toes not mean it's true, perhaps my parents knew me all along, perhaps I have been self-indulgent, self-pitying, so much so that I ignored the great success my parents have made in crafting this person into exactly who they wanted him to be, perhaps not. How I will ever really know as proof in either way is beyond me, except to say my Dad asked me whether I wouldn't like to study teaching or accounting when I was two years into a film production degree...

Valium is my new best friend.

All I do is sleep, eat, breathe, write and fuck. 


What more could you ask for?

Cheers Diazepam. 

Farewell

farewelltobidfarewelltothefarewellingfarewelltoendallfarewells.

A poetic story of bullshit for the two lostly un-lost body who sit there, residing, across the open oak table top that is covered in this me of all mine own

Once upon a time of times...

In the crisp, bitter-tasting, sweetly saccharin morning of forever stale-tasting mornings, that has finally ridded, or at least, ejected the noisy nuisance of nastiness and eternal infuriatingly frustrated nail-biting of the night before that had been played out, played out as a combination, a cocktail, une melange, of Christian goodness and a fallacy of faith that was enacted then, again, re-enacted by a girl of no good, great gracious graces, who wore nothing but salmonella tinged briefs - from American Apparel, of course - and a battered, tattered rag that preposterous people would name, or label a "Lumber Jack" shit with a donkey-print bra displayed beneath - as the labouriously gesticulated the donkeys of a four year old's Toy Story-fied dreams where exposed, shamelessly.
The fragrant fragrance of Jean Paul Gaultier was not a distraction from the crisp, cruel and forever stylishly slightly Christian Louboutin pumps she wore to compliment the curdling car crash of an anecdotal anecdote of a shittily charming outfit.
As she scraped the stench-stink-ridden draining drain of drains that was her broken soul, she moved, swiftly, to grab a shovel and, as a train carriage might trundle, tremble, crumble, mumble and grumblingly grumble along it's tiresome rust-bitten tracks, she took up said shovel and best he trombone playing loving loved lover to a glorious and permanently blood splattered death because he sported a donkey-coloured haircut.

And they lived, corpse and bride, happy ever after...

sentimentality

so there's a shitty film on the telly tonight that i kinda wanna watch, but i cant because the first (and last) time i watched it was with you. i wonder if youre watching it...

For my ever enigmatic, elusive and captivating Julia (Eggy Doggy)

A light so bright, she'll never go out.
Oh woe,
Woe would be to see tears drown that lovely face.

A love so strong, there's never a doubt.
Oh woe,
Woe would be to see her alone in her leather, her lace.

A voice so soft, a smile so light.
Oh woe,
Woe would be to see her heart go to waste.

A body of love, so slender, so slight,
Oh woe,
Woe would be to feel her heart break.


...


A light so bright, she'll never go out.
Oh woe,
Woe would be to see those shining eyes darken and dim.

Her struggle through our pleasure, inside, her pain.
Oh woe,
Woe would be to see how she does this, all this, all for him.

This is the sweet, subtle, sacred and strong goodbye to say goodbye to the goodbye of all unending goodbyes

You have broken my heart, stolen my spirit, scarred my souls, stripped off my skin, touched my trauma.
You have broken me.
Irrepressibly irreparably have you done this.
It is over
It is finished
It is done
It is final
It is dealth
It is won
It is lost
And my sweet,
It is dead.

Ta, love...


You have no possibly imaginable visible or attainable idea of what you have done.
What you have done to me, my self, moi. And what you haven't done to yourself thus far, you perhpas will.
So go, be gone. Fuck the girl I hate. Fuck the girl I hate. Fuck the girl I hate.
Just don't lie and say you'll be here, for me, me alone. And that your heart is broken, and that you love me,
don't say such untruths and deceptions if you are unable to be here to hold my hand.



You have done it.
It is done.
It, this, you, I... It is done.

Trois

- Don't go home to Birmingham life until you are stable.
= Yes, ofcourse, but it is not a stable place of stability there, it is a very unstable place to attempt to live a stabley stable life.
- Ah, right, yeah. Well why not up and move away from home?
= Yeah, well, that's why I'm here - you utter cunt...

Duex

Never shall you or anyone else but my sweet, surreptitious self of shy, sly and swiftly switching shares and eternal exchanges made quickly between our desperate mouths, ever invisibly in their unending night to end all other nights, never shall you, or I, never shall any one understand me, as I understand you, them, this, that, those, they...
Never shall you understand me as I do not either, though I understand your sweet self and everyone else residing upon this shattered, sacred, murdered and massacred earthly ground of Death.
Never shall I be understood, never more and never after - for my sweet, my bastardising bastard of a brutally beaten, blood-splattered and bruise-ridden lovers' lover - I am never to be understood, for I am nothing, no one, no thing at all, I am no thing to be understood.
Try as you might, attempt, endeavour and set your sweet, fragile heart upon the determined path towards my eternal perfecting perfection.
Try as you might, attempt it at your own sweet and etnerally free will you shall never understand me - for you speak no language of love, just the laughter of lager, therefore, my love, my heart shall no longer be yours, my hand no longer grasped warmly between your deathly white teeth.
So, I am no one, nothing, nobody, for tonight all alone. I am no one and because of this, there is nothing left in my world of unworldly words to comprehend, understand, analyse and absorb  all the facts are here, ici, laid bare, naked, trembling and exposed only three, four facts.
These are the only true, truthful truths of my life and love and eternally bittersweet laughter...
First, my loving lover's lying lie of sheer falasy. My hand, held in your own happy one is nothing but the dead wind's whispered caress, my heart is a cheap, crumling, cliched mound of sweet, sooty black coal. And with this, my words and my whims are all I have.

Youth is a loveless furrowed brow

...
Nervously beneath you. 
And now we will discover each other with every word that we both know. 
In between the sunset flow.
And I couldn't care less about your mother...
Do you know that I couldn't have one so fair just last year...
And as a foreigner here, excuse my longing for a lone lie and not a hope in hell,
Cos it's sad that I'm not at home
And if I change it's nice to know that soon i'll change back into your shadow.
And that's the truth, self-grown, and youth is a loveless furrowed brow.
...