Bees and Blind Girls

On July 16th 1945 a blind girl sees a flash of light from something that happened nearly two hundred kilometers away.

A knife isn't evil. It just depends what use it is put to.

Neither is a gun. Guns can be used for useful purposes.

Dynamite was originally used for getting rid of tree stumps quickly and easily. People still do use it for that. A fine use.

But I feel that some things are intrinsically evil, no matter which way you slide it.

The other day I saw a bee on the ground. And thought to myself, "if I wanted to I could kill that bee. From where it is, it can do nothing to stop me. It doesn't even know that I'm here."

We are all bees. In one way or another.

After all, as the man said on that day:

"Now we are all sons of bitches."

Old man Trouble

Old man trouble is a minor character in Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, but memorable none the less. He is a strange anthropomorphic personification who comes round to your door if you ain't got music and you ain't got no rhythm, its best if you don't mind him. So I decided to write this little poem about him. Enjoy.

The Old Man Trouble is com'n your way,

and in your brain a seed of rhythm he'll lay,

He comes around, when he sees you moping

when for a sound of song your mind is groping

He will light all up your dull grey life,

Cut through your soul just like a knife,

Don't fret dear children, of having no fun,

cause you'll dance your feet 'fore the day is done,

Oh that old man trouble he knows how to move!

To your door he'll come knocking if you ain't got no groove!

If you can't dance, or sing or even listen you hear

then tremble and quake and sorrow your fear,

for this is a warning, you folks dressed in grey,

That The Old Man Trouble is com'n your way!

Dracula is a Total Badass

I was reading Bram Stoker's "Dracula" again today and just discovered that Dracula has a band of gypsies that work for him. I think he just became 20% more badass. Not that he wasn't to begin with. This probably makes him at least 420% more badass than any other vampire. Just picture it - The Devil's Son's Army of Darkness aprocheth and the sky doth blacken with its dread foot steps. And at the front line you've got... Nature loving, Colourfuly Clad, Children of Bohemia Hard-Core Vegan Gypsies. The only way that could possibly be more retardedly awesome was if Oscar Wilde was Dracula's General.

Does anyone else not grasp the absolute over-kill unadulterated awesome of this?

Apocalypse in Sight.

To The Tune of "Afternoon Delight" - by Joel the Rather Grand

"If you don't think this is the greatest knock off ever, I will fight you, that's no lie."

Gonna seal my bunker, gonna hole in tight
Gonna try and stave off death tonight.
My motto's always been; shoot the head too right.
That’s how you kill a zombie, and avoid its bite.
When the whole world is screaming in its pain.

And the blood of innocents falls down like rain.

Horrors stealing souls, chanting evil rites
crying for your mother in the blackest night
Fleeing ruined cities as the flames ignite
And the howls of the monstrosities is very frightening.

Four horsemen ride tonight. Apocalypse in sight. Apocalypse in sight. Apocalypse in sight.

Skulking in the alleyways for food I fight
I never thought that sanity could go out like a light
But now the reaper’s calling and I think I might surrender
to the apocalypse in sight.

Four horsemen ride tonight. Apocalypse in sight. Apocalypse in sight. Apocalypse in sight.

I’m digging my own grave in the cold hard ground
And I know that I’ll be gone 'for the sun goes down.

Horrors stealing souls, chanting evil rites
crying for your mother in the blackest night
Fleeing ruined cities as the flames ignite
And the howls of the monstrosities is very frightening.

Four horsemen ride tonight. Apocalypse in sight. Apocalypse in sight. Apocalypse in sight.

Poem for the Noir Detective.

“...I'll tell you what keeps me going... sniff, sniff...the chase, the thrill of the hunt and the sudden shafts of bright light...”

- Detective Inspector Black.

glowing ends of cigarettes

crushed under shoes

strange silhouettes

and big city blues

nocturnal creatures

crawl through the night

their shadowy features

hidden from sight

Little Things.

In the streets the folk gathered and laughed. Here a group of fascinated teenagers gathered around a stall of glowing wonders and mechanical devices, standing behind the counter of it, a shady merchant with a handle bar moustache and a yellow robe who intended to charge them well over the regular price. At another spot a black and purple motley trickster juggled pins and breathed fire to the delight of all around. Burly guardsmen broke up a scuffle between two women with mascara tear streaked faces. A drifter sat on the street corner playing his harmonica in marvellous tunes for coins and praise. A mystery man in long coats attempted to sell watches. A little girl in a pink dress cried for her mother to buy her a sweetie, blue balloon held tight in tiny pudgy hand. In her emerald tent a warty gypsy foretold an excellent future of love for a shabby balding man.

Queen Mabb and Me.

I wrote this a few nights ago and the people I sent it to didn't seem to hate it, so I'm putting it on my blog. If you don't know who Queen Mab is navigate away from this rubbish to Wikipedia and wiki her immediately.

The Lady is approaches now. Clad in purple, she comes with a pocket full of monsters, monsters for me to fight and be tormented by. I love her and I hate her. I want her dead and yet without her my waking world would become unbearable. What should I do then? Should I endure the night to feel the warmth of day? Or should truly become what I knew I eventually would be, walking always through grey lands? Feeling neither good nor bad until I die?

The Heart is No Weak Thing.

The Heart. Its something that all humans have. The Romans thought that the heart, not the brain, was the organ that controlled the body, because if one's heart is pierced with a bronze roman sword, one dies. Another reason for this theory was that when you get excited your heart beats faster. Though this is an interesting theory it is important to remember that it is very very wrong.

Oh you crazy Ancient Romans! You crack me up!

Well children, in case you have not noticed medical science has somewhat improved since the days of the fun loving romans and we now know that it is the brain, not the heart, that controls the body.

When spoken about, the marvelous muscle is often in reference to love and emotion so on and so forth and all those sticky things and blah de blah. "How could you leave me?! Your breaking my heart!" and "I'm giving my heart to you" and "when I see you my heart skips a beat!".

I feel that that sort of thinking sells the heart short. Because thoughts and emotions aren't located in the chest, but in the cranium. The heart is not flimsy, its tough. A healthy heart beats steady and strong whether you feel good or not. When we are happy, it is a friend, thumping along with us. When we are sad it it echoes our sadness in steady rhythm letting us know we are not alone. When we are angry it is the drum of war sending us forward to likely foolishness. When we are afraid it beats ever faster, like a prisoner in a cage of bone and flesh seeking an escape. And when we are depressed and wish that it would all just end, the heart says "No, not today", the traitor muscle that pins us to this world.

The heart is no weak thing, as some would have us believe. It is your constant companion, so when you see the world in pain, or when disaster strikes, or when you are just too alone, remember it. It's always there. And to feel its presence just raise a hand to your chest.

Icky Thump. Icky Thump.