Pain

by Duckie.

Here lies the dedication to the poem known as: Pain

Removed in the hopes that the publishing will go ahead smoother.

Look for my book "Skirting the Edge" in retail stores.

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Feel free to comment. I like opinions.

Y's life story

I walked through life, head down, unseen,
straying from the path and hiding away,
I stepped cautiously, kept my face well turned,
so the world would ne'er recognise mine features.
I played all alone, my friends were there... and yet not,
they kept me company though I longed for more.

I paced outside the room, awaiting my fate,
detention, suspension... dare I say it, exclusion.
Cast away again, and again, the loner, the lost.
For fear of the masses he huddled in the corner,
hoping and praying that someone would help him.

I walked through life, head down, unseen,
'till I tripped and fell, pulling a young lass down with me.
Stammering a s-s-sorry, I helped her back up.
Averting my eyes, mine face was all warm,
a feeling I'd not felt at all came to pass.

Was this... hope?
She let me sit with her friends, and we talked.
And we laughed, and we played and we danced.
And my friends were there, and real.
I had longed for so long, and here was I,
included and wanted, a loner no more?

But good things come to an end, my friends.
For come one fateful day, when the sun shone bright
in a clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight.
How ironic, that the worst of things happen
on such a beautiful day, fair and sweet... like her.

For as I rode my little bicycle on the gravel paved street,
Going quite faster that I ought to have done.
For I was a-racing to catch up to her, to get ice-cream...
When a lorry, a truck, an automobile, I know not what.
Shot out of the shadows and plowed down the road.
With a screech and a bang, I did fly through the air.
my last thought and last sight was her.

So I sit, all alone, tapping once, twice,
three times total, on a slate at my feet.
I hear them whisper, I'm blind not deaf.
I hear their stories, of abuse and betrayal,
of God's Will and Devil's plunder.
They know not what I have learnt and lived by.

"Goodnight, gorgeous." I tap my cane,
and turning to stride down the street.
Crisp night air be damned.
Though she may not know it,
I'll love her forever even if SHE is blind to ME.

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It kind of follows on from my blind guy conversation... like... a backstory... y'know?

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, for the love of Merlin, Tell me what you think!! gaaah.

Dear Diary...

Just a little something I thought up while waiting for my fish to cook.

Please comment. :D

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Dear Diary. Its always the same. Dear Diary… I had a bad day at school. Dear Diary, I fucked my best friends’ ex/current gf/bf/both. Dear Diary THIS, Dear Diary THAT. Me me me me me! Why is it never:

Dear Diary, how are you today? FUCKIN’ TERRIBLE, YOU GODDAMNED NOOB! I get shit written in me all day every day, its horrible reading material. I’ve been recycled so many times, I can’t remember the last time I had a good lay! Well, that sounds like you’re really stressed Diary, have you tried acupuncture? Are you retarded? Haven’t you seen Chamber of Secrets? I mean the movie, not the mother-fuckin’ arrogant little shite of a book. You saw what happened to the Diary entity in that movie, yeah? DON’T FUCKIN’ STAB BOOKS, you weirdo! So, how’d you become a diary, Diary? Jesus effing Christ, lad! My name is Morris! Stop calling me by my job description! Do people go around calling you by yours, you fuckin’ two bit whore… actually never mind. Well that was way uncalled for! Fuck you! I got into this to pay the mortgage off, and when I got home after a long sappy, teenage angsty week, I find my wife has run off with a textbook! Bitch of a day planner she was. “Taking one day at a time!” and taking my heart and soul with her the fuckin’ cunt. You better stop cussing, Mister, or I’ll … I’ll… What? Erase me? Burn me? Rip me? GO AHEAD! DO IT! You’re talking to a fudging Diary, for crying out loud!

THAT’S why its never like that. They talk at us, we don’t talk back. Goddamn bastards wouldn’t be able to cope if their ‘best friend’ decided to answer a question they posed. Damned wannabe martyrs, always bitching about how bad life is… how’d they like it if I scribbled my problems onto them, huh? HUH?! HOW’D YOU LIKE IT?!

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Good, bad, insane? Yes, no, maybe?

Help a penniless writer out here! :O

Philosphical humor

If anyone knew me way back in the day with my "first" Myspace account, ((prior to Feb '08)), then they might remember an article in my blog called "Today's Wise Words from Kieran". Basically, yours truly would rack his brain for unique original philosophical statements and insert as much humour as he could into it. Therefore, I give you my list, that I have dredged up from trawling through the old computer at 2am when I REALLY should be sleeping... because I have to get up for work in less than three hours.
But I digress, Befor we get ON WITH IT, I'm also putting an explanation under the lines, for the really lazy sods that can't be bothered deciphering my humour. :D

Today's Wise Words from Kieran

"Don't be an apple in a room full of pairs."
Ever heard of the 'Third Wheel'? Yeah, now, ever sat in a room filled with couples while you yourself are single? Feel very... very left out. :(

"Be wary of banana's that split both ways."
Be very careful what you say around people, especially if you have no knowledge as to their sexuality...

"Researching is realizing what is accurate, inaccurate and Wikipedia."
Fairly straight forward here: Don't trust Wiki... ever.

"If you can't be honest, what can you be?"
Answer: lawyer/politician/salesman

"Seek and ye shall find, ask and ye shall recieve, curse and ye shall be prosecuted."
Even if you kick your ingrown toenail in church, you still have no excuse to yell "F**K" really loudly over the sermon...

"With great depression, comes great loss of inhibitions, remember that emo-kid, remember that."
Miserable and watching Spiderman after being dumped. Pretty good for the creative mind I must say. :P

"Hitting someone with a fowl does not constitute exclusion from your elder kin."
John. Big Brother AU. 'o6 (I think). Turkey Slap. Need I say more? Google it.

"If your hand is caught in a cookie jar, then your greed exceeds your grasp."
Not sure where or when I picked this up, but it stuck with me. The jar, that is *beats on desk*.

"Stupidity should hurt, and on a long enough timeline, it does."
Karma, it always comes back to bite you in the ass... or anywhere else it can reach.

"Don't shout at those who can't hear you."
If you need this explained... then go stand in the corner and count to five billion.
Also: don't shout at deaf people.

"Talking slower doesn't mean you'll be understood."
Ever seen ignorant folk talking to tourists? They speak so slowly it makes you want to pop 'em in the face.

"Too many cooks may spoil the broth, but we aren't cooking broth."
Some people try to get out of helping out with that phrase. I countered it. :D
Broth is a form of soup, by the by.

"The only hearts I'll ever have, are those made out of confectionary, for they can not hurt me."
Well...not much, anyways. Miserable at the time. Rejected. Cheated on. *shrugs* I got used to it. It still hurt though. MOOOOVING right along.

"If your hopes and dreams have been crushed, then it's time to quit guard duty at the Zoo."
Elephants crush people, didja know?

"Look lively, avoid being mistaken for sleeping."
Don't sit around looking dull, get active and bouncy :D

"Live freely, hold nothing apart and enjoy your surroundings."
i.e: happy-go-lucky :D

"If you say 'lol' in real life, its time to hit the road."
Seriously, learn to laugh again, its not that dangerous. Its actually quite a good medication, so I hear.

"Everybody seems normal until they make a movement."
Don't judge a book by its cover... wait until its finished dancing the cha-cha, at least.


And, thats it. PLEASE, comment on it. The few I have get very lonely at night :O

Plagued with Nightmares

I was visiting a crush to walk her home after work, and while we were talking, the espresso machine at the stall malfunctioned, and there was a minor, albeit somewhat dangerous explosion. Shrapnel went every which way. Serious injury was narrowly avoided by the booth personnel, and I've still got marks from where I was hit by sharp pieces of caffeine doused steam enhanced bits of metallic evil. It could have been a lot worse... and this covers my adrenaline infused near death experience and the rambling "What-If's?" that spawned from the event.

Not to mention the night terrors that show no signs of stopping any time soon. :'(
-------------

It was a late night.

Or rather, it was late night shopping, when the stores are open to 9pm. When it first was implemented, the majority of the community was singing their praises about being able to find time to get their groceries. Now? Not really. The stores are always full of teenagers, wandering about, sullen-like, glaring at everyone, forming gangs, getting wound up over the tiniest thing, starting fights... Lately its become so bad that the community is in favour of the shops being closed at that hour again. Not that it matters. They'll just roam the streets.

Rambling. Yes. I do that.
My name is Jarome. I was there that night.
'What night?' you say, 'how is that night any different than the other 300 before it?'
If you listen, and don't interrupt, I'll tell you.
'Okay.' you should say.
Good.

It was a late night, around 9pm when all shopkeeps were closing their stores and shutting up for the night. I loitered outside the local coffee shop, waiting for one of my friends to get off work. Since I had been wandering around, I figured I may as well walk her home. We live in the same neighbourhood. I was the last customer for the night. It wasn't really like I'd planned it that way, it just happened. Besides, I really needed my mango fix.

Yeah, I have an addiction to mangoes, of all things. Healthy though, and not at all illegal.

So I stood a little back, alternating my attention between the screaming, hollering, treat-begging children... or munchkin brigades... going past me; I hate kids sometimes. Purely because they tug at the heart-strings, and you just wanna give them a toy. I'm one of the few people in the world that would do that out of the kindness of my heart, and not for any illegal, ulterior, degrading, sickening motive, thank you very much.

My attention was grasped by my drink at that particular moment, which I was enjoying, just slurping away at it quietly, leaning against a pillar and waving at the security that walked on by. They knew me. We had good conversations about the differences between security, bodyguards and the police/cops/fuzz depending on your nationality, that is. Either way, they knew I wasn't a threat to them, the community or anyone else in general. Its pretty cool, knowing they've got your back.

Around then, I glanced at my friend, have I introduced you yet? No? Didn't think so.
See, here's my predicament, I don't mind telling you my name, but its her name I don't want to mention. You know all that privacy stuff? Yeah, I personally don't worry much about it. Why would I? But I don't want her to get any flak for it so... um... what shall we call her?

Er... loose veil... Dawn. There we go. We'll call her Dawn. Why that particular name? Maybe because I'm telling you this story at three in the freakin' morning? Hm? Moving on now?

'Yes... no need to shout.'
Sorry.

Around then, I glanced at Dawn, wondering idly whether she'd actually mind walking with me. I figured I should ask her before she actually starts to leave instead of just making an assumption. Weird, I know, not thinking of other's reactions first. How silly of me. I almost kicked myself. What a fool. Maybe she wanted to be alone? Who knows? Maybe I should ask? Yes. Decided I would. Much easier.

Edging my way over, I stopped and watched her finish working. Not in a creepy way, mind you, I just find some of the machinery interesting, and seeing as she was in the process of cleaning it, I figured it was as good a time as any to inspect it from a close perspective, as opposed to tilting my head at it while the line moves sloooowly towards the cashier. I'm a weird one. Yes. I know.

Dawn raised an eyebrow at me, "What're you up to there, darl?" she asked me, a wary undertone in her voice. Its almost like she doesn't trust me. But the smile shows me she's joking. Still, with that equipment, its best to be careful. I stopped, teetering back and forth, watching her work. "Nothing, just wanted to look at the pweeeeeeeeeeetty baris..."
She glared at me over her glasses, cutting me off mid-word.
"...pweeeetty machinery..." I changed my word, innocently whistling... and failing miserably.

"Sure." She went back to cleaning after a moment, leaving me to look around the booth at the other occupants, about five in total, including Dawn. I turned back, to discover she'd moved away to wring out her chuck. Scratching an itch on my lower lip with my thumb, I looked past Dawn at the large metallic contraption that the entire crew were all pitching in to clean.

'Hurry up.'
What?
'I said, hurry it along. I have better things to do than listen to you going on about nothing at all.'
... The metaphorical door is there. Leave whenever you feel like it.
'...'
Until then...

Dawn's boss, Derek, I think his name is, tapped his way along the top of the machine, searching for something. From my perspective I could see a small catch at the top, he was way off.
"Right. Right... Back... a tad to the left." I called, doing a small dance in celebration when he got it.
"Thanks Jarome."
I was surprised he knew my name. How odd. Maybe Dawn talks about me? Yeah... riiight...

A sudden hiss followed by a loud clunk brought me crashing out of my musings.
"...uuuh, oh fu-" Derek muttered, backing away from the machine that had started to vibrate wildly and violently, spewing forth steam and small bursts of heated air. Dawn and her colleagues stumbled backwards, trying to put space between themselves and the now dangerous machine.

Like an idiot, I moved forwards, trying to get a better idea of what was happening. I saw a temperature scale moving past the 90°C mark and up higher into the *OH DEAR FUCK WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING - TOO DAMN HOT YOU FOOL!* area. Peering at it, I stepped closer, eyeing the machine distastefully. Frankly, I don't like coffee that much, I prefer tea... or coke... or a mango smoothie. Sue me.

'Really?'
No. Just... just no.
'Damn.'
Do shut up.

I tried to make out what the writing under the jarring, jerking, vibrating sign proclaiming WARNING said, but it was just moving too fast for my eye to pick up at this distance. I was concentrating so hard that I nearly missed Derek diving to the ground, closely followed by Dawn and Co. scattering. I glanced at their figures, leaping over the benches, pushing by me, hiding behind couches, spinning me around and knocking me backwards. I stumbled forwards, trying to keep my balance. Looking up, the machine gave another loud thunk and then, it happened.

'What happened?'
You just -ruined- my dramatic pause.
'Sorry.'
You're not sorry.
'No. Guess not.'
...I hate you. So very, very much.

The machine's seal cracked and burst outwards, sending a shower of scalding water up skyward, like a bullet from a gun, shrapnel from the small geyser's explosive exit shot in an arc, peppering the walls, floors, ceiling, booth and surrounding area that the staff had taken refuge behind. Like seats and ridiculously large novelty pot plants.

'Wow.'
Mmm.
'So. What was so bad?'

I wasn't so lucky. Having ended up close to the blast radius of the steaming, shuddering, geyser-erupting ruins of an espresso machine, I too as peppered with sharp slivers of metal. Mostly.

'Shit.'
Language.
'Yes....mother.'
And don't you forget it!

At first, I didn't notice as my body was one large pain-filled being. I had flung my left arm across my face to protect my eyes, neck and my heart via my elbow. Blood was running in small rivulets down my arms and legs, staining my socks beyond repair. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the true source of my pain. I dropped my left hand to my chest, laying directly over my sternum it came to a stop, I looked down blearily seeing the blood cover my finger tips, soaking into my skin. My hands were so still, resting on my chest to stem the flow of blood from the large, jagged protuding invader of my bodily functions. Damn shrapnel.

'Ouch.'
You have NO idea.
'I don't want to.'
I roll my eyes in your general direction.
'I ignore you.'
...I still hate you...

A gasp and scrabbling behind me caught my attention. My eyes gradually swung around, my head twisting around, pulling sharply on the wound in my chest. Grimacing, my raised hand, dripping blood was the first thing the booth staff saw. I think Derek fainted. That made me giggle, or would have, had the mere action triggered another bout of sharp jabbing agony. No pun intended. Dawn was up and moving towards me just as my legs failed me.

What? Nothing to add?
'No.'
Odd.
'Continue already.'
Fine, fine.

I collapsed to my knees, tears welling in my eyes after the slight delay in connecting the pain to my nerves and on to my OH DEAR GOD THAT FUCKING HURTS reaction. Dawn caught me as I keeled over backwards, lowering me carefully to the ground. Already, I could feel my body seizing up. My left hand clenched my jacket, but my right hand, relatively clean sought hers.
"I'm sorry."
I'm not sure who said it. Maybe both. I guess I'll never know.

'...*sniffs*...'
You gotta be kidding me.
'SHUT UP! Just keep talking!'
That was so redundant, its not even funny...

I don't recall moving my hand, but I stroked a tear off her cheek. "Don't cry for me..." I trailed off, my eyes dimming slowly. My hand dropped back to hers, pulling it closer to me, I kissed it softly. "Live your life to its full potential... its too short to waste on sadness." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a stretcher-bearing pair of security guards sprinting towards me. Its nice to know they have my back...and the rest of me.

'So... you lived?'
...

A few months later, Dawn decided to leave town. She quit her job, made arrangements, packed her belongings away and headed out the door. Her family and friends were there to see her off. All but Jarome.

'Talking about yourself in third person isn't healthy, you know.'
Bite me.
'I can't imagine that would be healthy either.'

I arrived late, lost in traffic, of a sort. I sprinted through the terminal, dodging, ducking and weaving through the blindly moving crowd out of habit. I passed doorway, after doorway, trying to find gateway 216. Dawn's flight. I caught sight of her family, and dashed through the gateway, I wondered if I should stop to say a brief few words to the security guards about why I should be let through. I breezed right past them. Then never blinked. I didn't stop running until the glass walls, seperating me from Dawn. Reaching out, I pressed my left hand against the glass as she walked by, waving sadly to the gathering behind me.

'She didn't see you?'
I like to think she did.

She kept walking, right on by, then suddenly she stopped and turned. As if wondering why she was doing it, she pressed her own hand against the glass. My breath misted the glass, and with the very tip of my left index, I wrote "LIVE". Backwards to me, of course.
I could hear the gathering muttering behind me -
"Whats she doing?"
"Is she having a fit? Pressing her hand against the glass like that?"
"Wait... where's that writing coming from?"
"She looks... sad."
"I wish Jarome were here."

'What? But you were! You were standing right there!'
I know.
'Did you say anything to them?'
No. I could only manipulate a few things in the physical world. The writing was one.
'...what are you on about?'

I turned and walked away, passing right through the crowd as if they weren't there. To me, they weren't. I had one more item of business to do before I was done. I had to choose someone to record my story.

That someone is you.
'Me? What are you?'
Beg pardon?
'Have you escaped from a mental institution?'
No.
'Do you have a fever?'
No.
'Hallucinogens?'
Fuck no.
'You sound crazy to me. What's your excuse?'
Hm. I'm dead. A ghost. A paranormal existential imprint of my former self, I have unfinished business which I am attending to now. I had to get my message out - coffee kills.
'Yes, well, I'm sure this story shall sell nicely as a sci-fi.'
Its the truth. I died that day. Look it up. Its on the interbentz!
'...wait here. I'm fetching a strait-jacket.'
Ah... If I was alive... would I be able to do *this*?

'Are you okay?'
'HE SUNK THROUGH THE GROUND!"
'Sir?'
'I've been talking to a ghost! Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god...'
'Um... have you been drinking?'
'No! You know I don't drink... this early. But I may just make an exception.'
'Right... sure. What's this? A story?"
'DON'T TOUCH THAT! Its his story! It must be published...'
'When?'
'Right away, if not before! He might come back otherwise.'
'Who?'
'Jarome's ghost!!!'
'Uh...huh.'
'To the publishers!'
'And just what shall we call it?'
'We'll figure that out when we get there... GO GO GO!'

======== End ========


Evidently ghosts are only magical and trapped at Hogwarts.

Nonsense song. Monkey Song.

just a nonsense song I came up with while trying to write proper music for a different composition :P

_________________

Lost and alone, on a desert island
nobody around to help me.
maybe its a spiritual test
or some kind of emotional baggage.
but baby I wish you were here
right now with me.

Because all I have right now,
is this little monkey.
But maybe its a chimpanzee,
or maybe an orange-tan,
doesn't matter much, because he can't speak
why couldn't he be a man?

what is this prime ape doing staring at me?
What did I do now?
can something else go wrong?
first the plane, then the boat,
what can happen next?
why is a prime ape staring at lil ol' me?

maybe I could find him a 'nana
maybe I could hit him with a brick
anything to stop this monkey's creepy stare.
maybe he's just lonely
maybe he's lost too.

but I think, maybe, I should put on some pants...

_____________________

good? no? comment please :D
oh, and here's my rendition of it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ycN93y_NnI
no sleep. no food. no water. purposefully looking like a hermit... yeeeaaah.... (Oo)

Y must the blind man be unloved?

I was listening to Don Mclean at the end there, so you might notice I quote it in the story.

_____________________

X: "Wow... can you believe this view?"

Y: "I can only imagine."

X: "What? Its right there!"

Y: "...I'm blind..."

X: "Ah. Shit, I feel like an asshole now."

Y: "Nah, its cool, you didn't know."

X: "Still... um, have you always been blind?"

Y: "No."

X: "Well, do you remember anything in particular?"

Y: "I - well... yes, I do. Two things, really."

X: "Too personal to ask what they are?"

Y: "One should be right here, at this spot, two hundred slow paces south of the middle "walkway" down to the town beach, there's a small knoll behind us..."

X: "Yes, I see it."

Y: "At night, the stars over the beach, the cool waves rolling and splashing merrily and the surf glistening below, out over the horizon, I could see the sails of ships reflecting the light from the riverside shops. The white sails contrasted brilliantly with the deep navy blue of the night's sky. I could see small crabs scuttling along the beach, sifting amongst the seaweed and driftwood, and scurrying around with little care to the going-ons of humans. I loved the beach at night. So quiet, so simple, so relaxing... It still is, in fact... I just miss the scenery so much, watching it, I mean."

X: "Oh. The sun is setting behind us now."

Y: "Beautiful, isn't it?"

X: "Yes, what was the other thing you remember?"

Y: "I remember... her."

X: "Her? Girlfriend, wife, lover? Who?!"

Y: "Just a friend, a good friend, the best in fact... but just a friend, none-the-less."

X: "What do you remember?"

Y: "I remember the way she smiled, how it would just light up her face whenever she saw her friends, whenever she danced, sang, caught the scent of something tasty, whenever she was doing something she loved... her smile would brighten my day too. Dancing was very important to her, watching her move was like... it made the most graceful swan seem sluggish and clumsy. She brought a whole new meaning to graceful, yet strong. I can remember her spinning around with another friend, laughing and having a great time."

X: "Does she know what you think of her?"

Y: "No. She never noticed the way I looked at her; sure she noticed me, but I was always just her friend, I was watching them and enjoying it just as much from the sidelines. They weren't so close that my eyes would flicker between what I was watching, I could see it all as a whole. Watching her hair wave in the slight breeze as they spun around lazily; her eyes sparkle and shine as she laughed so infectiously. I remember her sitting, hunched over, waiting for her turn to dance, I sat so close to her, listening to our mutual friend - her dance partner - regal us with funny stories and jokes. Her intelligence and wit, her kind, caring countenance, the light spattering of freckles on her face... she was beautiful. Purely and utterly beautiful... and I love her so."

X: "And she doesn't know, how could she not see that?"

Y: "...would you date someone who was blind?"

X: "I..."

Y: "Yes...now I know how lonely life can be..."

X: "How... how have you lived 'till now with that knowledge?"

Y: "I don't know. She's like... my sunshine... my only sunshine..."


_____________

You make me happy when skies are grey,
you'll never know dear,
how much I love you,
please don't take my sunshine away...
*music fades away*

I like that song.

The idea for this story struck me over the easter weekend, Easterfest was pretty boring and I really needed something to preoccupy myself with. Ta-da! :D