A future With A Furute

So on occasion I get the urge to write poetry, don’t know why. But as a man that says he loves writing I figure I should write down ma poems and put them out there. This urge rarely comes in the middle of the day, instead it usually happens just before I got to bed, or more notably this time just after I have turned off my laptop and pulled the covers over on my bed. So anyway, this happened, what do people think?

I long for a future, yet not any future will do,
I’m not talking about a few more years alive,
Nor a grand life of riches and happiness.
I long for a future where do not becomes please do,
And where conversion becomes acceptance,
And where my tears run no more.
I long for a future that has its own future!

I long for a future where people are people,
Not genders, classes or idols.
I long for a future where the grass is greener,
But not just on the other side.
I long for a future where my skin does not exist,
But where it is just our skin.
I long for a future where calling out injustice happens,
But doesn’t require a standing ovation.
I long for a future where my touch is not suspected,
And where my smile is not made a leer.
I long for a future that has its own future!

I dream of my future,
Of your future,
Of your child’s future,
And your mothers,
And you fathers future,

In the small hours of the night I cry for this future,
I watch the videos and hear the talks,
I applaud them and shake my fist.
In the long hours of the daytime I discuss our future,
I walk the talk and spread the word,
I smile at the minds I have incited.

Yet in the twilight hours, between night and day,
Where no man is with me,
And no crime can affront me.
I still dream of that future.
I still dream of a future that has its own future.
I still long for a future that has its own future.


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So Scotland…

So, here’s my problem with the whole Scotland situation.

Eventually, Westminster (to use Alex Salmond’s term) will mess things up again; be it in one generations time or five. It’s just the way of the world, politics changes, countries have ups and downs, recessions and depressions happen and the world keeps on turning. But what will happen eventually is that a number of Scottish politicians will blame Westminster and this whole referendum thingy happens again. I suggest that this will happen ad infinitum until eventually Scotland votes for independence. Then she will have her independence and this will be purely down to the general lack of knowledge people have about both politics and economics; and some cleaver rhetoric and timing from the Scottish politicians. The knowledge they lack is simply that their country will never be continually awesome, as I said before things go up and down, politicians change; but for some reason people don’t seem to see that and they want a solution right now (also a problem in a whole load of other places too, not just isolated to the Scotland thingy.)

Now what happens next is the kicker. Scotland goes on merrily for many years and makes things work… But then they have an economic down turn and they have no-one to blame. They can’t become independent from themselves. But wait, eventually things turn around and they are back to how it was before. So this is a long way round about saying that basically I think the whole thing is kinda pointless. Scotland will have the same issues with us or without us; it will have economic up turns and down turns; it will like Westminster for a while and then dislike her, she will even grow to hate her own politicians for a time and then love them a decade or so later.

The only difference will be how many times the people of Scotland have to vote and listen to the rhetoric and campaigning every time that the issues arises. I just feel like the whole referendum thing will never stop until Scotland ends up independent. Now I’m not saying that’s a bad thing (what I am saying is probably more rambling than anything else), I just feel like all that has happened is that the inevitable has been postponed.

BUT, and this is a big but. This argument only stands up if the independence thing is about being ‘better off’ be it financially or any other way. If independence was about a principle about a people wanting to govern themselves locally then none of the above really matters.

Having said that, I’m glad Scotland has stayed and lets hope that against all my considerations the enhancements to Scotland’s devolved governance solves the problem once and for all.

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Well that was a long break…

So after many months this strange little man has returned to his blog.
What do I have to say for myself? Not much really, just been really busy, then the laptop broke, then I moved house, then well… I never quite got back into the whole blogging thing until now.

So Christmas was cool, got a new laptop, and New Year was cool too. Just chilled out back in Suffolk with my parents and siblings. And now I have the wonderful joy of going back to normal life and trying to find a job.


In other news though I’ve had loads of time to write and edit things and writing is coming along brilliantly. So here is a short extract from the very beginning of a larger piece that I’m currently working on:


The scientific investigation of the hundred years before the first case of the Degradation were dominated by one man and one idea. Our race had conquered disease, infection, viruses and were well on the way to cheating death entirely; but the Degradation was a new kind of problem, one deeply placed within our own genetic material. The Degradation was such a challenge to our scientists that new institutes dedicated solely to the problem sprang up all over the planet. The idea was such a simple one that many within the scientific community were amazed that we had not found realised the dangers sooner. We had known for millennia that as each generation bred their genetic code became at great risk of shortening or becoming defective in some way; but it was a man named Belial who had taken the final step. He had reasoned out that there would come a time when the genetic code of our species’ would degrade to the point where we might lose something of ourselves.

Belial was a career biologist, a man who hoped to push the science along and do his part in making his people great. He had had no aspirations towards greatness himself and was content to let others take credit when it was due to himself. Every account of his life and works say the same thing about him; that he was a tortured man. On the one hand he had the intellect of ten of the world’s best scientist put together, yet on the other he had the humility of an understudy. The history books often dedicate pages and pages to his family and the love which he bore them and the conflicts which raged inside him because of them. When he first voiced his concerns quietly to his colleagues he had been with his wife Geneviève for over a century and had a child. Quotes from his colleagues of the time speak of his desk at work being half littered with photos and drawing from his children and the other half being filled with obscure studies and experiments in genetics.

Eventually though, after years of experimentation and cross checking to try and disprove his thesis he and his colleagues became convinced that they were correct and they took their findings to the scientific community. It was a huge conference where the greatest minds on all the planet had come together to discuss cutting edge science at the multi-disciplinary event. Thresco was there, the man who had spent three hundred years away from Earth traveling the galaxy to find planets that held new frontiers for my people. Drahmen, the woman who had broken final boundary in physics and finally put to paper a grand unification theory which tied together all the forces in the universe, was there too. And the great explorer Grenian was there as well, the man who had carried a mobile laboratory on his back and travelled to hundreds of worlds to conduct scientific experiment testing the laws or nature and physics on every planet he could find.

When Belial read his paper to the conference the whole theatre had erupted into applause and shouting. Everyone had wanted to ask a question, so much so that the living walls had to change their composition to take much of the sound from the room, else the scientists would have had ringing in their ears for days afterwards. The paper had been the last in the conference and no-one remembered much of any of the others papers as they finally left the conference theatre for their apartments and homes.

The brilliant scientist’s journey across the planet to his home was plagued by calls and emails until he had gotten home and shut down the communication grid to his house just to spend some time with his family. But no sooner had some of the more unscrupulous of the scientific or the journalistic community found this out than they surrounded his house just to get a glimpse of the man. Things reputedly got so bad that he had had to file for a court order to stop people from coming near his house or sending any form of correspondence to him outside of office hours. In the time it had taken him to deliver his speech he had transcended his normal life as a career scientist and become the most famous scientist of that century; yet eventually he became the most hated.

After he had given his paper at the conference he was given a promotion, a pay rise and had everything that he could have wanted lavished upon himself and his family. Much of the wealth he accumulated went into savings or were given away to charities and other research funds that were not so lucky, but even then he lived like few others. He had two simple directive, to find out what the likely genetic changes would be and if they could be stopped. The man worked tirelessly at his work and his wife and child grew older and eventually his child moved out of home and got married, and shortly afterwards his wife told him that it was time for them to part ways. As a couple they had shared five-hundred years of their lives together and she had left that it was time for her to experience someone new.

Geneviève leaving was the beginning of the end for the man. Slowly the scientific community settled down to the long task of finding a solution to the problem. Belial was still the head of a huge research department but he slowly fell out of favour with other scientists as he began to find answers to the questions posed. All his research suggested that the genetic change would be random and irreversible; he found that in most cases if any single genetic marker or gene was lost from our genetic make-up the results would be fatal. Other scientists though came back with more positive results and so, in the way that things often happen, the funding and energy slowly got switched over to those who gave the most favourable results.

From the day that Geneviève had left him, Belial had watch his entire race turn their backs on what had made them great. We had become Masters of Science and created for ourselves the perfect society, with its under-classes and over-classes and its rich and poor. Yet in the face of potential extinction they had ignored the plain truth and run towards the result that they wanted, like the childish scientists of old who had made such slow scientific progress before the philosophical revolution changed the very way that we thought.

Then one day, while he was working within a far reduced staff and facility he found the answer; he made his final great discovery. He found categorical proof that he had been right all those years ago, he found the only gene that we could loose from our physiology and still survive. He had also, in his spare time at home, with no-one else to overhear or find out disproved every other experiment that said that his results were wrong. He proved that, unless we lost the gene that held together our ability to change shape and density, we would lose something so vital to our physiology that we could not survive many days outside of the birthing chambers.

Some say that Beial knew what would become of him and that he did not care; that all he cared about was advancing science and pushing the limits of his society to its full. Others say that although a brilliant mind, that he did not know enough about people to foresee what would become of him once his research was made public. Whatever the case, after writing up his research into presentable form he made his work public and three days later, when a hoard journalists jostled for position outside his house, he was found dead by his son come back to visit him.

The remains of a small machine that had been outlawed centuries earlier was all that was left of the man. The machine was a molecular-sieve; it held its victim in an atomically-porous stasis field that slowly contracted into its victim until every atom in the victim’s body had been stripped away and rendered inert. Belial had suffered a rare death, the most painful and drawn out death a Terran could suffer; Total Cellular Death. Of the few ways left for one of our kind to die it was by far the worst.

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Officially Unbroken

So for the last week or two my hand has been mostly inoperable. Have had it in a tubgrip for over a week and it is finally getting better. But I never realised how debilitating live is without ones strong hand. Holding a book really quite hard one handed (I only read paper back books). Typing has been a definite no-no. Eating, quite difficult with a left hand which is so uncoordinated. Playing any musical instrument is out of the question and so is playing badminton. Helping Dad is the garden is a complete no-no as well. Digging one handed……. Sawing without being able to steady the wood…
But the biggest problem in all this all the thing I have mentioned basically encompass my entire life. So no hand, means I sit on ma arse and do very little. So this has got me thinking, what do you do if your life is utterly controlled by a single aspect of your person, (my hand). Makes me wonder if other people are so dependant upon their hands or another particular part of the body.
Is humanities only real achievement the hand…? I mean could we utilise tools without hands? Without tools the human race would not be able to build machines or perhaps even the wheel.
So in short the last week or so has been a time for thinking. Fun!

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I looked at the Emperor as he sat upon his throne. He wore his deep purple robe over his pure white toga; both of which hung from his old withered body like death hangs from a carcase. His hair, white as ash, sat limp and lifeless atop his head as he sat upon his regal seat. His face wore, on top of the wrinkles of age, the wrinkles of one who rarely laughed and often frowned.

He looked past the man in front of him, seeing to either side of him row upon row of the Senators of the Roman Empire. Each man the Emperor knew by name, title and corruption. Alone in the room this tall figure before him was the only he did not know. He knew of the man, his deeds in battle were legendary and many within the army revered him as a god of sorts.

He was a member of the elite guard, but not the Emperors guard. He guarded a man far older than the emperor but a man far more powerful. This man ruled the armies of Rome and through them Rome itself. He was the most powerful man in all the world and could bring any nation and its armies to their knees. No man outside of his elite guard knew his name and few outside of the Caesar’s family knew of his existence.

I waited for the Emperor’s reaction to the news. I feared what he might say or how the messenger might receive the reaction. As the whole senate chamber waited for any reaction from their ruler I contemplated what the news meant.

Romulus, the shadow leader of Rome and the first of the elite guard was dead, hundreds of years after the date the history books give. The world would never be the same again and Rome would soon slip into mediocrity. Rome was Romulus and Romulus was Rome; one without the other was like rain without a cloud or cows without milk.

The Emperor stood slowly from his throne and the effort which it took him was audible throughout the chamber. He steadied himself for a moment and then spoke, “So Rome will finally be run by the Romans.”

Remus, the messenger of the army; Romulus’ second in command and son laughed. His voice reverberated through the chamber like that of a master orator; Julius Caesar himself would have been pushed to fill the roof so well. And then he abruptly stopped, “Rome will never be run by the Romans.”

Remus growled the words through gritted teeth and turned, marching from the chamber to complete silence.


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A Battle of Sticky Preportions

Tymon was tiered, his brow poured with sweat as he grappled with his foe. The smell of the last twenty minutes perspiration was beginning to waft further than just his nostrils. There was little he could do to remove the sweat bar flick his head to try and stop it from streaming into his eyes. His hair, he reflected, was far too long for the kind of harsh physical punishment and he made a mental note to keep it shorter as he punched and rolled for what seemed like the hundredth time in under a minute.

He fought with his adversary in a small room with bare walls. The heat borne from his body created a hot oppressive and muggy atmosphere which slowly became hotter as his ordeal continued. The bare walls, a natural cream colour, reflected the harsh white light back into his eyes giving him yet another reason to close them and think of England. The whole room reminded him of other days and other battles, all hard fought but he had won them all; that day would be no different.

His hands and wrists were covered in a thick sludge which clung to every crack and crease. The substance had little resemblance to what it had once been yet it still held that distinct smell. He rolled to the right using his solid right should, and then forward using his lesser left shoulder. He punched with the heel of his gnarled and tough hand pushing through his target into the table beneath it. He continued his toil punching and rolling, and rolling again until finally he felt that he was done. The dough was kneaded and ready to be put in the oven.


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Today WILL be epic…

I woke up to this being played on Classic FM.




Today is going to be an awesome day. I wonder if it is going to be an awesome days for everyone?


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