Saturday, May 14, 2005
Beneath the Sheen
Smiles illuminate each reflection
Search for the frozen rays of a troubled mind
Picture perfect, on inspection
Though deep within, hurt burns to blind
Fallacy acknowledged, held in high regard
For this moment, may be granted as the last
Grief and secrets, eyes discard
Though, the Film roll of life plays an alien past.
F. Adam
fuss scribbled @ 5/14/2005 07:16:00 PM |
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Sunday, April 10, 2005
If I was a rich girl (skip na na nas)
See I'd have all the money in the world and would never get the bus to university and consequently would miss out on an assortment of amusing activity. ..
I sat in the bus beside the window alone I felt O.k.
A lady at least six times my petite self decided to grace me with her company. Unfortunately her company came with a B.O. price tag - hold on I didn't choose to sit next to her she chose me. Was I her calculated victim or did she plonk her body mass next to me completely randomly, the thought expanded – did she know that her scent (excuse the antonym) would bother be most. A classmate once offered that people are often more bitter about their stigmatised differences than others are prejudice about them, e.g. short people are more bitter themselves, about being short than others are prejudice against them for being that way (referring to me or Richard iii I couldn't distinguish). Hmmm, so had this large old lady weighed me up and decided I am worthy by physic of some nasal punishment? Holding my breath, eyes glued to the window, I suffered in silence. Moving only to take a breath from the semi-polluted air my coat sleeve had mercifully savoured.
A friend told of a bus life amusement which I was unfortunate enough to miss. Even her plain description was enough to make the muscles in my legs give way and to activate my tear glands. The anecdote – a little old lady on the number 22 decided that the bus was accelerating towards her stop and pushed the stop bottom, as one does. The driver expectedly stopped the bus, opened the doors and perhaps counted to 10 before deciding the granny must be out - he shut the doors. Her actual bodily location was rather different to what Mr-Bus-Driver had anticipated. The dear old lady had taken the opportunity of the bus stopping and the doors opening to stand perfectly stationary inside the bus in front of the doors and hold her umbrella out at arms length through the door in order to get the brolly open before surrendering to the typical English weather which awaited her. Poor old Mrs Whats-her-face, did not realise that this rather robotic driver habitually shut the doors without visual assistance, within what he perceived to be a reasonable period of time. And so dear old somebody's granny's arms were stuck, elbow-up inside and the rest out.
The good news is, the little old lady had got the umbrella open and managed a high pitched "excuse me" which triggered an annoyed driver to re-open the doors. Bless her knitted socks. - but just picture it.
Yes - that is a man with a dog in the bus
- oh and he had this funny cough too that went sort of like GGGKKKGGG GGGKKKFF GGGKKKFFF - had a rhythm to it.
[CUATION excessive tears may result in the malfunction of your personal commuter]
This one speaks for itself...
Freshy-feet-on-bus-seat
Errrrmmm in case your wondering I was not seated near to the them, a four times zoom on my phone captured these beauties.
If you're pondering over the practicality of taking off your shoes only to enjoy a momentary comfort whist travelling by bus, only to reach your stop where you must tie up laces and leave hastily. Well ponder no further, hither are the blessed Speedo pair hot this summer
(only he was rather ahead of the times - twas December)
So, those of you who, like myself, live a little ruff and get the bus most of the time - it's not always all bad. And for those of you who are offended each time a bus haphazardly ventures into vision - now you know what you're missing. Catch the 22, you know you want to. ;)
fuss scribbled @ 4/10/2005 06:47:00 PM |
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Saturday, March 19, 2005
Indefensible
It is not the same
Not to me anyway
To rid of persons or rid of things
Pulling at two different heart strings
For that reason
And no other malice
I grab, I stab, I kill I kill
Yet, due satisfaction absent still
Entity of overwhelming disgrace
The thought, the heart, the human race
Heart scan, hard copy, printed conscience
Been read, exposed, analysis monstrous
Verdict - denial is in fact pertinacious
F. Adam
fuss scribbled @ 3/19/2005 02:17:00 PM |
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Sunday, January 02, 2005
Mind Script
New Year 2005 - &? No, I will not be changing the look of my blog.
QUESTION - Why not make a fresh start and opt for clarity of expression, over stream of consciousness?
ANSWER - I don't like change. Change is disturbing. Change displaces me. Thinking about having to write 2005 scares me. Too many changes are happening. It hurts
CORRECTION - No one is afraid to be proper. More people are afirad to be themselves. Me?I pick first draft over final piece
CONCLUSION - At 70 I will be sending txt messages instad of "??????" messages.
I have 3 essays and 2 exams all January happenings
QUESTION - Why am I sat here bloggng when I have not yet made a start?
ANSWER - I work best under pressure.
CORRECTION - I only work under presure.
CONCLUSION - I have a problem.
People are odd; they do things and think things. Everything is at two levels in its simplest form
QUESTION - .Why don't people just say and do what they think?
ANSWER - They are afraid of the outcome.
CORRECTION They are only afraid of what others will say and think because they themselves work at two levels. Think one thing, and say another.
CONCLUSION - Stop it!
"Just a little taster of how my mind works. Exhausting isn't it? Explains the excessive napping?... See did it again.... If only I could be a little less analytical, if only my mind did not rush to digest everything it is exposed to, if only I didn't feel the need to explain everything and categorise everything, maybe I would last a day and wouldn't feel the constant need to refuel."
fuss scribbled @ 1/02/2005 10:33:00 PM |
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Monday, December 06, 2004
Ever had too much to say, too much to write? Ever felt like a bottle of pop shaken but not opened to let rip, like a book read from pages 1 to the one before last, like a beautiful bright kite with a short tail, like a ladybird with too many spots - they all touch, like a phone with dated ring tones non polyphonic, like a man wearing sandals with socks in the snow, like a pistol with one shot left, like a dream with random coverage and no direction, like a ship with a broken sail disheartened by low winds, like a prisoner with dried tears and no fears, Like a vagrant believing he is Elvis or at the least King Liar, like a song sang by can't sing singers, like a cobweb left to dangle, like a fountain pen with the elixir of life, like a street with two bends, like a shoe with noisy velcro, like a tale so sensational no listener dare believe, like a single cloud on a sunny day, like a stain glassed window pretty yet translucent, like a show without audience, like a mouse in a trap 2mm away from the cheese, like a new shirt bright, crisp and clean, like a jug of coffee spilt gone cold, like a bubble fragile about to burst, like a bee as sweet as honey but would sting for dear life. like a pink house standing in fame, ashamed lost its dignity, like a button always being pushed, like Belgian chocolate reachIng its best before date, like a child blessed unaware, like a rainbow with only six visIble colours, like santa fabricated, like a roundabout spinning round and round, like a poem without iambic pentameter, like an e-mail not a letter, like a door that needs oiling, like a rap full of rage, like ketchup red tangy just a sauce, like english beneath latin, like H before I, like a blank canvas in a shop window, like a short lived VCR in the attic, like an ice cube strengths and weaknesses, like a Wednesday stuck in the middle, like first draft of a bestseller, like an orange many segments, like a Dorito dip people dunk into, like a chain without a pendent, like nail clippings disconnected, like a trolley full of booze, like a prime number unique and strong, like an elephant simply grey, like a ... like a ... like a ...
..".Have you ever felt like me?"
fuss scribbled @ 12/06/2004 11:17:00 AM |
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Sunday, October 10, 2004
"Disconnected from my Essence"...lost my "me" - somewhere along the way~Disconnected from my Essence- hence the re-mix-style-hazy-crazyness & Disconnected from my Essence separated from I who knew,,,Disconnected from my Essence # torn away from who I knew = Disconnected from my Essence = all things new - (I never grew) Disconnected from my Essence - plucked and placed , unfamiliar scenario {Oh} Disconnected from Essence ??? am I me >Disconnected from my Essence ~ keep on going ~ just accepting ~ no reflecting Disconnected from my Essence / forward slash + backward slash + all round slash = something c*nf*sing @ the good @ the bad Disconned from my Essence >>> no not MAD Disconnected from my Essence ~flip the coin~ Disconnected from my Essence :;new connections:: Disconnected from my Essence )( more directions^*^Disconnected from my Essence^*^ for the better\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ Disconnected from my Essence <><><><> for the worse~Disconnected from my Essence~round and round /~this place Disconnected from my Essence(((that place))) Disconnected from my Essence any place & every face!!!Disconnected from my Essence ... ... ... Am... I... Haunting... My... Own... Presence... ... ... :(
fuss scribbled @ 10/10/2004 07:43:00 PM |
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Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Why?
It's outragous. It's mad It's crazy It's pathetic It's stupid ... My God! What is the world coming to?!?
Walking down town shopping for a new coat, with my mummy. We chat about this and about that, it's all great. Despite the rain we are both having a great time just chilling and doing things at our own pace, struggling to keep the umbrella up, an opportunity to giggle girlishly. Feel perfectly mentally secure and stable, I am content.
Pick up the Metro on the way home, eyes concsume the headline( Hostage Bigley). It's agony, sorrow, a pang in my heart, hatred, anger, frustration, helplessness, rage. Stripped of human qualitiies. Questions flood my mind, contradictions scream at me wanting to express, unable to justify expression without being able to help. Why? Why? Why?
Back at home. Oh it is so nice and warm inside. Put the kettle on and we sit and drink tea and coffee, mummy and I. Mmm the warmth penetrates into my skin and sooths, I am human once again. I have forgotten.
Turn on the pc, glance at homepage (BBC news) strikes me. This time, I cannot explain how it felt. The clock is ticking, time is running out, deadline is getting closer, quicker. Children, women and men are dying, being murdered The clock paces itself accordingly smirks and ticks mockingly. I stare. I sit and I feel sick for the clock is still ticking. O! JUST STOP IT!
Why when we can enjoy the company of our fellow humans, do we have hatred and evil? Why when we spend millions, billions on health care and aid, do we have such a thing as murder? Why when it costs nothing, we do not live in peace? Why when I can do nothing to help, do I blog about this?....... Because I am human and ruthless and want to express my personal views and I know that after blogging I will feel a little better even thought I have failed to bring any real relief to anyone.
love fuss
P.S. just pray
fuss scribbled @ 9/22/2004 05:59:00 PM |
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