I am a puddle of misery and
misunderstanding, cloaked in
the freckles of fiendish ideology
that spans the universe of my
mind. Black dots of angry
lucidity plague the senses and
demean the good that once
existed, which has been melted
down to exact revenge upon the
happiness that used to devour
my once beating heart, now
unoccupied by potential
paramours for the ravenous
nature of my inner rage, burns this
sarcophagus of tyranny to the
ground. There is no good within
me; just a plague of unearthed
anguish, cursed to bitterly
dominate the turmoil locked
inside a battle to be freed.
The forgotten dead of memories
that were once relaxing, now
tarnish the landscape of my soul,
but none are deserving of being
mourned, for if my happiness was
a powerhouse of paramount emotion,
would not love, instead of anger,
passion, instead of hate, be in
control of this here fleshy avatar?
I was quite surprised a few days ago when I realised that I had been nominated by Amreen Shaikh (http://painttheworldwithwords.wordpress.com/) for the Blog of the Year Award. Thank you kindly! Amreen’s blog is often filled with positive ideologies and quotes that are very easy to read, so you may want to check it out sometime!
Like all blog awards their are rules, and this particular one is no exception:
One – select the blogs you believe are deserving of the nomination
Two – Write a post about the blogs you chose to nominate and present the blogs with the award
Three – Let the blogs know they have been nominated, and the rules involved in accepting the award
Four – Come over and say ‘hello’ to the promulgator of the Blog of the Year award at this link:
(apparently this is a mandatory part of accepting the award, and if you do not do this, then the world will end. So, if I wake up to a meteor shower tomorrow, it will be because of YOU!)
Five – You can additionally join the Blog of the Year Facebook Page and share your posts:
Six – Lastly, link back to the blog that nominated you and (in the words of the rules) proudly display the award for all to see and start gathering stars! Yes, stars! Each time you are nominated for the award you gain another star. There are six to collect. And once you have all six, a billion dollars will come flying out from the screen. No, it won’t – sorry! I have no idea what happens once you collect all six stars. Probably nothing. Might feel good about it though!
Below are my nominations for the award (in alphabetical order):
Congratulations guys! I probably missed a couple of amazing blogs from my list, and for that I do hope you forgive me! And thank you to Amreen again for the award!
Cheers! Have a great week!
I thought that instead of posting a poem here today, I would talk about an opportunity to submit work and contribute to an online organization.
For the past few weeks I have been working as a volunteer with online mental health awareness group Good Morning Bedtime Story, and would like to notify the general public about the organization.
Good Morning Bedtime Story (GMBS for short) uses the creative arts, including poetry, short story, memoir, images and music to advocate mental health. With this in mind, the website is always open to submissions.
People are also able to submit under a pseudonym, as GMBS understands that pieces on mental health are often written from personal experience and can be quite painful to discuss. To submit, send your work to:
Additional information on submitting can be found at this here link:
Moreover, the organization is currently looking for volunteers passionate about building an awareness about mental health. For more information and on how to apply, please follow the below link:
You are also welcome to follow GMBS on Facebook here:
And on Twitter: @GMBS1
Thank you for reading.
During this post I intend to quickly discuss the Universum Wet Feet Career Test.
This is an annually run event for students at university who are uncertain of the future career paths they may wish to undertake. After and during university, a vast number of students may have the misfortune of being unable to acquire a job, and Universum hopes to cut this number in half.
By undertaking the test, students acquire information about the careers that best suit their skills, and companies and employers that share like-minded attributes and ambitions.
Depending on the country you are located in, there will be different individuals showcasing the test online. As I am located in Australia, the below link will lead to the test for Australian university students to complete if they wish.
Take the survey here: http://unisurv.co/1010auss14
Additionally, by taking the survey you have the chance to win an iPad Air!
Thank you for reading!
Your smile, like thunder,
pounds in my eardrums
whenever it appears,
the beauty of its foundation
to behold. So I cringe
and shy away, believing
myself unworthy of
such a flawless sight,
which pierces my senses
like a serrated blade
that cuts down deep
into the fiery trenches
of my heart’s passion,
refusing to relinquish
its hold over me.
Although I have fought
the feelings postulated
by your very existence,
I have instead become
a slave willing to
humbly serve you,
with undying affection.
I embarrassed and humiliated
a young woman today by
having published words that ought
never to have been written
months ago, regardless of
their accuracy or notions
of romantic endearment.
My infatuation is only ever
capable of deceiving my
inner self and distracting
the young lady they are
written for with ridiculous
delusions of grand emotion,
that are unable to be
orchestrated by these hands
of mine, no matter how
furiously I hope or pray.
I try so often to think with
the head rather than the
heart, for logic is unavailable
in the depths of decisions
that throb within my beating
chest. The passionate throes
that drift on an ocean rich
with unconditional desire
do not ever present my
future self with potential aid.
But I cannot dare let my
head take full control, for then
I would be a man fueled
by nothing more than zealous
intellect, for it is the heart
that love struck fools such as
I, spend their eternities hoping with.
Hope sustains the future, and the
longevity of love, but can it
truly ever sustain that which
was never there at all? A
feeling, like that which compels
me forward towards my
wishful journey’s end is not
anything that ought to be relied
upon to conclude happily. It
will instead tear me asunder
when the realisation that I am
living under the assumption of
ideas that cannot be promulgated
hits me with all of its tyrannical
force. I cannot dispute that love
is real, but it is just as terribly
painful unto myself to behold.
Dear love, have you abandoned me
this day? Have you granted me
the affection of the woman I adore?
If this is not the case, and the sun
has instead ceased to shine on me,
should I put my heart on auction,
and hope that my lady comes to me?
I can see it now; wanted, a woman
of beauty and intellect; of passion
and understanding; of truth and
divine appeal. Looks are not
everything, but it is true that I am
a man, and the shallowness of my
eyes prevents me from
acknowledging a woman, whose face
fails to capture me. This woman,
she must be an intellectual, capable
of holding a sentence between her
teeth, with enough space behind
her ear for a felt-tip pen. For she
is a writer, and words are her
kung-fu, and with just one punch
she will have you surrounded by
a sentence of her choice. This
woman, she must be able to
charm a cobra with but a glimmer
of a smile, for the poetry of her
personality permeates her world
with the everlasting fragrance
of the life that she enjoys. Her
laugh, must be experienced
in the act of happiness, and needs
to feel like roses caressing the
naked skin rather than the
shattering of broken glass. This
woman, she must have an accent,
quite unlike the one which escapes
my lips, for the sound of an
Australian, to me, has little
romantic appeal, and if she can
speak another language
altogether, well, she would have
certainly plucked the strings of
my attention, from now until
time’s end. This woman, she
must appreciate the touch of
jeans and trousers upon her
legs, not just the billowing of
the wind, or the glisten of our
nearest star. She must not
accommodate every feminine
tradition, and must be capable
of becoming not a stereotype,
but her very own person. The
colour of her eyes; her hair;
her skin, is all debatable, much
like the touch of tattoos and
jewellery, which inevitably,
will always have my approval.
Lastly, and this is non-negotiable,
this woman must be capable of feeling
an affection towards me, and if
this be true, then love it must
surely be, and with a smile, and
a heart of unending greatness,
I will tame the wildest oceans,
cross the driest continents, and
brave the most heinous of storms,
if it means I could kiss the woman
I shall marry and adore from now
until the collapse of everything
that makes me who I am this day.
I dream of an infinite darkness
so impenetrable, it is like nothing
I have ever witnessed. I watch
as it sweeps across the surfaces
of my mind, leaving the corroded
charcoal of once good memories
in its wake, the black powder
billowing across all that has been
razed to the ground. I know now
without the need for confirmation
what this agony surely means;
the darkness inside me is winning.
The condition of my internal body
parts has contaminated every inch
of my foundations which can no
longer stand without the assistance
of another. But who alive would dare
commit to such a grievous endeavor?
My confidence was one such victim
of the nuclear haze that blurs the senses
of my fractured mind, belittled by
the pains of life, and where others
may see happiness, all I ever look
upon is a never ending damnation.
If only past lovers could see me
now, would they have ever really
loved me at all? Would they smile,
so graciously, knowing that they
jumped the flooding ocean liner
before it started sinking?
Nothingness has a hold over me,
much like a boa-constrictor, and if
the light does not shine through
before the dusk settles over
the horizon, I fear that when the
morning comes, I will awake no more.
It would be so much easier to end
the savage journey now, than live
with its continuation looming over
my shoulders, which falter as though
the weight of the universe is applied
to my body. I would exit the world
on the same day that I was entered
into it, for could it not be seen
as a mistake if I, a broken soul, am alive
in the first place?
If normality is not indeed my brethren,
do I not deserve to die? If not for me,
then for someone else, to submit a favor
upon the minds of others, because to
gaze upon such a wretched beast is surely
not good for one’s well-being. I would
strike my flesh with a razor, and strip away
my bruised exterior, to reveal unto
the world outside my own how red
the blood of a pained individual can be.
But what of the fingers of a famed heroine,
who gently caresses that which the razor
has not yet touched, and removes the jagged
metal from my fingertips before I can
ruin my body some more? Nobody would want
me if I were mutilated flesh, for many have
a problem with my suit of skin the way it is
already. My hope for invisibility is removed
in the instant that I am touched by gracefulness,
for in the end that is all I ever did want;
to be noticed by an affectionate hand.
Have I flirted with you too much
my lady, or have I flirted too little?
Has my liking you being revealed,
or has it remained unseen by all?
Have my advances been too
ambitious - is there in fact no
mutuality tying us together?
Are my feelings written across
my face, like words upon a page,
or are they still in darkness,
untouched by the dawn? Have
you considered me a lover,
and if the answer is indeed a ‘yes’,
I would very much apprecaite
the opportunity to submit
my application for quite possibly
the greatest job around. Will
this story end on a note of
happiness, or is this another
tale of agony verbatim? I only ask,
for you are a light bulb shining
brightly in a lighthouse on the
seaside, and I am but a moth,
traveling upon the night wind.
Hands have tried to swat me
right out from the air, for it is
believed by some that only
butterflies ought to take flight
upon the Earth. If this is to be
a tale of woe, when the hands
of you and I do touch, my body
shall be eviscerated the moment
my physicality connects with yours,
for in a tale yet to be touched by
humble love, a globe of light and
a sweet moth are not destined
to be friends. But if you share my
feelings, and believe the opportunity
for romance is one that ought
not to be forgotten, I will happily
fly to you, and kiss your crimson
passion with all my lusting heart.
‘I’ll go out with you for dinner’
said the woman who had attracted
my attention span, but never
would she really like me; want me;
love me, so it be pointless to accept
her invitation, unless she is capable
of proving her affections to me.
I never asked her to go to bed
with me; just to prove her love
was true, and since such a concept
is obviously far too difficult
for her to comprehend, it is obvious
that I am not to be blessed paramour
of a future yet to see the sun
of a new day; I am simply a stand-in,
until the moment she meets
the man she can truly love,
and once again I will find myself
essentially alone upon this tragedy
coming to fruition, and my shadow
is all I shall have for company;
and that is the worst fate any romantic
could possibly ever endure.