Saturday, 16 March 2013

Circle of life and the pain of love.

(written whilst listening to:
Carrie Underwood – Before He Cheats)

Circle of life and the pain of love.

 Never taken seriously
not in the eyes of love.
Loved by those around you,
but not by the heavens above.

Angel isn't my style -
I'm too hellish for heaven.
But the want of another,
takes you to sins of seven.

Greedy for their love
lusting for the touch.
The taste of a beautiful stranger
will never be enough.

Humanity yearns
for its own kind.
Grabbing at the hurt,
to which we choose to be blind.

Love is a terrible thing, but we need it, so:
Love is the worst of us,
but guides our hearts to know. 

Friday, 15 March 2013

The year they stopped making music.

The year they stopped making music.

In 2015, the year I graduated from university, musicians realised, with their fans alike - that the good music had been written; the bad ignored and erased from our memory; and the greats had been idolised.
By 2012, auto tune had taken over the music industry, and originality had gone out of the window.  The "artists" had nearly given up: not even the music and lyrics - signing off to the unknown labour of the music industry, and taking all the credit.
The lyrics had all been used; the tunes had all been taken. Nothing was left to produce.
Music fans relayed to the days when everything was recorded life, harmony was done by real people, and the drums were on set - not a series of faders and tracks. The soundtracks from classic eighties movies like Footloose became bestsellers: beating the record sales from their hay days. Nobody was interested in the fake notes of drum and bass, or R&B. Fans wanted the soul: the courage and fear that came through when the Greats belted it out standing next to the microphone. The music was going to save their lives, not make them a star with a perfume range and a high heel collection for Debenhams.
When I graduated, Vinyl was the way to go. Music was backtracking and returning to the well-known and well-loved tracks of the eighties. Downloads were still as big as ever, but the original vinyl's had become classics: objects to be treasured - not kept in dusty attics. 

Thursday, 14 March 2013

dying flowers

The Stage Door, March 2013

My opinion on young love

Young love isn't the best thing in the world; it’s the freshness that accompanies it that so many of us cling to. Those first experiences that you can never get back. The first love. The first heartbreak. No matter whom they are or how you feel about them, they are always in the back of your mind, and they will stay there until you find the real thing. You aren't clinging to the past, it's just following you on with your journey until you are ready to let go and finally grow up and live your life.
So don't forget, or regret young love: remember it until Time has played its hand, and you have moved on to find that one person who understands your dreams, your lies, your faults, and your secrets. 
When you do that, you will want for nothing.