I was going to write a post tonight all about homesickness, how to overcome it and the loneliness of the magical, filthy city that is London.
But then I thought no, no, I don’t want to do that. I have spoken to many people these past few weeks who have been really down. So in the words of ‘Kid President’ I think we all need a prep talk. After watching ‘Kill Your Darlings’ I felt inspired to write poetry, which is something I’ve not done in ages.
This poem is a response to really negative poem I wrote about having dreams, then waking up and release you’re not doing anything about them. This poem is the opposite, because, fuck it, we all need a little motivation from time to time. It’s called ‘For Those About to Dare’. (Spoken word Link Below)
For Those About To Dare
I’m tired and I’m sick of being wrong.
But even if I don’t know the words,
I’ll continue to sing my own song.
I cannot swim.
But I’ll dive into the depths
I cannot say those words,
The ones closest to my chest.
I cannot run,
Unless it is from Kings.
I cannot fly.
But fuck it, I’ll do it anyway.
I am the hawk with no wings.
Baby, we’re just moth on a merry go round
Scrambling towards flashing lights
Strangled by life’s circle
Where the only direction is right
But I say No. I choose Wrong.
And yes, the punters laugh at me,
Yes, my journey is long.
But Darling, it’s time to stop this ride,
We deserve the freedom of this carnival,
I need to live, not just be alive.
Before we go any further, I know that this is hard.
I have seen my chandelier dreams,
Shattered into shards.
I have seen my carcass of hope, rotting in the sun.
And I was the vulture that picked the bones
Until the light of day was gone.
Yes, I have my freedom
Yes, I experience loneliness
Yes, sometimes my heart aches so, that I’ve had tea with death.
Yes, I wanted to give up,
before I’d said I’d tried
And yes, I am a long way from the place I thought I belonged
And sometimes I want to cut the wire
And pull myself home.
But I refuse, I refuse, I refuse.
Whatever you do, please remember this.
Baby, they taunt us.
And they will do so for the rest of our lives,
Unless we prove ourselves from the righteous view of their eyes.
But I would rather be cursed, torn, hurt, beaten down,
Have my guts pulled out, wear a bleeding, wretched frown
Have every breath draw from my body, until I cannot stand
Than live a drunken fool, starved by ignorance in some utopian land.