The Game (poem)

A silent siren, an earthquake with no shatter,
scream into space, a kiss for my dark matter.

Plastic bullets, a handgun for a mouth,
can I use some ammo?
I seem to have run out.

We roll the dice,
but you never enjoy the rules of the game,
kick over the board, stomp up stairs,
I would of let you win anyways.

You can roll the dice,
you can design the game,
but to have something to lose,
you must be willing to play. 

Impervious (poem)

There is a lullaby in every bruise you give,
the drugs cannot kill me as you’re there first,
we can play games until the sun rises,
discreetly sweeping my flaws off the doorstep.

You frusted my subconscious, forcing yourself-
into my mind and you soon became a luxury,
my soul cannot afford to lose or adore you,
unpredictable love, my impervious love.

She, a tender tornado with love in her fury,
a vivid color I fail to paint and blend,
Laying here all evening and pray for early suns,
and call any ears to hold me from self destruct.

My poems bring no materials or tools for growth,
as useless as the things I was once proud to own,
placed with friends I borrow from better evenings,
among the pillows and street lights I vision a home.

Faith reaches far but your arm overlaps-
the gaps that my soul has left awoken,
reality once more takes a stab in the dark,
this mind leaks with thoughts unspoken.

When your chest rises less frequently,
I will hope you were happy with your life my love,
even though the pleasure would be all mine,
when our eyes meet in eternity,
I look forward to you scolding me-
for failing to be on time.


Where Beauty Is Felt (poem)

I love you not only for the fire that you are,
the hum of crackle in the darkness,
light and warmth intertwined in shadows,
where a sense of home is needed most.

I love you not only for the snow that you are,
the cold and beautiful white confetti,
celebration of the sky’s grandest, simplest gesture,
where pure silence is enjoyed by most.

I love you not only for the spring that you are,
the animals, dedicated and venturing the earth,
their courage against what they cannot predict,
where a sense of defiance is lacked by most.

I am destined to love you,
as leaves are bound to fall,
as fires are designed to become ash,
as snow reluctantly begins to melt,
I am carelessly always in your presence,
any place beauty is felt.

Thoughts. (politics, circumstance, romantics and human spirit)

Writers wish to believe that it is song, words, poetry which ignites revolutions, victories and realizations. Romantics will tell you that art and imagination has been an important, if not the most important vehicle in human history. Speaking of tyrants, control, bloodshed, corruption and more. How those in power, who are greedy and careless to those below them are stains on society. I often wonder, or wish I could ask the famous writers who spoke of revolution, philosophy, love and freedoms, how they value the individual, with little status, little history and little creative or intellectual talent. The individuals who physically fight and die for such idealistic visions written by those, who may believe that their pens are as worthy to a fight as a sword. 
I cannot help but wonder if there is some form of, arrogance or hypocrisy in such writings. I write myself and as I study about those who were before my time, do the poets think more of themselves than the ‘average’ man? A sword would do better in a physical fight but does a pen do more to inspire minds? To change minds? To change history? I sadly believe that, pretty words are no match for circumstance. Happy people never fight. If those who comfortable in society, well fed and lived lives of joy. Would they still care for the injustices among them? I too, am guilty of such things. 
I know there are evils and injustices in this world, because I know of injustice to my own being, to my own world. But do I care because I can relate, because I pity or because it would be simply wrong not to? I am selfish. I am no perfect human but I am starting to believe that the world never changes because of wishes, prayers, poems, songs and speeches. It changes if people will it. If people want better they will strive to achieve it because it benefits their own personal circumstance. Of course we can, dream of better tomorrows and sing of happier lives, but is happiness still a dream to those who are comfortable, I  wonder if happiness being comfortable. 
Watching the protests on TV, the tweets for change and facebook groups for political movement, the concern of our lives and other peoples lives are not always equal. 
But, I hope I am not too cynical. In a generation where women’s rights, LGBT rights and more are becoming more noticed, I want to believe that the world is changing by those who have a vision for happiness, beyond themselves. That, is a mark of a good human being, someone who wants change not out of personal circumstance, but for the happiness of their fellow beings. That is a society I want to live in. 

Many thanks





Hello! I guess this is a little update of whats been happening. Said goodbye to my girlfriend yesterday, she is going back home for 30 days until I see her again. It was a very hard thing to do, goodbyes aren’t pretty, but it was a see you soon. I am a lot more happier, I am planning to go to the gym a lot this summer and hopefully going to carry it on through while I’m in university. The weather has been gorgeous lately, planning to go the beach tomorrow to carry on with some more reading. 

I’m sorry it’s brief and it’s boring.

Kilvey Living


So, here I am. Accompanied by a good friend I have made in my lectures and my girlfriend, they both watching a great movie called ‘Blue is the warmest color’ (you may remember, me writing a poem inspired by the movie a while back). I am on my own laptop, listening to music, preparing for my move back home for two months and my visit to see my girlfriend in those two months. Busy time.

As you can see from the photo I have included, you can faintly see the beach, set alight by Mumbles. It is not the most glorious or glamorous of views but beautiful all the same. It got me thinking, of how people associate these beautiful views with ‘works of a God’ or a being of somesort being behind such beauty. Why can’t the Universe, the world, the planets be beautiful without some ‘maker’ or ‘designer’. Not who it was, but that they are beautiful. There is no credit owed to anyone, there is no author or a signature in the stars. Does beauty need a reason? All I know, is that pretty girls don’t owe credit to their fathers. They just are pretty. We are pretty. That’s it. Why be beautiful because of a theory when you can beautiful because it is a fact? An undeniable truth.

My close friend and my girlfriend are watching this movie (in the same room of course) and my girlfriend, was quite apprehensive to my decision not to watch the movie but ah, it was for a particular reason. This moment will be a memory, one of my last memories of my first year of uni and this memory doesn’t just belong to me and neither does this friendship my girlfriend and I share with a girl called Lauren. Whatever happens in the future, with me and her, she can still look at this memory, the time she and her friend watched a movie, over looking beautiful Swansea.

Less typing, more living.

See ya soon



Update. End of June.


I find little point in updating my blog sometimes, well, personally. But, I feel I owe it to myself to give myself a slice of history and importance. No matter how small. My first year of University is over and I have experienced so much; friendships, falling-outs, education, independence and more. Growing up is really hard. I don’t know what’s harder, accepting being an adult or living like one. I said to my girlfriend that I was alone and she gave me the sweetest embrace and her most comforting eyes and told me I wasn’t. I need to remember that our eyes never have the full picture. 
Anyways, I am a bit more stressed out than usual, financially anyways. But I must remember two things, I am not poor if I am fed, well clothed, homed and loved. Secondly, There isn’t a problem that cannot be solved. I am heading home back to the valleys for 2 months in the summer and sadly, I am not looking forward to it. I miss my family and my childhood friends but I miss the world, my own little world more, I am not looking forward to this terrible temporary transition to a past life. I do not want it. 
The summer ball was interesting, me and my other half having matching outfits. I of course, sporting a very cool red dickie bow. First time I have ever felt comfortable or happy at a ‘formalish’ event. 
I will most likely update my blog more in the next few weeks. I haven’t written a lot of poetry lately and I know I got so much I want to say. It doesn’t matter who listens, it matters if you speak. In other news, Coldplays new album seems decent. Oooh! I am also going to Reading Festival with my friends from home, I have never really had a festival experience before so I am very excited. I am going to see some bands I have loved since I was very young. My mother was a bit, apprehensive for me going but I am an adult now and I “need to get my kicks, while I’m still young enough to get them”. 
My exams went okay. I did not revise alot, as per usual. My love for alcohol is also shrinking and a part of me feels guilty for it. I mean, I’m a student, with sex drives and freedom, how can I not want to party? Well, whose fault is it for associating alcohol with party eh. I would rather save my money. Damn, I’m getting old. 
Currently, my heart is in a safe place but my mind is a bit stressed and pressed. I wish I could wake with no care in the world but I awake next to an angel most mornings and I know as long as she’s got wings, I can always fly away, without a care in the world. 

Until next time