It's a minefield.

Truth says that this time and place has ended all adventure,now work is the king. Trust people to be adventurous and the truth will come out. It's a minefield out there.

I walk on water.

When it's cold, and when I feel it is unreasonable to look up, I tend not to. At times like these I tend to keep my eyes fixed on the floor, which is why I notice the small things, and why the winter makes me sad.

A boy and a tired man

 A boy and a tired man.

 When I was young, receiving a letter was an occasion which was usually accompanied by a special ceremony, a reading ceremony, which was carried out in the main town square. This was not for any special reason, but because in those days learning to read was a great luxury,and the men who could do this would be treated well for there wisdom and skill.
 One summer, when I was not a child, but not old enough to work, a letter was brought to our house, and as my grandfather was away the letter was given to me, and i knew i had to take it to the town. I folded the letter carefully, put it in my trouser pocket and walked out of the house, pulling the stiff door as closed as
it would go, which was not really closed, as the door would warp in the summer and not shut.It would swell also in the winter, and stick in the frame, so we could not open it. There was not really a season when the door would shut well.
 The journey from my house to the town was about five miles, and took maybe half a morning, but it was a pleasant walk. As I set off, i had to walk past the other houses and shacks of the fisherman who lived by us, and you could see in the half shut doors, and see fruit box chairs and tables, and hear people talk or shout, and children laugh and cry. The smells were of cooking and toilets,and the road was a damp brown colour.
 As I moved away from the fishermans huts, i had to cross the little rivers that come in from the sea, and run in towards the town, there were many of these little rivers,and some were fast, but some were very slow and quiet.
 The number of huts got less, and the rivers get wider, and gradually hills developed, grey stoney hills, which start to surround you, until you are walking in a valley shaded from the sun. These grey hillsides are not nice. There comes a point when you think the grey hillsides are all you will ever see, when the way ahead opens like a flower, and an island, a gentle soft green mound spreads out before you, in the middle of the widest of the inland rivers, rising like pregnant stomach from the water. When I saw this, I knew I was safe. On this day, as I crossed the little island, I saw two people sat on the dusty path. There was a boy with dark hair, who liked all the friends i ever played with, and a tired man. As I approaced them I said, "hello". The boy looked up, but the tired man just sat and looked at his dusty toes. I wanted them to talk, but what I really wanted was to put off the reading of the letter. To have a letter is something of great excitement, but after it has been read, it is just a piece of paper, it has no more reason to be. They didn't talk to me, though, the boy looked back down and the man took a bottle from the leather satchel he was wearing, so I walked on.
 From the green island, I had to cross the other side of the river, the widest part, but it was also the gentlest part, I don't know why. On the far bank, there was anther valley, but thesides of the hills here looked as though they were set with jewels, and they sparkled in the sun, and with the reflections of the water.
 From the bejewelled valley, I could hear the talking and laughing from the town, and hurried to the square. In the town square was a municiple fountain, and it was around here that the men would gather and laugh and drink and gamble.
 As I approached, I heard a comment, and the men started laughing loudly, but I don't know what they said. I found the man my grandfather had asked to read letters before, and gave him the envelope, which he opened. He counted the words, and said, "one penny". I gave him the penny, and he read, the letter to me.
 Sadly, as he read the letter some men started betting on dice, and as I watched them I forgot to listen, and I only realised this when he handed me the paper back. I couldn't ask him to read it again, I had no more money, so I thanked him, and turned to walk home. As I approached the big river again, I screwed the letter up and threw it in the river, I wouldn't tell grandfather we had a letter.
I crossed back to the island, and I could see the boy and the tired man sitting there still, and thought I would speak to them again, really to put off going home.
 I climbed the gentle slope up to them, and I could see them lying in the sun, which was foolish, as it was nearly midday. I approached were they lay, and could see something  strange about them, strange about their legs. Their legs looked wrong, they were folded too tightly under their sleeping bodies. As I saw this, I also saw the bottle the man had taken from his satchel when I passed earlier, and now I coud see it was a bottle of poison. The boy and the tired man were dead, so I left them and  walked toward the grey valley.

The time has come.

Well, Billie Joe has told me to do many things, and i've always done them, but now the real deal is on the cards, the final answer. Suck it up and get on, 'cause you need to realise that that's it boy, the moment passed maybe twenty years ago, now get out there and make the money you can, row the hard row, nobody does it for fun. Your time, if it ever turned, has long since passed, so wipe you eyes and move on.
Nobody cares and nobody hopes, least of all those you love. Go to work.

Education should be free, but don't tell anyone you think so.

You never know when it will happen. You may be standing in a small crowd of people, listening to someone, it probably makes no difference who, when an awkward question will be asked. As you look around to see who asked it, you notice a rapidly widening circle of dead air around you, and then hear angry rumblings from the mob.There will be a brief swaying from the front , and several intimidating looking men in dark glasses will lift you by the waist band of your trousers and carry you swiftly away from the  scene. As soon as you are clear, they will get to work on you: legs, genitals, kidneys, face, this will be repeated three or four times, and when they get bored with these, they will move to the cavities. When you finally come 'round it will be dark, and you will have to collect your extracted teeth from the path, leaving the finger nails where they lie-this is no time for vanity- put them in your handkerchief, and set off looking for a dentist, being fairly happy that they hadn't gone too heavy on your eyes. Putting teeth back into gums is one thing, but eyes take a higher level of doctor. Refitted eyes never face the same way, and it becomes difficult to disguise your profession, which sometimes leads to animosity.
 When you get back to your hotel the other guests will complain about both the smell and your appearance, but this means nothing to you, because the pain from your swollen mouth has taken away your ability to hear, and the fractured collar bone has made it difficult for you to move your head , and you don't have the urge to explain. When you reach the desk, you try to tell the night porter that you have lost your keys in a political discussion, and your wallet was stolen, so that incriminating evidence could be planted on the dead body of a crack dealer, who was wearing your overcoat. Obviously you cannot be certain that this is the reason, but it's a fair assumption. Strangely the night porter does not believe you and phones the police, which,of course starts the second stage of the process. Before this can happen you cut your losses and shuffle to the bar, which is fairly empty at this time of night.you find a dark corner and mumble "vodka" to the waitress. She brings it and looks at you with a mixture of revulsion and sympathy."What happened?" She whispers,and looks around for the bar manager.  "I asked the party why it's no longer cost effective to educate our children and young people, seeing as they are the future of our country, and education is, in any case, it's own reward and worth encouraging with government funding" you manage to reply, before breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably. The tears drip down your bloodstained face and into the vodka, leaving little red tadpoles swimming amongst the ice cubes. You notice this and scream at the girl to fetch another drink, quckly, because this one is ruined. She looks at you with fear and runs to the bar, afraid of what your next move might be,but the moment has passed.you stare sadly at the blood in your vodka, and drink it anyway.

Bread,we all need it.

Won't we wait, wait a little minute,

keep your eyes open wide

he'll be here soon, and he's on our side

watch out, watch out

if you miss him you won't get him back again

if you miss him he's not coming back again

he'll come in drunk as a dog

but he's still driving

no point talking to him about it

he'll end up lying in the hope you'll see the good in his soul

but he's everything you knew he would be

I hear him now, he taps like the devil

taps like a cheap walking stick,

taps like a tin leg on a scar faced man,

a man called flower,

the one we call pretty girl

he said “i'll eat anything that don't eat me”

but don't ask me to pay,

ask me anything but don't ask that way

it's not what you said, it's the look on your face as you lay on the floor

just don't ask me to pay.

He took his last ten, and made a paper swan

held it up to a tealight's flame,

that heats worth ten pound more but it heats just the same,

I don't miss the paper,but still, oh still.

I could've taken the position of leader of the blind,

but I turned it down,

seemed like it took too much time,

you're the prettiest girl i've known

no other world, and i've turned down, oh i've turned down a lot,

could make me want to keep you here more than you make me want to keep you here,

and the beast of the wild

shall be led by the child

and i'll be changed from this creature that I am.

And the people will be praying

for the loss of the man,

but Luke will be staying for as long as he can

staying for too long.

And one day I will lose myself

and we've all done crazy thing from time to time

and Oliver says i'm his man

but could you please not hit me so hard,

i've a living to make,

anywhere that won't show,

lift my hair, you know,

if I need to be hit,

the back of the necks the way to go,

but please, oh please.

So give this man a drink, all that he wants,

i'd rather have bread, bread the staff of life

I don't owe no man if i've got bread to hand.

Why, there you go, I see you from the window of my bus,

there you go, you're you i'm us

but if I could just get some

decent shoes, lord i'm born to rise,

God i'm born to rise.