Diary Of A Madman - By the Cynic, Idealist, and ... Lemming.

Day 28.53:
GAAAAAAHHHH. Look, I can baaaa too. It has been 28.53 days since they have taken me in and worshipped me as a god. I CAN BAA BETTER THAN ANY OF YOU.



Day 31.01:
The sky is blue, the sky is a field of sheep, the sky is made of dyed watermelons. It's getting colder. So warm... I demand that my herd sacrifice a watermelon foetus to me.



Day 15.70:
I am a blooming penguin flower, in strawberry fields forever. I am the walrus' grandfather yesterday.



Day 3.142:
I am the watermelon sheep god and everything is pi, except for pi.



Day 3.141592653589793:
Pi pleases penguins performing parodies pouting pansies.



Day 4.452679:
I am not insane. I am merely the epitome of greatness and sheepish godliness.

A tissue in the wind

I

Flutter in the wind

Released from a wrinkled hand

A drifting whitish strand

Finally flying free

The playful breeze nudges

Me as I swim down

Trying the butterfly stroke

In the currents of the air

Kicking hard desperately,

Almost in despair

But then the wind takes me along

To the unknown floor below

It says that I've done enough

To the next stage we'll go

Within the webs of leaves

The luscious trees

Visiting the crows that perch within

Wearing a coat so gaunt and lean

The branches of a thousand sorts

Prod me from all angles as I fall

The accelerated descent

Ruffles me wary

Of the pricks and tears in my skin

Well,

But off I go

No more brooding about that

Unappetizing experience.

Spreading out my wings

Like a parachute

I ponder on

For the reason why

The hand that threw me out

Could have thrown me into the rubbish chute

Did he think of this

Of letting me fly free?

As I float down

Blending in with the wind

Not really so

As one notices this unsightly rubbish

Floating out near her balcony,

When she finally took time

To appreciate the scenery.

And a couple of children playing

The very game

As I venture to the ground

Of a block of Lego

On and on

Till the second floor

An elderly man contemplating

At the window

In a swift motion

As if saving me from

My happy trip to death

He lifts a cane out

And I land

With my wings spread out on it.

He looks at me with quizzical wonder

Then shakes his head

In a disapproving nature

Wandering over to his bin

Then depositing me in.

Now surrounded by other trash,

My probable new score of friends,

In this squeeze of a chamber

I feel a sense of

Warmth and protection.

Nothing else would ever happen

Only the expected.

And as I dwell in my new abode

Of which I was to call home

Reminiscing

Of the adventure I had

-------------------------------------

I have no idea what this means, but I suddenly had this idea when some random tissue paper was floating by my window O.O

A Letter To Myself

Settled into an armchair

With a whispering cup of tea

And a biscuit-bearing saucer,

I write this letter to me.

I know that life has not – will not –

Turned out the way you would like.

But maybe life knows better than we,

On this map-less, hapless, hike.

I’ll tell you now it’s awful stuff;

It’s uphill all the way.

But you’ll never lose yourself, even

Though you’re sure you’re astray.

It’s impossible to lose your way

If you know not where you’re bound.

Perhaps it’s dangerous not to know,

But luck is always spread around

Well enough over the journey

To ensure you’re not worse off

Than more life knows you can handle

Until you reach the top.

So when you’re ditched and stranded

In a valley of  hurt or doubt,

Remember to keep on going, because

You’ll always get out, somehow.

They’ll tell you you’re not good enough,

That you’re going the wrong way.

Keep this advice with you always:

They’re RIGHT. But you see, it’s OKAY.

Because if you keep moving,

You’re always headed up.

And that’s where we’re all going

Anyway, so take things with a cup

Of tea and keep your head about

Your shoulders if you can.

So when they say they’ve reached there first,

You can say you’ve seen all that you can.

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay I know it's cheesy and so unlikely of me to have written this. I don't know why I wrote it, actually. Ironically, when it was in my head, it was a very self-depreciating poem, meant to be depressing. But when I tried to type it out, my brain derped and had other ideas O_O Have you ever had this happen to you before? I swear, I just wrote continuously without thinking, and this is what came out. But looking at this poem... I should really take my own advice.

Digging Deeper

To shovel and spade through

The gravel and dirt

Of what forms the Earth

What will we discover?

A sinew of cables

Endless in nature

Infestation of networks

Replacing us souls?

Or

The bustling tunnels

Parasitic in nature

Hollowing earth out

Like lumbering louts

To keep foraging through

Would we uncover

The surface

A revelation

Thereby exposing,

The Earth's heavy heart

It's past plights

To the unfeeling light?

We might unearth

The roots and bones

Of a thousand years

Tracing the lines right down

To the end, but

What for?

And if we ever venture depth

Is it but a desperate redress

Or, a shielded repress?

For our minds are veined and stretched

But never,

Never to reach the Core

What reason would one need

To be tired of Surface;

And the choking lack of air

When venturing higher.

Thus methodically moving

In opposite currents

To discover soil

And the richness of it

To dig deeper

Need we have torch lights?

The scorching Core

And the jewels embedded

Which will shine us through?

To dig deeper...

What then,

Will one

Recover?

Where fantasy meets reality

Princess' dreams, and dragons flee

A handsome prince, kneels and grieves

Oh ho, a kissing scene

"A happily ever after" curtain call it is.

Warfare, murder, fraud, theft, burglary

Divorce, corruption, rape, molest

Vile and contempt

In raging trend

And so,

No further dealings

With reality

Only, and only so,

To fuel the esteemed land of fantasy

The climax, plot and other settings

Require such surveillance

Of this sad, undesirable community

Call it cowardice

Call it weak

I'm but an outlier;

With an informed choice

Camouflaging in

With the convoluted majority

I

Still am, and always will be

Plugged in a matrix.

Of maniacal delusion

I remain a hermit

Writing poetry

In ecstasy

The World Looks So Small From The Moon

I'd walk a stairway to the sky
Off to where the clouds lie
Silent and expressionless
Only to rain on us

Keep walking 'til you're up and high
Above the wind, the earths' sigh
Those deep blue seas are clouded over
Same as their green land lover

Up, up and away
Leave behind the night and day
The world is all surreal
Lying in the ethereal

Touchdown, no talk
Take a leisurely walk
It's amazing what you see out there
But stop to stare

The world looks so small from the Moon
Every building, every mountain and dune
You could drink oceans with a teaspoon
Earth but a small balloon

And one would realise soon
All our nights, mornings, noons
All the affair for which we swoon
All look so small from the Moon

Not Christmas, but still very much applicable.

It's the last week of school, and you're sat in class. The air is abuzz with anticipation of the holidays. Chatter bubbles around you; all is cheery enough.

And then you hear the famous words from the front of the classroom: "We've got christmas presents for you!"

On cue, a groan rises up from the collective. Some are joking. Others resentful. And me? Mostly resentful.

Christmas presents? Everyone knows that it can only mean one thing: Math holiday homework. Lots of it. Oh, and guess what? It's not just math. It's every other other subject in our curriculum as well. Most of them major assignments, to boot.

You know what I want for Christmas? A holiday. And I mean a REAL holiday. It'll be the first real holiday any of us have had in YEARS. Literally years. Let us revisit the dictionary definition of a holiday: (noun) A day of festivity or recreation when no work is done. Doesn't that sound lovely? Yes, yes it does.

So why is that every holiday we have is packed to the brim with a higher density of assigned homework than there is during term time? Pardon me, but I would have thought there'd be LESS stress during the holidays. Nobody wants to spend their holiday (especially overseas) constantly worrying about the the 5 projects due in 4 weeks' time that are worth 20% each. Pardon my french, but that's fucking senseless.

Now, I'm not saying that we ought to spend our month-long June holidays wasting away in front of the TV or computer. Just because it's the holidays doesn't mean it has to be devoid of learning. In fact, I wholly support the idea of learning. And I mean learning of the MEANINGFUL variety.

Instead of academic learning, shouldn't we be using this time to discover ourselves, and explore things that interest us and actually matter to us for once? And more than likely have fun in the process? If assigning homework is Education's way of ensuring we don't squander our holiday free-time, then here's a newsflash for you: Holidays are MEANT to give us slack time, no? And if we choose to use that time for learning, then good-for-us. What Education should NOT be doing, is obstructing our ability to make meaningful use of our time by filling it up with work that should be done during TERM TIME.

If school really wants to MAKE SURE we're learning, then they could always set an assignment whereby we record a journal of one new thing we learnt every day during the holidays. Freedom to explore, space to have fun. Self-learning is the most meaningful. So stop shoving things down our holidaying throats that will not likely have the slightest of mention in our future careers.

And then we have some others who just aren't interested in learning during the holidays. That's fine too. That's FINE. And it SHOULD BE FINE. We need to unwind. Why is that a crime? Why is it some devestating sin to relax during the holidays? Why is there the need to fill it up with homework? I can see no difference between term time and the holidays, with the exception of holidays being more stressful.

That is all.