So im guessing that this 90 year old hasnt lived or experienced much eh?

Because im a lazy man, i wont go into detail, but pick the points that ‘spoke’ to me most, and generally mock them.. If you’re really interested, you can read the whole thing here

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.

Wrong. Suicides, hate crimes, honour killings , mental illness, natural disasters, nuclear fallout, zombieapocalypse, cancer, AIDs, child abuse…. Do i need to go on?

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

Into the gaping chasm of self doubt?
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

No it fucking isnt,

Actually, i give up here, because everything is futile in a world where fate has predetermined where shit will land.


Poetry in East London

Poetry in East London

Located on a wall near Shoreditch High Street Station – It reminds me of a Ted Hughes poem – Love Song – But strangely enough, it seems both a tribute and antonym for the work in its entirety..


By Ted Hughes

He loved her and she loved him.
His kisses sucked out her whole past and future or tried to
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she sucked
She wanted him complete inside her
Safe and sure forever and ever
Their little cries fluttered into the curtains

Her eyes wanted nothing to get away
Her looks nailed down his hands his wrists his elbows
He gripped her hard so that life
Should not drag her from that moment
He wanted all future to cease
He wanted to topple with his arms round her
Off that moment’s brink and into nothing
Or everlasting or whatever there was

Her embrace was an immense press
To print him into her bones
His smiles were the garrets of a fairy palace
Where the real world would never come
Her smiles were spider bites
So he would lie still till she felt hungry
His words were occupying armies
Her laughs were an assassin’s attempts
His looks were bullets daggers of revenge
His glances were ghosts in the corner with horrible secrets
His whispers were whips and jackboots
Her kisses were lawyers steadily writing
His caresses were the last hooks of a castaway
Her love-tricks were the grinding of locks
And their deep cries crawled over the floors
Like an animal dragging a great trap
His promises were the surgeon’s gag
Her promises took the top off his skull
She would get a brooch made of it
His vows pulled out all her sinews
He showed her how to make a love-knot
Her vows put his eyes in formalin
At the back of her secret drawer
Their screams stuck in the wall

Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other’s face