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Ode to Tamesis Dock

Oh my, what a shock! 
My delight as I approached Tamesis Dock. 
With music in you hull, my soul! I felt a kin’ship’. 
Oh what fun to pun about your twinkly WIN-ship! 
Night highlighting this alluring sin-ship. 
Green, red, blue
Electric hues stimulate my fascinated eyes! 

Up ramp, down deck and into bar! 
This neon moored bazaar with Chip & Pin! 
Oh ceaseless novelty, 
Upon the sea, 
And wireless technology! 
2 Jager’s, Sir, and make ‘em large! 
I’m makin’ the most of this fairy-lit barge!

…I was inspired to write this today on the train back to that smutty London, after my trip-on-a-whim to Bexhill for ‘one night oooonlyyyyyy’ to surprise my muma! I was intoduced to Tamesis Dock for the first time on Friday night and I shall definitely be going back! 

It’s all relative to the size of your steeple.
MARILYN MANSON - THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
You can have anything you want if you want it desperately enough. You must want it with an exuberance that erupts through the skin and joins the energy that created the world.
Sheila Graham

…feel a wave coming over me

silent wave of anxiety

wanting save from this piracy now…

The Daily Commute

Oh the sun doth gleam right STAB in my EYE! 

Oh WHY do I do it to myself daily?!

A sadist maybe,

Hateful of all things restful…

The masochistic cackle of a psychotic break induced by this STRESSFUL life!

The nine to five is rife on this putrid passage to Hades

And it’ll cost you more than one gold coin. Try NINE!!!!!

…this is a poem I wrote on the commute to work in my previous life as a nine-to-five office bitch. It was winter, around 8.30am and the sun had just broken the horizon as my train made the journey from Bexhill to Eastbourne across the marshes. The most incredible hot-orange sun came pouring through the train window suddenly onto my face as my head was rested against the window still half asleep, and it stirred my soul. I was incredibly moved, longing to be sat wrapped in a blanket outside somewhere feeling wonderfully insignificant and at one with existence, smelling the air and just breathing, and at the same time angered by the interruption of my precious extra 20 minutes of resting my eyes before a tedious long day sat at a computer. I’d probably had about 4 hours sleep every night leading up to that moment for as long as I could remember. Memory being an expendable quality when every day is the same. Anyone who has ever worked nine to five doing anything they’re less than ecstatic about will understand. The continual dull haze that was my life. This poem is, above all else, a powerful reminder to myself of why I must succeed as a singer, and for everyone else - an understanding of why I will. 

“La la laaaaa…”

“La la laaaaa…”