Mein Kampf

On this page you will find a variety of writings and definately not meaningless meanderings about 'what I have been up to'. I think writing should stimulate the mind and touch the soul, it should also give you hope. Is everybody's life a struggle? Is that the point? I like questions that cannot be answered, they can stimulate the most invigorating conversations you will ever hold, conversations that make you feel warm inside. Yet when they finish, nothing is solved.

Location: Cramlington, Northumberland, United Kingdom

Sometimes, I think I know what I'm all about, but then I look inside and I see the truth come out. I like thinking, I think alot. I'm an athlete, a thrower. I'm 6'2 and fairly well built. I have a 2-1 degree in Business Information Systems and I love writing. I have a passion for deep thinking and philosophy but also am very humourous, so enjoy me in every way.

Monday, March 26, 2007


Your issues
don't dampen my tissues
these days.

Random Saturday

Can I gently stroke your thigh, Peter?
Look into my eyes, Peter.
Will you tell me lies, Peter?
While you laugh with your pals, Peter.
Can I read your poem, Peter?
Was it about me, Peter?
To my suprise, Peter.
I never realised, Peter.
Don't ever come back... Peter.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007


I love to feel you
dripping into me.

But why do you always
drip through me?

Wednesday, February 28, 2007


They can
call me a champion,
that's their right.

They can
call me a role model,
a professional,
a world-class
The best.

They'll never know
what those words mean.
What they really mean

I kinda like that.


I can take criticism,
just not from you...

Saturday, February 10, 2007


give the mind toys to play with,
in the dark I can't tell the difference
between me and you.
Sometimes dreams are just dreams,
filing memories randomly,
not intended to
make the morning shower -
But the ones about you
are so hard to forget.


When people talk about football
and at length,
it makes everything seems so pointless.

Opinions are meaninglesss
for the
they suck the life out of me.

Listening to Bloc Party
makes me
want to write again,
must connect with me in someway.

Somethings will help you to remember
you childhood
adolescence, where
ultimately you were at your happiest without knowing it.

It's quite possibly true that the money would make anyone
basically happy
but not truely happy,
and there truely must be something in that.

I can't tell people what to think
I want to,
it's the opinions that divide us and actions that bring us all back together.

In my opinion.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Fences 2

I lean my head
against the window pane.
The rattling makes my head bounce,
so I press my head harder
against the cold glass.
I'm comfortable there,
with senseless lyrics
swilling around with my evening thoughts.
Through my season-stained pillow,
all I see are fences
lining every route
and following the angry toots.
The air is filled with defences,
people feeling the need to
justify their actions and apprehensions,
usually to themselves.
I wish the driver could take more care
because my head is starting to ache
more than my neck can take.
I’m inside my own thoughts again,
time takes so long
and I'm not judging right or wrong
Is there really something more to this
Or do we just say 'fuck it'
and live for the moment?
Surely hindsight will tell me,so why the hell do I worry.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Winter Moments

You can tell
at this time of year,
the sun is moving further away.
Even the sun's shines are cold
to the touch,
and I don't feel young so much.

Something still burns though,
as I pretend I can breathe fire
with freezing smoke coming from my
hamstrung lungs,
dispite this ice blue picture I'm
set in.
All that's missing is the stream crossing bridge,
and you,
but you aren't missing - I know where you are.

The brave winter birds are
with me,
bubbling along,
singing their troubles in a song.
Sometimes it's a struggle to
get on,
but the sun will come back around
a few months along.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Smoke/Fire Cliché

had no

yet I still got singe-d.