Snoop Dogg Returns

Star Wars Galaxies - Spot The Difference

Pony For Your Thoughts

I found a horse of splendid girth
Estranged of life, with glassy eyes,
Miasmad all around with flies
that supped its ribs profound with dearth.

Lame and wounded, deaf and dumb,
Torn and shattered from its prime.
So prematurely cut short time
would leave the cruellest horsman numb.

Broken purpose, heart's decay,
He cantered to this leafy spot
Each unvoiced horsey woe forgot,
Embraced the earth, and passed away.

Fodder for the Knacker's Yard
This proud young beast, this friend of men!
Yet worthy not for word again
except by some intemperate Bard.

They dragged him to the trailer-bay
And rolled their greedy eyes around;
"Between this saddle, and this ground,
We glue-base sought, and glue-base found."

"On this crime of conscience you are caught!
Our thankless tyranny, his dying thought!
It came to court one ill-attended day,
Remorseless wealth replying only -

"Nay".

Old School Gaming For The Win

Caged Youth

'Twas there, inside that paragon of woods
Where down I lay, within a shaw of ire,
And partook pinches of diurnal snuff
Perpending years past simple joys enough
That, had my senses lulled me not to cully,
I would have stopped the mouth of th'whispering bud
And stretched to death, on funicles of fire,
The necks of those who shout, and those would would.

Rambling dreams of Bertha of the Farm
Whose hands lay russet of the murdered poult.
Her baleful whining of a vaudeville
Of future three score years and ten to kill.
Yet maybe in that coarsely rustic role
Perhaps the gudgeon seeks but to expose
the histrionic man God cast as Colt
Who can't read rhyming reason; only prose.

I chid the Sun a gadabout from Hell,
Constant to the extent it grows stolid.
I chid the Oak the sour age it purports
And shamefaced, pursy elegy it courts.
When crepitation of the rain ascends
to drown the lovesong of once-wrangling Wrens,
I would have chid the ground apart as well,
For being little more than merely solid!

The track that leads here is a travesty
As if 'twere lain as curio at stall.
I walked here as a child, and know it well;
'Tis like a mourning frump, who weeps the knell.
In half-remembered boyhood I roamed free,
But poignant crystal dreams now fade away.
I hear the sibyl of the present call,
"Return, Old Man, dwell not in yesterday"

Of The Lady Winterheart

She moves away, her spirit cursed by laws
that fill her mind with frost. None know the cause
of why she is so sad,
Her castle filled with many fine hewed statues.
Hark! Before you go friends. Listen awhile.

She watches keen at sunrise in the morning.
She never fails to mourn it's loss at dusk.
She knows no love save this,
For love melts icy hearts.
Do you hear? Soldier, Poet, Duellist?

She reads her books, the prattle whittles time
to one short bladed threat. Age heeds her
waste, and ranging poles of Youth
rot in the snow,
That ever falls like indecision's touch -
but here, but there, unknowing where to go.

What use has she for handsome princes now?
For every man who craved her hand and got
Felt out the Midas frozentouch, and died,
Becoming but one more statue, besot,
While beauty, numbed in guilt, yet glides away.

The seasons change but
Heart ice never thaws.
Procrastinator
Freezing shut locked doors.
Be warned; one touch,
and you are doomed to die.
So Soldier, Poet, Duellist;
Stand thee by.

Religion

If you haven't already done so, check out http://www.evilbible.com/ for a vast array of compelling critiques relating to 'The Bible'. It points out how God is a jealous, cruel perpetrator of mass genocide, not to mention an inciter of racial hatred.

You have to love people who take 'their' Bible literally. The refusal to accept the simple, commonly acknowledged fact that it has been whittled down over the centuries, and edited by people (note, not God!), to portray only what the organised Church wished it to.

I'm not bashing Christianity per se, I abhor any religion which anyone can potentially use as justification to spread death and suffering under the thin veneer of 'righteousness'.

And yes, I know that for someone who swings a stick at religion, I write an awful lot of poems relating to God. I must point out, I'm not actually writing them, I'm merely *channelling* them from a higher power ;)

Fate

Into the milky eyes of Time I gazed
In sleep, and found a mislaid truth, and laughed.
A phantom image on an unfelt wind,
God saw perception, spoke, and I was gone.
My blood now ran as hourglass sands. He held
the very essence of me in his hand.
Colossus Lord! His palm bore Earth and I
And all that is. Titanic burden, none.

I felt a silent, fatherly rebuke.
If old age ever scorned, the scowl was his.
"I thought my Revelation hid, but you,
You that have railed against me, cauled in sin
Beheld by accident the buried Word,
Yet shrugged at reverence, grasping the divine
Alike some petty bauble purchased new
Or trophy any pagan beast may win."

"Prized punishment! Bear thou immortal pains!"
I screamed as knowledge waves washed Self away
in boiling torrents, countless agonies,
Disfiguring the freewill I had shaped...

This truth is terrible, and none must know!
This esoteric secret must be lost!
For human minds are fertile for despair
above all things. The rest is just for show.

"Now everything be as it first would seem!"
The hour was out, my crimson river run,
Returning to the sleeping form below
I woke up late, dismissed the vivid dream;
'Til I looked in the mirror, huge and crack'd...

Upon my brow, fire-carved by who I'd met
Was what, for mankind's sake, I must forget.
How ultimate these scars! O Pointless Wrath!
For words, four binding bands :

I CHOOSE THE PATH

Snow White C.S.I.

Weapon : Bad Apple
(Obviously)
Time Of Sleeping Death :
around half-past three.

You'd credit those dwarves
with a little more sense
Than a 'say yes' Princess
for home defence.

(During the questioning
all became clear;
The 'housekeeper' deal
had been Dopey's idea.

The autopsy findings
were no great surprise,
Just that forceps or kisses
could open her eyes.

Granny Smith's prints
were all over the place.
Send C.S.I. home
It's an open/shut case.

End Of An Era

Well, in the end it all fell to bits like a house of really cheap cards on a windy day.

After almost 8 years of loyal service, 2 of which were served with distinction and top quality coaching/customer satisfaction scores on the Email team, I was forced to resign rather than be relocated back to Frontline customer services taking calls.

And why? Well, in a nutshell, the endless streams of Indian SITEL employees in Hyderabad, who can send out utter mindless sh*te and/or templates at impressive speed while being paid around a quarter of my wage. The Cult Of Productivity decreed that the Email team should be cut to around a third of it's original number, and yours truly was in the wrong place at the wrong time - but refusing to compromise on actually spending time getting things right, which made it worse for me in the end.

I wasn't over-keen on going back to being sworn at all day by angry people who have been cut off for not paying their bills, or blaming me for their wife dying of cancer, or holding me personally responsible for the fact they couldn't get a free 350 quid phone every year despite their loyalty (oh yeah, and they spend about a tenner a month.........). I did it for 5 years, and to be honest, I consider that I served my time there. It was done, I had moved on/up.

So, having been told to report back to call taking on the 18th, like a good little obedient number on a spreadsheet, I tendered my resignation effective the 17th - and am now unemployed, for the first time in a very long time indeed.

It was a very sad and emotional day, but only due to leaving the bosom of a fantastic team, and for the fact that it was blindingly obvious that 8 years of real quality service meant sod all in the end. My loathing and hatred for everything T-Mobile and SITEL shall endure; in other words, and to the dread of the statisticians who are paid so well to turn out reams of doctored graphs and charts showing how much everyone in the country loves T-Mobile, I will become 'a detractor' *shudder*

I don't as a rule hold grudges, but this one just got chiselled in stone on my soul.

We were always told how important it was to 'live the brand'. Well, I said it then, and I'll record it here for posterity. A brand is something burned onto flesh, often denoting forced ownership.

Customers want someone competent and polite, to spend time and due diligence getting things right, the very first time. They do not want a clueless battery hen clucking out a slew of corporate soundbites while creating or compounding errors through complete ignorance of the role, and a good old fashioned simple lack of care.


In other news, you may have noticed the very obvious 'donate' button at the top right of this blog.

No?

Look harder :P

Ordinarily, I'd be far too proud to beg, however under the circumstances, I could use all the help I can get. Pride is just too expensive right now....

PS. Business news just in - the Disney Corporation are looking to bid to buy out T-Mobile UK. Apparently, they recognise a mickey-mouse company when they see one.

Teaser Trailer

A teaser trailer for the new imperial guild I'm forming on the http://www.euro-chimaera.co.uk/ live server, once the SWG pre-CU emulator is finished.

Surgery

I wrote this one many, many years ago after having a horrible nightmare about being operated on... it's not particularly merit worthy as poetry goes, and it's a bit rough, but even now it does make me remember that dream quite vividly. Unfortunately :/
___________________________________________________________________



Through a dreamlike haze, I felt the parted flesh
meet again in a stinging kiss. The wake of
the blade must leave this. Yet I should not know!
Not enough used. Agony laid on thick;

Iam not under anaesthetic!

Paralysed by fear, and laboured breath,
I cannot feel my fingers; only theirs, in my torso.
My eyes taped shut, but I see Them!
Evil miracle workers commanding me 'Open!'

Faith in God is disappearing
Crimsons claws and foul maws leering
Laser-light and nerve ends searing
My trinket life, my end is nearing

In the interests of Science, dismembered
By a handful of minds I'm remembered.
To a shadowy place my soul flees,
While my body is rent, by degrees.

I'll never know why.

Time to die.