thunderbloke!: The lions weep for home 
This is the greatest story I have.
#thunderbloke #writing #poetry #africa
thunderbloke!: The lions weep for home
#thunderbloke #writing #poetry #africa
Why go offline?
thunderbloke! http://thedangerlaughers.blogspot.com/
@4 weeks ago#thunderbloke #writing
The stars are out tonight
and I am sorry.
Sorry because men
who love their women
have eyes that watch
other women, still
unsatiated.
Sorry that tonight
dreams will be ended,
stories will be cut up
and stored in
an old photo album.
Sorry that before these
stars fade
with the morning light
words, small words
will be heard
that will cause tears to fall
and fragile hearts to
ache and buckle
beneath their weight.
Sorry that truths
will be told.
Sorry that, for all the love
that exists, some people
will sleep alone tonight
in wide, cold beds
for the first time
in many nights
and I can do
nothing.
Sorry that I
cannot tell them they will
survive until daylight,
that tonight is just a night.
Tonight, beneath the stars
I am sorry that
someone I love
sleeps with someone
else.
Sorry that I
could not keep her
warm
enough,
that my heart was
not round enough
and smooth enough
to be pure.
Sorry that there
were crevices within it
where half-secrets could hide.
Sorry that I was
small, after all.
Sorry that this night
is here,
that it does not know
it is not welcome
any more.
Tonight I am sorry
that these stars
must stand quiet watch over
a fool such as this
when somewhere else
black holes are swallowing galaxies
and stars are imploding,
and all I can think
is how I must look
to them now.
The trees are still,
cars move on infinite roads,
children, birds and mothers sleep
and here I sit.
Tonight, beneath the stars
I am sorry that life
is carrying on,
that the universe
(and its stars)
do not pretend to care
or even acknowledge
our struggles.
The stars are out tonight,
and I long for clouds
to cover them.
@1 month ago with 1 note#thunderbloke #poetry
thunderbloke!: Perfectionism is the enemy of creativity
A man close to my heart once said that when you get a tattoo you ruin a perfect canvas - that by making a permanent mark upon yourself you become imperfect and regret the clean slate you once had. but who can really say they are a perfect canvas? we are, by nature, imperfect, and so the perfect canvas is a myth.
but let’s pretend it isn’t. without the destructive act of ruining a pure canvas it is impossible to create something new. much in the same way that as Van Gogh desecrated a canvas every time he put his paint brush to it, you must break before you can create anew.
This is because by becoming a slave to perfection you lose the inability to create. the only means of safeguarding against accidents and mistakes is by not beginning: i.e. the chicken’s way out. you become paralysed by fear. your brain locks up. the blank piece of paper in front of you becomes bigger and blanker and you wonder how anyone ever came up with anything. this Perfect Canvas has turned into a vacuous monster that eats your creativity.
it is the unknown that brings us closer to creativity; that feeling that you don’t know what’s happening or where it’s going is what drives you into new and exciting territories. so you stab your pen into the paper and immediately feel better, like you have broken the monster’s back. and then it cascades out of you and you become lost in self-expression and an exorcism of ideas until you are left with a piece of art or writing or music or whatever. and then, even if you arrive at the end of your creation and realise that the first line, the first sentence or the first note is wrong and looks out of place, it doesn’t matter. you now have something to show for your time. you have created something. do it again a few times and you will have a body of work. i only learned to draw when i realised that - despite what my old art teacher told me - there is no wrong way to draw, onlyyour ownway of drawing.
i have a theory that fear is just the old self trying to avoid becoming the new self, and that it is the only thing that stops us becoming the people we deserve be. who told you you couldn’t be an astronaut or a pirate or Skippy the kangaroo? other people probably did so often that you began to believe it yourself. but the only difference between someone who acheives their dreams and someone who doesn’t is that the former never believes the cynics.
but it’s never too late. you have a dream; i know you do. and you’ve been subjugating it. you’ve been telling yourself it’s not possible, and that’s not because you believe it’s impossible. it’s because you’re scared.
well screw fear. and screw the cynics. if you make a bad decision and it knocks you on your arse get up and make a different one. and keep getting up and eating cynics until you piss rainbows. but you know this already. this is nothing new. the time is now. the time has always been now. if you’ve been waiting for a sign, for God to slap you across the face with his holy beard of ambition then make this that moment.
so, mum, that’s why i had to get a tattoo. that’s why i have stickers all over my ukulele and doodles all over my jeans. you may hate it, but you can’t hate the reason i got it.
#thunderbloke #cat in the hat #tattoo
And then he walked away and never talked of the strange things that happened and in fact walked into the sea and was never seen again.
@3 months ago with 1 note#thunderbloke
