Party Favours

Written by James Record in 2015.

The party’s over,
But it is not the wine,
That has brought about the fuzzy head,
And the painless headaches that follow.

As the balloons burst,
The pop resonates through my head.
The sound amplifies as it passes the mind,
The echo revealing what I already knew.

This party animal,
Is more of a domestic kitten than a lion.
More purr, than roar.
More daydreamer, than night-hunter.

The beverages are poison,
And the desserts are not sweet at all.
The special occasion is yet to be decided.
All these social events all duller,
Than the razor I cared not to use this day.

The punch bowl is just as full tonight,
As when I filled it this morning.
The food trays barely touched,
The cake dry, hard and not for consumption.

I can finally rest,
The last of the guests have returned home.
Perhaps the party was not a complete failure,
And I just being hard on myself.

Creative Commons Licence
Party Favours by James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.


Written by James Record in 2015.

My heart beats quicker than the clocks,
Which disturb my focus with hourly chimes.
A distraction undeserved, but a grave reminder,
That not one man can control all of time.

A swinging pendulum sways a terrible slumber;
Too tired to think;
Too motion sick to breathe.
These ticks are more predictable and regular,
Than a chaotic double pendulum,
Which drives my dreams and keeps the weary from rest.

A thousand hidden clocks click insistently,
Tapping on my forehead like a personal woodpecker.
To keep sane requires patience only a timekeeper could know.
The blue bird isn’t the only thing going cuckoo around here.

The seconds pass me by; minutes are longer than eternity,
Then an hour; Then a day; Another day missing.
Life will go on, with or without our consent,
As if we were built from mechanisms and workings.

A broken hour glass is seeping sand into my eyes,
With a sting like a bath of grit.
Glass shards scattered across the floor cut my feet,
As I continue my inevitable walk through existence.

I hide in the shade cast by a stone needle,
Until the sun dial outside of my senses turns the light,
And I become the shadow maker;
And for a short time, I am the one in control again.

Creative Commons Licence
Clocks by James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Holding Back Time

Written by James Record in 2014.

The dam of denial,
Can only hold back the stream of time,
For a finite span of time,
Before the pressure of the water,
Unescapably breaks through the futile barrier,
Causing an incredible volume of water,
To come crashing down,
Destroying everything you have built and achieved.

Time cannot go back up stream,
The canoes will be forced over the tremendous waterfalls.
Trying to climb back up will only repeat,
The broken bones and broken hearts.
It is much better to follow the course,
Over every drop,
Around every bend,
And through every obstacle.

Que Sera Sera.

The silt laden rivers spill over their banks.
The cycles of life cannot be interrupted forever.
Every year the floods will come,
And it is for us to recognise the signs of change,
And be prepared for when it comes.
You cannot stand up against the power of nature,
And expect to survive her vengeful wrath.
You do not have the keys to lock away the keeper of time,
Trying will only make the inevitable hurt more.

Que Sera Sera.

The waters are murky,
And so they should be,
Why would the great architect of time,
Want you to be able to see what is coming?

The course is set,
Albeit with a few branches and forks along the way.
We can choose where we end up,
But for much of our journeys,
We will still follow the same path.
There is no final destination,
We will find out along the way.
The decisions we make must be made carefully,
And must be made timely,
Otherwise the powerful current of the river of time,
Will carve a path through solid rock for us.
We can stall for time, but we will always be moving forwards.
Make your choices wisely, but swiftly,
As there will be no going back.
We cannot complain where we wind up,
If we don’t plan our futures.

Que Sera Sera.

Creative Commons Licence
Holding Back Time by James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Frozen Angels

Written by James Record in 2014.

Angels sleep silently in a frozen world,
Watching over their creators,
Ensuring the seasonal happiness continues,
And protect the defenceless.

The spirits live among fallen ice.
Their very existence is dependant,
On the weather and the sun.
Some are hidden beneath dark bleak shadows,
While others melt away with the glaring daylight.

Wings spread for all to see,
Gliding motionlessly through a night-time sky,
Watching the stars pass overhead,
Against a cloudless backdrop.

Even perfect angles perish eventually.
The lucky ones are returned to water,
And re-enter the cycle of life.
Unlucky ones are crushed by rowdy children,
And steel beasts which tear them to pieces,
With their rubber feet.

The freezing rain begins again,
Filling in our hollow moulds with fresh slush,
Watering down our ghostly silhouettes,
And sending chills to our backs.

Who said hell had to be a fiery sentence?
A tomb of ice with no ability to move your limbs,
Would be a far worse fate.
Fear of the requirement to stare eternally,
At the same point in space for all of time,
With only thought and reflection,
To occupy your useless body.
With only a thousand million snow drops,
To give you company.

This all matters not for those,
Made of that which falls from the heavens.
The children and their parents are content,
And therefore so must those who sleep a silent dream,
Lasting through a cold winter’s night.

Creative Commons Licence
Frozen Angels by James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

NaNoWriMo 2014

It looks like it is that time of the year again, and I haven’t even decided on my novel for this year’s writing contest. I feel that I may end up doing this one by hand, while travelling at sixty miles per hour on a bus, as this year I have a full time job doing web development so this means I get less time for writing. Of course I could do it in the evening, but then I don’t get to burn my own eyes with how terrible my hand writing is. This year the word count will likely be close, but even if I don’t complete my 50,000 challenge, I will be still be grateful that I will end up with a large chunk of a new novel started.

See you in December, and expect a few words wars and sprints, they make writing quickly much more fun, and offer a chance to try ideas that may never have ended up being written otherwise.

EDIT: On a related note, I am disappointed to announce that I didn’t manage to get my first draft of my current medieval by the end of August (its now almost November). I also haven’t yet come up with a title yet. Good news though, is that I have finally got around to resolving the main plot changes to the climax of the story, which means that a few rewritten chapters and general editing and hopefully I will be on my way to completing this eternal project (and then the two sequels I totally haven’t definitely decided whether I’m writing or not). Either way, this is most definitely not a dead project and expect updates on it over the coming weeks (except for the next four weeks because that’s for NaNo).

A Sop for the Heart

Written by James Record in 2014.

My sop absorbs the chaos,
That boils from within,
To prevent the juices from spilling over,
And to retain the flavours of my heart.

The soup is warm enough,
To defrost any man’s frozen attitude,
The sauce is strong enough,
To bring out the best in the bitter most.

The steam cleanses the mind,
And the cool breath soothes the burning.
The smells bring back fond memories,
Of times when things were easier to digest.

The croutons float atop the liquid food,
As they are much lighter and carefree.
The treacherous undercurrents,
Stirs the sop through the denser creams.

The only sops to be found in this house,
Are the crusty breadsticks and doughy loaves.
You might mistake us for the dregs,
But that is all is left once crème has been consumed.

To acknowledge our limitations,
Takes a skin thicker than leather.
But one thing all diners should remember:
Our lives are not a free lunch.

Creative Commons Licence
A Sop for the Heart by James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Medieval fantasy novel and CampNaNoWriMo going well (enough)

I have just hit 100k for the total length of my current project: a still untitled medieval fantasy novel. I am still expecting it to be between 120k and 150k for the final word count (probably the higher tier as I’ve still got a lot left to write). Although I have not been able to write something every day for CampNaNoWriMo I am still on track overall. I am also aware that my 25,000 by comparison to last November’s 60,000 is a much lower target, it is still a reasonable challenge to write between 830 and 1000 words each day. Hopefully my next update on this project will finally have a name on it. I hope.

Camp NaNoWriMo July 2014

I will be taking part in another round of NaNoWriMo this July. This time more relaxed than the traditional November run and I intend on using the time to progress my upcoming medieval fantasy novel I keep stalling and I aim to be 25,000 words (or how ever many I can handle) better off by the end of the month. At this rate I may well actually be able to finish on time and have my first draft out by the end of summer. If things work to plan I should have the edited final version released by September or October. Just in time for the main NaNoWriMo in November 2014.

Silent Music

Written by James Record in 2014.

My love for you is like the music I hear,
Whilst listening to a cassette tape on auto-reverse,
It is always the same tune.
My thoughts go back and forth,
As my head goes up and down,
The spindle in my mind rotates ad infinitum.

An improvement on the broken record?
Well the magnetism only attracts the best,
While the gramophone needle scratches my eyes,
And skips from one thought to the next.

The music is loud,
And I never wanted to hear those words anyway.
Ghostly echoes of a better time,
When things were simpler and not antiquated.

The digital voice is stable,
But the quality is a general mumble.
The lyrics are lost where no one can hear,
My sample of life is anything but clear.

My headphones hide me from her,
The songs beat in synchronisation,
With the rhythms of my feeble heart.
The words are safe from others,
Secured in void where no one but me,
Has to interpret meaning or sense.

Gone are the golden days of the orchestra,
The many instruments giving me enough distraction,
To ignore the thumping drums and bass that,
Alternate their pitch inside my head.
One sound I shall never hear,
Are the bells of the newlywed.

Creative Commons Licence
Silent Music by James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.

Disappointment Fields

Written by James Record in 2014.

The dissatisfaction flows through the soil,
Into the dykes and ditches,
That separate the disappointment fields.

The crops and the animals that reside within,
Are not as picky as I,
To them there is only nutrient and goodness,
Where I see failure and distress.

The pollen blows in the wind across open fields,
My eyes are blind,
I am allergic to what could have been,
I am allergic to the truth.

As the earth must be sifted and riddled,
To get the purest topsoil,
The mind sometimes needs to be rotavated,
In order to separate the necessary from the clutter.

The ancient trees that bind the earth,
Have witnessed far more suffering and despair,
Than I could claim to feel.
The stable ground saves the soil from being washed away,
From in front of our half-closed eyes.

The lone scarecrow watches over,
Even the seldom bird gives him more company,
Than some others I know.
The rains will come and replenish the ground,
One day we will thrive again.

Creative Commons Licence
Disappointment Fields by James Record is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.