Weight Loss


I’ve been the butt
of so many jokes that
my cheeks ache every
time I laugh it off.
Each back-handed critique
served with an immature
punch line. About the
way I look, walk, talk, act…
about my friends, about
who I choose to love.

I’ve spent too much of
my time as a verbal
punching bag…

Tumblr app posted it to the wrong blog :|

Source: onthewingsof-icarus

I heard a voice calling
a name in the darkness.
Saw tall shadows cast
against brick walls
by the golden glow
of street lamps. Spotted the
the threatening glow of 
something sinister, creeping
through the darkness.

And still I heard a name
being called out by this voice
as these glowing eyes
moved swiftly through
the growing shadows. Stealing
away into the night. Hunting
this voice, calling out
this name. Calling out
after “my Fiona”.

A heard a howl of pain,
in place of the yearn calls.
A ripping, claws through
flesh. Followed only
by silence. Near deafening.
I awoke to find the
clouds were crying out
"murder" as I stared up at
a blood red sky.


Half naked.
Shirts shoved roughly
into the waistlines
of shorts.

Any excuse to
flash gym-toned abs
and youthfully
smooth skin. Playing football
in crowded parks.
Unworn tops
piled up as

None shy away from
skin-to-skin contact. Some
fantasising about
more than
cursory, glancing
blows or the accidental
brushing of hands…

summer nights
still hold some
surprises for those
brave enough to
embrace them.


She writhed across
the room. Her white dress
sullied and torn by
thorns and lecherous
branches. The wind
and rain driving in behind
her, forcing her across
cold wooden slats.

She was a delicate
thing, broken then tossed
aside. Left to die at
the side of the highway.
She lost her senses
stumbling through the

Strips of fabric cling
to her arms and legs.
Restricting her movement,
staggering her erratic
steps. She fell, screaming
and sobbing. Red patches
appear on the floor.

The front of her dress,
soaked with blood. Painting
patterns on oak floorboards
as she wallows in the throes
of despair. Crying out
two words.

"My baby, my baby"


Just hold on, little brother.
Damned days get tougher
each time they roll on, one
after the other. Bringing the
same shit as yesterday did,
dragging it through the whole week…
to next month… to the new year’s

But hold on. This is the
only sign of the better times
coming. The sign of things turning
around. Of your luck getting
better, of the sun shining
brighter, of the flowers
smelling sweeter. This is the
sign to stop sinking deeper into
the vodka bottle than you’ve already

Higher purpose? It’s called
carving your path through the
treacherous, chaotic wilderness
more commonly referred to
as “Life”. So be yourself, unique
and amazing in a thousand
different ways.

Come now, Little brother…

Give yourself something to
believe in, instead of feeling
like you’re living for nothing.



If I had anything left to give up on,
I think this time’d have to be the last;
I cannot treat these days as mere
Aperitif’s before The Better Times-
Maybe vodka shots before
A blurry night.

If there’s some higher purpose
I never want to know it;
The only thing worse than living for nothing
Is knowing that there could’ve been something.

Source: mistergauche

I spent too much time
tricking my mind into
thinking I was in love
with her smile, her laugh,
her walk and talk.

But I had to fool
my tongue each time
I said her name instead
of one of so many
boys I longed for.
Every “I love you” turned
from a sweet scent
to a bitter taste on the
back of my tongue.

It became so familiar,
like the sound of
a long kept lie.


Et Voila! Hair is gone!


Last day with the long hair for a while. Just typical I’m getting it cut when I’m getting used to straightening it out again. Oh well. Haircut off the port bow!

  • Question: Zeigfeld Follies - Anonymous
  • Answer:

    Ziegfeld Follies - If you could go back in time and live in a different decade/era, which one would it be?

    1970’s but only if it was in San Francisco or Brighton

  • Question: Anything Goes, Into The Woods, Les Mis, Peter Pan, Rent - poppyflowerpoetry
  • Answer:

    Anything Goes - Best compliment you’ve ever received?

    I managed to fool my A-level English class that something I had written was actually written by Carol Ann Duffy. They actually thought it was so I’d say that was a big compliment because she is one of my favourite poets.

    Into The Woods - What is your favourite fairytale?

    I hate fairytales with a passion so lets not go there with that one.

    Les Mis - What is one dream you have but you know won’t come true?

    Becoming Poet Laureate. It’s such a fucking pipe dream but it would be fucking amazing.

    Peter Pan - Do you believe in fairies?

    There’s no such thing as fairies (Yes I am Captain Hook :P)

    Rent - How would you react if you were told you only have a few months to live?

    Not lying, I would probably spend a lot of time crying but then go fucking mental and travel to every country I’ve longed to go to and do as much as I can before I kick the bucket.

  • Anything Goes: What's the best compliment you've ever received?
  • Beauty and the Beast: If you had to be an inanimate object, what would you be?
  • Cabaret: Have you ever sang at a karaoke bar? If so, what songs?
  • Dreamgirls: Would you rather be in a band or be a solo artist?
  • Evita: Do you think you could lead a country?
  • Fiddler On the Roof: Do you have any unique traditions?
  • Guys and Dolls: Have you ever gambled before?
  • Hairspray: Have you ever been discriminated before? If so, for what?
  • Into the Woods: What is your favorite fairytale?
  • Jesus Christ Superstar: What are your thoughts on religion?
  • The King and I: How was your most recent travel experience?
  • Les Miserables: What is one dream you have but you know won't come true?
  • Mama Mia!: How do you feel about your parents?
  • Next to Normal: Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders?
  • Once On This Island: What's something important you'd be willing to trade in order to stay with someone you love?
  • Peter Pan: Do you believe in fairies?
  • Quilters: What's an old-fashioned "rule" that you live by?
  • Rent: How would you react if you were told you only have a few months to live?
  • Sweeney Todd: Do you forgive and forget easily?
  • Throughly Modern Millie: Have you ever moved to another state or country? If so, how did it feel to be new?
  • Urinetown: What's the most disgusting drink you've ever consumed?
  • Victor/Victoria: If you were the opposite sex, what would your name be?
  • Wicked: Do you believe that no good deed goes unpunished?
  • Xanadu: Do you enjoy visual art? Are you good at it?
  • You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown: How do you define happiness?
  • Ziegfeld Follies: If you could go back in time and live in a different decade/era, which one would it be?
Source: dudewheresmytofu

You were the man out of place,
out of time and stuck in a situation
you had no control over.
You used to be the shining armor-clad
knight I craved while masquerading
as the same thing.

We were fast friends. You taught
me about chivalry and how to
be an old-fashioned romantic.
How to write serenades and
the way to win a woman’s heart
while all I longed for was to
learn a way to win yours.

But you stuck to your guns and
chose to make girls swoon. I made
it a competition and you always won
because my efforts were always
half-hearted. Before long I started winning
and wondered if you’d had a
change of heart.

You told me that your heart swayed
both ways and mine began beating
faster out of pure, naive hope.
Still, you stuck to your guns because
that’s how you were brought up
and I watched you sing so many
love songs with a sad smile on your
lips because you knew you’d changed
each “him” to a “her” and “he”
to “she” just for the sake of
keeping up appearances.

I watched as the shine in your armor
dulled and the sweet words you used
to write became a bitter taste
in your mouth and you lost all
belief in them. Now you never bother
with poetry or serenades because
you chose to change names each
time it didn’t work out with one
of so many girls.

You never tried to change your
tune completely and the song
played out as the same way
it always does, fading
into silence.

Photo Set

So Georgia (aka theglycoprotein) tagged me to do the Six Selfie Challenge thingimajig. 

I’m tagging mistergauche, iheardyoulikeurlsoiputurlinmyurl, slowly—getting—there, lilprince, hairy-joe and jakepullsthetrigger

The idea is to post six selfies/photos of you that make you feel good and positive about yourself.

Peace and love

JT xx



Their lives are bound within the tales;
Rewrote, retold, forgotten.
A heartbeat thrums in the turning of pages,
And the names now lost, and rotten.

To seek a haven- a noble goal,
They crossed the seas before them;
How sad a twist, how foul
A turn, that all they found were ravens.

The crooked house, the crooked stile,
The longest road of all those miles
Of broken glass, and donkey’s skin,
That led to Rome, or maybe France.

Unseeing eyes saw sparks for justice,
A chance to save the overlooked;
The Sheriff found the victim’s wish
With the Business Office overbooked.

To find a killer, a simple task-
The Wolf began to sniff and snarl;
How vain he strove, to ask
For answers, when all their lips were sealed.

Their lives were bound by silk, by glamour;
Once caught on the victim’s side of the gulf.
A spark caught fire, and now they ask:
“Who’s afraid of The Big, Bad Wolf?”

Part of me wants to do a reading of this… so tempting.

Source: mistergauche