Finally you've come again, it seems an age since we parted
Recalling just the thought of you, gets my heartbeat started
I hope you hang around this time, for an extra hour or two
Do you look forward to seeing me, as much as I do you?
Alas, I know you'll slip away, just like each week before
You'll soon be someone's Saturday, and my Friday no more..
Written Feb 2008, a quick thought during one Friday afternoon beer o'clock at work, an expression of my love for my favourite day. What ever happened to acrostic poems?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Credit - Where it is due?
some saw the warning signs, some had a hunch
but nobody was prepared, for the credit crunch
ignorance met greed, and colided with fate
once the cracks were apparent, it was already too late
house prices fell, while rates were on the rise
the US saw a bubble burst in front of their eyes
the NINJAs couldn't pay, so the CDOs tank
low-income housholds now belong to the bank
S&P gets Moody cause they take the blame
while inter-bank lending will never be the same
the investor is stung, so stocks take a dive
banks turn to the government, just to stay alive
so rates are cut, and then cut some more
many a banker is shown to the door
world currencies crumble, and with no end in sight
institutions of old disappear into the night.
Merrills is missing, and the Bear has been tamed
and don't turn to AIG when your Citi lies maimed
Leahmans went Fannie up, while Freddie got fingered
the mighty have fallen and the lucky have lingered
some see it as justice, a blow to the rich
but when the trains off the track, we're all in the ditch
an economy is built on investment and consumption
when you cut off the head, the body ceases to function
supply is just inventory, until it meets demand
and your confidence is down when your caps in your hand
liquidity is a mirage, the bonus pools dry
belts are tightened as we all try to get by
many forgot profit is just risk's return
played in the fire, and were surpised by the burn
the market is cyclical, a recession overdue
mums and dads bit off more than they knew how to chew
there are so many victims, and its not over yet
but it will turn around, and in time we'll forget
the lessons we learnt, the pain in which we wallow
cause when the money comes back...the greed will follow.
Written Feb 2o09, about a very real issue in my professional life, and increasingly in greater society in general.
but nobody was prepared, for the credit crunch
ignorance met greed, and colided with fate
once the cracks were apparent, it was already too late
house prices fell, while rates were on the rise
the US saw a bubble burst in front of their eyes
the NINJAs couldn't pay, so the CDOs tank
low-income housholds now belong to the bank
S&P gets Moody cause they take the blame
while inter-bank lending will never be the same
the investor is stung, so stocks take a dive
banks turn to the government, just to stay alive
so rates are cut, and then cut some more
many a banker is shown to the door
world currencies crumble, and with no end in sight
institutions of old disappear into the night.
Merrills is missing, and the Bear has been tamed
and don't turn to AIG when your Citi lies maimed
Leahmans went Fannie up, while Freddie got fingered
the mighty have fallen and the lucky have lingered
some see it as justice, a blow to the rich
but when the trains off the track, we're all in the ditch
an economy is built on investment and consumption
when you cut off the head, the body ceases to function
supply is just inventory, until it meets demand
and your confidence is down when your caps in your hand
liquidity is a mirage, the bonus pools dry
belts are tightened as we all try to get by
many forgot profit is just risk's return
played in the fire, and were surpised by the burn
the market is cyclical, a recession overdue
mums and dads bit off more than they knew how to chew
there are so many victims, and its not over yet
but it will turn around, and in time we'll forget
the lessons we learnt, the pain in which we wallow
cause when the money comes back...the greed will follow.
Written Feb 2o09, about a very real issue in my professional life, and increasingly in greater society in general.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
personal training
his shadow is cast long by the early morning sun
already sweating though the day has just begun
step after step his tired feet pound the ground
a lone weekend warrior, with his boot camp all around
she wears her oldest clothes and yet she beams a smile
she's glad that she's back and has kept it up a while
aware the hardest part was just getting through that door
a single dancer, moves with her class across the floor
they shake off sleep and the morning chill
time slowly awakening and honing their skill
they pass to one another with a comfort borne of years
two teams of individuals, in a field full of peers
the air rushes from his lungs as he heaves at the weight
he repeats one more time though his need to rest is great
all around him there are others who sweat, moan and groan,
sharing an addiction, and yet each a junkie on his own.
their battle is a mental one, the results physical
but to call them vain or proud would just be cynical
though they fight in isolation, so too they alone achieve their goal
sound of body sound of mind and at peace with their soul.
Written Jan 2009, while running along the beach, started wondering about the individual nature of exercise, but how the individualism is mental and not necessarily physical.
already sweating though the day has just begun
step after step his tired feet pound the ground
a lone weekend warrior, with his boot camp all around
she wears her oldest clothes and yet she beams a smile
she's glad that she's back and has kept it up a while
aware the hardest part was just getting through that door
a single dancer, moves with her class across the floor
they shake off sleep and the morning chill
time slowly awakening and honing their skill
they pass to one another with a comfort borne of years
two teams of individuals, in a field full of peers
the air rushes from his lungs as he heaves at the weight
he repeats one more time though his need to rest is great
all around him there are others who sweat, moan and groan,
sharing an addiction, and yet each a junkie on his own.
their battle is a mental one, the results physical
but to call them vain or proud would just be cynical
though they fight in isolation, so too they alone achieve their goal
sound of body sound of mind and at peace with their soul.
Written Jan 2009, while running along the beach, started wondering about the individual nature of exercise, but how the individualism is mental and not necessarily physical.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Beauty, The Beast
I woke up this morning, confidence poor
couldn't bring myself to walk out the door
one look in the mirror confirms my fears
use all of my strength to hold back the tears
a discarded magazine lies crumpled and haunting
the impossible beauty of the model still taunting
perfect features and a chiseled physique
same age as me but at their physical peak
their skin doesn't blemish their tan doesn't fade
effortless glamour, heavenly-made
but the clothes never wear as well on my frame,
and I can never get my hair to fall quite the same
my body has curves where the muscles should be
and is that a zit I see winking back at me?
powerless, I guess I'll just grin and bare
apathetic on the surface, even if below I care
a deep breath and with my head held high
I step out into the world, wanting to die
"Mr Pitt, you look great, smile over here"
the camera captures my image, but not my fear
I stare at the crowd, jealously
if only they would trade places with me....
Written Jan 2009 for a gorgeous friend of mine who fails to see what everyone else can.
couldn't bring myself to walk out the door
one look in the mirror confirms my fears
use all of my strength to hold back the tears
a discarded magazine lies crumpled and haunting
the impossible beauty of the model still taunting
perfect features and a chiseled physique
same age as me but at their physical peak
their skin doesn't blemish their tan doesn't fade
effortless glamour, heavenly-made
but the clothes never wear as well on my frame,
and I can never get my hair to fall quite the same
my body has curves where the muscles should be
and is that a zit I see winking back at me?
powerless, I guess I'll just grin and bare
apathetic on the surface, even if below I care
a deep breath and with my head held high
I step out into the world, wanting to die
"Mr Pitt, you look great, smile over here"
the camera captures my image, but not my fear
I stare at the crowd, jealously
if only they would trade places with me....
Written Jan 2009 for a gorgeous friend of mine who fails to see what everyone else can.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
The One Year Miracle
The people clap,
The people cheer,
Oh my God,
It’s been a year!
I’ve had my doubts,
You have too,
I had my doubts
After a day or two.
Twelve months on,
And here we are,
Who would have thought?
That we’d come so far.
People have doubted us,
That much is true,
No one thought we’d last,
Even a month or two.
But here we are today,
And all though insults have been hurled,
I wouldn’t swap you, or this,
For the world.
Written in 2003 to celebrate a year with the same girl as previous. Young, in love, and celebrating what seemed a minor miracle.
The people cheer,
Oh my God,
It’s been a year!
I’ve had my doubts,
You have too,
I had my doubts
After a day or two.
Twelve months on,
And here we are,
Who would have thought?
That we’d come so far.
People have doubted us,
That much is true,
No one thought we’d last,
Even a month or two.
But here we are today,
And all though insults have been hurled,
I wouldn’t swap you, or this,
For the world.
Written in 2003 to celebrate a year with the same girl as previous. Young, in love, and celebrating what seemed a minor miracle.
To You, From Me
The crimson maiden’s voice rings true,
Her epic crisis is anything but new:
“See my eyes, feel the fear,
Tell me what I need to hear,”
Her voice is soft but her eyes betray,
The need in her voice, her eternal dismay
Once again the duty falls on the knight,
To slay the beast, and to the princess’ delight,
Run the gauntlet adorned with none but a rose,
Defeat Caesar’s army; vanquish all his foes,
He must test every muscle, every sinew, every nerve,
He must be one man in the name of love.
Though battles and dragons pose him no threat,
Ask him bout his true feelings if you want to watch him sweat.
“But who really could?” the knight often wonders,
Express what the heart feels without those awkward blunders,
Convey the desire, the passion, the emotion,
Raging more fiercely than a tempest, than an all-encompassing ocean.
What words could possibly do any justice,
To the feelings that run so rampant between us?
What man would be foolish enough to even try?
Express the love he has for the one for whom he would die?
But alas, dear lord, this is a quest that he must make
To stifle any possible doubts, not for his, but for her, sake.
It surprises me daily that you remain unaware,
of the feelings I have for you, the love that we share.
Lost would I be without your “gentle” touch,
On the edge of a precipice, you’re the rope that I clutch,
Vertically we differ, there’s a sizeable gap, but
Everything always seems so right when you’re on my lap.
You are the one, my rain, wind and fire
You are the one, whom I’ll always desire
You are the one:
M ystically
I rritating,
N aturally my
E verything
Written in 2003 for my first serious girlfriend after continually being asked to "express how I was feeling". I have fought the overwhelming desire to change any of the lines, aiming to keep the poem as originally written.
Her epic crisis is anything but new:
“See my eyes, feel the fear,
Tell me what I need to hear,”
Her voice is soft but her eyes betray,
The need in her voice, her eternal dismay
Once again the duty falls on the knight,
To slay the beast, and to the princess’ delight,
Run the gauntlet adorned with none but a rose,
Defeat Caesar’s army; vanquish all his foes,
He must test every muscle, every sinew, every nerve,
He must be one man in the name of love.
Though battles and dragons pose him no threat,
Ask him bout his true feelings if you want to watch him sweat.
“But who really could?” the knight often wonders,
Express what the heart feels without those awkward blunders,
Convey the desire, the passion, the emotion,
Raging more fiercely than a tempest, than an all-encompassing ocean.
What words could possibly do any justice,
To the feelings that run so rampant between us?
What man would be foolish enough to even try?
Express the love he has for the one for whom he would die?
But alas, dear lord, this is a quest that he must make
To stifle any possible doubts, not for his, but for her, sake.
It surprises me daily that you remain unaware,
of the feelings I have for you, the love that we share.
Lost would I be without your “gentle” touch,
On the edge of a precipice, you’re the rope that I clutch,
Vertically we differ, there’s a sizeable gap, but
Everything always seems so right when you’re on my lap.
You are the one, my rain, wind and fire
You are the one, whom I’ll always desire
You are the one:
M ystically
I rritating,
N aturally my
E verything
Written in 2003 for my first serious girlfriend after continually being asked to "express how I was feeling". I have fought the overwhelming desire to change any of the lines, aiming to keep the poem as originally written.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
The CrackBerry
In those moments where I find myself standing alone,
It only takes seconds to pull out my phone
I’m not checking the time, or a text from a mate
I’m just trying to look cool while I sit here and wait
I need something to do with my hands and my eyes,
Is she looking at me, what about those guys?
Where are my friends, the bus or the train?
On my own only my cell keeps me sane
Before the phone there was another distraction
A way to make sure there was never inaction
Constantly fidgeting because I’m too important to wait
There’s a high-powered meeting for which I’m obviously late.
Why do I feel this constant need to impress?
They’ll never see me again and I couldn’t care less
I’m only the centre of my own universe
She’s not interested in me, her head’s in her purse.
But what makes me so afraid of just standing and being
No matter who is looking, nobody is seeing
These moments alone are a misused gift
The chance to stop, reflect and let the mind drift.
So when the urge next strikes to stare into that screen
Instead I’ll think about how good my life has been
So limited is my stay on this earth
Its time to treasure these moments alone for all that they’re worth.
Written Dec 2008, to all the insecure people who fidgit while waiting alone in public (of which I am definitely one)
It only takes seconds to pull out my phone
I’m not checking the time, or a text from a mate
I’m just trying to look cool while I sit here and wait
I need something to do with my hands and my eyes,
Is she looking at me, what about those guys?
Where are my friends, the bus or the train?
On my own only my cell keeps me sane
Before the phone there was another distraction
A way to make sure there was never inaction
Constantly fidgeting because I’m too important to wait
There’s a high-powered meeting for which I’m obviously late.
Why do I feel this constant need to impress?
They’ll never see me again and I couldn’t care less
I’m only the centre of my own universe
She’s not interested in me, her head’s in her purse.
But what makes me so afraid of just standing and being
No matter who is looking, nobody is seeing
These moments alone are a misused gift
The chance to stop, reflect and let the mind drift.
So when the urge next strikes to stare into that screen
Instead I’ll think about how good my life has been
So limited is my stay on this earth
Its time to treasure these moments alone for all that they’re worth.
Written Dec 2008, to all the insecure people who fidgit while waiting alone in public (of which I am definitely one)
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