A waste of a life

The smell from the entrance to the camp was atrocious. The latrines, no more than holes in the ground shielded on three sides by flimsy cardboard walls, were situated away from the main camp, on the way in. There was also the sickly sweet stench of rotting food, the scraps of which were still fought over by the packs of feral dogs that were known to attack people after the sun had set. The camp was made up of rudimentary huts, constructed from scraps of wood, tarpaulin, plastic and anything else that could be salvaged from the buildings that had formally stood in their places. In the distance, there was a large city, all gleaming windows and concrete. In comparison, the encampment was shabby. However, most of the huts had been painted in bright colours, and little touches, like curtains, or awnings had been put up, making each little hut an individual, more homely place. As you walk further into the camp, the smell changed. There was incense in the air, and the aroma of spicy food and chai tea. The sound of chatter, women singing and the hammering and crash of more huts being constructed rang through the air. In the centre of the encampment, there was a square. Young children were playing in the centre. The older children were sat before one of the huts, a woman in a white sari talking and teaching them the principles of camp life. A teenage boy, no more than 15 or 16, raised his hand tentatively. The meagre rations that the people received meant that some children did not reach their full height, and this boy was slight for his age. His dark eyes looked puzzled. The woman smiled.
‘Yes, Anaheim?’
‘Why do we have to live here, when other children get to live in big houses? Why don’t they share like we all do?’
A tiny frown crossed the woman’s face, quickly being replaced with the smile that had been there before.
‘It’s a complicated story. I’ll try and explain it the best I can. One hundred years ago, the world was made up of countries, not corporations. Each country had a different set of beliefs and a different culture. As the population of the world grew, the capacity for producing everything we need stretched to bursting. Oil was a major resource, and even though the governments of these countries knew that the oil was running out, they didn’t invest in green power sources, like the solar, wind and wave power that we use now. Many corporations pushed for the Oil wars to take place, as they needed the oil to run the machines that kept them going. Millions of dollars were spent and made by countries and corporations in the Oil wars. Countries rallied together to steal oil off one another, whilst the corporations made millions mopping up and repair the economic systems and structures in the invaded countries. Governments of these countries were always backed by major corporations financing them, and slowly but surely, countries started to lose their own identities, and merge into one. After the economic crash of 2008, countries lost billions, and corporations took over. Their secret backing of the wars meant that the downfall of the countries was inevitable. After a short time, oil ram out. The corporations had only invested a small amount of money in renewable energy resources, and food productions costs went through the roof. There was a saying in the old days, that we were all only two meals away from madness and this turned out to be true. As the cost of food production soared, people who had little money got left behind. The so called ‘third world’ and developing countries were left to starve, as the first world countries bought up all the remaining food. Millions of people died. The government of the poor countries were bought off by the corporations and the head of state were allowed to join the lower ranks of the workforces within them.’
‘Even within the first world countries people starved. The sea levels rose and many cities and much farmland were washed away. There were riots in the streets and brother stood against brother in battle. Only in the factories of the corporations was there calm. The corporations had reserves and had secretly got alternative power supplies. Their employees were fed, and built the things that they needed. Trade amongst the corporations continued, and countries eventually vanished, lost in battles for the little remaining reserves.’
‘There were people who survived outside this, however. Small towns and villages, a handful of people will a tiny patch of land to grow food on survived. The corporations were like huge battlements. No one was allowed in, and only black market trade could occur. Within the walls of these cities, the empires of these corporations grew. The people inside were taught that there was nothing of worth outside, and only focused on themselves, whilst us outside have been taught that only through sharing, forgiveness and equality can there be true survival, true to the meaning of what it is to be human.’
‘One of the corporations that prospered was a company producing artificial life. You might have seen them on the Barren Lands, looking for area to expand to. They are robots, produced by Botcorp. These creatures don’t have souls. They are made in factories, and serve the people of the corporations...’
‘Sorry, Anaheim, I’ve gone off the point a bit, haven’t I? I guess what I’m trying to say is that in the big houses, the children aren’t allowed to grow up and develop like we are. They are taught to only serve the Corporation. They aren’t allowed to think for themselves, and the ones that do are cast out, or worse. They may live in houses that are beautiful, but what they and you can’t see is that the big houses are really prisons, with bars not in the windows but in the people’s minds.’
The lesson continued. Suddenly, in the background, there was a rumbling. Everyone looked around to where the sound was emanating from. A loudspeaker crackled and a voice started to boom from the other side of the encampment.
‘This is a public announcement. This camp is in violation of the BotCorp code of conduct, section 4a, paragraph 2ii, which states that ‘people who do not work for BotCorp may not live within 5 kilometres of the BotCorp city boundary.’ Remove yourselves from the encampment. Destruction will commence in 1 minute.’
There were screams, and the camp turned into mayhem. People started running away from where the voice had been coming from. A few people dashed into their huts grabbing their few precious belongings. The lady with the sari tried to gather the children from the street and herd them towards the safety of the other side of the camp, but the panic that was running through the crowd had infected them and various kids were crying for their parents.
There was a roar from where the voice had come from, and the sounds of splintering and banging came across the roof tops, moving closer and closer. The huts on the square started trembling. The few glass windows shattered, and 2 of the flimsy hut fell forward. Through the gap, they could see a row of bulldozers, blade to blade, gaining on them, destroying everything in their paths, even people. Even as the fleeing people turned to look, a small boy who had got separated from the group fell, and was lost under the blade of a bulldozer. His mother screamed and fell to the ground. No amount of pulling could make her move, and soon, she too was lost under the bulldozers charge.

the importance of being honest

i was quite scared, you see
afraid of what you'd think of me
so i laughed a lot, and bounced around
talked too much, acted like a clown
tried to make myself stand out,
alternate, popular, geeky, owt

actually, i'm just like you
it's just, the last few years have been too easy for me,
with my self imposed,
lack of interaction with those
people who make me feel scared
i've been afraid, i haven't dared

self depreciation, abuse and then self harm,
you should see the awful state
of my legs and arms.

i'm on my way back up though,
feeling better every day,
apart from the odd relapse,
i know i'm on my way

so thank you everybody,
for helping me feel great,
and let's hope it continues,
my bouncy happy state!

chav zoo

come to the chav zoo,
come to the chav zoo,
with sights and exhibits,
that will really amaze you.

on my left, you see Chavus Loutius,
they get really pissed,
and then kick off and shout at us.
"you mosher," "you hippy," "you freak"
i can't count how many times i 've heard THAT this week

come to the chav zoo,
come to the chav zoo,
with some exotic sights,
that will really astound you.

on my right, you see Chavus Fertilus,
who pop out some sprogs,
to reap up the benefits.
scraped back hair, and earrings that chafe,
the shoulders of both them,
and the welfare state

come to the chav zoo,
come to the chav zoo,
with sights and exhibits,
that will shock and upset you,

roll up, roll up,
and tilt back your caps,
wear fake gold earrings and adidas slacks,
burberry scarves
and kappa tracksuits,
come with me now,
to the awesome chav zoo

ode to sofa surfers

you only come to see me
when i've got something you want
and all you do when you arrive
is bitch and moan and rant

i don't know why i like you
you really piss me off
i think i should get over it
i think i've had enough

so adieu, bonne nuit, and ciao
my lovely, lazy boy
go find another silly girl
to sponge off and annoy

poem manifesto

this is a space which i am going to use for writing down my poetry, old and new.

Poetry writing is something which i have done for years, starting with my weird teen angst stuff, and evolving to my more mature stuff.

I have stop writing as much, but it is an artform which i mean to work on, along with my painting and other visual arts.

Once again, i will state that if you have something contructive to say, or complimentary, then fine, feel free to comment, but if you just want to have a swipe at me, then don't bother.