I Dun Anutha Wun

Yes. Anyone who knew me a year ago will know that I wrote and published my own Poetry Chapbook to voice my contempt about our current “Government”. A few people read it and it garnered a little (a very little) interest from Manchester locals and underground/online ‘Zines. But that was a year ago when I was single, poor and needed some sort of objective or mental sustenance, whereas NOW I’m… well, … err… Single, poor and in need of some objective or mental … sustenance… Wait a minute…

Yes, well. So here it is! My second. I used the same printers as last time and paid for it myself again (God knows, no one will publish me) but it is slightly different to the former. It has a card cover and thinner inner paper, it is also shorter. I designed the cover and did the page layouts again as well. Overall I’m much happier with this one, it feels more like a traditional poetry chapbook, I also think  my poetry has come some way since the first one. This may be shorter than the last but I think it has more content.

The main reason being that this one has no political leaning (as far as I’m aware). I have always enjoyed dreaming, and sleep in general, and find it a source of great inspiration, particularly in writing. Without realising it I found I had written quite a few dream based poems in my note-book. Not intentionally but merely because at times of trouble (mother mary comes to me) I seem to find solace in sleep and, as has been hypothesised, dreams are a way of working through problems so when I write about life and such I cannot help but return to my dreams for certain feelings. Putting this into words or as a metaphor/concept is different but for some reason my brain tends to wander toward the idea of sleep being like diving underwater, all Victorian diving bells and suits, copper-red with salty rust and dripping luminous green seaweed. As such I noticed most of these poems likened sleep and dreaming to the sea in this way, so I put them together.

Whilst this may sound like a ‘concept’… …well… that’s because it is. Chapbooks traditionally had an overall concept prior to the rather modern creation of a ‘Concept Album’ and had some sort of overall narrative or at least a theme. I don’t pretend it is particularly profound but it is personal, certainly more so than the last one. Yes – I did it for myself, No – I’m not a great poet but if you’re interested I have about 90 or so for anybody that wants them. Just let me know.

If they’ll have them again I’ll put it in the libraries and around town again but I hope people may put some ‘orders’ in for them. Please repost, retweet, regurgitate, etc. I hope you like it.


“We are such stuff…”


Proceed no further if you have not seen Inception as this film will be discussed in detail. And while we are talking about it WHY THE HELL HAVEN’T YOU SEEN IT?! Seriously. Get yo’ ass to a cinema, bitch.


As I believe I mentioned waaaaaay back in my Inception review, I wanted to do a post (I refuse to use the word ‘Blog’ as a verb) about dreams. So here it is.

For anyone who knows Shakespeare (and if you don’t YOU SHOULD) will know the title is taken from the gorgeous speech in Act 4 of the Tempest which ends with the beautiful and eloquent line “We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with sleep”. I heartily endorse these sentiments from a fantastic piece of literature.  I was having an online discussion (yeah, man, I was on Skype. I’m just that 21st century. Deal with it.) with a friend of mine and she mentioned various philosophers whom she’d read including Satre. I agreed he was good and suggested Carlos Castenada as someone worth investigating. Castenada was the “creator” of Nagualism which is the belief that through dreams and meditation you can attain a transcendent reality. The first book is great. The others, less so. Anyway, upon explaining this to my friend her immediate response surprised me. I had taken her (until that point) for not only an intelligent and literate person but also someone with an open mind but when she came back with the simple “Dreams don’t mean anything” I was piqued. Not least because even if you do not share my beliefs on the subject saying dreams “mean nothing” is fairly stupid anyway, even if they mean you’re hungry or need a pee that is still a meaning. Anyway, I bit my tongue and she steered the conversation away from the subject but this did make me think a little harder about my own love for my dreams. This curiosity was further pressed on seeing Inception which deals solely with dreams and in their realm.

Dreams are, to my mind, the purest form of self there is. In my Favourite Film of All Time Ever a character says “Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter”. The “real” world is infinitely more important and wonderful and brilliant but there is clearly more to us than that and Dreams are our way of observing this. How do I know or rather, why do I feel this way (I don’t know anything for certain)? Because I am so much happier having dreamt the night before, even if it is a nightmare. There is no other way of feeling the rush of emotions and depth of emotions you do in a dream. For this reason alone I love them but also all your joys and fears are revealed in equal measure by your dreams too, which, consequently, gives one a unique appraisal of what drives you on and holds you back. Dreaming can create empathy too. How many times have you observed a scene from afar in a dream, like a film, only to be thrust into the head of one of the people you were watching a second ago, thus giving you their terror/anger/sadness/happiness? Dreams free us. People who are wheelchair bound or blind speak of being able to walk and see again in dreams. Dreams help us solve problems. The phrase “Sleep on it” has come into common parlance for that reason; “Not sure? Better sleep on it.” Even if you don’t agree with any of that dreams and REM sleep are essential to our mental wellbeing and our physical health. You don’t sleep for a week, you go mad. Don’t sleep for two, you will die. Fact. Unfortunately dreams are unquantifiable and cannot be measured and as such, are very unscientific and in this new Age of Reason if it can’t be proved, it doesn’t happen.

Still, dreams DO happen and if we didn’t have them the world would be a much poorer place. Half our songs, stories, films, works of art and certain ideals would not exist were it not for dreams and I, for one, love that. Dreams are utterly intangible yet felt by everyone. ‘Dreamlike’ is an adjective we all understand and puts us in exactly a frame of mind to accept things usually considered incredible. As that wonderful line in Inception says (even if it is so appallingly read by Leonardo “I’m overrated” DiCappucino) “Dreams seem real while we’re in them, it is only when we wake we realise something was strange”. Whatever my beliefs on a corporeal or astral plane are, the fact is dreams are there and, as such, should not be so easily dismissed. In that film the entire caper rests on planting an idea in someone’s head via a dream i.e. Inception. To do this they utilise their ‘Mark’s’ relationship with his father and the pay off to this is so simple yet so perfectly realised it brought a tear to my eye. This is as much a testament to Christopher Nolan’s writing and Directing as it is to our own knowledge of dreams. The simple use of a paper windmill and Cillian Murphy’s reaction to it outstrips Rosebud by a mile purely via its context in my opinion. That really is the power of dreams, it is our consciousness and emotions at our most basic level. A ’20 go to 10′ of the soul.

Let me tell you a story;

I have a favourite dream. My first was when I was about eight, I was wandering around an American Neighbourhood in the dark and I was on a long road then I just remember jumping and shooting off into the sky and flying low over the roofs of the houses. I remember the stomach churning dips and dizzying highs like they were yesterday. Similar dreams kept me throughout my school years. Wonderful dreams of jumping from the roof of my hated school then bouncing from the floor and literally “leaping tall buildings in a single bound”. I liked it when I could slow my descent and felt all blood lift in my head like when you’re on a plane and it takes off. Another favourite was when I was in a giant trampoline the size of a Cathedral and bounding around in the air, plummeting to the soft and bouncy ground which would cannon me up again.

These dreams were so common and so enjoyable I came to write a screenplay about it. I am still convinced it is possible for us to fly, we just haven’t evolved there yet. I love to watch films where people fly and where it feels like it does in my dreams. ‘Soar’ I called the screenplay and when I’m a successful film director I will make it.

It was the day before my Nineteenth Birthday. I wanted to go up to London for the day and have look for some music books and go to Denmark Street. I had also booked a ride on the Millenium Eye at Sunset. So I headed into town whereupon my father met me at Leicester Square. I’ll never forget that. He was living elsewhere at the time and I can only imagine he had lots of work to do that day (being a Saturday) but whatever else there was he could have done he came and he met me and spent the whole day with me. That was the kind of father my Dad was. He did everything he could for his kids. While we were out he bought me some ‘extra’ Birthday presents that I spotted and he bought saying he’d give them to me tomorrow. A few hours before sunset Dad asked if I wanted to go to the Cinema. Of course I said yes. We went back to Leicester Square and went into the Empire to see ‘HULK’.

It got a lot of stick that film but I rather enjoyed it. The end was a little un-inspired though. Anyway in the last third of the film Hulk is bounding across the Sierra Nevada away from pursuing Helicopters… And there it was. Flight as I had dreamed it. There’s a wonderful shot where you see the Hulk jump from one giant stack of red rock in the desert and bound into the air. It then cuts to a shot of his face as he falls/flies. The wind ripples his hair and cheeks as his eyes close and the music stops and all you can hear is the rush of wind. That was exactly what my dreams were like. It was at that moment my Father leant over to me from the seat next to me and said simply;
“I can do that in my dreams.”
I had to watch the DVD to find out what happened immediately after that as I was so stunned by this I didn’t pay attention. At the age of nearly 19 I had never felt so close to my Dad.

2 years later, I was at Addenbrookes Hospital in Cambridge sitting by my father’s Bed and staring out at the flatlands from the window we were at. It was a spectacular view and Dad had always said how much he loved the land of England especially the Fens. It was a rare moment we had alone that week and I didn’t say much to him just how I loved him and was going to miss him. I remember him waking up though, briefly, and staring out the window at the flatlands. He didn’t look at me just out the window at the view then went back to sleep. I only hope he dreamed he was flying over those lush and verdant lands he loved so much before he died.

I haven’t dreamed I was flying for 6 years.

My final thought;

Calvin & Hobbes are a wonderful pair of cartoon characters and they taught me a lot about life but none more so than this strip from the 10th anniversary collection. I heartily recommend you read all their published work and read the author’s comment on the strip below.

Goodnight. x