Southmpton In The New Moon

Firstly, I would like to say Happy New Year to everyone, I hope that 2009 is loads better than 2008 was for you all.
Secondly, I would like to apologise for being a boring git for so long and not posting anything. My creative wires have been cut by the advent of a lot of revision and househunting for next year.

But there are a few things I've come up with. I think that what was missing was the sense of time that I had back home, that I'm missing here. The sense of time to do things, to think things through and chase your own tail just for the fun of it. I can't do that here. I can't step back from things and assess them, can't take a day off, smoke a cigarette and watch the clouds, because I'm embroiled in my new life, totally. I love it though. I love being part of things. But its not good for poetry.
Actually, I've never attempted to seriously write a poem while smashed. I'll have to take a look into that. I hear there are some benefits to drinking Snakebite for five hours straight. LOL. And don't worry, I actually am laughing out loud as I think of this. I must look like a loon.
So as the title of this post is Southampton In The New Moon, ther must be a poem of the same title coming up, yes? Of course. Recently I longed for isolation, so at five minutes to midnight I left my room and wandered down along roads I'd never been down before. I can't remember which route I took, but in Southampton all roads lead to the sea, so I ended up outside of Southampton docks. I couldn't go down to the seafront because of the grumpy guard in the security booth, so I sat down in front of the Guildhall and wrote this. It may be of questionable quality seeing as it was nearly three o'clock in the morning when I penned it, but see what you think.

Some people like to dangle their feet over the precipice,
Some people are scared of the noises construction sites make
When there's no-one there.
Some people can have fun without saying a word,
Some people can watch the flight of silk gulls for hours in the sky.

Some people tuck their hands into their pockets and watch the world,
Some people are content to turn up their collar and let the rain do its' worst,
Some people like to smoke menthol cigarettes in the moondark.
Some people are happy to sit on the steps of the Guildhall all night,
And watch the city sleep.

Not me of course, I'm completely normal.


Hopeful.