Day One Hundred and Twenty: 33%

Every day WordPress’ official Daily Post blog send outs an email with some daily inspiration.

Today marks the 33% mark for this one a day blogging endeavor and today’s Daily inspiration, as detailed in today’s post, is to share your three favourite posts so far. I thought it was a pretty cool idea and figured it was a nice and easy one for a Saturday. So, in the quest for an easy life, here are my top three favourite posts so far in reverse order.

Number Three

My third favourite post is probably this one about the creative process. It was fun and interesting to map out the internal workings of my “creative flow”. I’ve no doubt this process will grow and evolve over the years, but it’s a process that seems to be serving me well at the moment.

Number Two

Brutalism in Disguise by The Justified Sinner on Flickr
The Highrise Demise

Out of all the things I’ve written on this blog, this is probably my second favourite and although it’s fairly recent, I’m pretty proud of it. The idea of having two separate perspectives in one piece, whilst also making it seem as though these two perspectives could be a single perspective, is something I’d been attempting for a while, with relatively little success, until this poem. I would ramble on about the other reasons I like it but that’d be dull. Ial so feel that it has the strongest narrative of all my writing. You’re perfectly entitled to disagree, though!

Number One

This was a no brainer. Initially, I was going to go for ‘The Trumpets’ because it was the first time I felt I’d written something approaching decent. However I feel this particular piece titled ‘Ending’, dealing with the death of a loved one, is the one of the most honest and personal things to have fallen out of my head thus far. It’s pretty close to my heart.

So yeah, not as hard as I thought it’d be which is good for a lazy, hangover tinted Saturday evening.

But now I feel dirty – this might be the most horribly self indulgent thing I’ve ever posted on here.

Tomorrow or Monday I’ll have a good post about facebook for ya’ll.

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Day One Hundred and Fifteen: The High Rise Down Fall

Brutalism in Disguise by The Justified Sinner on Flickr
The Highrise Demise

The clouds were my domain.
Tall, gray and decorating the skyline
Together with my kin,
We defined a generation,
A city,
A nation.

Our Brutalist sign of post war progress
Quickly became a concrete symbol
Of futuristic nihilism.
Square tower blocks,
Fifteen, twenty, thirty stories high
Bore a class in which poverty thrived.

In the years since my construction
I have seen all that humanity has to offer
Good and bad.
Inside my stone foundations
Were all manner of connotations:
Birth and death, joy and despair
But never a sense of happiness that remained,
Except my own.

Unlike the tenements of yesterday
We constructed floor upon floor
With the explicit intent of keeping the undesirables out.
The crime was kept local with these streets in the sky,
Psychological consequences be damned!
If these corridors didn’t get you,
Often the clientele did.

I was aching from within.
Inside steel was corroding,
Complete with concrete spalling and damp settling in
Outside, a once white finish dulled by smog
And no real way to remedy
Twenty stories of architectural pain.
Nothing was reliable;
Numerous residents, but none kept me clean,
Lifts were essential, but hardly pristine,
Every night someone was screaming,
Yet I still longed to be needed.

It is perhaps a sign of backwards progress
That the high rises flats,
So oppressive, lawless and cold,
Were to be banished to the old
Only to return in a fresh, 21st century guise
For young bureaucrats and professionals.
High rise suburban living
Becomes sky city living
The social landscape repeating itself.

So this is my story –
In the 60s I was thrown up, an attraction to all,
With a severe futuristic pride, populated by wonder.
In the 70s the faults of my brethren and I became clear,
When the futuristic longing morphed into brutality it became less sincere.
In the 80s Thatcher came, and the working class did not rise,
And I watched as broken windows met broken hearts.
In the 90s there was a drugs boom and a lick of paint,
But by then I was gone, rotting from within.
In the 00s my days were numbered
As occupants left me in a state of existential disrepair.
Now, in the 2010s my time is up.

A flash and a bang and down I came.
(With a wimper)
No windows left for youths to break,
Just walls that shake and bones that ache.
In my final moments I became transparent again,
Much like during construction.
With my swift demise goes a generation of living,
Glasgow’s skyline plummets
A stone heart in a concrete suit.

Day One Hundred and Fourteen: Second Hand Smoke

image

The ignorant pitter patter, and
Inane chitter chatter
Split the dead of night
Outside my front door
Sending second hand smoke,
That accompanies loud yammering below,
Up and through my fourth floor window.
Suddenly; a couple of beer bottles smash
Against the kerb with a gasp
And in between the sound of broken glass
Two men slur their disdain and disgust,
But their cries leave me cold.

Intolerable karaoke and boring bin shed banter are unwelcome at 3am.