Commonword Blogs

Just an exercise I used to improve my descriptive skills:

Full Black leather wingtip size 10 shoe, the front is square shaped, slightly marked and scuffed.
In front of the wingtip is perforated, behind the wingtip crawling up the tongue is very creased.
All around the shoe is stitched to secure the leather lining and leather sole.
The shoe is laced untidly and the shoelace reminiscent of wrinkled spaghetti.
It is a very imposing, commanding brute, but yet very reserved and meloncholy.

This is the intro to a short/long story I'm thinking about:

This is the story of Eddie Left Hook Smith a face from manchester, all he knows is how to survive in the murky world of illegal activities. Everytime he tries to become a straight member, his name and associates drag him back to where he started. His long suffering bird Julie, who's been there through thick and thin, is at breaking point and is going to fuck off with their 2yr old son Dylan.

I just wanted to share with people how much I enjoyed Anwen Lewis's performance in her piece called How to Weave Time. It was the first time I have actually seen Anwen perform and I was very impressed. I felt moved and also educated on the whole adoption process. I believe it was her brother who accompanied Anwen on stage, providing the music to interweave with the piece. I look forward to more productions from Anwen.

My thoughts on a Black President:

I wanted to wait and let the result sink in before I submitted this blog, because I really wanted to think about how this result will effect the rest of the world.
Having spent 3 months in the states this year especially Atlanta Georgia, I could feel the tension building to such a scale that no other result would have sufficed.

My partner wanted to share her feelings for the loss of her dad on 11/5/08, his name was William Brown Murray.

Well dad, where do I start,
I think the best place would be from the heart,
You have been in my life for 29 years,
Through much joy and happiness and sometimes tears,

Your kindness and humour could never be replaced,
You never failed to put a smile on my face,
You're someone so special,
Nobody could ever take your place,
My memories will last forever,
An eternity beyond trace,

So dear dad, I guess it's time for me to say goodbye for now,

Sitting here in very good company whilst drinking a superb wine, sending out positive thoughts to the universe. In return getting subtle glimpses of changes, as if life is letting me know that she is alive.

Opening sequence of a poem by Nadeem Zafar.

Always stood out from the crowd,
I never not know why providence blessed me as such,
Never wanting my individuality cast under a shroud,
My essential nature,pure to touch.

Was diagnosed with hydrocephalus in my early youth,
Enlarged skull a permanent reminder of who i really am,
Spent so many years living in the shadows of the untruth,
I fight it, no longer wishing to endure this mindless sham.

Sometimes I wonder why God chose me,
A 1 in 2500 chance isn't all that rare,
The ignorant hordes simply refuse to let me be,

This is the opening sequence of my love/relationship theme.

I loved her more than my mum sometimes, that was the effect that this prominent sultry Italian woman had on me. She was my first and only ever true love, the one I lowered my defences for, like an army lowering it's drawbridge over a moat. Only to raise them again like a fool,because I could not portray real love in return.
I know I will never get over her because she always seems to be on my shoulder whispering sweet poetry, reminiscent of a cherub in a Michael Angelo painting.

This a true account of my journey of discovery, growing up in England specifically Manchester through 70s until the present.

Experiencing everything that this country has to offer. Fashion, Music, Football, Drugs and Racism.

I hope that my story will give you an idea of life through my eyes.

So read on and join me on this journey of questions & answers.
You never know it might inspire you to write something.

This book is for friends straight out of Longsight M13 and especially for those who no longer have a voice.

Marjorie Robinson

Here's the start of my short story with a migration theme: