9.

I stand tall through all the shit I've overcome
I hate the life that I've found so underwhelming.
Through it all still I stand here.
I still stand abound listening to sin and dispair.

There's too many "I's" in all this all that and the why.
I may as well bleed myself dry
From all this shit, din and despair.
You have no quandaries to my disappointments....
So why do you yet despair?

Never to be used and abused no more..
My jaw dropped slack right to the floor...
Why can't the World live yet by "a more"?
... Forever a cunt, within a whore.

Whoa yeah.

There's too many "I's" in all this all that and the why.
I may as well cry myself dry.
From all this shit, din and despair.
You have no quandaries to my disappointments....
So why do you care?

The day comes to pass and you'r there alone
Wondering why you're left alone with a mobile phone.
No one ever contacts you, yet you daren't ask why.
Why it's worth lying if you do or die.

There's too us in all this all that and the why.
We may as well severance, not lest ask "why bother trying?"
From all this shit, din and despair.
You have no quandaries to my disappointments....
So why do you care?

You need to stay there.
Don't be my fears.
Need shed no tears.

Be with me
Each night and day
Keep it all away.

And you need to wake up every night and day.
Don't keep in inside and spread it all around, and gay.
I mean gay in the old old conventional way.
And not in the way the modern World how it's novelly portrayed...

There's too many "I's" in all this all that and the why.
I may as well cry myself dry.
From all this shit, din and despair.
You have no quandaries to my disappointments....
So why do you care?

Oh please share.
I am here.
I still care.

Oh I dare.
Your mind to...
Be "there".

8.

January
February
March
April
May
I still recall those days I was betrayed.
The DJ stole my life as I swayed
Within the confines of a small box room
Speakers at full boom,
I was amazed.

June, july
August
And September
Oh yeah and how I remember when
My birthday was coming thick and fast
I'd love that day, it'd be a blast.
But all that suddenly changed when
You were no longer there;
The past is still the past.

October
November
December
I still remember when
You were there for me.
I still cry myself to sleep.
But now your no longer here
And you feel like a dream.

Monday Tuesday
Wednesday
I still visit your grave
I can no longer stay out I am amazed;
It's 5 years since you've been gone.
And I'm still here
Writing about you in poetry and song.

Thursday Friday
Saturday Sunday.
Everyday I try and make it a funday...
But it seems so lame being here without you.
I lie in bed all day just wondering what to do.
But bit by bit, I know I'm getting better.
And I know your still watching me when I'm under the weather.

7. 5 reasons why it's not always great to be out of work.

Ah, to be young and without a care in the world again! You know, like back when there were terrible versions of great songs, and you were unemployed?

Back then though, being unemployed really didn't matter because you lived with your parents, or in my case, my mother and her boyfriend. I'd only pay a tenner a week board and utilities and the rest would go on cream cakes and (no bullshit) trips to Liverpool - It was after all where my then-girlfriend lived.

And of course, the morality of it all; the sponging off of the state to those that do work, the reckless use of money on crack cocaine and the frequent money being sent to terrorism training camps in the West Midlands (or thereabouts) because fuck it; it's not your money.

But what about now I'm older? How does having no job deeply affect my life? Well, let's run through it in a whistle stop tour I like to call (But hate to live through) my perspective... which is also the title of someone's album. Probably. In fact; don't search it. I just did and it's free advertising... Oh shit; imagine I never said it.

Anyway, read this:

5.  Being unemployed gives you all the time in the world...

It's great not having a job, isn't it? You have no one telling you who is the boss of you, apart from the job centre; as they'll always be the boss of you as they're linked to central and local government, But fuck it. In your house; your the boss!

You want to play on the PlayStation and get a Platinum trophy whilst scratching your nuts? Go for it!

You want to browse the internet all day looking at NSFW articles written by great people and that I base these very lists come blogs on?  Sure!

Do you want to lie in bed all day stroking your pussy and looking at your puppies wishing they'd get bigger? No! I don't mean that!

It's a hard-knock life...

Aren't these the Mitchell Brothers?

The problem with having too much time on your hands, in my experience is that time can easily be lost and mismanaged if your perhaps not in the most logical frame of mind; as that ten minutes or so checking formula one testing quickly devolves into a four hour orgy of random web browsing, trying to find the best picture to go with the last sentence that you just wrote on-line in a random blog or social media post.

When in reality, any old shit will do.

Part of this problem could further begin to unconsciously colonize other parts of your life (the first draft of this is currently being written at 3:15 AM Saturday, and upon semi completion, it's now 21:49 Sunday), and begin to interrupt sleeping, eating and potentially pooping patterns.

But what becomes of you when literally the entire day is your oyster? All twenty four beautiful hours of hedonistic, pure, single person delight? Why of course, you get a hobby...

4. But having all the time in the world doesn't mean freedom financially.

...And of course hobbies can potentially be damned expensive. My hobbies are generally music, films and video games. The cheapest of which is potentially music if I were to buy an album, But that is still around say £7 a time, so what happens if you have no savings? You beg steal and borrow.

He seemed to have such a simple life. Until Ronald shot him for unlawful entry.

I'm not condoning any form of piracy But at the same time, we've all done it most probably. If you've ever lent an album, single, video, dvd or video game then you've committed copyright infringement. Have you ever recorded a song from the radio? Same. Hell, even sky plus or tivo is technically a validation of rights on an intellectual property, as you don't own that viewing from sky; your merely renting.

Going back to the value of an album at the singular, what I deem average figure (as I like physical copies of my stuff); £7 is to a person unemployed in the United Kingdom one-tenth of their money for a week. Could you justify spending a day's - maybe two if your savvy enough - food budget on the new Rihanna album?

Your choice - Tasty salad bowl, or tripe.

One of the points I'm trying to vaguely make is I have no savings as thankfully I can still live at home with my mom's partner, But I am there or thereabouts constantly trying to challenge myself on what I need and don't need, and what is value and what isn't. It's a constant tug of war as this week I may want to eat well with fresh things and next week I may decide to just get drunk, or maybe just for once get out the bloody house - which will cost more between the two is always in the back of my mind, and comes into consideration when also buying my entertainment purchases.

The eventuality I'm trying to put forward from that is simple; if you don't have the money, you can't enjoy your time. It becomes a monotonous existence within the same four walls, and all that's there everyday is you and your pussy.

Gettin' warmer!

Which brings us to...

3.  Lack of financial freedom leads to reclusive behaviour.

With having no money comes a great discipline in trying to protect yourself in health of the body and mind which humanity forgets originated in the original karate kid movie from the 80's.

Why do I think of Celine Dion and a boat when I see this?

I have my flaws and weaknesses though such as an addictive personality whenever I find something exciting or enticing. Or both.

During my problems I've been a gambler, a drinker and a real deep thinker. I play my music in the sun. I've also been a joker, a smoker and a late night toker. But I hate bragging. With these problems though you find yourself with less money, spending most of your time on the internet trying to get some semblance of normality as a keyboard warrior and essentially demanding to anyone and everyone that they listen to you; as if you were effectively ruling the town/country/world you live in and their life depends on it. The right way to go about it is kinda like this.

Unfortunately, the more you do this, actually the more disjointed from reality you truly become. This is because for all of your good intentions your actually scaring people with your Utopian values, as opposed to the Atlanticist values that your leaders of the free world are taking and projecting to the masses.

If you didn't read the last link, here's a picture. You're welcome :)

Of course, some of these ideas new people will take to heart and agree with you on social networks. That's what they're there for. The downside of this is that you are alienating the people who have potentially stood by you for years; if not close to your whole damned life. This then leads them down a very fragile path: do they stick by their (obviously now) sick friend who is showing ambitions of a reincarnated of Hitler, or do they quietly ignore that person?

It appears most of the people I know, in my situation chose the latter. It's not a great deal to go on, But I have around 40 friends on Facebook, which I believe is an acceptable "I can cope with this type of news feed and stay in contact" type of scenario. By my literal "just now" thought, maybe four or five will willingly talk to me. And one of those is also my free-thinking devil-may-care half-brother. Which in a way is perfectly acceptable to me as it's less people to cope with...

2.  Reclusive behaviour leads to a lack of a (true) social life.

On the reverse side of this coin though is that you end up with relatively zero to little "real" friends. You know, like the ones to go out for a drink with or a concert. Or a high class Hooker to spit roast. Hey, sharing is caring!

In the last five years or so, since my mom passed, I've gone from enjoying a concert or two a month to sitting at home getting drunk by myself looking something akin to Popeye by the end of the night, whilst also potentially listening to better music (my own choice, so it's the best set list ever kajagoogoo, I tell you!) Without having to spend a fortune on travel, entry, alcohol or the obligatory fast food franchise at the end of the evening.

Me, 24 Years old. We all make mistakes. I also invented the selfie.

The problem with this, as with the above, is that the very small circle of friends that you feel is left quickly diminishes to approximately one. The one person who can truly tolerate you on a personal level. The one who can withstand you no matter what and sees the vagueness of sense you try so hard to squeeze out of every word you type online. My mate is called unsurprisingly, Dave!

Not this one. Though he is freakishly tall, and don't he know it!

The good side of this is I'm never drinking alone, we both have a change of scenery and I don't care about politics, or indeed anything really; as we do "fun" stuff like murdering decent guitar based songs like this:

Of course we also create new and original songs such as this gem.

So whilst there can be some fun in this trail of confusion that follows my life around like a fart in an elevator envisioned like some satanic bloody-assed burrito eater, I still wouldn't recommend it as an exercise in a truly fulfilling life!

1.  A lack of a social life can lead to mental health issues.

Hey, you! Remember when you had friends? Remember all of those happy times that you still recall with such great fondness?

What? You want to do them again? Well it's not too late! It just takes a bit/lot of effort with my five point plan (you're reading it, and yes, your welcome - I'll await the post-requisite £5 reading fee in my PayPal within 24 hours)!

Seriously (never!), given the above you should have seen where this was going. It was never going to be a plucky tale of a rabbit named Peter or a hedgehog named sonic.

Although it's still infinitely a better life than hers.

If your not careful, you can really lose the plot at any point in these five stages I've outlined. I did. But I was  already diagnosed with depression, which as I've said before (I think) is now mid-to-long term according to my doctors. I have terrible low days and great funny high days, booze dependent most of the time. Only lately am I finding a way through all of this (and remember this is based on my own problems I've encountered) and having a so-called happy medium.

Hopefully, through reading this; whether you are unemployed or not you may see something similar to yourself, realise it and deal with it. See a doctor, try that new hobby or kill that annoying neighbour. Whatever makes you feel good*

The last thing that anyone needs on top of "realism" is a mental problem that could last and impact their lives for worse at any given time. You don't need that and sure to hell your family and friends don't need the worry and grief you could potentially exert onto them without realizing it. Talk to people, have a cry; but most importantly: stay in control.

Having no job is hard mentally as it is with rejections of applications and compounded by the financial constraints that go along with it. Yes, it may seem terrible But don't let everyone put you off. You're not a failure, you're an individual. It'll serve you well in your life to remember that, and not be shat on by "the man".

*disclaimer; please do not kill your neighbors

6.

When I was twenty five
My mom wasn't alive
God rest her soul
I fell down a hole.
I've struggled for five years
And cried too many tears.
I've drank until I was sick
And been an Almighty prick.

But I never wanted any of this
Waking in the morning
And my mind gone in remission.
I just wanted a vaguely simple life
One where I could cope
With my own day to day strife.

When she was dying
I'd took up alcohol and lying.
Anything to make me feel
Anything other than what was real.
But it all fell apart
When she died it ripped out my heart
But now I'm older I must reconsider
And stop being so damned bitter.

And I know I never wanted all this.
I still wake but not every morning
I over sleep due to fear and stress.
I just want to get back to normality
And keep it all going happy
With less profanity.

3. 5 reasons why the rich and the poor hate each other in the UK.

Since the dawn of baked beans on toast in the UK; men, women and (secretly) squirrels have waged war with other air-breathers to claim what is rightfully theirs. Unfortunately, when it comes to actually deciding what is “rightfully” your own thing, well... The lines do kind of blur when it comes to those with 4-slice toasters, and those without. Lines such as...

5: The rich are misled by media as to the true amount of benefits claimed.

All the while, and especially during recession, we constantly hear of the UK Government's pleas to people to find work – As if everyone has a role to fill within the UK, similar in vein to us all working for the Galactic Empire – any work in fact; inclusive of much-touted zero-hour contracts; which is about as much as work as claiming a benefit itself.

Work.

Of course, it doesn't always work out that way, due to differing reasons; You may have terrible exam results and be out of school. You may even be classed as disabled in some way, shape or form (I personally have mid to long term depression, and have been out of work for over 2 years now due to high stress and anxiety in public places).

If you are unemployed in the UK, you can claim just over £70 a week for living expenses. This includes bills, food and travel for job interviews. You can also claim for additional benefits such as Disability, Housing benefit to pay for rent and to a further extent, your prescriptions are free.

Unfortunately, everyone above the breadline within the UK seem to believe that everyone on benefits is claiming a disproportionate amount due to single parent, 5 child (and therefore up to 6 bedroom) homes that would put the old lady who lived in a shoe to shame. Some people quoted in the media can get around £39,000 a year. To put that into perspective, a “standard” user of benefits at around £70 a week would get £3640 a year – one tenth of that sum (that is also above the “average wage” in the UK).

Of course, when the two classes take to the internet, a flame war not seen since Jean Grey turned into the Phoenix surely engulfs the comments sections:

More on the workhouses later.

At the best of times, watching and reading various news sources in the UK can be more like sitting on a fence watching two dogs barking at one another, mindlessly spouting whatever random noises usually mean “I'm gonna piss here!”.

But to go back to point; TV shows in the UK show the people on benefits as being low-level water-feeders devoid of any human emotion and content to sit back and wait for the cash to roll in every fortnight whilst paying for their 50+ inch TV sets on credit from wherever is stupid enough to give them credit, and drink / smoke themselves into levels of depravity that even your richer, gin-smothered Grandmother would grimace at. My argument is everyone needs a vice – something to get them through the day or week, and if they can still function relatively well and still work then so be it. The people on TV shows are there to be poked and prodded, and to get the stereotype now out of the way, are not “real” benefits claimants. They are the cartoon villains who should be sanctioned, intimidated and drove out to work.

Amazingly, not everyone is like this. I personally despise sitting around trying to find something to do. The same four walls annoy me. I'm sure I'm not the only unemployed person in the country who actually wants a job, much as I'm sure in saying that people aren't all as depicted in TV shows.

But the TV is king in this day and age, and time after time, richer people in adequate-to-high paid salary brackets think of these people “They're not on my street, so it must be true”.

4: The poor are misled by the rich that they can be helped.

Being a benefit claimant for two years now, I've lost count of the amount of “help programmes” or “initiatives” supposedly set up by Government (read; contracted by) so as the companies can fill their pockets from the exploitation of the poor.

I have been part of a work program for over a year now that promises to help me into work, so long as I do my bit and be a nice boy. I'm sure if I don't bite, I'd get a Scooby Snack or something, and if I don't poop on their lawn, I'd get a good stroke; hopefully from Daphne.

She gives dogs bones...

The downside of this is reading media. These companies have the right to put you on zero-hour contracts, where you might not be paid a penny until there is work to be done, whilst they can rake in a sum of money for securing a contract for the person in question. Also, whilst the success rates of the work program have gone up from roughly 3 per cent to 13 per cent over 3 years; it is hard to surmise the exact amount still in their job / is on zero hours and classed as in work / moved onto disability benefit / found another job / left / sacked / subsequently sanctioned for not looking for work etc. Basically; no matter the Government in charge; it is an immense clusterfuck that should not be. 

It's a simple enough scenario: The educated read these things and know their rights. The uneducated stumble in blindly and sign everything going. The difference is that the educated know one thing: Your most important asset is your own signature. The other part of the end product is that people don't need “brokers” (as they called themselves in my first meeting) to find them work. There are plenty of ways to find your own work.

Another fun fact: “Brokers” to poor people sound like scum douchebags exploiting you for money, thanks to the 1980's; so invent a new word, or get ready for hate.

3: The rich believe poor people should go back to Victorian London (Probably).

Remember this:

?

Take a look at the top comment – Yeah, that's an idiot that believes what appears to have the same beliefs of not only some of the current Government, one of which was a chap who couldn't even maintain the trust of his own party when the leader. This good old fellow is now the head of the Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) – the same department that runs benefits! Oh and he can live on £53 a week... Of course, that's if he owned his own house, and didn't rent...

Back to the point however; the workhouses were originally started around 1400, but are perhaps best remembered (due to our education system) to be prevalent around the mid 1800's onwards. They were sometimes sponsored by the government, or indeed local wealth-mongers so as they could take in impoverished people, and sleep, feed, and clothe people in exchange for work. Of course, to someone earning say a full-time wage, this is perfect sense in the modern age (citation / lobotomy needed).

The downside of course was more of a debauched Darwinism... People were worked to the bone more often than Hugh Grant circa 1995; sometimes doing 60 hours a week just for those privileges. In a less comedic undertone, they also died.

So whilst the argument is indeed there for mass industrial scale labour; I would have to ask one question – Would they be so happy if they lost everything to find themselves in that circumstance?

2: The poor are under so much scrutiny they can in fact be worked to death (Or killed during examination).

Back to those darned little-rascal-like contractors for the Government! This time: Health and Well-being programs for “Means-Tested” benefits.

Pictured: Real people who understand.

In a nice follow-on from Workhouses and death supported by ill-gotten gains, we come to perhaps the worst of them all: ATOS. These really are the honest-to-God lowest of the low for real people with real problems, whilst also the thorn in the side of people that genuinely want to screw up our systems just for free money. 

The basis of ATOS was summed up for me, by one simple meme:

Tru Dat.

In the UK, “disability” (sickness) benefits are given on a means-tested basis, and ATOS is the company that is contracted by the Government (again) to help come to a conclusion as to if you are in fact sick enough not to work. Now, I'm not saying they get it wrong all the time. Just sometimes...

'Nuff said.

I must admit however – for the sake of balance - that my two attendances (once for me whilst ill, and once for my half-brother, whilst I was so-so); they seemed relatively sane in their questioning and the way the “Patient Review Specialists” (I refuse to call them Doctors, as the assessment is not by them, but by someone in an office generally speaking) conducted themselves, they were more than professional than the gynaecologist that works down the road behind the local chippy.

All of these reasons are all good and well; but I personally feel in my God-like mind that I've saved the best couple of reason for last... Thingy's like...

Q: Who put that there?! A: Me (Ed)

1: The rich feel that the poor will do anything for dairylea (Nicht: Alcohol).

Due to the recession in the UK (and probably elsewhere; I haven't watched much news since Storage Wars was exported to our green and pleasant land), We are constantly on the receiving end of the unemployed or those lacking finances whilst in employment being targeted for not working hard enough. Some people deserve this type of judgement, and others don't... I can't say much, either way as I claim benefits and I could just as easily be lambasted for not working.

On the counter side; despite not feeling well and not needing to, I do look at least weekly for part-time work. The one thing I can say of this is I can still claim up to 100% of my benefits whilst working for £95 a week. I also only rent a room, and share the rest of the house with the person I live with; do not claim housing benefit, and still write Star Wars Episode 9 for J.J. Abrams, which is actually what your reading now; so be honoured, Bitches!

What I of course meant to say was that we constantly have this rammed down our throats in TV shows, and the over-inflated rubbish that is Benefits Street on Channel Four in recent weeks, and the rampage of seemingly sinister articles by both the Daily Mail and Telegraph, amongst other publications and networks has become the nations' Hot Potato.

Hello, baby.

Some of the major problems with sensationalism like this is obvious – it's not just sensationalism, it's propaganda, and it's the usual snowball. By the time the Nation finally wakes up and realises just what in the Hilda Ogden everyone is on about, no one can say anything about the other side because they were never given a voice to begin with.

The major problem is that it creates a false image upon people. A program such as Benefits Street only shows one singular area, and perhaps the worst of the bunch, complete with robbers, shop lifters, drug users, alcoholics, single parents and people who simply aren't white (Which I have no problem with, but you know what? I pander to the masses for the sake of argument); that will do anything for food (Shock!), alcohol, cigarettes, or any other addictive substance that people may require just to liven up their increasingly bleak and miserable lives... Which ironically probably started by taking the same substance, but you know. C'est la-de-da-clucking-vie.

If they were to film me all the time, they'd see me reading a book or news articles until three or four AM, struggling to sleep, drinking every four days or so, taking prescription painkillers and getting up just in time for Bargain Hunt or the One O'Clock News (of all of these, many of which would give some producers a heart attack for the distinct lack of anti-social behaviour of a benefits slob).

And if any of them were to read this; which I believe is a reasonably-balanced, sometimes funny and slightly educated 2,126 word perspective, I hope they do.

5.

I went to the Doctor so he could cure my sleep
He said son don't you worry for every man'll keep
And packed me off with zopiclone for sure
But when I took it my head weren't so much as sore.
For when I felt that hit I went damn near straight to the floor.

When I woke up I wasn't at all sick
But my teeth were grinding and my tongue was all a-lick
I was salivating with a deep taste within my mouth
But I'd never worry for my night was as deep as the south
And hadn't worried about the burglers in my hou

4.

It was a dark and dreary night
And the owls were hooting; but where?
The wolves were almost grinning
At the base of the firs.
The person this is written of
Could no longer care
For they could feel the mud through their toes
And the bitterness of the air.

The day had started well enough
Saying goodbye to their love
The birds were singing and the sun was out
They praised their God up above.
But the turn began where they chanced upon
And old man with a white dove.
He had snapped it's neck for it was sick
There was red upon his glove.

Upon questioning they understood
The value of life in man's hand.
But as the sky turned black
They turned to see a travelling band.
It was the funeral hearse
Of the same old man.
They turned again and soon realised
That man now did not there stand.

They ran away with fear and dread
Feeling so old and sick
it was raining so heavily
Yet they'd ran into the pricks.
The vines seemed to clench their ankles
And as they tripped and slipped
Their clothes were ripped and shoes were lost
They could only grab onto sticks.

As the water keeps coming down
We find our hero saddened
Their mind a simple quandary
Over all events witnessed and surely happened.
So imagine now their full surprise
When through their water ravaged eyes
They felt they'd fantasized
But then they realised...