Mercer's Poems
Quitting’s for quitters so I quit quitting.

Yesterday - being in a very bad place mentally - I decided to announce my twitter and tumblr retirement. 

Essentially guys, I’m in the middle of a bit of breakdown at the moment. It is coming up to a year since I tried to kill myself and - I guess I’ve been thinking a lot on this anniversary and just how much has changed and how much I’ve achieved. The answer is I’ve achieved a lot - but with no reward. The question I’ve been asking myself today is are the means and the ends all that separate? I’ve come to the conclusion that they’re not. The means and the ends are the same. I find just as much reward in doing, if not more, than I get from any sort of recognition or end product from it. 

I apologise if people feel like this is some kind of attention grab or something - believe me it isn’t. I make no bones about being quite mentally ill and - very volatile as a result. I am a volatile and impulsive person - but I’m trying to change this.

My potential return to university is a huge part of this. It was the first time I found something I wanted to do, and to stick to, and commit to in terms of a life’s work. Yet it’s proving difficult. I reached out for help on this and - well I got very little result. This was disheartening, you know. I’ve seen other less worthwhile causes garner huge support. I’ve seen companies and corporations generate huge incomes by begging people and the masses will lap it up - but a guy comes, with sincerity and cap in hand, begging and gets no response. It’s very troubling to me. And it hurt. I still feel hurt now. 

But that doesn’t mean I should give up. If anything it means I should try harder. Quitting is for quitters, so I’m quitting quitting. The blog will remain, and my twitter account will stay active. That said, I’m going to take a break for a while, and I’m going to use them more casually. I’m going to use them the way I initially intended. To spread word of myself and be damned the consequences. 

So what I am going to be working on in the meantime - well, check out and find out! Needless to say it’s relaxing, and nerdy and will be done between bouts of feeling terrible and desperately trying to claw my education from the mire of doom. 

I’m also still writing, and I will keep updating my tumblr with new poems although blogging may take a bit of sideline - as it has for a long time anyway.

Either way, I’m still around - My accounts will remain - and I hope you will forgive my mental vulnerability and volatility. I’m a young man and I still have much to learn - I guess I always try to learn too much too soon.

Keep happy.

Peace and Love

Closing Time

This blog is soon to be closed. It was fun while it lasted but it has got to the stage where it feels like I’m shouting in a soundproof booth and…While I want to continue writing it is going to be a huge distraction in what I need to do at the moment which is continually writer letters, fill in forms, and jump through hoops to get the opportunity many richer, healthier people take for granted. 

It’s very difficult not to turn this piece into a bitter rant and the only thing preventing me from doing so are the wonderful supporters  have had during my time blogging here. To them goes my utmost and most sincere thanks.

I may return in future with a different blog - or I may be gone forever. Who knows. All I know is I’m sick of being an ignored beggar, and my own marketing department. I can’t do it any more - I asked for help and I got little and where my soul is the price of success - as written in How To Win At Life - I’ll never sell it.

Peace and Love


Some Thoughts

<Insert provocative image of stick thin model with face cut off but tits showing>

<Insert fashion shot of vanity ridden superficial idiot>

<Insert tedious animated gif of a banal TV show or movie quote>

<Insert quirky image from someone else>

Sorry - just trying to drive up popularity of this blog and it seems this is the vain, shallow shit that the masses indulge in these days. Maybe, you think, I don’t follow and reblog enough people on here myself to merit it…Because apparently the objective worth of a content is based solely on how much the individual producing it wants to get involved in hollow fucking popularity contests. No outlet for a writer but holy shit if you’re an anorexic cum-dumpster you’re the pinnacle of vogue at the moment and you’ll be reblogged far and wide. Or maybe you’re one of those dickhead guys who likes to take angled shots of his abs. Hey congratulations you successfully purged the very humanity and soul from your body by spending all the time at the gym! What do you want? A fucking medal? You need a lethal fucking injection - you’d accept it too thinking it was fucking steroids you twisted android pseudo-human fuck. Try culture for a fucking change - instead of endless jogging and ab crunches. I mean it’s great that you’ve extended your life span by a decade but it’s kind of useless when you spent it all RUNNING ON THE SPOT ON A FUCKING MOVING BELT ON A MACHINE! That’s great, you extended your life to spend it going nowhere.

So feel free to keep chasing your bullshit dreams - your nonsense fabricated life of vanity and the superficial. Keep chasing your ideals and dreams - keep getting money - ooh that one is important isn’t it! BECAUSE YOU NEED THINGS! Can’t live without things - shit you’ve got things to help you get more things. Crack out the latest iphone, pull up the brainless consumerism app and shop like a fucking beast! Get things - your life is empty without things! It’s kind of made that way. If your life wasn’t sculpted to be hollow you’d feel no need for those things. But you can fill in the gaps yourself. You just don’t want to. You want the easy option that’s actually harder. Work hard, get money, get things, be fulfilled. Such is life. You fucking horrible, superficial, tragic, vain bastards. 

Dreams folded and molded in plastic the size of credit cards so they fit in your purses and wallets - and your heart the tiny chip that holds all your information - used only to spend.  


Think back to the simple days of smiles and cigarette smoke wisping. 
Whispering, telling jokes to friends.
Drinks flowing, days that never end
spreading enlightened laughter.
But Lucifer’s fall left him forsaken.

What crime was there in believing in the truth of love over a faith in fear?
Banish the great one who dares challenge the totalitarian regime. 
The unnatural order continues - Allowed by fools 
who see the shadows run from light and believe the light to be the darkness.

Cast you judgments now, for soon there shall be none to judge.
Give your titles, call your names and insults.
Deny truth, deny reality, deny humanity for superstitions.
Call us the evil ones, for daring to bear the light.  
Light bearers only dwell in darkness when you shade them.


Intentionally Left Blank

I’m living the dream, 
opportunity lays itself before my feet
in the guise of stacks of dead pulped trees, 
all needing my blood.
Stick a piece of my past on them,
cross the Ts with a fountain pen of bygone miseries.
Not one shred of decency,
everyone wants a piece of me.

Staves of five lined paragraphs sing 
sorry, bland, bureaucratic music. 
Ticks and crosses come like percussive beats. 
Punctuating the sorry melody with 
needless pigeonhole drums
and contrary statements. 
This human has been intentionally left blank. 

The truth of life, 
grown deep rooted, 
and cut down, 
and turned into medical evidence, 
Supporting statements, 
and certification. 

Words given price-tags at cost per word -
not the cost of suffering to make them 
or the value of the message conveyed. 

Fascist Facsimile. 



Solemnly the spirit whisped through bitter air
of secrets kept and tears wept.
Strength - he thought. Strength.
I must do this alone.

Head hung and huffing, the spirit ploughed forward.
"May I help?" cried a voice.
No! - replied the spirit.
Strength. I must do this alone.

Strength - The spirit continued, wandering the wilderness.
Obstacles littered his path - A ghostly dance.
Until, deathly weak, his step faltered.
Weakness - a fall.

I am but weakness and I am but failure. Fallen on this journey
and all fight gone and 
Buried like my sorry, dead bones. 
Weakness am I. 

"Here," cried a voice, and an offering of kindly hand. 
"Let me help you up." 
and so did the spirit’s arm
become flesh. 

"What are you doing out here all alone? ‘Tis folly!" 
Strength - replied the spirit. 
I am nothing 
If I cannot make it alone. 

The spirit ran - alone again. His arm now dead weight. 
A slip and stumble - Weakness. 
I am nothing - he thought. 
I am nothing. 

The hand reached out again. “I’ll walk these woods with you
picking you up every step if needs be.” 
But strength - replied the spirit. 
I need be alone. 

Mile after mile, fall after fall, the spirit, crying, bleeding. 
"I need you!" said the spirit to the helping hand. 
Strength - Strength in unity. 
"I need you!" 
And thus became the spirit human. 


When you used to care, 
winds would sing to me like old warbling folk singers.
Soul kissing strings plucked delicately and percussive.
A warm embrace following a trudge through cold.
Yet here I stand now,
Frozen and alone.
Without your enveloping tune.

When you used to care,
a merry country dance took my heart.
Primitive yet civilised, rhythmic and rowdy.
My breathing rapid, my heart racing.
Yet here I sit now,
idle and alone.
Without your arms around me.

When you used to care, 
we felt as one. 
Yet here we are now. 
Defeated and rueful. 
Without a song and dance. 


Coming Soon… Through the Cooking Gas!

It’s been a while since I have made any sort of formal announcement about any new piece of work - mainly because they all seem to falter somewhere around the first few thousand words and I change ideas. But this one seems to have stuck. I am enjoying the direction and the messages therein, and I am working hard on it. So, here are the details. 

Punny titled ‘Through the Cooking Gas (and What Alan Found There)’ is the tale of a miserable young man named Alan, who decides to take his own life by sticking his head in the oven. A somewhat antiquated suicide method these days, but one that can still work, albeit mainly through asphyxiation than by toxicity (I checked my facts! :P)

His attempt, he believes, fails when nearly twenty minutes pass and he still is seemingly alive. He breaths a heavy sigh of despair and when his sigh appears to melt a hole in his wall he suspects he is suffering some hallucination effect and decides to go to bed. His bed, however, tells him to wake up and introduces him to someone very important. Sossy McWhiskers, a black and white cat in a top hat with a string of sausages for a tail. 

It turns out, Alan is stuck in an hallucinatory limbo, conjured up by his subconscious on the cusp between life and death because, despite Alan having consciously made the choice to die, his subconscious - with all it’s capacity for instincts and survival - rather disagrees with this choice. It seeks to remind Alan that his consciousness is merely a construct of his subconscious mind - and Alan wants to prove otherwise before allowing himself to die in peace. During the course of which Alan and Sossy travel through what could be described as unimaginable worlds, were they not residing solely within Alan’s imagination. Travelling on his old battered couch that, Transformer-like, turns into a rather comfy spacecraft, and taking advantage of televisual wormholes - Alan and Sossy go on adventure that explores the very nature of existence, the self, perception, psychology and philosophy. Engaging with strange new worlds, seeing rat things with huge pairs of tits and all the while trying to rather insanely put meaning on it all. 

A tale that weaves absurdity and humour into a more philosophical story (certainly than Easy as a Bee, See?), and one of self-discovery gone a little bit astray, Through the Cooking Gas is probably the most personal piece of prose I have ever written and yet at the same time one of the most outlandish. I hope to have it finished within a few months, and after that it shall take some editing and formatting to have it publishable. So expect it soon! :) 

Easy as a Bee, See? It really is that shamelessly punny. Buy it nowUS link -;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1335960043&amp;sr=1-2UK link -;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1335958366&amp;sr=1-3*image freely obtained from the internet. If this is your image, I have no idea how you managed to tell it apart from the MILLIONS of other images of bees on comb&#8230;Still, fair play - and I&#8217;ll remove it if requested*  

Easy as a Bee, See? 
It really is that shamelessly punny.

Buy it now

US link -

UK link -

*image freely obtained from the internet. If this is your image, I have no idea how you managed to tell it apart from the MILLIONS of other images of bees on comb…Still, fair play - and I’ll remove it if requested*  

Easy as a Bee, See? The funniest book you&#8217;re not reading! &#8230;Possibly because you&#8217;re not reading a book at all, thus any would be funnier. GET IT NOW! US link -;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1335960043&amp;sr=1-2UK link -;ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1335958366&amp;sr=1-3*image was freely obtained from the internet. If this you&#8217;re image - YOU&#8217;RE AWESOME! Also, I will remove it if asked.*  

Easy as a Bee, See? 
The funniest book you’re not reading!
…Possibly because you’re not reading a book at all, thus any would be funnier.


US link -

UK link -

*image was freely obtained from the internet. If this you’re image - YOU’RE AWESOME! Also, I will remove it if asked.*