Thornseat Lodge, Bradfield

This is my first urbex project.
Built as a shooting lodge in the 1800s, used as an orphanage in the 1930s. Abandoned in the early 80s.
Whether I'll be able to get inside I'm not sure...

Urban Exploration

TRESPASSING? POINTLESS? I'd say it's ingenious. Scares the shit out of you, messes your head up, I'd go and break into a derelict building instead of sniffing mcat any day...






I'm going to explore Thornseat Lodge, Bradfield, Sheffield this weekend. This will be my first urbex adventure, and I'm not sure how it will go...
Being interested in abandoned buildings is not your average hobby for a girl my age, but it gives me so much inspiration.
The South Yorkshire Asylum, AKA Middlewood Mental Hospital, used to be down the road from my house in Oughtibridge. It got demolished a few years ago, all that is left is the clock tower and part of the annex. This is the place that I would have liked to explore and photograph the most, as it is part of the local history and inspires my writing.
My parents have told me many stories about the asylum, and its escapees who often made their way around the surrounding area scaring the shit out of 'normal' people. Built in the 1800's, so many local people have been either employed or institutionalized at the asylum. There are even the more 'famous' individuals associated with the place.
Aside from writing, I've never been so interested and inspired by anything...

LSD

All your most dominant fears
Will vanish into the vacuum of the sky
No reason why, they just will
Because this is how it is.

Curtains of velvet colours
Suffocating your mind, nevermind
All you see is the rainbow,
That pretty little rainbow,
But no pot of gold at the end.

Your leather-clad demons
Will soon turn to stone
Leaving you in euphoria, solitary, alone
Laughing and cavorting in other dimensions
While you test out your synthetic dream invention

Come Into My Garden

Come into my garden,
The birds don’t know where to fly
The flowers just grow to die
The brickwork with every layer
Every soul gets sold to a soothsayer
The apples are sour with psychotic charm
Anything goes in this funny farm.

Come into my garden,
The dwarves are eager to scandalize
The fountains are trashed and vandalised
Your mother’s bones are under the path
The gamekeeper will greet you with wraith
The nettles are enticing and wild
And the wasps sting every child.

Two Years Ago

Pressure explodes on his heart
He could be another clone
He could sit alone in the abode of conformity
Spreading his wings then losing integrity

No, he’s not one of them
He’s not going to crack
He’s going to keep his head
He’s a lone wolf, not from the pack

Laughter torments his mind
He’s left behind the realism of a manic Monday
To his dismay, he regrets the ecstasy,
The lack of sleep, but calm he will keep

He’s 17 and he won’t look at me
All he’ll do is laugh at me
Two years on he’ll know how tough
It was to finally get his love

Rainy Day

We stood next to the window
And watched rain fall down
Your smile blinded my eyes, though
And I began to frown

Pass the pencils from the pencil pot
And come and draw with me babe,
You need to learn to transpire
You need to show the world, babe

We watched them go to work
While we stayed inside
They slaved ,and we shirked
Our time we would bide

Pass the whiskey from the side drawer
And come and sit with me, babe
You need to learn to get along
You need to be with me babe

We read Wordsworth and Wilde
And laughed at the irony
We drank coffee warm and mild
And forgot about the tyranny

Pass the sleeping pills from my jacket
And sleep all night with me babe
You need to rest from pain and guilt
And spend the night with me babe.

Faustian Motel

Give me the keys to the Faustian Motel,
Let's have a banquet of blood
Invite the whores of hell,
Let's have a sugarbowl of coke
And a Sauvignon flood
Feast upon deviance and and watch the moon fall...
Fall to the ground like the children of 'Nam.
Adorn your faces with exquisite paints
From Atlantic whales slaughtered by saints,
Let's make a solstice fire of Borneo wood
Make the vermin homeless like they said we should.

I LOVE CHRIS DOWNING

Holes In My Pockets

I keep on singing the overdrawn blues,
Flood me with spirits and feed me Quualudes,
Cos I'm drinking poison and eating air,
You're talking to me but I'm not there.

I'm your doctor feelgood, half- dead and lovely,
Don't go to him, buy your chemicals from me.
You'll see ivory towers and purple trees,
I'll give you euphoria if you give me money.

19

It’ll not be the same next time,
He won’t settle for a lime,
When he wants a lemon
To sour up the sweet in his life.
Things will be different next week,
He wont slam the door and hear a pathetic creak,
There won’t be no white bread
When he wants brown,
He wants to turn this shit around.
Maybe she’ll call tomorrow,
She’ll sound keen and sweet not cold and hollow,
He won’t take bullshit when he turns up late,
She won’t do that annoying squeak she makes.
The boys might come round tonight,
He might go into town without starting a fight,
Because he’s only 19 and he’s got a lot to give
And he’s realised now that he’s got a life to live.

Squares

We hail to the divinity of the suits,
when they sit there in their fine silks and crown themselves king on our behalf..
Where does it end?
When did it start?
You have to audition to get the part,
hand on heart,
reciting the tart words of a fabricated lament.
You have to process yourself through a culture conveyor belt,
ploughing through the textbook definition of life itself.
Demanding nothing, owning nothing, yet owing everything.

Mirth

My bones are weak
My body is meek

My skin is tired
My mind is wired

My eyes are blind
My thoughts are kind

My heart is cold
My records are old

My wounds have healed
My lips are sealed

My clothes are torn
My shoes are worn

My smile is real
My hands can feel