Sunday, 30 August 2015
The warrior
There are warriors in us all;
Lions fight Goliaths
ten foot tall
Though were scared and chomp
at bits
We climb barriers and
out of it
Pure vision lies
with Strength within
A soldier denies
to let light dim
Fight with passion
fight for life
we gasp for Oxygen
to survive
When you fail
Fight to thrive
This is you
upon the edge
Standing near
a jagged ledge
And all those questions
That you ask
Hidden in
Your faded mask
Wipe those tears
beyond glass eyes
For pain is buried
Drilled in deep
It lulls you
when you fall
asleep
Life as punisher
Life as friend
Riddles at the start
and end
Your
precipice
Your recipe
for sccess within
let glowing lights shine
and beam
Detonate explosions of fear
Hold your head up
for your still here
For your still
The soldier rings
the shrill alarm,
We stand at ease,
and remain calm
snap our fngers
Lick dry lips
Tilt our heads
Prepare for abyss
it's imagination
station
Be addicted
to your dreams
don't et them fester
let them steam
Heat them up,
Cook and boil
Nails are dirty
Let hands toil t
let the scent travel upon the air
smile at those fuckers
your already there.
moving forward
The thought of allowing an envious person to win., should go beyond motivating you. It should be your hunger, your food, the first thing you think of when you get up in the morning, your sandwich and your lunch at night. Your success is sending a clear message to a jealous saboteur, if they want to take you on, they have to play fair. Not use sneaky pathetic tactics to validate themselves, not try and draw you into a hostile situation,seriously some people should learn to stay in their own lane, if they continue to watch you they will loose the battle and the war. Sadly with most envious people,that's exactly what it is, a war. In their kinds you have it all and they have nothing, the little you have their desperate to take it from you because your made of something their not. It's called guts. How many people watch others spend their time whining about not having this and not having that, when in your mind all your thinking is Jesus Christ, you want it that badly go for it. Get proactive, stop hating on him, her and them, and take action to move your life forward. Empower yourself, that's what everybody else is trying to do why don't you stop being pathetic and do the same. Envious people always shoot themselves in the foot, their need to be better than you, without putting in the hard work, only makes them hate themselves more, and makes others loose respect for them. Next time your in bad company, distance yourself and find positive confident people who know what they want and can actually go for it without dragging others down. It only makes them look pathetic.
Be the mission
Paint the scene
A bloodied red
A tarnished colour
For doom instead
It's buoyancy
Sedated all things
A dominant forever spring
I hAve a dream
I admire
Never clock
Never stop
Roam like wildfire
Entertaining legends
In the wake of my existence
Only to be persistent
This is not a day but
The dawning of time
Request syllables
That reflect your mind
Escape cosmic order
Now your on the
Border
Will you jump in
Never dim
Have the strength
Your a fighter
Jesus still salutes you
God is blessed
He promotes
Whatever
You do
Still concocting visions
A dream on a mission
Be persistent
poverty price
Price for men
We hold it still
It whispers then
Clapping hands
Which cultivate pain
The trauma of clowns
Left in the rain
Jester where
Will you go
Still
I taste my dreams
Cinnamon at will
Poverty
Will you slip away?
Let me buy the shoes
I claimed
Wear the dress
I've crowned and named
Buy the house
With lock in key
Poverty
Please forget
About me
we become
Who do we become
When they take us away
Batter our dreams
Disrupt our day
A sullen candle
Willows in wind
The smoke it carries
The night air has sinned
Who do we become
When they take you away,
No room for a chalice
Or a place you can pray
No chord for a vocal
Or guitar for a string
No ammunition
For muddied things
Who do you
Become
When they take you
Away
Disappear into darkness
And quickly you fade
Despite your longing
For things to change
Life is subtly
Rearranged
into darkness
Disappear before light
We are the howls
That carry your screams
We are the voices
That terrorise dreams
Concluding a fact
We're not ready to see
This becomes you
Unworthy of me
Mosquito man
No ambitions become you
Let your hate and
Stupidity
Quickly become you
The truth remains
There it will stay
Certain truths
Can never
Be washed away
The urn
With death inside
Quickly I defy
The odds
Changing paces
Debt because
The layman's tango
Has captured fears
Mosquito man
Each coming year
We sip the silk
Of years that come
We roam the streets
For where
We long
Please find me
My beating heart
The throb of a vein
A pulse that whistled
If I'd begun
From the start
To avoid this thing
An ancient vessel
Somebody stop
Somebody stop me
I rattled and cried
This shattered window
The blood inside
The empty tomb
For once I.laid
The sullen self
Of yesterday
Somebody stop me
My aching womb
A breathless
Wanderer
Cast aside
No cupboard scape
For me to hide
I hear the steps
Of the chain man's song
Don't dangle me
Neck strained
And long
For I am the words
Of which you eat
Your vegetables,
Your fruit and meat.
Wicker man
Wicker man
With your broken dreams
Your aged stems
And your ttear stained
Pillow
Am I to fix
The stretch of pain
The aged tusk
That wears you still
The damaged cheekbone
Soul without will
Wicker man
With your aged tusk
One day
You will
Own your must
With your broken dreams
Your aged stems
And your ttear stained
Pillow
Am I to fix
The stretch of pain
The aged tusk
That wears you still
The damaged cheekbone
Soul without will
Wicker man
With your aged tusk
One day
You will
Own your must
lost in rain
We sing our song
The ocean bed
It cruises still
I count my broken thoughts
At will
To condemn the martyrs
That summer fades
Do we gently rearrange
A simple thought
For slender minds
A battered heart
A sullen cry
Even where the wounds
Are kept
That was the day
I easily slept
Who count the sun
Chorus the sky
It's many steps
A winking eye
We blink
And champion
Those in vain
For all our dreams
Are lost in rain
many somethings
So many somethings
Amount to one
Don't harbour fugitive
Thoughts
Hold Sun's
That glide you
Into successful wake
To be a man
You don't
Need a cape
Honesty
Dignity
Courage
And still
Delicious spice
Within your meal
Let them marvel
At what you've kept
Don't be exhausted
Come collect
With plastic bags
And army suit
To regiment
The day that suits
Neither a borrower
Or lender be
You are the jewel
That belongs to me
Beating writers block
Its not perfect and yet it doesn't have to be. Writing is about expression. If your sstruggling with dialect, taking your character from a to b, designing a scene and....corrupting the page with it. As a writer do not give into your sensitivities, you are not writing for everybody else, your doing it for yourself, because this is your passion, your escapism, your fruit for the day. It is the way you meet your dreams and conquer your enemies, writing is a journey. You can write something imperfect and come back to edit it another day with a fresh perspective, your perspective, you renewed. If your intimidating yourself by comparing your work to others, stop. Write as though it were your last day on earth, you started enjoying the process, you knew it was a gift, so share it. Give it validity. Prose is not immediately perfect, there are many things which go into producing a bestseller, or simply a good piece of work, read and right till your exuberant, enjoy the process, you are the creator, the champion of the page. If you need a distraction go for a walk, have a long soak, read your favourite book from cover to cover, just enjoy, writing is fun, let it be exactly that.
Saturday, 29 August 2015
loosing will
I run a lot
I hide
I duck
A pot of soup
For my good luck
Never a beauty queen
Was I
Never a dreamer
To paint the sky
Florid
Yet in this horrid
Cardboard box
I see a light
Once null and void
Shift my
Eyes
To avoid
The longing
Which belongs to me
Salt salivates
Upon my tongue
A wrinkled hand
Yet face so young
The scan of a dimple
The pain of a cleft
When I see
My reflection
I am bereft
With needs upon
Such hostile needs
And deeds that mean
I plant some seeds
A taste of soil
Grainy.in mouth
Yet I remain
My north
My south
The compass self
Of wounds bestowed
Whatever's left
Honored I own
As paperclip people
Traffic still
No dense am I
But I've lost my will
inkboy
Ink boy
With your beagles eyes
Within my Palm
I hold the sky's
I hold the dreams
Young boys
Once lost
The story's
That they tell you cost
Go chase that
Dream
Clutter starlet sky
Ask those questions
For who
And why
Reap rewards of
Things once found
Canvas places far renowned
For a dream will make you
And a dream
Will take you
The world will see
And not mistake you
For ham in a sandwich
Tucked beneath fold
A piece of lettuce
A chef once mold
For its our dreams we eat
On charcoal nights
A virile dream
Is out of sight
With life's realities
Bombard
And prick
When we ponder
It comes down to it
How badly do
You want
The sale of an organ
A throbbing heart
Within
Your Palm
I say with
Much too
Much
Alarm
A spoonful
Of hope
Is medicine
To cope
With the chaos
Life brings
And creeping fears
That sing
Into the darkness
Into the darkness
Where I belong,
Screaming the odds
At a tainted song
Lonely the wanderer
Blissful am I
Quaking a storm
Counting butterflies
I saw the shadows shift
Saw the great divide
Which caused a rift
Bed of roses
Tiptoe on thorns
Toes that bleed
Feed anchored
On stilts
Do I crawl under
Mother's quilt
I face the day,
The lies that come
As I fight
I do become
A stranger in
Where chalk outlines
Align so dim
And on this
Meadow
I shall rest
Within the soil
At nature's breast
As much as I
Seek hollow dreams
A fading girl
Meets troubled things
writers block
One wall
One block
I come
Unstuck
Unglued
Unhinged
From bright lights
Dimmed
This beacon of truth
A hub despaired
For within my reach
My brain is there
A fossil
United upon tree top
One flow
One dream
That awkward
Stop gap
In time
Clear my throat
And collect my rhyme
Fix those demons
In your shell
Remove the slime
From whence
You fell
One wall
One block
I cannot stop
The rain on my skin
Gentle rain on weeping skin
Swallow me
Left in between,
The cuckoo's nest,
A Gatsby song
Recently I scribbled
All alone
Wisdom planted
Tiny seeds
Waiting for an awesome
Deed
A hue to bleed
With raspy leaves
Where hands they
Stretch
Like eager sleeves
Nature sobs
For ocean bed
Tumultuous wind
Gasps loud instead
The sun it shrieks
Crossing sky
A carousel
Where ancients lie
Give me a Palm
A hand or two
Shake my fingers
They belong to you
Coat my flesh
In dazzled light
Let it wink
Way past the night
And symbolise what we have
Seen
And all the greatness
We have been
Our complex circle
Our broken threads
The laymen watch
Our conjoined heads
Nature passes with a kiss
I yearn for days
That belong to this.
From post to power: understanding social sabotage
In this lifetime people will try their very best to sabotage and bring you down, they are called toxic people. Neatly packaged to appear normal yet you have no idea what chaos roams in the secret crevices of their mind. It's easy to allow envious people to drag you down, to let them steal from your energy and your chi, yet there are ways they cannot win. When you fight to stay happy, to build yourself up, no matter the cost, to celebrate your achievements, have the guts to think with clarity of mind and say in this moment, I am strong. No matter what is happening on the outside, envious people have an inferiority complex. Their hunger for power makes them even weaker to themselves, when they look in the mirror it's a self they hate, and that's usually projected unto you. Human beings crave positions of power, know this and no matter what experience you have in any scenario, or workplace, you will be prepared for any nonsense that comes your way.
silent song
You didn't fail, I told myself over and over again. It was a race, this life and I needed to finish first. I wanted to provoke that I could do the impossible, I wanted to prove I could change my own destiny. Therefore I fought with tooth and nail, climbing deeper into an abyss of thoughts that would soon consume me, it was real, and it was important to me that I keep moving forward, that I keep steering forth and nothing or no one could stop me or get in my way. I glared hatred at the tiny grains of golden sand as I shuffled my feet to the left and awkwardly to the right, tossing the sand in the air until it blinded me . Today I'd picked a fresh cotton white t-shirt, some brown shorts, timberlands and hoop earrings, I wanted to be so much more than what I was. Believe so much in who I am.this hunger this vision shaped me, I identified with its need castrate me from all simple things, for I was a complex individual. I'm a teenager now, I told myself , with hips that swing, and curves that welcome men ing to dance with my groove. I am the music in their ears, I am the soft calls music they jive too, yet I am greedy with a want to win.
once before
All by myself
Upon a throne ,
Where ancient things
Abide alone
History flakes
A cooling dust
I understand
We're one of us
The creatures whose splendour
Lies in between
The sheets you soaked
Nightmares you've seen
And when I dance
Upon the moon
A sirens cry
Will follow me soon
Oh dear tempest
Weak from the Moore's
An estranged self
We've worn once before
The Obsidian
I swore I could catch fire, taste it on my tongue, watch it dance, a majestybinside my mouth, snaking its way down my esophagus. That's how it felt to kiss an old wound, have it explode between your teeth, the fragrance of blood dripping from your damaged lips, and they are damaged too. I knew about Marty's episodes, I knew about his broken dreams, the map with the ink stain across it, a map with no treasure. We were both buried amongst our tidy things, two clowns staring at a world full of contempt. " does it surprise you that I'm different,"
" to what? Your carefully constructed self,"
" the public versus the private identity, and who Tod I pick?" We laughed.
" to be a name in an address book " we both chided. We'd seen it in one of those black and white detective movies, the ghost and smoke series, I'd rebelled in the awesome dialect, whilst shoving confetti sized popcorn down my throat. I was sixteen, and there was nothing sweet about it. The world was like a painting, garish, and obstructing a simple myriad of perfect cream walls. I was mad about icons, bits of Lego I felt had been put together, there you have it world, embrace me, the more flawed I am, the more you scoop the change out of my pocket. " you think my eyes are too big?"
" And your breasts are too small?" He chided. I stretched an elegant bony fudge hand and measured it against his cappuccino complexion. I wanted to say we are very similar you and I. Yet when I saw the freckles in his pupil twitch uncomfortably, I realised how desperately he wanted to be a one of us. Those sub ports that slide easily into a network, and you hear the computer buzzing to life, then a box springs up before you. it was nice to not be outside the inside to be part of our two, and yet the two of us, identified the strangeness in our realm. A world separate from the world we didn't really belong to. Marty scanned the small cinema it was nicknamed the oval complex, after some fat woman had jumped to her death from the fifth storey, her blood like cranberries tainting the perfectly rouge floors. His eyes dotted from one poster to the next, " man the obsidian is a great place to hang out," we looked at the curling steps, the Marilyn Monroe and Al pachinko add for the citizen, the Greek columns that lined each floor with,gothic monsters climbing out of the frame. It was both museum and cinema, business school, and bookshop, what we both loved was it looked so small from the outside, yet like us, there was much going on within. Scents of candy lavender, , fresh mil chocolate, newly risen dough ripened our senses, our nostrils became hares noses, twitching incessantly, and hunger streamlined our blood as my electric brown eyes encompassed Marty's Irish blue, yet poignant features. He was dapper for his age, had more hair than most of the boys in our year, stretched out like blinds, a compliment to chiseled features, and a cleft in his chin." In years to come one day ill own this place," he shoved his hands deep into his denim jeans, the baggy t-shirt hung around him with its rainbow colours, he reminded me a bit of a hippy. In years to come Marty McIntyre owned half of the physician, yet the things he did to get it......well one can only guess.
the looser
it was her, her attempt to show kindness made him feel weak. Why should I appear vulnerable to someone like you? Timmy price thought on his way home from school. When others had laughed at her, he'd teased right along with them. He hated her smug and self satisfied look of happiness, the bliss that seemed to vibrate from her, why was she so happy,? It made him jealous, it made him angry. He wanted to be like that. Wanted to be Loeffler no reason but having a buoyant personality, wanted people to respect him, and yet he had nothing to show for it, nothing that meant he should acquire that respect. Today somehow as he'd canvassed the playground he'd managed to feel both angry and empty, people like her, he would chant to himself, people like her, they make me so angry, yet he could never tell anyone the real reason s why. That when she spoke in that clear voice with a tiny of a posh accent, it made him feel dumb, or why he's told his friends to take glue across her hair was because she looked so pretty in that blue Valentine dress and Rupert mulch was looking at her in a way he never could. Had conversations with her about things he didn't know about,and it made him feel dumb once again, that his squad of a mind was a motorbike without any engine oil, and it made him twist his fingers with annoyance, wrap his knuckles across the door handle of the wooden framed door, storm out of class, taking in heavy breaths as the rage turned into a purple cloud consuming him, as though he were on some illegal high.yet there was no happiness to this feeling, the more miserable ski Lorraine Williams felt, the angrier he got, as though she were betraying some pedestal he'd placed her on. Reality was a bitch, and the fact that ski had no idea as to why she was the target of his campaign. Made him identify her as weak, and her misery never did make him happy. The more miserable she got, the more desolate he felt, as though he were also being sucked into a vacuume. Yet he couldn't resist the deliciousness of such ripe fruit the power he got from making someone else feel as small as he felt, as ashamed as he felt, as desperate as he felt. They were both on an island with no reality to turn to, yet he yearned to jump into the cool fresh water and burst his lungs open with salt. That's how it felt to be him these days. To look in the mirror and see nothing more than a shadow of his former self. There were bags under his eyes from the exhaustion of thoughts that roamed like spiders, a mark on his back, from all the lies he had told to both destroy and yet try and claim the attention of an incomprehensible thing. in years to come people would ask him if he enjoyed selling his true identity for a false self, with false respect, from false associates, the reality was he hadn't been happy for a long time. In alienating her, he had separated his two selves, and lived with a person he no longer recognised, himself. He'd read an article once that talked about bullying, he had been bullied by mothers,sisters, brothers, the lowest person in his social hierarchy, and yet now things had changed he'd felt more miserable now than he'd ever felt. With false power comes fake responsibility, ski never spoke to him in the years that followed, and as she began to arise a Phoenix from the ashes, he realised it was a hatred he felt for himself. The inability to be as perfect as the delusions he'd created.
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Twitter: @redebony1
The solemn ones
Social alienation. That's what I got for putting myself out on a limb for a coward. I stared hard at the ripples in my coffee cup, it was charcoal black, I imagined myself being a fish and diving into its depths, escaping the judgement of others. All eyes were on me, like Pleistocene stuck politely to an art form, or the chewing gum you accidentally sit on whilst visiting a bench in the urbs. Life was as shallow as the people were, and yet my brain felt dense, heavy with the burden of so many split marble thoughts. What does it mean to loose yourself in the ghosts of the pasts, chasing you as smoke from a lit firework, a life once an explosion of colour,meets with the buoyancy of other people's inadequacies. I looked along the hall of Mike's busy yet somehow tainted bar, I ignored the voices that parroted themselves in my hrad,weaving a spell, binding my confidence, swallowing me in between gulps of pained questions. Why does the world seek to destroy you so much when your different, seek to age you so much when your young, steal your infinity, and handcuff your soul to its own over complex rules. And yet are they happy? The rule makers, those who judge you, taint their tongues with ink, their spiders tongue an oil across a canvas. The bar was empty tonight. I looked up at the gothic chandeliers, an animated sterling silver cupping miniature diamonds that danced light into my solitude, the chaos of the audiences scattered across the different round mahogany tables, and a tiny kiss of wealth from the orient, a large painting of a famous oriental team, as though the message here being, we were traffic. I downed the cooling black cup, letting it's bitterness absolve me for a second, watering my roots. Slung my black leather jacket, and with Quaking feet prepared myself for the earthquake outside. The zombies who pressed the puss of liquid wounds still bleeding, the stranger I had to prepare to become, I kissed my cup for good luck, tasted another breath of oxygen and took puppet steps, to a world with many strings.
Friday, 28 August 2015
Dreaming on a dashboard
Who told you you couldn't do it? Whatever negative things others are trying to force feed you, don't force feed yourself it. As a human being we are allowed to have strengths and allowed to have weaknesses. Let your mind take you beyond the 'real' and carry yourself, beyond the bracket. Each person has their own journey, your miles are different to those around you, your face tells your story beyond your words. Captivate your audience, hook them in and sell your strengths. You are more than a label, more than a geographical statistic, you are your own mount Everest and with each challenge you are beating the obstacles ahead. People will try and grind you down, break your spirit, make hostile suggestions about who you are, but we are not supposed to fit in with everybody. We are not supposed to be a uniformed block of cells, we are a collective when we choose to be, and can flow independently from the malice of others. Shut your ears to haters, blisters, and people will equipped for life, they are expressing their frustrations about their failed dreams, about the identity they chose to project and now you are the exhibit for their pain. Pick your time wisely, it is expensive it is yours and you will never get it back. I remember my youth as though it were yesterday, old dreams,and a screaming girl,chasing me like a shadow, erasing my tears with laughter, communicating everything I hid beyond the fold. Let that child be free and never allow yourself to become jaded by other people's problems and other people's insecurities. One day they will have nothing but themselves to keep their own failures alive, but right now, you are the projection of what they wish they could become. Failure comes by crossing your own lane and trying to run someone else's race, you are immediately disqualified.
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Twitter: @redebony1
luxury homes for your lucrative mind
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Thursday, 27 August 2015
Sunday, 23 August 2015
moment to moment
People don't owe you anything, your nice, you overcompensate,but for who? All of these people are ghosts themselves. Laugh because it's a time and a place, you will transition and elevate beyond them. Do not be beaten by your own bloodied cheeks, swollen fear, tears that leak off your skin. Take pride in who you are, life is a battlefield, wounded, or lonely, there are warriors with armour just like you. Spirits that sing like a gospel choir, a dream you can pop like a pill. Taste it, swallow it's freedom, let your belly explode as gin for angels,give you the might to fly.
Monday, 17 August 2015
Sunday, 16 August 2015
Saturday, 15 August 2015
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