Monday, 19 February 2018

Crime

The door slammed, the sound sending her two centimetres into the air with the fright. She had no idea what she was doing, why she was really here, but this was something that she had to do. She’d selected the appropriate outfit, dressed all in black, while not avoiding her favourite shoes, which thankfully matched. This was something that she’d not actually dreamed that she’d ever entertain, but with her thoughts constantly pushing her to take action, this was exactly what she intended to do.


For far too long she’d stayed in the background, with events unfolding around her, timid, while tense, wondering if she’d ever put that first foot forward. No, of course not, that wasn’t her personality at all. A wall flower, a hesitant follower of all things, all the while wishing to be something more. Her destiny, above all, was within her grasp and that was why she was here, right now, doing all of this.
It must have taken two weeks of constant mental juggling, the ever fighting thoughts threatening to spiral out of control, but no more. She was taking control, moving forward, even if it meant breaking into someone’s house. It wasn't difficult, with the person in question hardly taking security seriously, so this should be easy.

Approaching the inner door, after somehow slamming the entrance, she turned the handle as slowly as she could and, as the inches crept into view, she noticed the Rhodesian Ridge-back turn its head. Towards her. With a bark, quicker than she could actually act, the dog bounded from the floor towards the door with a growl. She quickly closed the door, her mind ablaze with running, escaping, but she’d not come this far to give up so easily.

Opening her black handbag, strewn across her shoulder, she flicked various items around before finding what she needed. Holding the lip gloss in her left hand she unscrewed with the right. It cost a mild fortune but would hopefully be worth it. Behind the door she could hear the dog barking, the growling menace with raised hair. With a gentle hand she opened the door, ever so slowly, holding the gloss, open, tempting the dog to take a lick of the unknowing treat. A sigh of relief escaped as the bait was taken and the door opened that little bit further. 

Stroking gently, a new found friend, she stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Across from her she found a chew toy, throwing it into the nearest room, with one more obstacle taken care of. To her left she glanced into a large front room, surrounded by windows and possibly the largest sofa she’d seen. To her right, another large room, with another sofa, nearly an echo of the other room albeit with a dog throwing around a toy. In front, of course, sat the main hallway and staircase. Putting the gloss away, into her bag, she made a mental note to throw it away at a later date as she advanced.

With each step carefully placed she moved up the stairs, just in case the slamming door, or barking dog, didn't wake anyone. She was, after all, wearing a scarf around most of her face but she still wanted advance warning if she had to run. Heart beating, adrenaline running, she was pretty confident that no-one was home. Just yet. Reaching the top she surmised that the main bedroom would be to the rear and so ignored the room to the left and carried on forward. 

If she had time, if this were a different location or situation, she might even take time to take in the lush paintings. Whomever had designed this house had taken their time but, when all was said and done, she wasn't here for that sort of thing. This was serious. This was happening right now.

Reaching the end of the upstairs hallway she pushed the ajar door, moving it forward with a fingertip. This was it, where she’d find what she’d been looking for. Answers, to many questions, resolutions, to the over thinking mind. As she took one step into the dark room, moving from the ambient light behind her, she heard the dog, which she’d left playing downstairs, bark and then she heard what she’d hoped that she wouldn't. Or, at least, this soon. The door, downstairs, opened and then closed. The echo hit her ears and the panic started. She wasn't prepared, not even close to being ready, but this moment would have to do. “Now or never,” she whispered to herself and her inner demons. Removing the scarf, throwing it into the void in front of her, she stepped behind the door into the dark that calmly welcomed her.

Footsteps, moving closer, increased her heartbeat. It seemed that her own heart threatened to send her spiralling but she calmed herself, took stock of the situation, knowing that the consequences needed to be damned. Her choice, her actions and her resolution. A few seconds moved forward and, as she froze, for the briefest moment, a figure appeared to her side with their back facing her. The figure, standing still, stood there probably wondering why the front gate was slightly open. Her mind shouted at her to move and, with a brave fleeting moment, she forced her limitations aside and embraced the demon sitting on her shoulder. 

Pushing the door as hard as she could, with the room descending to darkness as it closed, she stepped forward and, as he turned, she spoke, “It’s me,” she said, softly, hoping that he’d quickly come to terms with someone suddenly being in his house. A second quickly vanished as she felt his arms wrap themselves around her, the warm kiss appearing against her lips from the darkness. Lifting her she wrapped her legs around his waist, letting his warmth embrace her, as the kisses became deeper, tasting her, ensuring that any doubt moved from her thoughts. 

The last lingering murmurs fell from her mind, the previous messages he’d sent fading into the past. The long nights alone, those days glancing across the room, wondering what he’d be like, how he’d feel, were about to end. Finally. She’d been brave, she’d been bold, she’d finally become the woman that took a chance. She’d smile, if he’d give her lips a chance to do something other than kiss, but the smiling could come later. Right now, it was time to feel free. It was time to commit the crime of letting go.

Friday, 16 February 2018

Dance

The rhythm played, from the background, with a rhyme that started to make my very bones get up to dance. The sublime message, lost in the foreign words of another design, echoed around my skull, tempting, asking me, demanding me, to move from the chair at once.


It wasn't going to happen, I knew this, everyone knew this, as I always tried to hold my composure in the steady hand of control. I’d be commissioned, infiltrated, conditioned to be the way I am over the years despite wanting to truly break these self imposed chains.

I saw you, without making it obvious, the moment you walked into the room. You’re there, somewhere within the small crowd, focused on getting your chosen drink of the moment while I, of course, remain static. Defined, refined, dressed to impress but still ever so relaxed. There is, of course, a game to play and the rules were yet to be defined by your eyes.

The heat in the room, building with each second, threatened to break that cool stance with each passing moment but, as always, that regulated view remained as you appeared through the crowd. Locking eyes, for the briefest second, until the very next moment you divert that gaze away to the side. This is the game, the way things are to be played then that’s fine. Two, as has been said, can play any type of game that you’d like to define. You might hold the cards but I know this deck like the back of my own imagination.

From nowhere you appear right in front of me, daring me, braving your own confidence as you let the music take hold of your soul. With each beat, a new word, you start to express yourself by moving those hips of yours. Sexy, damn seductive, I almost break into a small smile but hold a card close to my chest. The legs on display, your legs, move with such ease to the beat within this room. I’d do anything to just break my pattern of action, to reach out, to caress, but that wouldn't be gentleman like. One must be invited to the party, to play in this type of ground, before making such a move.

Taking a sip of your drink, while looking over your sunglasses, into my very soul, you’re expelling the kind of confidence that’s making the people behind me turn to silence. You know that you have what it takes, every single ounce of woman within you ready to tempt, or is it that you simply don’t give a f**k about anything other than what’s directly in front of you. I don’t know but, what I do know, is that I cannot, no longer sit here watching you move the way you do.

Slowly, knowing exactly what move to make, I finally move from my seat, standing to attention, joining you within that dance that you’re showing. You really can move, making me wonder if it’s your body moving or your very soul controlling events. I know that you've a heart made of pure beauty but, when the dance is done, I still don’t know where you find the place that makes you do the things you do. Each move, each word, is pure temptation. Scolding, hot, temperature rising, almost cruel and sexy aura flowing over me. It’s difficult. It’s damn tempting.

We both start to move, finding a couple of seconds to gather the pace, that rhythm, both bodies moving in unison, union, the unique meeting of minds through the movements. From nowhere time starts to slow, the music fading into the background, as there’s only you and I in this room right now. Everything has faded, been erased, with the inches moving to millimetres between us. Never touching, never meeting, as this is what it’s all about. Tease, the temptation, the tantalising meeting of two people that know the wild events that will eventually arise.

Time slowed, the fever rising, the movements becoming smoother between the both of us as our bodies finally touch and my hand moves slowly around your side. My hand holds your back, ever so lightly pressing your body closer to mine, finally, at last, we've reached that level of awareness. Lips lock, press against each other, as your hand finds the back of my head, feeling, touching, expressing that desire that’s been building for the past few weeks. It had to happen, we knew it would, with tonight being that night where things finally move forward. You know, I know, we all know, that this dance better last all night. 

Thursday, 15 February 2018

Missing

Sitting here, alone, with soft music playing in the background, the thoughts flow into my mind. I know that it was such a long time ago, years even, but you've stayed with me in many, many ways. There’s those seconds, where I'm caught off guard, where I recall missing you so much that I could literally curl into a ball and stop. Just… stop. It didn't matter what I was doing, at those moments, the small amount of emotion becoming something bigger, clouding me, controlling me, into a state that I don’t really miss. Although, like an old friend that you haven’t missed at all, those feelings are still a companion, part of me, left from that part of you.

I'm not one to pretend, unless I'm of course, acting, in some sort of play, with words created on a page in order to portray something A to this kind of B. But that’s what I had to do, at first, act. ‘It’s okay,’ I’d state, over and over again, until I actually believed everything that I’d written on that page in my mind. It is, after all this time, obviously okay, but not back then. There’s certain aspects that you simply cannot exclude. The way you moved, the things you said, the way that you said them and those eyes of yours. I've never heard my heart beat that much, so intense, with each breath from your lips, against my skin, I’d beat, slowing or speeding to your rhythm.

It’s one of those moments, where you can literally finish each other’s sentences. It’s alive, something more, something created between the both of you, seldom re-created but always leaving the two feeling alone when apart. Although I'm sitting here, alone, I still have the memories, created, re-created, but in a friendly way. I recall the laughter. The kisses. The moments.

Resting back into the comfortable chair, I realise that it simply wasn't to be. The chance of a million to one meeting, the magical dream of finding that mate from the souls surrounding us each day, is a difficult task at best. We fit, we meld. We become something new and, sometimes, for a time, it’s ever so perfect. But, as we’re now aware after many years, things seldom stay perfect. I truly believe that it is possible, it’s not a dream at all, to be happy for a lifetime. We just have to fight to remove that baggage that life throws at us. Don’t keep it, don’t carry it forward, let it go and try to be free.

If I speak about that time, those days, I can happily proclaim that I'm over it all, I'm past passing that event in my mind. It’s perfectly okay but, if I close my eyes, to remember your whispering thoughts, how close we were, the feel of your skin against mine, I start to melt. The defences fall, the masculine stance fails, the closeness appears and suddenly I'm not over those moments at all.

It can make me sad, it can make me smile, it appears to haunt yet it all comforts me. It’s life, it’s understanding, it’s the adventure of things. When I'm 86, no matter who or where I'm with, I’ll always smile no matter what’s been said, which thread I've indexed within my mind, because I’ll always return to the memory of you. 

I know that I have a space, within me, that’s missing, that vacant small void within my heart and soul, that will always be yours. I know that there’s been others, will be others, but you've taken that place with you, that small part within me, that you’ll always own. Maybe, one day, if we meet again, I’ll give you my address, the number of contact, to which you could send that part back to me. Send it back electronically, physically, to make me whole again.

On that day, if there ever is that day, I’ll smile and speak words of comfort, all the while knowing that I’d be searching for that look from your eyes. Until that day, the day of days, I’ll keep looking for something new, someone new, to possibly take that place that you held so very close to you.

Maybe, possibly, somehow, I’ll eventually stop this ‘missing’ feeling.

Friday, 2 February 2018

Special

There’s only so many words I can use to exclaim, to explain my exorbitant ethos to the world. I'm caught within my own structured state of thinking, of being, yet knowingly desire a path towards something more. I need to experience, to escape, to evolve into a person of worth. I know that I'm a singular speck within 7.4 billion souls but, as I've been told and informed, I'm supposedly special.


Special, a star, a miracle of majesty and luck. What makes me special, when I'm surrounded by people that I respect, admire, some desire, with minds that might just create the next miracle within this world? I've known so many hearts, quite a few souls, with nearly all of them deserving of time, effort and love. Sure, as we all know, there are a couple, a few, a miniscule amount of people that have descended into darkness but there’s hope. There’s always hope until, that very final day, where a person no longer deserves respect, time, or even the life that they hold.

Decisions, recriminations however, thankfully, are not within my life curriculum vitae. I've been here, I've been somewhere over there, a bit to the left, a little to the right, with no actual political agenda that I’d like to share or, ever, even think about. I'm not a politician, I'm not a person of religion, despite having, at one time, two toes within different pots. I know all about that, as it’s shown me some of this, but sometimes it’s best to leave someone else’s instruction manual, from another time, perfectly alone.

But, after three paragraphs, I must return to the question at hand. Am I special? No, yes, maybe, not at all.  You see, to me, there is a black and white scenario to all of this. I do prefer the grey side of life, before committing to either side, as to judge just shouldn't enter our souls unless absolutely necessary. How dare I even attempt to judge another, let alone myself. So, again, what is my black and white solution to everything?  We’re either all special, each and every single one of us, or not even one of us deserves that word at all.

We’re born, supposedly with a blank slate, but not everyone is born the same size, the same height, bigger, smaller, longer or shorter, we’re an individual made from a code of genetics from two other people. That, in itself, is a miracle. We’re then fed, by self or by others, all of the information to form whom we become. One day, in the future, we eventually gain self awareness. Don’t ask me when, how, or if we all do, but it’s there. It’s crushing, to be such a young individual. Suddenly, from nowhere, you feel this amazing weight of life. Conform. Fit in. Or rebel and fit into the smaller group. Be bullied or bully. Exclude or excluded. All striving to be accepted, to be special and noticed.

Heck, we've all been there, in that great big room, filled with so many people yet deep inside, you feel the utter despair of loneliness. It eats at you, destroys you, with your face filled with acne along with other’s words of hatred. It’s an ugly, ugly time in our lives, despite many people still knowing such pain. A lucky few escape this chapter of life.

But, as always, back to the actual question. I know what I believe, the special quotation, but which side do I lean towards? It’s not so easy as I only have the information that I've been given by life. I’d like to state this, mention that, but as always, I'm torn.  There’s a fence and I'm sitting on that fence, knowing, smiling, realising that the only answer that actually matters is the following:

“Every single person, animal, organism, on this planet, is special. To think that the Human Race deserves the title of ‘special’ devalues us, belittles us, when we’re surrounded by such beauty all across this world. If anything we can actually place Humanity, due to World Wars, destruction, near the bottom of the list.”

We can be so much more. We could grow our souls to another level if, IF, we let go of our materialistic side. It’s too late for me. I know that there’s a message, a very special message, but it must start with the children.

Saturday, 27 January 2018

Melody

The first voice, my voice, escalates until it’s no longer a murmur, a hidden selection of words that have needed to be voiced for the longest time. I might be a single solitary individual, but I have feelings, I've known life and some of its intricacies. I'm aware as much as I can be.


The second voice joins, two in harmony, feeling the same rhythm, the same pause and reflection. We’re joined in the single mind of thinking. Together, forever, we can join to create a way of understanding, to ensure that we both, at all times, respect each other and push the message towards a better day.

The third and fourth voice connects, becoming more, the signal amplified to another level. We’re a conscious mind, we’re a collective, a force swirling in the silence of other’s thoughts. We’re now moving forward, we’re never retreating, the direction becoming clearer each and every single second that we chant the words required to become a better place. We’re people, we’re living, breathing, individuals but as said, we’re more, we’re that place we've been searching for.

The six become twelve, a veritable chorus, a cacophony, a melody that needs work, needing to find the final chord to ensure that the feeling appeals to all. We’re heading in the right direction, a couple of voices of dissent, soon understanding the message, joining with the epicureanism living lifestyle of the few.  The more, the sooner, the quicker that we reach that level that cannot be surpassed.

The fiftieth individual reaches the moment of transition, where they no longer have the ideals of the few as, instead, they embrace the knowing of the many. We’re fighting the lies, the corruption of life, trying as best we can to see a clearer path within this wild world of ours. We’re fighting, not just our own beliefs, we’re fighting years of ingrained training, the marketing abuse of lies and re-direction. The more, the stronger, the nearer we become to understanding what needs to happen.

The hundredth soul, the hundredth spark, the life force and union of all things, breaches the known to embrace the freedom of choice. We’re growing, we’re sounding our way into the night filled day. There’s no way to stop the sound, the song, the words of harmony descending into all the lives around us. We’re not fanatical, we’re not flying within the clouds, we’re realistic, we’re instruments of thought, we’re playing live within the acted world of life. We’re here, now, waiting and remembering.

The thousand becomes a million. There’s no longer any army, in any land of this world, that can stop a united message. We've seen through the lies, the corruption, and we've noticed that there could be a brand new day in front of us. We’re singing, we’re lifting our souls into the air, finally allowing ourselves to fly after being grounded for so long. We can fly, we can sour, as we’re now free with no voices ready to spread dissent into our lives. The truth is out there, the path is as clear as the sun within our shining lives.  We've tasted freedom, from the life inherited.

We, finally, have a melody worth singing. Together, for the rest of our lives, nothing can stop a million voices exclaiming a better way. Today, tomorrow, the world will become 7.4 million voices. Free. The melody of life has found you. It’s found me. Let’s all sing together.

Thursday, 25 January 2018

Entangled

Entangled, woven, completely integrated into the surroundings of my current situation, I’d like to escape but I cannot. When you slow time, when you relax and just view your life, you can usually start to see the cracks of time, glossed over by vanity, excuses and the knowledge of age. We don’t have to face everything, we can ignore everyone, all the while gasping to escape the wicked web we weave with our actions.

Entangled, trapped, freely giving in to the circumstances of life. We say a word here, do something over there, seemingly oblivious to the obvious repercussions of our actions. We’re a living, breathing, torrent of turmoil and angst trying to remain calm in the face of our own ideals burning into flames right in front of our eyes. It’s easy to stay as simple as the sun that shines in the sky yet, knowingly, complicating things with but the flick of a key or the start of a message.

Entangled, static, finding comfort in the ever agony of each step into the wilderness. We’re wild, we’re uncontrollably falling through the very thoughts of perfection, while struggling to even like the face that we see each and every single morning. We’re engrossed in becoming the beauty that’s already within the very skin we wear.

Entangled, embroiled, ensnared to the vacuum of whispers. We know who we are, we know from whence we came, who held our hands to guide us at an early age, yet, find fault with wisdom and the very common sense that could see us through to a new dawn. The light hurts, the darkness caresses, those said whispers asking us to commit more self-fraud until there’s hardly the person you were, remaining.

Entangled, procrastinating, saying one thing while doing another. We seek selfish comfort from others, feeling them against us, touching us, all the while feeding our own desires. The white lies, the floating promises, asking and wishing for others to play a role within the mind filled fantasies of selfishness. It feels alive, it feels full of energy, sparking our hearts into life while also strangling our moral and ethic knowledge. We know, we realise, we even chastise ourselves but, nevertheless, continue anyway.

Entangled, selfish, the sins of the few becoming the sins of the world. What was once neglect now becomes fashion, our faith, our very ideals marketed to us like the very cattle we consume each and every single day. We’re products, we’re barely alive, marching slowly forward until the day we finally realise that it’s far too late. This wicked mess that we create, the copy of the letter A until we reach B, only occasionally realising that there might just be a C and D. 

Entangled, forbidden, knowingly acknowledging that we’re defined by sociologically prescribed outlines, we’re suffocating with a smile. We know that we could branch forward, to become something more, something better if desired, yet still slide between the guidelines of how our lives are meant to be. We've an abundance of energy, we've ideals and ideas that could enlighten the air we consume each and every minute, which must be believed despite what we’re told. We’re fed the design of life from the second we speak, from the moment we realise, yet by that point it’s far, far too late. We’re entangled, we’re snared by our very actions to be interweaved into society.

One day, even if for the briefest of moments, we might just escape the entangled web of life.

Tuesday, 9 January 2018

Raining

The rain, moving, hitting the ground at speed, fulfilling its intended purpose, strikes my face and body with near certainty. I know that there’s something wrong, something that I'm not quite aware of, but I'm not one to pry into another’s affairs. They say that everybody cries, everyone finds a place to create their own rain like tears, but for me, for now, I'm not one of those people.


The heart pours, the heart feels, the heart needs more than what the mind can provide. It needs to be cleansed, adored, loved without question or remorse. I know that everything can change, with or without the world wrapped around us, but if I could take some of this rain, from this place I inhabit within my own heart, I would wash away all of your sins, your reservations about my own heart, the words that I often use to instil life.

You, just you, will always be a part of me. You’re like the air that I need to survive, calming, soothing, flowing over me until I can no longer feel anything other than relaxed. That is why, right now, I'm at a loss of what to do. No-one should ever be lonely, that crippling disease known to many, if not all, which is why I want to walk with you. For the longest time. For the shortest time. It makes no difference. As I said, as I know, as it is written, I know that something’s wrong. I'm not a black shadow that only sees what I want to see, as I'm supposed to be a light, that beacon you can find to get you home. If you so choose.

The rain hits harder as the seconds move forward. I’d hardly call my walk brisk, with the seconds moving along, as my snail like thoughts are destroying that needed motivation. I've seen things, been within things, known hatred, had disgust thrown in my face, but none of that matters as that’s to do with me. I know that I'm not a shield in this world, designated to protecting everyone, which I accept but that still doesn't mean that I shouldn't at least try.

If I could walk away, into the dark distance in front of me, I honestly would. That would be easy, a quick solution, but where in the world would that leave your impression of me. If I'm to walk around this world then please, at least, come with me. Hold my hand, hold my heart, hold my body or even hold my words of tenderness. It’s your choice. I need nothing from you, despite what I said, as I'm contained within myself. It’s a cruel place I live within, when I think about some of my decisions, but it’s kept me safe, kept me aware, which I've come to terms with. A smile erases everything but, that smile, is only worth the actual feelings behind those muscles you force to move.

The rain doesn't seem to be stopping, threatening to engulf each of my steps. Please, help yourself, as I cannot walk forever surrounded by tears and silent words. Open yourself, be brave, grasp at the thoughts in front of you, let me be what I can be and then gain strength. Hiding, within that silence, only reaches the level of being crushed. For once, for the moment right now, stop your rain falling into my life.

The rain, moving, hitting the imaginary scene at speed, creating nothing but strife. I know that there’s something wrong, something that I'm aware of, but I am about to pry into your affairs. They say that everybody cries, everyone finds a place to create their own nightmare, but for me, I'm not about to become one of those people for someone else.


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Rain does seem to feature a lot in my Blog posts.