Monday, 14 December 2015

Heal

Looking at your fingers, your weathered weary hands, the same hands that have worked every single day of your life, you remind yourself that you’re here for a reason. You’ve bled, you’ve climbed the hallowed walls of life, you’ve been one amongst the many to reach this place within your ever present life. You’re special, you’re the same as everyone else, you’re whatever you choose to believe on this very day.

Placing a hand next to your knee, as you feel like you’re crawling through this life, you know that you’re about to bleed a little bit more. Life could be easy, or at least easier, but your mind refuses to relent in its ever present pursuit of inconsequential delights. You smile, you crave, you wash decrepit sordid thoughts through your mind imagining the wealth that the skin can afford. Your wry smile hides no secret of the desire to indulge. You feel, you need, you wishfully grasp at the moments of shallow warmth.

It flickers, the soul, you know this. You don’t care. You tell yourself each and every single day that you’d like to be more, to achieve more, to aspire to a new height but, woefully, you stay still. Why try, why push, why climb, when right here, right now, is all that keeps you tied down. It’s so comfortable, the day to day, the ease and indulgence of it all.

Your other hand touches the floor as your head swings back, looking into the dark sky, eyes closed while feeling the tepid air that surrounds your aura. The warmth surrounds you with its grip, teasing, tempting, caressing your smile to ensure that it never fades. You know that it’s not real, you know that it’s all your imagination enticing you to live the same life as everyone around you. Teasing thoughts, sure, obviously, but it’s ever so easy to be just like… them.

You laugh aloud, the smirk appearing across that face of yours, knowing damn well that you’re happy to be just as you are. You could happily throw yourself into a thousand imaginary settings. You’d embrace such a thing. The mind wanders. The mind plays tricks. It knows you’re the one and that grasp is oh so very tight.

Placing your head against the ground, breathing that bit slower, you start to daydream of times and places that no longer remain. You could indulge, you could, all day, remembering the past within the very present. What would that get you? You know the answer. The same old familiar setting. You could wrap yourself in comfort for the rest of your life, seething, wallowing, caressing your tailored ego into the shape of ecstasy.

It's simple, it’s easy, it’s built within your very soul. We’re supposed to survive, that inherent instinct within all of us, to oppose the bitter taste of negativity. Instead we choose to remain as we are. We’re not perfect, we’re different, we’re not this or maybe that, all psycho pathetic murmurings of a drilled in, learned response and reaction. You’re not perfect. You’re not what you want to be yet, on the other thought, you do little or nothing to change.

Staying safe, hidden, within your own mind, you realise that you could very easily escape. There are no chains, there are no other voices but your own, we allow what we let into our subconscious and inner ear. Instead, maybe for a change, you decide to stand. You decide to stamp your foot in defiance. You no longer wish to take what’s been fed to you, the disgusting vibrancies of life, the ever present whispers of media and murmurings.


Instead, just for a day, you’re going to heal. It’s that simple.

Friday, 20 November 2015

Desire

Holding the door handle, for an extra second, trying to gather her thoughts, she hesitated and kept herself static. She reminded herself that life was for living, to experience, to hold and to enjoy. The door opened as she turned the handle, poised, stoic, game face more than ready. With a certain layer of sass, with the poetic walk that she’d perfected over the years, she calmly entered the room, tapped the door with her foot, which quickly closed and the game was afoot.

From across the room she noticed that he immediately stopped pouring the drink, mesmerised, taking in the view that she offered in abundance. If his lungs were full, at that moment, she’d have taken that breath away, slid it into her purse, thus leaving him breathless and wanting more. He was a powerful figure, not a middle man or a follower. He knew what he wanted and what he wanted was, of course, her.



She’d been married for over 10 years, 10 wonderful, event free years and, because of this, she craved excitement and a little bit more from her life. With a smile, another quick glance that scaled her body like an imperial figure, he continued preparing the drinks. He could have gladly left them but that would have been rude. There was a game to play, the usual game, like a dance where both parties knew where it would end.

Walking across the room, they both met somewhere in the middle, both not wanting to feel their inner nerves. Her heart pounded against her chest, reminding her, screaming at her, to not let this moment go. ‘Embrace it’, it screamed, or was that her lust speaking. What was the point in having a fire, ready to burn the entire house down to the ground while never, ever, actually lighting said fire? Life was for adventure, for embraces, for hidden lingerie and dripping desire. She wanted this, needed this, desired this on all of the lonely nights spent waiting for declined visits.

Pleasantries were shared, exchanged, all pointless as no words need be spoken right about now. Both glasses remained empty as words simply faded, one into the other. The small voice, within her, voiced its concern. It glanced through her mind, revealing images of failure, of people asking her to stop, to forget the re-imaging of her heart. Love fades, love falters, grows old, becomes stagnant and seldom, ever, rekindles once gone. No, never, she couldn't believe that. She wouldn't believe that.

She silenced the voice, stepped forward, taking his lips onto hers. His cologne pushed itself into her senses, filling her with an extra incentive, tempting her with each second as she tasted his lips against hers. Placing a hand onto his chest, she could feel his body, taut, worked upon. He’d always kept himself in shape, even at his age. She reminded herself that a man that looked after his body would, always, be ready to share that body with vigour. His hands held onto her waist, pulling her forward, pressing her body to his and she felt her body race, her breathing deepen and heat rise.

She pulled away, looking into his eyes, fully embraced by her desire to have him. Raising her hand, she held onto his tie while unravelling the knot and he, in return, ripped open her thin blouse. Placing a hand behind his head she pushed him down as he cupped a breast within his warm hand and, with the other, reached around, flicking open her bra with one smooth gesture. She smiled, knowing that he’d done that before.


As the bra and shirt quickly met the floor he moved her against him, again, as he lifted her, spinning himself around, moving towards the chair. Both still breathing with heavy chests, like the air being breathed was the last remaining air in the world, he placed her onto the chair, fell to his knees and kissed her red lips again. She could feel his hand on her back as the other caressed her chest and, as he looked straight at her, with that look of want within his eyes, he moved his hands down and hitched up her skirt. With a smile he lowered his lips between her legs and started to use his tongue. Her mouth opened, ever so slightly, feeling him dart around her. Opening her eyes, looking across the room, she knew that she would never regret doing this.

This was for her, to keep the fire within her stomach, her heart, alive. After all, no matter what, this was what her lover was for.

Monday, 16 November 2015

A Better World


As I sit here, within my comfort, my ease filled life, I sometimes wonder what things could be like within this world of ours. I cannot complain, I should never complain, as I've been fortunate to have been born into a body of health and, despite nearly passing away once born, I'm still here. I smile at most things. I'm a smiler. Truly. As a child it was noted that I was always smiling, despite various tensions at home, to which I will never impart, which has seemingly stuck until this very day.
Click To Listen

Sure, of course, ask me twice if you wish, but I'm not always smiling. Lips can move, lips can tell, lips can even lie the lines of black darkness within all of us, but what’s inside can often be different. To me, if I were to imagine a perfect world, it would be a world filled with people that never see anything but warmth.

I’d rid the world of lines, borders, colours, miss justice, wealth and power. We’d dance like crazy fools. We’d love like the world was about to end and, possibly, it might feel just that way once we’d finished. We’d pay little attention to what visceral mood we’re in and instead base our knowledge on proven fact instead of fiction.

Instead, our world, is filled with marginal gains and line graph pains. We’re a statistic in our own lives and, possibly, expendable to reach the next line in a never ending life of such lines. It’s madness, crazy sickening, chilling, offensive madness that most of us see as the norm. It’s not, it never was supposed to be this way. We’re free yet….

We’re trapped. We could leap before we look but, as is the case, we’re constrained to the lives we've been brought into by our parents and society as a whole. It’s nice to imagine that we could throw away our shackles but I, me, we, live within a glass house of our own making and, basically, others hold the stone.

I want to escape, to travel, to explore and to experience. I want to feel grass beneath my feet, grass to which only a handful have ever seen let alone travelled through. My soul wishes to climb the highest mountain and to taste the loftiest dreams but, again, I'm here. I often escape, in person, in my dreams, or via my wandering soul.

The world was made perfect, balanced, serene, almost as a perfect picture yet we’re changing the view with our own blend of paint. We could renew, we could research, we could live and laugh a lot longer but that’s in the hands of wealthier people than you or I. This life isn't easy, the world isn't perfect and, when we realise, that’s all down to one single word: People.

I'm never going to remove myself from that group. Never. I'm to blame. Me. Not you. Me. I make all my own choices, the decisions that shape my world, so that’s why I try my utmost best to be nice to every single person I meet. It’s the little things that make the world a better place. It’s the small things that magnify into colossal misunderstandings.

As I sit here, typing away, doing my thing, I remind myself that I make mistakes. But, as I think of those mistakes, I’m reminded that my life can be removed from this world with ease. I'm thinking of all the lives, taken from this world, over the last few weeks, to which the media has adjusted and informed with its own image. It’s not just Paris, it’s everywhere, the absolute stupidity of humanity. It’s disgusting, revolting, pathetic and, above all, instigating hatred and evil within our lives.


In Ireland, this week, gay marriage is now legal. In the U.K. a woman was arrested for not allowing Muslims into her Salon. Madness. In one hand we’re informed that we have freedom of speech, yet are arrested when we do so, even if the message was right (or wrong), while a group of people can confirm if two people that love each other can marry.

This is not the world I want. This is not the world we need. We’re being controlled by media, we’re being guided by hate and, despite rational minds trying to state otherwise, the general public will believe ANYTHING that it’s told. Examples range from individuals thinking that they’re more advanced because they swear, to an old Wives tale that’s completely wrong, our lives are filled with miss-information.


I WANT a better world.

Friday, 13 November 2015

Mistakes

The door opens and I, with a heavy mind, raise my eyes while my head remains prostrated towards the ground. The rain pounds the surrounding area with unrelenting force, with guile, filling my ears making the words to follow all the harder to reach. I've been rehearsing this moment. I've been reflecting my thoughts into the universe, hoping, denying, relying on the unspoken to find its home but, as with many things, sometimes you just have to rise above it all, be brave, then do it yourself.


I start to speak the words that have been burning my soul.

There’s no excuses, there are no other people to blame, no other sources to direct the vast glares of the people involved. It’s just me, my blame, playing stupid games, trying to be a man while falling for the part of the boy. Please understand, please view me with more than a thought, as I'm new to all of this and, in all honesty, a small bit na├»ve. 




The rain ceases for a second as a brief spark rises within my heart. My eyes, you see, are not used to the sight of your beauty within this world. Yeah, I know, we've all heard the story before. Boy meets girl, girl meets boy, they chat, they laugh, they flirt and then… then… you know the rest. Words are shared, moments are spoken, you resolve your affections by creating connections and, then, you move forward.


That’s what’s supposed to happen, that’s what we believe, this is the natural order of things but, on occasions, we falter and we fail. It’s often difficult to do the right thing. Or so we say. It’s actually incredibly easy to do the right thing but, often, we simply don’t bother.  I want to do the right thing, I truly do, but I fight a battle within myself every single day. Do I let go of being a man, do I let go of being a boy, relinquishing the worldly binds that keep me grounded? Maybe I should just be me, the person that you know, with no pretence, no aspirations to be something that I'm not.

As children we look into the eyes of our parents with such love, such respect, as they’re holding our every design within the palms of their hands and, due to this, we’re eventually left to find our own place in the world. We’re set free or, on the other hand, let go and ignore what we’re offered. Either way we’re here and they’re there. We’re now the adults. There’s no instructions, no guiding hand, nothing more than two people fumbling around like two lovers in a car. We mess up, we don’t initially get things right but, after a short time, we’re running like a steam train at full power.


Anyway, now that I've blathered on for a while, now that I'm soaked to my skin, I basically came here to apologise. I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I'm not a boy any more and I should never be a boy until our children call for such things. I'm not going to say that I'm a man. No. I'm not. That honour arrives when I have responsibility within the world and looking after myself can never be called such a thing. I'm… me. I just hope that’s enough. I will be whatever you need me to be when the times comes.


I'm sorry that I said the wrong thing


I'm sorry that I didn't act when the play basically gave me the script.


I'm sorry that it takes me knocking at your door at this time of night, in the rain, just to say…





I love you.






Note:
(It's felt odd writing this as, while I'm thinking of what to write, I'm also wondering if it'll sound fine when recorded)

Friday, 6 November 2015

Just you... .


If you'd like to listen to this block then please feel free to click the following link:

The aura, this place, with only your face to compliment the view, is near perfection and the personification of the good things within this world. I know that this life isn't easy, it’s not simply a set of stepping stones, but we can build a path together, to make forever, the place that we envision it to be. Perfect, passionate, probably beyond our time and something that we can work towards.

I've only this life to give, only these words to write, without there being any fright, of fear and loss and those things that seem to fade away. I'm not a painted canvas, I'm not words on a page, I'm real, for you, here, there, everywhere within your mind and, above all, willing to whisper the words into your ear. I care, I love, I need and I must do the right thing. I'm not going to throw this away like it means nothing. This isn't last year’s phone, a tweet from yesterday, a thought from the vast expanse of social network… this is real. 


I can see a waterfall, a wealth of life, the grass of the green colour chart, the smiling lips of yours, the knowing glancing eyes and more. I take it all in within a second’s glance, a momentary viewing of how the script might just play out, the stage being set and ready to move. I'm human, I have wants, I have wishes, I have thoughts but above all, you’re all I need within this world.

Time starts to slow, the water still falls, but my vision excludes anything that isn't you. I'm going to draft forward a silhouette of angels, all wishing and ensuring that we’re bathed in the universal love of life. They’ll sing, they’ll drift in the air, making promises, making love and more.

Today, of all days, I know that you've cried. My soul, wandering as it does, heard your call. It read your lips as your panic exhaled itself from your body and mind. I know that this isn't about me, it’s not about them, but I cannot help but feel that pain, that exhaustion of your heart, the bitter truth that life isn't perfect. I heard you say my name, I heard you call, not via those tweets mentioned above, not by a post, a snap of chat or what app’s famous this week, but via a real connection. 

Within the flash of a falling star, the explosion of a sun, I was there with you sending what you needed. They might only be thoughts but we make those thoughts come alive, we make smiles real, while also making pain a truth. Now, right now, as this time slows, I'm holding that hand of yours, keeping your faith alive, the tears at bay and, above all, rescuing hope. 

The aura, this place, with only your heart to compliment the view, is perfection, joined to every other heart within this world. I know that we do not make life easy, as it can be a set of stepping stones, but we can truly find our path together, to make this moment something special, something worth holding onto. Perfection and possibilities, beyond our understanding, are what we have so let’s make this… 

...happen.

Friday, 16 October 2015

Goodbye.

She blinked, a few times, making it very obvious that she was holding back her emotions. He, however, let it go. All his life he’d been told that he was supposed to be a man, to stand tall, to be honest, reliable, to look for what’s right but this, this moment, it all seemed so very wrong. He could hear his Father’s words ringing in his ears but he denied the pressure, the scolding, so instead he let it go. A singular tear fell onto his cheek and rolled down his face. This, this thing that they had, was supposed to be forever.



As a child he knew that boys were different to girls. Of course, yes, there were the obvious physical differences, but he was talking about how they were meant to act. Girls would be girls and boys would be boys but one day, like today, they all had to mature into something new, something… else. He didn't want to be the bad boy, the boy that kissed the girls and made them cry, but like all his friends, he had, he had made a few cry, so maybe this was where the universe made everything level.

She was leaving. She was leaving tomorrow, on a plane, quite possibly never to return. All of the words, all of the emotions, the motions, the never ending kisses in the mind’s eye and the words spoken within the dark nights, would soon end. This moment, right here, now, was the final goodbye.

He knew that although he was saying goodbye, they’d see each other again, one day, in another way, once a new sun had set. This, however, did not bring comfort as time has seldom been kind to lovers lost. Time. If only he had more time. Another tear, another moment, another trace of life left to dust, this was something that he’d never thought he’d live through.

Your heart beats, it rests, it’s given to another and feels in your chest. He’d split his heart in two, many years previous, but this was a clean break as the other part was given into her hands. She held his heart, caressed it with kisses, with warmth, with the very thought of missing and holding him. The pieces she held, he could see them, with his own imagination, shattering into a thousand shards of sharp, cutting, perilous pain.

For a second he actually put aside his feelings, the tears ceased and, like a person that truly understood what love meant, he asked her if she would be okay.   It mattered not how he felt, when he considered the situation, as love commanded that he consider the other person’s health and fortitude above his own. This was love. This was what it truly meant. To love is to provide a haven, a safe place to rest, to heal, then when the time comes, to wish your love well and let them go… with love. Anything else is selfish, self-serving, a failing, a truly sad place to be.

She knew that she would be okay, she had the support, she had the wealth of life and family behind her. Both standing, both embracing for the final time, he kissed her as if he held the last ember of air remaining in the world, trying to keep her alive for a second more. Fruitless, painful, but the endings never were kind for any soul within this world.

He sat as the door closed. This moment, right here, would strengthen him, would enliven his soul, it would ensure that he withstood the world to follow. He would be brave, he would be strong, he would brush aside the selfish wanderings of the mind and wish only wealth into the world. For everything, absolutely everything, there is a time.  Today, that time, meant goodbye. Tomorrow, the tears would no longer appear and a new world remains.


He would relish the goodbye, he would feed upon the happiness and laugh with the smiles. Goodbye was, after all, a new beginning.



A true story from my youth. Through life, through pain, through realising that love is kind, even when it hurts, you can come to understanding and accept nearly ANY decision made by a person that you love.  In my case she was taken out of the country by her family. Tough times.

Thursday, 15 October 2015

Promises

Smiling, with hesitation, Gladys turned to the instructor and nodded a small nod that could have been missed by the people gathered around. Terrified, in one way, while absolutely invigorated with actual life she stepped forward. She’d not felt this way since, well, forever and a day. She looked up, at the wall, telling herself that the distance was not that far but far enough for her to think twice. She scolded herself, again, for the tenth time today. The ride over in the car, walking into the complex and, pretty much, the entire last few hours had been filled with doubt.

Closing her eyes, feeling her breath, she remembered his face, that sweet face that she’d never forget even if she’d not seen him for many a year. She still missed him, the one, that single man that turned her head and kept her heart jumping to the moon and back. She smiled, just a small little smile, opened her eyes and stepped forward while whispering to Simon, her instructor, that she was ready.




Looking across she could see family, friends, gathering people and the press. To think that her little stunt had gathered so much attention was an understatement but she didn't care about that as she’d made a promise. That promise, she reminded herself, had been outstanding for near 12 years.  She felt the harness tighten slightly as the slack vanished. “Take it slow and if you need to stop then just let me know!” said Simon with kindness in his voice.

Lifting her left leg, placing her foot onto a hold, she reached up and grasped the green aboriginal. How or why she knew the names of such things escaped her but, just maybe, she’d actually taken in a few words from the instructional videos detailing how to climb up an indoor wall. All those years ago she’d laughed at the thought of traversing such a thing but, on her wedding day, that day of days, she’d made that promise to love, to hold, to remain faithful and, funnily enough, just once, to make it to the top of a climbing wall.

Of all the people in the world, in any country of the land, she never thought that she’d meet someone like him. He was kind, confident, relaxed, understanding and, above all, nothing like the bun wearing hipsters that seemed to wear skinny jeans these days. She’d seen a few in the crowd behind her but, as the thoughts marched into her mind, she threw them away as she had a promise to complete. With one last look around her, she noticed her grandson, standing looking proud at his Grandmother. He waved his hand while still holding onto his Teenage Militant Ninja Dolphin, or whatever it was called, which made her resolve strengthen.

She grasped the hold tighter and lifted herself from the ground placing her weight onto her foot. Bringing herself vertically level to the wall she placed her other foot onto the hold and smiled. Cheers escaped from the people behind her. Lifting a leg, it quickly found the next hold and, looking up, she reached for the next aboriginal. Sure, of course they’d made it very easy for her but what did she expect from her 74-year-old body. She, herself, expected to make it to the top no matter what happened.

Fear crept into her resolve and she felt that rising danger and her mind asked her to stop. Her leg moved, with a slight shake, but it found the next hold. The promise surfaced within her mind, reminding her, pushing her, ensuring that she carried on. Her hand moved, her legs moved and within seconds she’d moved up a few more sections. After this she was definitely going to treat herself to a small steak, possibly with some wine. A little wry smile appeared at the thought of wine, “Yes, wine would be a good thing!” she told herself.

Looking up she could see four more aboriginal holds to go. Legs moved and then there were two remaining. Once near the top she only had to touch the remaining sloper and it would all be over. So far, with all the commotion, it had all seemed to be a bit tiring but it would be worth it. Her mind flashed various images and, as she reached the final aboriginal, she knew that all she had to do was reach for the sloper. Her mind started to escape into the past, to him, to her late husband that had made her the happiest she’d ever been. Reaching up, inches left, she muttered the words, “This is for you!” Touching the sloper she closed her eyes and felt his warm kiss across her lips as she repeated the words, “This is for you. I made you a promise and I keep my promises!  I miss you dearly and still love you”.


She looked behind her, nodded and felt the rope remove all slack and she let go of the wall. Gently descending the tears escaped along with a great big beaming smile. The gathered people cheered as her feet found solid ground and, at long last, she’d completed the vows she’d made all those years previous.

Monday, 21 September 2015

Foolish Game

At first glance, when I try to redeem myself, I know that it may look quite bad but I never intended it to happen this way. I know that I'm already in love, entrusted to another, but these things just happen out of the blue. A stray look here, a glance there, the imagination wonders and it starts from nothing.

I'm faithful, always have been, always will be, but that little spark remains. We met one day, while out on a walk, her flowing hair and frame running clearly into view. I wouldn't say that it was love, lust, or other at first sight but, as is usually the case, there was something about her that immediately fascinated me.

That momentary second where your mind plays that game with you, life flashes in front of your eyes and before you know it you've rushed past the wild exotic love making, to calmly walking along the beach together, waltzing after a ball or Frisbee. Heck, in all honesty, we’d share food, drink crazily together and basically let life flow past at the speed of a whistle.

Her scent, natural, curled my senses, her walk, even that little growl she gave when I pushed my luck just that little bit. The mannerisms, her playful nature, it all seemed to entice and intrude into my daily life.

But, as I said, I have a duty.  I find that I sometimes walk into the garden to look across the street, to see if she’d appear into view.  She didn't. She never did. Only when we walked. Anyway, I'm not too sure why I'm telling you this as you wouldn't be able to help. I'm a Great Dane, a great big Grey mammoth of an animal and she, the lady in question, is a Corgi of heritage.


:)

You never know… Dogs might have the same thoughts as us!

Tuesday, 1 September 2015

What Do I Want?

I've been set an impossible task, a high wall to climb, an imaginary task filled with wonder and delicious delight. Come closer, bring forward your ear, as we’re about to discuss what I really, really… really want. With music blaring in the background setting the mood of things to come, I feel my heart start to pound with the possibilities and pondering purpose.  Here we go and along I come with all desires laid to rest.

I’d like to arrive at Monte Carlo drinking a fine wine that I actually like, respect and savour. The Port De Monaco, being a favoured destination, would be one of splendour and excitement. Wearing a fine suit, I’d feel that bit distinctive than my normal life, leaving behind a moderate Sunseeker Manhattan 48 boat. I’d have no idea of where to venture but simply walking through the lavish location would be enough to bring forward a smile.

Maybe I’d step into a designer 911 GT3 RS, wrapping my hands around the leather steering wheel, as the 4 litre engine purrs into life with a small growl that awakens the surrounding eyes that are already looking. With a small blip, a little taste, it moves forward asking to be driven to an inch of its 193mph top speed. I'm not stupid, admittedly a little scared and aware, that I might not be able to tame such a beast but if life isn't for trying then why try at all. There’s no leash around this neck, I've been set free, to explore, to taste, so if that’s the case, pour it straight and never stop. Leave nothing for chance. The paddle flips and off we go.

The trees fly past at the speed of which I've never experienced, life filled countryside, brave, alive, still prospering in all of the worldly chaos.  As much as I like excitement I still want to know that the world is being taken care of. As the world slides I notice long legs sitting to my side. They seem to travel for miles until they’re met by that wine red Herve Leger dress. You know the one. All legs. All waist. The slight hint of cleavage and a tempting knowing smile. Yeah, this is boys stuff right here. We’re on our way to who knows where and she’s along for every second of the ride. That’s what I want. Bring the excitement.

That’s just a taste of what’s inside this mind of mine. There’s a world within my world, contained, constrained, bubbling just beneath the surface waiting to escape even if it’s for the smallest of moments. Make it happen. Bring things to life.

Now, as we draw to the end, I'm asked another question of what I ‘need’. What do I need? Water, food, warmth, shelter and of course, company. When things are put into perspective I'm glad, thoroughly glad, that I have what I need and that’s good enough for me.

The rest of the world can wait.

Monday, 24 August 2015

Home is My Heart

Home is My Heart

The key turns and I close my eyes, listening, taking in the fact that I’ll never, ever, open the door again to what once was and might have been. They say, they really do, that ‘home is where your heart is’ but, after my day of days, I’m thinking that my home, my real home, is the very heart that I take with me.

Like that essential item, that toothbrush, those favourite shoes, maybe even that lip balm, it has to be with you or you always feel like something’s missing. Maybe something will always be missing and that fact, that very little snippet of information, is why I keep moving. Moving forward, ever onwards, maybe even possibly a positive progression. Who knows? I don’t. I don’t know… I only feel as the last moments of a locking key escape into the world.

With a turning back, with a glance away from the door, feet move and the path ahead is walked upon. I’m not scared, I’m not escaping, I’m on another adventure and maybe, just maybe, I’ll find another key and explore another map.

My home is wherever I smile. If you smile back… I might even stay for a while. After all… Bricks and stone may break my soul but my body will always protect my heart.


Make my home your heart.

Flames

The mirror, the ever expressive point blank preview of your own reflection, the reverse of what you present to the world, the portal into your very own little play book and script. With closed eyes we exhale, together, looking into the same mirror, trying to form or to feel a connection that’s been eluding our emotions for many a night. We’re, literally, figuratively, setting ourselves in fire with the eyes that we see each and every single day.

Eyes open, wide, as wide as they can see, mimicking eyes caught in the headlights taking in the very few seconds before the inevitable may, or may not, play from the scrapbook of life. We wish for another page, another story, the play to never end while stumbling to write. You look at yourself, not that deeply, not with any hunger, but with self-doubt and murmurs of unknown words.

The world within the mirror seethes, looks back at you with disdain, with discomfort, while your soul screams from within, wishing, wanting and bleating to be heard. Your image looks at your skin, your lips, as the mirror burns with flames of agony. What’s right, what isn't wrong, all the thoughts that spew forward from lips that should never be yours.

For a second you look down, wishing that you, instead, were somewhere else even if it were walking on fire. Burn your feet, scold your legs, but don’t, whatever you do, tarnish your face. A quick glance, a momentary shy flicker, with flames burning from the mirror, you return to where you once were. You recall what it was like to be a child, free of the burdens of life, safe, protected. For many that wasn't the case but, still, as are we all, our mirror self was seldom the strongest thought within a mind.

You lift your head, a bit higher than usual, gaining strength, fighting the demons and burning words and even manage a wry smile. The flames subside, they falter and flail, then die like a star in the sky. Substance, inner-glow, you know that that is worth more than another’s false words or thoughts. We are all born equally, more or less, yet selfishly defined by our outer skin. Let it go… embrace, breath life, caress hearts and forgo the banishment of self-doubt. We’re all beautiful despite what we've been told, despite how we've been brainwashed, regardless of freckles, colours, blemishes or lines.

A new flame appears surrounding the mirror, a flame of strength, purpose, made from your own inner love. You smile, the biggest smile you may ever have smiled as you believe that you’re amazing, that you’re not defined by the way you look and, as you walk away, you leave behind your reflection with its own inner misery.

Wednesday, 29 July 2015

Emotional Freedom

There are moments, solitary small nuggets, recursive seconds of illiterate thoughts of how my life used to be. Solitary, confined, sometimes refined to certain subjects and words of denial. You see, please understand, try to comprehend, that I used to be an emotional being.

Some would say that it’s a gift, a special happening, a deal struck with angels, to be such a person but, to me, it was like being trapped within a prison of self-made hell. I'm not alone, despite what I used to think, considering how I felt, that I'm not actually the only person within this world that could possibly, ever, realise how I was feeling or thought. I could be sarcastic, even ridicule myself for the fashion with which I used to lead my daily life but, on second thoughts, with a few seconds of that thought, I’d rather show myself compassion and warmth.

You see, as an emotional being, you’re trapped within your own mind, with withering temporal thoughts, stuck in a recursive frame of mind. ‘I can’t’, ‘It won’t work’, ‘No-one understands’, ‘Why can’t…’ become the words you use every single solitary day. You reach but fail to grasp, you hide but scream for help, you breath but feel like you’re about to die and struggle to lift your head.

I can recall many times where I destroyed the very thing I reached for, longed for, reacted to and desired. You see, to me, maybe to you, holding someone within my very arms was supposed to cure my affliction, resolve my wretched mind, calm the heart that juggled my life and day. It didn't, it wouldn't and it never could.

Once more, again keep up, I realised that no solitary single figure within this world and the next, not one, could ever pacify my longing, my emotional graving, the desire and need. No amount of flesh or passion, no number of kisses or caresses, the whispers of another while darkness surrounded the both of us, could ever, never, hold the emotional mountain that existed inside.

So, after all of the blathering, when the words have been written, the expressions passed from I to you, what’s the answer? Well, in all honesty, we all have different answers but like so many moments in life… YOU and you alone hold the answer to your happiness. I realised that my heart could never be held by another. My warmth couldn't possibly be caressed from someone else, as it had to come from within my very own being. You and you only have the heart, the health, the energy and aura to calm your own heart.

I finally understood that sharing emotional turmoil with another, asking them to somehow help, was not the answer and eventually destroyed relationships. How can someone who’s free help with your own inner emotional stability? We repeat, repeat, repeat and repeat with the same results. Hold your own heart, calm your own voice and tell the voices to retreat. You can. You will. You must. Emotions do not control you as YOU control your emotions.

It might be easy to say, take a few moments to write, but emotional freedom is wondrous, a magical empathic journey where your mind and heart no longer torture your soul. The quiet within, the understanding for the world outside, is a gift that must be earned or at least understood.


Explore, digest, disregard, understand and enjoy emotion. Once you have your feelings under control the world becomes a better place and, under the right circumstances, you can let your emotions fly and everyone around you will smile.

Thursday, 9 April 2015

Special

It's the thing to do, it's the selection of words to speak, it's part of what we want and wish to say. While you're trying to figure that out maybe have a quick look here:

Saturday, 7 March 2015

Today...

Today, on this singular solitary motionless day, I died. I exhaled my last living loving breath.  You see, you've heard, you've even known, that today might be your last ever day on this wonderful world but do you, we, or I,  even consider that today might be the day?  Sure, of course, it’s obviously something that we seldom think about but, today, I had no choice.

On this last day I imagined all of the things that I’d wanted to do and, as I knew what was about to happen, I realised the wonders of the world. What if this were you, tomorrow, a day next week, what would you do and think before the event? Would you envision a wondrous rapture of woeful wishes?

Maybe you’d plan a trip to that special place that you've put off forever or, maybe, you’d speak the unspoken words that have rested within your tongue for an age. Would you run through fields like a crazy person, would you relax in a bubble bath of splendour and bliss or, even, be extra naughty and run wild throughout the day?

If I had a chance, if I’d have been given a choice, I’d have visited the last remaining countries in Europe. I’d have kissed everyone goodbye, in person, then smiled and laughed recalling the events of the long gone world. I might have borrowed a car for a quick test drive or laughed in the face of a politician.  I’d have written more, far more, expressed all that I needed to vanquish, required my mind to state, but that offering has now vanished like the air that we seldom see.

Don’t be afraid, release less than a tear, today is the day that I died and maybe I’ll live forever more. Think about it, realise the premise, understand what I'm trying to say and act. We believe ourselves to be immortal despite the evidence in our own skin. We understand the frailty of life yet fail, utterly fail, to what we wish to do. Are we afraid? Are we trapped? Maybe it’s a mixture of both. Money makes the world go round yet keeps us shackled to chains of life and little substance. How much is enough? What happiness shall it bring?

Today, this singular solitary motion filled day, I lived and did that extra little bit. Do more. Be more. Set your goal and go for it. Today might be your last day and after that… there’s nothing more to say.



In the last week 11,434 passed away in the U.K.  I know that it’s easy to say but we really do need to make our dreams come to life!



Footnote:
It’s been mentioned that I’m feeling depressed for writing these blog posts. Not at all. I’m actually quite happy but, like writing a sad song or expressing a thought, that moment or writing is that moment and not an expression of my actual, living, daily emotional and physical state.

Monday, 16 February 2015

Part of the Universe

Looking to the sky, the wilderness beyond our imagination, I envision a place of pure fantasy where we no longer fall down.  The holding of hands, the flowing clouds of wonder, it’s all there right above our minds. I could think all day, or while I sleep amongst those same said clouds, but when I’ve finished what I’m trying to say we’re but a speck of dust within the wonders of the universe.

Which way should I now look, left, maybe right, or back into the wonder of miracles? We think we’re special, we think that we’re above the imaginative creation of life but in all honesty we’re but specks of dust in the thoughts of our children. From another cloud I imagine that we’re all connected, together, in a puzzle of pure simplicity that may never be completed by human kind. Life can be simple, existence can be wondrous, yet each generation is committed to complete the same sins of their parents. Around and around, again and again, we all break then heal, we all make the same mistakes yet manage to smile and more.

What should I say, how can I remain standing, in the awe of what’s around each and every single one of us. We’re tainted by the lathering of monetary values, the need to have more and more while, at the same time, gasping to enjoy the simplest requirements that life can offer. We admire sunshine yet remain indoors. We flirt with destiny yet fear the first step. We hold our hands out to be loved yet push away the very people that could do just that. We’re waiting for perfection, the amazing painting that we’ve dreamed of since our first realisation of being together with another, while never realising that nothing, on this world, will ever be perfect.

Wait a moment, did I just write that, did I just mention that nothing on this world is perfect? I’m sorry, I apologise, I recant my expression, I erase the words with my lips and fall to one knee. The universe is perfect, this world is perfect, each kiss is perfect, each moment of holding a hand is above compare and, now that I think about it, each and every single one of us is a perfect painting of endless descriptive nature.

Looking back to the sky, the clear view within our eyes, I witness a mountain of amazing clarity. We are all connected, be it via blood,  moments, kisses or just that smile we’ve passed to another while walking through todays life. It is, unfortunately, a shame that we kill, we destroy, we damage and fail one another. We’re living in a perfect world, the endless universe of possibilities and, if we’d just spend a moment to turn off the devices that claim our lives, we’d realise that no matter what we think… we’re all, exactly, unusually, wondrously… the same. We’re human. We’re pure energy. We’re star elements. We’re amazing and, right now, alive.

Be magical. Be more.

Saturday, 14 February 2015

Valentine's Day

Closing the door, while looking across the hallway, he placed the bags full of gifts onto the chair with care. He, after all, didn’t want to smash a luxury bottle of Coche-Dury Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru all over the floor or, heaven forbid, crack a bottle of Hermes Perfume 24 Faubourg. He’d been extravagant, maybe even a little silly, but she was worth it.  To him, however, it was more than money. He appreciated her, loved her, wanted her and, above all, knew that they enjoyed each other.

His mind flicked through various thoughts, settling upon a number, realising that they’d been together for a year, maybe more, but during that time they’d managed to literally complement each other with ease. It was madness, nearly crazy, how they’d managed to find each other but the wait was worth it in the end.
Loosening his tie, from the corner of his eye, he noticed that the door across the room opened and, as he smiled, he knew she was there. Yeah, of course, he’d sent a text saying that he’d be home in 45 minutes but today was that day, the special day, where they were finally alone in a house with no interruptions or questions. Just the two of them. For hours. Finally.

As the Ermenegildo Zegna Venticinque silk tie slid away from the shirt he dropped it to the floor and raised his eyes to meet her view. His eyes settled onto her smile, her lips, onto those seductive eyes and, at that moment, he could feel his heart rate increase with each passing micro-second. She smiled, just a small smile, but that smile spoke volumes and expressed her intentions. Heck, even without the smile, he knew exactly what was on her mind especially seeing as she was wearing a Carine Gilson outfit. She’d shown him the outfit, in the retailers, a few weeks previous and, being him, he’d forgotten all about it until right now. In fact, as his eyes gazed upon the woman in front of him he’d never, ever, forget the outfit again.

Moving, slowly, towards her, he started to unbutton his shirt, one button at a time, ensuring that he could make this moment last as long as possible. After he reached the other end of the room he knew that it would all just be a blur of breathing, passion, a few loud words and a lot of lust. 
He’d spent the last few months trying to perfect his body, just for this night, as he’d spent quite a lot of time working and, as of last night at 18:00 hours, his project was over. His life could begin again, he’d reached his goals and right now he had perfection to achieve. The shirt slid from his frame and again, just like the tie, it fell to the floor. There were only a few more metres to go but he, again, intended to make them last. His slip on shoes quickly flew away, as did his socks. 

The belt moved through the holder and, pushing his thumbs into his trousers as to collect his HOM shorts, he stopped walking for the briefest moment as he pulled both of them down to the floor while keeping both eyes firmly looking at her. She smiled a little naughty smile as he stood straight again. He could feel her eyes start to look down and, of course, hopefully she’d appreciate all the hard work he’d put into getting to his current shape. He’d worked damn hard and, in a few moments, he was going to work even harder.

Finally, at last, she was there right in front of him. He stood so close as to take in her warmth, her aura. Leaning slightly forward he kissed her red lips and, as he moved to her neck, whispered, “I’ve missed you!” She replied that she’d also missed him with that voice of hers that got to him every single time. Looking back into her eyes he could feel himself getting hard and, although he loved her beyond compare, right now, he just wanted to show her how much he wanted her. “Happy Valentine’s day… I brought home a few presents!” She looked down and then, with her eyes, back into his, 
“I can see that“, she replied, “I’ve got something for you as well!”

Happy Valentine’s Day to the Lovers out there.

Monday, 2 February 2015

Once Upon a Time...

Once upon a time, a long time ago, there lived a heart that pounded with such force that whomever it met, wherever it lived, it would bring smiles and laughter. This heart, a heart amongst hearts, lived days of days, dreamed of magic during the night and awoke to see the world in such a passionate way. Some would say, others would whisper, many would fawn, but all would admire such beauty.

Once upon a time, not in that much of a distant past, the same heart grew from a mere child, a fledgling, a thought in training, to an experienced heart. It still went about its business with gusto, with pride, knowing that each day was but a gift from another power. Maybe, it dreamed, each day was created from a magnitude of hearts all wishing for something better than the day before.

Once upon a time, in years gone by, the heart started to feel, started to pine and wondered what else was out there. A heart beating, after all, required unity, a rhythm, a collaboration or majesty of ideals. With each passing day, the moving moments, the heart began to beat one less pulse each and every single day.

Once upon a time, a few years moved from memory, a heart met another heart and jumped for joy. Like an electric spark, a jolt of life, the heart beat faster than ever and truly found what it was like to fly. Although the heart knew that a world existed outside of its shell, its form, it could still feel the rhythm of its everlasting companion. They beat in unison, together, forever, maybe even longer and throughout each day and silent nights.

Once upon a time, within a day that should never be remembered, the heart awoke to find only its own tempo. It beat faster, then slower, then faster again. It panicked, bringing tears to the outside world, it tried to leap from its chest but found no solace or escape. Whimpering, screaming, begging for mercy or an end to it all, the beats faltered, the beats started to fail and only a whisper remained.

Once upon a time, after understanding and succour, with the resonance of others the heart started to find its cadence again. It wanted to skip, wanted to rise away from the depths of its feelings but the blood of old remained. Rising, slowly, away from it all the world started to become brighter. Once again did the beats recur.

Once upon a time, maybe even today, the heart remains strong and has understood the life that it has lived. It relishes the memories, beats for today and wonders about tomorrow. It has a strong beat, a confident beat, a resonance upon many and a pulse of magnificence.


…A happy ever after until that final day…