Blank

The rest of the story, the history of ages and the wealth of events before this very moment, were all distant spoken words and actions. None of that mattered and, often, never did after the present events unfolded into waking seconds. He was ready, willing, the exploratory method and possible madness of his motivations moving him ever forward. He had waited patiently and now, finally, he would have what he’d wanted for the longest of smiles.

Casually, effortlessly, he placed himself between the legs and lowered his head. His lips, wanting, waiting, eager to please, prepared themselves for what was ahead.  Such a task, an ever-willing patience to please, his lips parted, as his hands found what they needed to find. He tasted the distance between them, the void soon to become nothing more than space.

His tongue moved and, as he gently flicked, the picture of his imagination became real. The start of something new, the bridging of two people, forming another connection amongst the many already formed. He flicked again, his strokes becoming more than before. He knew that he had to be patient. All good things, as they said, would come to those that knew what they were doing. Practised, established, the confidence sounding from within the calm.

He moved his head, ever so slightly, to the side. His eyes, looking up and over to see her staring into his. She was that heavenly creature. The imperfect perfection, that he’d wanted for the longest of imaginary moments. Her breasts, taunting him, the curves yet to be scribed upon his page of creation. His mind screamed for him to complete the task at hand, but the ever-present notion of patience once again, reminded him to find his calm.

He knew, more than most, that there was an ideal image for everyone. That person, the heart that caressed and cajoled. She was here, in front of him, still, expectant, and more than willing. He could see her smile grow as he moved. Up, down, the variation forming. His heart, finding calm, as he placed his every thought into making the moment happen. He gripped the left leg and squeezed ever softly, as a reminder, to ground himself upon the revelation of events.

There were gifts within the world, moments that were more than the mortal passing of a fleeting affection. There was love, that created life within the strife of a person’s daily thoughts. She’d fuelled his desire to be more than he could ever be. The pride, the respect, the sheer vibration from her obvious smile, filling him with such strength that he, for once, knew exactly what he was meant to be. What he was made for. The holding of a hand should never, ever, be taken as a light transitory gift. It was special, glowing, magical and not just meant for Kings and Queens.

He moved again, keeping the rhythm, the steady pace as his lips again passed his intentions onto her canvas of purity. She wanted to move, to thrash around, to lose herself, but he had given her the strict instructions of obedience, when he was undertaking such a task. She, gladly and thankfully, agreed to abide by his seductive instructions.

As the seconds moved, they could both feel the conclusion approaching. His heart beat faster as, finally, he finished his masterpiece. He leant back, letting go of the leg, more than happy at the spectacles in front of his moving eyes. His heart slowed, as his emotions flowed within him. He nodded, allowing her to move from the setting. She approached, cautious, excited, the mystery soon to unfold. With her hands pressed together, in front of her mouth, she looked around the easel and, as her hands dropped, her shock and impressed emotions poured forward.

He had, after all of the years waiting, finally painted a picture of perfection upon a blank page.

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Love

There is a love so gentle, so precious, that the arms that hold us are but the same essence and texture of a rose petal. The binds, the ones that are bold, caress and cajole your heart towards a measured meeting of affection. I say not the words that you need to hear as, instead, my warmth will meet all needs. All requirements. All of the tender kisses.

Love.

You see, of course, that many of us either have a dream filled view of love, or are ever so slightly tainted by the experiences that we have been taught. The happy moments of mesmerising bliss, the stroking of our emotions by another while, at the same time, returning affection whilst common sense escaped.

Love is cruel, poetically twisted, by more than one person within this world. When it’s good, when it’s appreciated and reciprocated, it can be so very uplifting. That bonding, the energy, the smiles and holding hands filling our lives with that needed security. We’re stained by the other person, their hands and kisses changing our very skin as well as thoughts.

Then, from nowhere, love turns into something else. Something almost evil. That twisted thing where your mind rips you apart and you go through the ever so obvious emotions. Love is a gift that you give to another person and, if you take the very nature of love, you would be happy for another when they wished to leave. Yeah, I know, madness. Society still has, possibly, the hardest lesson of all to learn. Love is love. It’s supposed to be pure, giving, endless and not even remotely selfish.

We can take something so beautiful, so amazing, to then turn it into words of hurt and pain. Human beings are selfish. We know this. We need, we want, we never wish to be left but that is the way of the world. If you love someone, truly, deep down, with every single part of your heart, soul and mind, you would not ask questions, scream, pull the heavens down from the very sky above as you, instead, would simply accept. Cry, find your tears, but that’s for your private time and moments.

Some of us can be with one person for all our lives, but the likelihood of that happening in our throwaway society… is slim. We grow as people, as individuals and couples. We, eventually, find new interests and drift. It is natural. Hold. Support. Be all you can be and then, when the decision is made, respect that decision. We are all individuals and if we are mentally stable, we can endure the passing of a love. Most of us have done this. Most have lived through the pain.

However, instead of being calm, we spit venom, demeaning the other person to a state of near hatred. How dare someone love a person and then leave. How dare the truth suddenly change into a lie. We twist, manipulate, shout and scream and inform others. This is not love. It will never, ever, be love.

Love is not hatred due to loss. Love is not sending message after message without realising the mental damage they inflict (Which I myself have done… but will never do again). Love is not supposed to be selfish. Love is… not love unless you make it just that. Unfortunately, many of us have been tortured by love’s rose filled idiocy of magical dreams and fairy tales. The movies sell you a dream, as we never truly learn how to live with the lie.

Love is holding the hand of someone special. Love is being free. Love is embracing the world for what it is. Love is understanding another person’s point of view. Love is holding your pillow, as you scream into the night, while also wishing the best for another. Love is understanding that those messages, above, are simply pain and not to be taken as anything else. Love is crying your eyes out and not being mean. Love is… love.

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Written 03.06.2020

One

If there was one place upon this very world, that you could go to right now, where would it be?

Maybe you’d travel to an island covered in volcanic sands, the warmth upon your feet instilling the very calm presence that you need right now, as well as those tropically frilly presented drinks you like. Upon the island you’d meet a friend, that would teach you renewed adventures, and to smile that little bit more than you’re used to.

Maybe you’d visit that last remaining place within your dreams, the far away destination that has haunted your thoughts, and described your desires for the longest of times. Upon a marbled path, towards a mountain destination, you’d find your faith in humanity and scribe your very first and, possibly, last poem.

Maybe you’d fall away from society to become something that you’d always wanted to become. That saviour, the hero, the miracle masterpiece of magnificent majesty. The king or Queen upon the very cards to be presented within the gamble of life and luxury.

Maybe you’d gather the option of the streamlined adventure. The hilltop paradise, the crazy coloured sports machines, that thrust your thirst for adventure into the fast lane. The fancy clothes, that would never oppose your ideals of a perfect destination for your soul.

Maybe you’d spend a day with that loved one that had their time taken from them far, far too early. You’d embrace that person, you’d cry, you’d explain and exclaim all of the words and emotive gestures hidden deep within. You could then transcend the then, to the perfect, present of now.

Maybe you’d escape to a cave of angels, the time of such fantasy events that may, or may not, have ever existed. The transcendent epiphany, of knowing the very secrets of the world and race of humanity. Your eyes would widen, and your soul would find the enlightened choir of life itself.

Maybe you’d simply rest upon the biggest boat within existence itself. You could fish for your true meaning, embracing the silence, as your mind filled the sky with the wonders of every single word you’ve ever wished to scream at the top of your wishes.

Maybe we’d find each other and spend the week laughing about the how’s, the whys, the won’t and will of our existence. We could hold hands, then exclaim the madness of society and wonder of being blind drunk whilst naked and running through a field of corn.

Maybe you would close your eyes, to imagine your very heart resting upon your soft, working, weary fingers. You would listen, and it would whisper a story of how the world was transitory and that you should be as free as you can possibly be.

If there was one place within this very world of ours, that you could go to right now, where would it be? Or, honestly, would you simply, easily, just stay right where you are. After all, where you are is made from all of the places, faces, embraces and disgraces that you’ve been, seen, or been a part of. One life, one moment, one smile and more than one chance to visit wherever you choose.

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Meaning

Frank sipped the fine blend of gin from the glass, enjoying the silence and warmth of the real fire across from him. Calm, reflective, not holding onto any thoughts that might disturb that preciously focussed time of his evening. Normally, he’d have been out in the garden, the taxi driver for his family, or even putting together something or other. Tonight, however, was rest night.

He watched the flames move, whispering in and out of existence, as he felt a disturbance next to his calm. That disturbance, of course, would have small feet, little hands and a tiny, cute, pink nose and go by the usual name of trouble.

“Hello trouble, aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” said Frank, turning his head slightly to see her small little face. She smiled the cutest smile imaginable which, understandably, usually meant that she got whatever she wanted.

“What is the meaning of love?” she asked, her face filled with inquisitive wishes of understanding and wonder. He could see the innocence still held within each corner of her heart, mind and eyes. Frank chuckled to himself. One of his other tasks was being an oracle, the constant source of answers for the never ceasing question of, ‘why?’.

Frank smiled, as she hopped onto the seat next to him, resting her head against his arm. He knew that such a question or, should he say, answer, would stay with her for a long time. He himself had experienced every notion of the word, the highs, the lows, the pain and more importantly, the loss.

“That’s quite a good question and it’s not that easy to answer!  Love is,” Frank paused a little, wishing to truly give the subject matter the thought that it deserved, “Everything. It’s the way you smile, it can be within every spoken word, every action and how you feel about every single person!”

Olivia’s nose crunched up slightly, as she replied, “Even Amelia who’s always mean to me?”

“Yes,” replied Frank, “Even Amelia. If you can understand why Amelia is mean, then through that understanding, you can appreciate and ignore her words. Understanding is also love.”

“But Grandpapa, what ‘is’ love?”

“Well, love is supposed to be how you feel about someone. You appreciate them, care for that person and, as I said, listen and understand them. How do you feel when you hold your Mummy’s hand?”

Olivia sprung up from his arm, looking straight into Frank’s eyes, “I feel happy. Safe!”

“Then that is also love!”

“I know that I love Mummy, but should I really love everyone?”

Frank chuckled again, “You don’t ‘have’ to love everyone, but it is a better way of living. Love is caring, even when it would be easier not to do so.”

“Is love always warm and will it always make me happy?”

Frank suddenly wished to be elsewhere, as he replied to the difficult question, “I hope it does Olivia, I truly hope that it does. Although, people will try to take your love from you, to make you see the wide world in a different way, but no matter what happens to you, you can still hold love within your brave heart and manage to smile!”

Olivia shrugged her shoulders, more or less moving away from the question.

“Can I have some ice-cream? Please.”

“It’s a little late for that, but because I love you and you said please, why not!  I might even have some myself!”

They both moved from the sofa, as Olivia raised her arms. Frank scooped her up, her cute, silly face, making faces,

“I love you grandpa!”

“I love you too Olivia and I always will!”

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Drift

The Drift, drifting, or drifters as we were all eventually known, started in the early 2040s. Society was bored, lethargic, depressed, and repressed by the constant bombardment of the woke agenda and mainstream media, only having the interests of the highest paying conglomerate. From nowhere, this seemingly new technology appeared that changed life as we knew it.

You would call it teleporting, but it was not like that. We’d figure out a way to accelerate, to mass displace every single atom within your body, from one place, to the other within moments. Four hundred miles would take a person 14.7 seconds. Point to point. Place to place. It was eye opening, body moving and emotionally exciting. Within weeks, the entire planet felt the excitement.

You stepped into a cubicle, which would eventually become placement sections upon the ground and, a few seconds later, you’d appear from a central location at the other end. Nodes, as they were called, were created within every single major city across the country. The world. As time moved forward, sNodes appeared at the end of nearly every single street, all pointing towards the Node of your choice. Want to be in Paris within 30 seconds? It was possible. The pure freedom was simply enlightening.

The young, old, medium and far more could be achieved within the acceleration of an eye. World commerce and communication improved. Families spread far and wide, with the knowledge that home was but a moment away.

Then, the greed settled into the equation. Technology wasn’t cheap and it never would be. At first, they started with the monthly sum, then the drift charge, with over four billion active Drifters, being charged every single drift. The profit was astronomical. As time moved forward, the greed and disparity increased. The sNodes were upgraded to stagger use. Wait times increased and, of course, the more you subbed, the quicker you’d arrive. Foreign travel was, once more, seemingly restricted with higher charges.

New opportunities arose from within the greed laden initiatives. Vitamin boosters applied to your body as you drifted, appeared at additional cost. You could have entire television shows added to your cerebral cortex, as well as having the fat removed from whatever, or wherever you desired. The à la carte nature of menu selections increased, as did the incredible wealth of anyone involved.

Then, the real issues appeared. The options to change the rna and dna of a drifter become the golden option of the rich and famous. Ever so slightly faster, stronger, defined and more than refined mental processing. The divide between the people increased ever so slightly. The general public watched as they became second class citizens within the space of eight years. The bus to the private jet. The have to the have not.

Eventually, through mass media manipulation, inoculations were accepted and administered to every Drifter that used the service. The risk of an epidemic, caused by world travel, threatened at every opportunity. A few resisted, creating their own sectional sNodes that bypassed the standard infrastructure, but even then, dna checkers were initiated within the nodes. It became law, a crime, to resist the initiated control. We resisted further, by taping dna packs from adjusted animal slithers to our bodies. We succeeded, for a while, until additional controls appeared. There was no way to escape the greed implemented by the few in control of the many. It was inevitable.

As the years moved forward, mutations started to appear within the next generation. Not from Drifting, but from the re-sampled, reconfigured genetics. We wanted to improve the human race, to remove the cancers of life, yet we forgot that even the smallest change would bring repercussions. It was denied, pushed aside, as thousands died. It was hidden, masked, removed from sight as the mass media received their brown envelopes of devotion and compliance.

The few that resisted, were found and forced to reproduce. The human race seemingly pushed to reset with standard genetics and characteristics. It was all ignored. Drifting improved the entire planet, but greed and human nature, once again, ensured that we drifted in more ways than one.

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