Thinking...

I've been thinking, only a little, maybe a lot, but those thoughts were all about… you. Okay, fine, my thoughts are my own, but at times I do like to share. Let me first apologise if my thoughts are unrequited. Let me state that I would never approach without poise, reflection, calm, with the respect intended and deserved. I'm, in a way, a thoughtful kind of person. Words do not fall without the meaning and meanderings behind them.

I've been thinking, a lot, but for only a little time, about you and how you are. Frankly, to be blunt, to maybe even be a little salacious, I find you so unbelievably attractive that I find that my mind wanders to you. I can be shopping, browsing the selections of produce, then I’ll arrive to your lips. It’s almost a certainty. Driving, walking, roaming the corridors, it all arrives back to you. I often admonish myself, annoyed at my actions and intended intentions.

I've been thinking, constantly, at times, of the things that we could do. I again apologise, taking a step back, suddenly realising that honesty is often not the best course of action in these cases. I know that we've flirted, I know that we've expressed the kind of looks that have tell tail intentions, but even though we can both see, maybe, we should stay blind. The fiery temptation of a quick stare, a mild raised grin, a glance into your eyes that scream intentional circumstances, it’s all there for the taking and delight. A person should never overstep their desires until the path is made clear. It’s obvious, safe, a way to remain poised.

I've been thinking, never endingly, at points, of where we will be in the future. Crazy dreams, momentary thoughts, flashes of satisfaction, indulgence, wanton wishes and flights of fancy. Clear shores of faraway adventures filled with wine, dine, holding hands and more. I’d, of course, prefer to remain grounded. It’s the type of person I am but, in all honesty, something about you makes something within me want to go crazy.

I've been thinking, all the time, for a few seconds, of why I feel this way. Something about you reaches over, finds a way, to connect to me. I'm not sure if it’s my soul, aura, mind body or other, but it’s there. Whenever you walk into the room, the walls brighten, the music stops, my heart races a little bit and my smile widens. I'm not crazy. Maybe a little. I've noticed that you’re smiling and, thankfully, maybe, you feel the same way too.

I've been thinking, right now, the next second, that we should just do it. Go crazy. Let’s get out of here, to somewhere else, who cares where as long as we’re there. Let’s hold hands, let’s skip, dance in public, take pictures in that photo booth, eat ice-cream, talk of tales gone by and maybe, just maybe, kiss a little. Throw caution to the wind, express delight, let feelings flow and embrace this moment.

I've been thinking… .

Lies

I've been told, informed, spoken to, of certain aspects spoken of, with regards to being whatever you want to be. You can be this, you can be that, but above all, you’re free to achieve whatever you like. Sure, of course, the ideals of many form the thoughts of more than a few but, when this is said and often done, the realisation of reality steps in.

You’re original, one of a kind, but stand over there in a line, the never ending standstill of life. Again, let’s repeat what’s been said. You can be, you might just be, whatever you would like to be. But, life, every breath, can seem like a fight. If you break, do you believe that your aid will find you in time? We’re restricted, confined, constrained, strangled and put into place.

Each day, via media, be it the internet, television, music, the newspaper or even friends, we’re informed on how to live our lives. It sounds silly, even a bit odd, but using a spoon instead of a fork can be looked upon with such odd scorn that it’s eye opening. Heaven forbid that we eat food that’s not meant to be eaten early in the morning. We’re constrained, our ideals formed, castrated from birth to conform. Stay in line, don’t dare to think thoughts that are against the established.

With one foot on the ground, resting on one knee, I'm pushing forward, to stand as the person that I want to be. I do not want to be told how to act, to be, thus I ignore the established regime. We’re so caught with distracting ideals that we’re missing what’s really happening. Each day we’re being lied to, from nearly every single angle of our lives.

The established, the existing, for me, just isn't working. We’re tainted from youth, taught the same ideals that instil illness from within. Colour lines, map lines, divisions, segregation, it’s all still here. We’re a global people, humanity made real, existing and all together but kept so far apart with ease.

We strive to be different, to be that special people or person that we've been told about from birth. We can achieve, we can be that star let alone fly high into the moonlight, we exist to become more.  It’s not real. We’re either all special, all worthwhile, all able to achieve, or we’re all no better than each other. We’re insects following the defined lines of a lie, constrained, or we’re truly individuals that can shine once the covers have been removed from our very own eyes.

I'm alive, intend to stay that way, in body, mind and soul. You can see the people, the suffering few, with their light dimmed from the corner of their eyes. It’s tragic, it’s truly sad, that so many may never experience the freedom of life. We live in bricked boxes and have iron bars around our own souls.

For each of us, every single individual, I wish for freedom, to truly escape the day to day, but it’s defined. Your child will form their own idealistic integrity, their own thoughts, yet the chances are that they’ll just become another clone. Do we want that? Do we not wish for more? We’ve probably, in this point in our lives, failed, yet each new generation learns racism, sexism, intolerance, illiteracy and blind beliefs. It still exists. It’s all still there and that, alone, baffles me more than many other aspects of life.

I've been told, informed, spoken to, of certain aspects spoken of, with regards to being whatever you want to be. You can be this, you can be that, but above all, you’re free to achieve whatever you like. Sure, of course, the ideals of many form the thoughts of more than a few but, when this is said and often done, the realisation of reality steps in. The reality is that we’re set to extend the sins of our past onto the platform that creates the future.

These thoughts are, above all, truly sad.

Freedom

There’s no use, no hope, no reason or rhyme for this to continue. You’ve failed, you’ve fallen, sprawled across the floor like some kind of pauper that’s flailing on the ground due to your own despair and misery. What words would you like me to spout on this day of days, for the moment to hopefully be gone as you blink blindingly towards my own eyes.

Caught, trapped, within the web of your own deceit, there is no solitude for how you’re feeling. Invite the entire history of the world into your view. Embrace the same mistakes that have been made over and over again, with destiny, sneering, pitifully laughing at your ineptitude of certainty. Many told you so, many said that it would be, stated, scribed, screamed it from the roof tops and descended to you the very tall tales but, of course, you wouldn’t listen.

With one hand, you reach and, then, with the other, you push yourself forward trying to escape the very pit to which you’ve descended. Dark, dank, withering to nothing, the excuses and lies catch you faster than the truth may hide the very details you fought to obscure. A scolded tongue spits fevered truths, poison, depraving murmurs, whispers made to the very night that dreams were made of.

Turning, closing my eyes to the decrepit, I hear your nails, scratching, clawing, desperately trying to worm your way forward. I do not turn back. There are no more moments, seconds, even thoughts of what was, would have been, could have been or is. Accept your fate, wear the weighted bonds, despise the very view that can only be seen within a mirror. You are you, you will always be you, despite the affirmations of becoming more, the seldom changing landscape of your soul, filled with self-made promises, which will never change with the whim of words.

Further, away from you, I walk. The withered whining starts, caressing my cheek, taunting my ears, kissing seductively, craving, needing my return. I know that this is where I’m seduced by fluttering eyelids, brazen smiles, knowing charm and more. The darkness calls. It knows exactly which strings to stroke, which embers to sooth, the words required to flail a heart.

I smile, just a little, enough to know, that each step is a new life. The darkness feeds, it waits for you, needs you, but a brave heart can walk forward, away, being brave, knowing and trusting that there is truly a better path. I know that I can stand on my own. Each step. Further away.

Freedom.

Porsche Boxster S 718 Invitation

The invitation arrived, with the usual flare of a company that crosses every T and procures each dot in the right place, so whom was I in the great scheme of things to decline. Although I’ve owned three Porsche cars, the 911, along with two Boxter models, I secured my parking space away from the main building as to not draw attention to my meagre Toyota MR2. Image, after all, is supposedly important in the superficial age that we now find ourselves.

Greeted at the door, feeling like royalty but, all the while, actually not feeling special as I’m, after all, just myself and I know where I’ve come from. I also know where I’m going but that’s another conversation.  The ambiance, fitting for said importance, presented itself with clean, clear, and obvious abundance. Money speaks volumes and, despite the lady who nearly fell from the white Boxster as she arrived, that money could never buy everlasting health, but, it could buy what we were sure to view.

The main speaker started but, ashamedly, I was stuck around the corner due to the nearly packed presentation space so failed to view the prestigiously presented video playing across a 100+ inch projector screen. The moment arrived, it appeared in front of our eyes and, obviously, it was a view to behold. Mid-engineered glory, two seater, 2.5l turbo Boxster shining in sumptuous Orange.

I won’t bore you with statistics, charts, technical words but, instead, I’ll simply state that it was a worthwhile adventure towards a car that I will, one day, hopefully own.

Thank you Porsche.

http://www.porsche.com/uk/models/718/718-boxster/

Normal Blog service will resume next week.

Conscience - Part 1

The trees moved, across from his view, all the way over from where he was standing. Shielded, safe, behind the double glazed windows, he placed his hands onto the surface in front of him and gasped with trembling breath. It was his fault, he knew it, he even felt the truth, but that realisation didn’t bring forward solace or calm. Closing his eyes, for a few seconds as he searched for a way forward, he lowered his head to look at the paving stones outside. This was his mess, his situation, his problem to solve.

Throughout his life he’d managed to escape most of the daily consequences, of a soul that wished not to add weight to his life, but that was before this very day and moment. Wishful thinking, the very thought that he could deny his remorse, that he’d escape the conscience that seemingly wanted to constantly knock at the door of his mind. Battled, ailing thoughts, the door had to open at some point and he knew it. Turning, while sitting against the window ledge, he brushed his hand across his face in an effort to remove the negative energy that was pouring from him. He didn't really believe in that stuff, not at heart, yet it had stuck with him as he’d had doubts about it all.

He smirked and laughed, possibly at himself, possibly at the situation, but the laughter brought him no escape. His mind flashed to the night before, the situation that he’d willingly let himself get into, or, should he say, the situation that he’d wanted to get himself into. Entangled, enticed, hardly, as he was his own man. He knew what he was doing, there was no escape and, being blatantly obvious he had no excuses. Like a kid in a candy store he dove straight in and fed until he nearly burst.

She’d arrive, soon, with the same smile that she’d always greeted him with. At the thought of seeing her, guilt flooded and glanced within him. A hundred thoughts all crashed together in his mind, flashes to the night before, the thought of seeing her cry tears. He’d always hated it when she cried. She’s start, trying to hold back, face obviously betraying her resolve, only to let forward genuine tears of hurt and seductive pain. He’d always stopped those tears, held her close, kissed her lips, brushed away the tears and the world would carry on. But this, this very thing that he’d done, was inexcusable.

Walking across to the other side of the room, he bounced ideas around in his mind. He could lie, he could simply erase the moments from his mind, he could be brave, he could face it like the man that he was supposed to be, or, he could just do nothing. The ever present battle of a mind split into two. Picking up the picture of the two of them together, he smiled, for the smallest of moments. At this point he dare not smile at the thought of them together. He knew that he didn't have the right to do so. No, never, not now. The fire between them, within his stomach, was fading, flickering, troubled beyond anything they’d faced together before. Together, the very word, suddenly filled him with fear. He didn't want them to end, he didn't want to be alone, but that was the issue. The selfish world of affection, love and feelings. Were they together through the fear of being alone, or did he really, really, have something.

Placing the picture, encased in its silver casing, back onto the desk he turned and headed back towards the window around the two large sofas. Confused, knowing what he really should do, denying that very singular thought, he approached the window to see a car, her car, slowly come to a stop and, after a few seconds, the door opened and at that moment, right at that second, he knew that he’d have to face it all.

To be continued…

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.

Click To Listen

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.

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.