As my Angels as my guideI know I'll make it home aliveseeing you cryhide awayfrom the painand the miserylonging to helpnow, no longer ashamedliving yet another daymy heart bled a thousand roses that...
... lingered for eternity in your lifenow I'm entrapped and chantingwanting and yearningno way outcontradictionfatal afflictionattraction disasteryour eyes they sheen under tears drying under your desert iristhose chains burned to ashI scattered them with the brashof my soulmy day is now longerforever you are in frontmy chains are gonefear meltedlove succeededmy memories evadedperceptionbut the chains have gone, you are freeno longer bound by the chains of fearor swimming in desolationseeking the lightpower of the nightyou're the only one who can make it rightbe at restbe at peace.
Welcome to a very sudden and exhilarating post! For me at least. I’ve been slacking on editing Beach Town: Survivors and should have edited it last month in full. But no, still cracking on. Anyway I usually have more than 1 work in progress so I started writing another story. I tend to create a cover early now, as opposed to before when I paid for it.* I am enjoying writing this thrilling and somewhat terrifying tale, a novella. Apparently if I get scared writing it that means it is scary. I doubt it, it’s just a sub genre of horror that scares the hair off my back!
*I think I will design my own covers from now on and stick to eBooks. Sure, physical copies have there place but at the end of the day if I am not going to sell many it defeats the point in having it available in print. Not to mention huge savings and the ability to be a bit more free and creative with your cover.
So I hinted at a cover reveal the other day. Maybe I’m being stupid showing you all this cover, or perhaps too rushed. What it reflects is intended to be left up to you as the reader to figure out. You might see divide, you might unification or you might see absolutely nothing. Good, because I enjoyed putting it together.👇
It is a dark tale (literally, dark for the most part) and has vampis (vampires). I am not writing those soft, loveable or humorous kind… I am talking about real, frightening vampires which is exactly what they are and have always been. We’re talking stranded people being attacked viscously by these creatures.
Short quiz question: Do you know what ‘dead reckoning’ means? You might be able to figure out something about the story if you know.
Thanks for reading and please like, comment, reblog and share if you liked this post. *All comments, any, are appreciated and respected provided they don’t insult or degrade people.
If you could read something that told you about the ride that is the teen years, would you? What about the existential crisis that is the 20s? Beyond that there is nothing more than mundane truth.
‘The joys of being a father.’
‘You’re a father?’
‘No, but I observed a father.’
Unspoken challenges of the old gentry, abusive of the creators power. Existence and living are not to be more than observation. If we ever found the truth of being young, it would be after our retirement, or in the words of the young, our expiration date. It feels like a sell by date was always the way to go, to keep people fresh in packets like the dry broccoli leaves that you peeled away from the stem.
‘I’ll never make the final run, I’m too old.’ Say it again and say it with justice in your heart.
‘To not make the final run, is to be the final run.’ Or so it seemed, like the plastic that had faded on small car toys tossed into large dirty crators in the ground, or the sesame pool of the lagoons filled with bottles and disposable knives and forks. If you had enough of them, could you faction of look of contempt?
‘Say you did not want to know the truth?’
‘You are the one to ask the question, and that means something.’
If the truth of the young is to be free and to be liberal in speech and mind than to be happy and content with the present and to be together, or to ride the long seas of rapid change through hurricanes and birdstrikes, shall we suddenly wither to the floor and then roll around in petty arrogance?
‘Two many, or thrice the lady came to suns glorious rays.’
‘Passion does not exist beyond desire.’
Say they, the ones with the gorgeously glamorated fiction spectacle. An organic being with robotic features. The mouth that moves in time to the sound of the radio, or the hand that types in time with the clicking of the clock. It will not stop until they become engrained like rice in the supermarkets on the shelves, unable to move without being chosen.
A selective breed of a particularly selfish generation who choose self-imposed rights and choices over the emotions and feelings of others. Traded the empathy and compassion for immediate relief and instant fulfilment. Long gone it seems it the genuine traits of the heart to seek to be together, to enjoy the company of a family, like the talking siblings who might be of different gender, of the same group. A gathering with sacred and immortal bindings to reality, a connection shared which has been replaced by material items, greed, lust, gluttony and the most irremovable of all, the undying loneliness of the world. Do people not want to gather together for meaningful and happy events without alcohol or other substances? Or do they stick it out because they have to appear good or compliant or risk looking like they don’t care. Surely the man who stays alone for the night than spend the night with bickering individuals is more in line with the values of self respect and honesty than one who parades the mask all evening at his souls expense? What of the woman who cannot face her husband for fear of lack of love, or the mother who will not comfort her children for fear of lack of reciprocation?
‘Do you want to live a free life or to be enslaved to the idea of truth?’
‘Truth does not mean lying to oneself, or to others.’
Certainly a lie can spread far and wide and deceive en-mass. And the outcome should not be compliance like uneducated humans in a field grazing on grass and corn. Education is the pillar of a developed society, yet it is a system that has become only one focused on a limited number of possibilities.
‘What are those limited possibilities?’
‘Well, they are simply these.’
That education is a tool to allow the economy to function without children to get in the way of working parents;
that the poor standard of education is deliberate so as to not provoke any possibility of independent thinking of free thought;
if they don’t tell us anything that is true, we will grow up to become just like them, ignorant and self-imposed;
it is better to allow people to think they are smart, than to actually teach them anything worthwhile.
So the list could be extended, but the topic of education is divisive. It is ancient, since the times of the Egyptians, education has helped people to become better at understanding the world around them, from medicine to mathematics to astronomy, art, science and beyond. Philosophical topics arousing from the law for example, built off of principles of morality, good, and the concept of God and the natural law as a state that humans too should be aware and educated on. A mere distraction or a deeper, more worthwhile and actionable protest than studying the hidden mysterious of the Aztecs.
It is here, in this world of consumerism and selfish desire, and students and young people laced with the poison of intelligence that dwindle the fire of compassionate yearning. In a time of darkness, or enlightenment, a man formed to flesh and blood, came to sacrifice himself.
‘He did not have selfish desire, rather, unconditional love.’
A love that was boundless and capable of transcending time. Millions of people have learned of the son of God, yet very few understand the message of his sacrifice. Our we bound to be stuck on our own crosses, or can we too gather the love within our hearts to dismiss perceptions of age, colour and gender, and come together to forget what we think we know and join together as one?
Does the effort to assist a lady to cross the road, require more effort than a degree in a university? What about the young man, newly employed who seeks to arrive early everyday in the hope he will impress his boss? So that he can go out at the weekend, but is too busy to talk to a friend to sort something out for ten minutes? Acts that only serve the ego and the self, do not develop the self or the soul, and instead accumulate to a machine, programmed to work and to sleep and to consume.
‘Consuming and working sound fine, just pay me.’
‘Money is not a resolution for young or old.’
It is not the answer to even a million problems and neither is mindless talk and propaganda of helping others. It is not buildings stocked with refugee donations, unmoved and untouched. It is not a charity donation box on the checkout counter that stands full for a day before being put in the till. It is not the man who stand in line for a sandwich, just so he can avoid going to the canteen at work.
Or the family who’s parents are not happy to see their children wearing cheap clothes or buying normal or cheap food, for they need expensive, organic and gourmet products and anything less is poor.
The disillusioned are trapped in hell, money cannot possibly equate to wealth or to love. It can be the devil, and have a mere fleeting and familiar and even similar effect, but is quite different. It is the young generation who feel the need for money the most, yet they do everything in their conscious capacity to avoid the truth, which is not to seek money. Being happy doesn’t mean a better food quality, or bigger living accomodation, or more material belongings, or more clothes or better hair or a fitter body, it is something that lives in all of you, right now. The problem is people are so caught up looking elsewhere, that they forget to stop, and to look around, and to smell the flowers and look at the sun and the clouds.
They forget to feel the rain on their faces and begin to live in a sort of disconnected reality. A reality where they cannot be happy, because the truth is they haven’t even started to look for it, they have been distracting themselves this whole time. If they took a moment to observe the birds and to feel the soft grass beneath their fingers, they might suddenly wake up and understand just what happiness is.
Love is the way of the braveand fear and hate is the way of the damnedso take some time to reflectinto the pool of your souland treat it with respectan unwritten commandthe hidden commandmentfulfillment.
I have been unwell this past week. Today I took the chance at approximately 7pm to go have a foot massage, simply because a) I wanted to show myself some love and care and b) I saw the Thai massage parlour before and it is next to that Indian restaurant I reviewed back in January.
My first impression was that this is a nice and lovely place. It has a good atmosphere. I was not expecting the foot massage to be so intense, it also involved working the lower legs. Most certainly feel better and the cramps in the legs have gone. I said to them I would go back next Friday for the Aroma Therapy massage. The kind lady then said I get £10 off . Absolutely amazing and I genuinely mean that since they say that they have not been busy today because people have less money.
What is this post about? it is about self love and care, something I do practice, but I never thought having a massage would count but obviously it does because I feel better. I actually had some human physical contact, the exact thing the human race has been told to avoid for 2 years. Come on, stop avoiding handshakes (I can however on the basis that barristers don’t shake hands, but that is a post for another day). Hug one another, kiss each other, do anything you want so long as you make contact. At this point, the lack of social interaction or physical contact is still present in society, some kind of love is desperately needed. Please, listen to this call and act.
I am excited that next week I’ll be going back for the Aroma Therapy since it is a whole body one, but I do not feel comfortable being naked, so hopefully not.
On my knees
Praying to God
Praying so near
All I can feel, fear
Scared lost art
Lingering lust on my tongue
Cardboard cutout-heart...
... waiting for you
becoming once again
shot up the mountain
begin
pounding
draining
fear...
...
beside me
aside from me
all that I see.