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Monday, December 7, 2009

Substitute the middle word...

The word dwells within my heart. It cries out for mercy, to be freed, to be heard. It beats with life, with passion, with joy. And it sings out to me, open mind, open heart. The taste of the word on my lips run deep in my veins. It flows through me like a dream, so heavenly. The thought of it alone, pulls my heart dearly. It wants to be recognised, registered, revived. It wants to flow from my lips to yours, running freely, gently through your body. It wants to feel from my finger tips drawing on your hand and into your heart. It wants to see from my eyes, every smile that you have and the way your eyes smile back. It wants to hear from my ears, how your heart sings when it's next to mine. It wants to share itself with you, to hold you, to cherish you.

The word continues to grow within my heart, only wanting to be spoken of, only to be heard. The discipline I have, to tame my mouth and lips from speaking wildly drives me crazy everyday. And the opportunity always comes when the heart desires. It twists and turns it's way out of my heart, trying to slip pass my lips into opened ears. It runs wild in my mind, over and over again. My mind disciplines my heart and lips, to wait, to be patience.

When the time is right...

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Euphoria...

I sit here, pondering, wandering, floundering. What is this feeling that resides inside my heart. It beats with a smile, with passion, with love. It's so surreal, this feeling runs through my body, reaching out to my finger tips. I can't but help but chase it, and when I believe I've caught it, it lingers in the air, still alluring and seductive. Dreamy. The feeling brushes up against me, caressing me, tempting me. I allow it to overwhelm me, my mind body and soul. Euphoric. Absolutely euphoric. To be blessed and filled with bliss is indescribable, one has to experience to understand, to see, to appreciate.

My heart and it's insatiable hunger for love eats at me, driving me crazy day by day, minute by minute, second by second. The feeling slips away from my hands, my body, my lips. Pulling away from me, and my heart pulls towards it. I crave for the feeling to return, to tempt me. I wait in thought, I wait in time. Reminiscent the times, the feeling against my heart, the feeling through my hands, the feeling left on my lips. I wish to embrace it once more, and this time I will not let it slip away, it will be held, loved, and cherished. Always.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Wants...

What does everybody want?

A 'want' is something a person wants to obtain to satisfy their mind and body. Something that allows them to smile, laugh, love, live. It adds joy on top of all the troubles we hold inside. A 'want' can carry all the troubles away, as well as bring the troubles back. It is sometimes small. It is sometimes large. But no matter what it is, your heart chases that feeling until it gets what it wants. It is sometimes easy to obtain. It is sometimes hard to obtain. But regardless the difficulty of reach, we continue to chase with our hearts. We wander and wander, floundering around living life. Normal, content, calm. But there will be a moment where find something we... 'fancy'. It liberates you, adrenalin rushing through your blood; energised and attentive. You take every opportunity to get closer to achieve what you want. All the effort to get one step closer. The drive keeps you up at night, seeking to feel that satisfaction, a satisfaction you must have.

It can drive you insane.

Sometimes the 'want' is in front of you, so close. You can feel, smell, breathe, see your want, but sadly it is out of reach. If your actions are ambitious, you can drive the 'want' further away. If your actions are mellow, you can lose the 'want' by letting it get away. But once you have it, in your grasp, you cherish every second you have. You let yourself be intoxicated by what it stands for, and allow it to make you smile, make you laugh, and take your worries away. But what goes up, must come down. When there's a gain, there is a lost. But in this instance, once you have something, all it means now is that you've got something to lose.

Concise, but not all true.

You can't dwell on the fact that all is lost. It's the memories that linger in your mind that makes it all the worth while having that 'want' in the first place...

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Frosty Costy...

The sky was black with cold air; creeping down my lungs as I approached the door. The gravel startled under my feet, like creatures alive, disturbed and annoyed. The strap of the bag I carried dug into my fingers and slowly turning and burning, while the bottles clinked with every step. The house was rumbling and mumbling with life, rustling inside behind the walls. I was greeted with the frail brown door, barely making it's way opened; open arms slid past me and a warm face against mine. Vivid words flowed out of the lips of the host, comforting, relaxing, securing. Arms slid away and the room opened up to me. People; sitting, drinking, talking what people do. Socialise. The light was soft, a warming glow over the furniture as it sat. The open air, filled with mixed aromas, soft smells of perfumes, sharp smells of cologne, sweet smells of sweets. The atmosphere was slow, calm with a twist of tension. Unfamiliar faces glanced over at me. Inspecting me. The host turned, poised, content. Her hand reached, and rested around my wrist, and lead me through a quick introduction to a flurry of faces and trudged along to the stone floored kitchen. My fingers reached and filled the gap of the fridge edge, I pulled, a jerk rocked and the door greased opened. Tray upon tray, the colours varied, bright reds, vivid greens, jet black, opaque orange. A self chuckled, only to realise that what I brought was a drop in the ocean. The fridge door clapped. The face of the clocked played games with me, as it ticked two seconds forward, it would tick one second back. The heart of the party wasn't exactly the youths, but the poison that would slowly reach into the blood stream and flow warm and freely through the veins of it's hosts. The poison was somewhat a need, a need to be consumed fluently to express how they feel. It tore down walls of fear, insecurity and age. Tequila; alluring yellow of poison, cold to the lips, hot to the core. The sinking burn radiates through the arms right down to the fingers and crawling to the ends of every hair follicle. The feeling strange, almost like an iron pressing out the creases of your body. It exhausts the body of stress and worries, only to let through the raw form of your personality. Your body fueled with love, with care, with all intentions to discover. You walk where you want to walk, you sit where you want to sit, you lay down where ever you want to lay. The world becomes yours, and you forget all that happens. The poison is not a poison without any drawbacks. It lingers in the blood and draws your body heavy, motionless and all that can be done is to give in, and let it consume you, engulf you into a senseless world where sound fades, drowned and ceased. The time burns, people slowly consumed, and overwhelmed. The body begins to reject the poison, reality hits hard, stumbling steps, opened hands spread from wall to wall, knees buckle. You're kneeling before a porcelain white bowl, your body automates. Your throat contracts, belly throws itself out, the taste unforgettable. The smell lingers in the air, but senses are numb, eyes droop. Concentration becomes non-existant and the floor, cold, wet, rough, becomes ubelievably comfortable.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Mellow Banana Yellow...

The 'second' hand ticks time away, ever so slowly. Anticipating what the day would turn out to be like; slow, mellow, hectic. Dressed up and ready, the air thick then thin with the sharp smell of 'Cool Water'. Time moves quickly, and so does my body. Shifty my way through the door way, and yelling out my pardons. The door clicked behind me and I continued through the heat. Punctuality was the only thought running through my mind, even though the burning sun blared down my neck, I continued to walk without complaining about the heat. Silence at the bench I sat, with my train coming in 17 minutes. The heat continued to burn it's way through my shirt and through my skin. 17 minutes did not feel like 17 minutes. Music flowing through copper wires, slithering it's way through rubber tubes, and amplifying it's self in frequencies the ear can hear. The music soothed my body and kept it calm, while the sun continued to do what it started. The train arrives, clawing it's way onto the platform. The door sounded off, and I hid in the train avoiding the suns' rays. My eyes closed, my body gently rocking and swaying with the train as it twisted and turned on the iron tracks. The rhythm so relaxing, so hypnotic almost dream like. A stuttering halt, and rudely awaken by the screeching of the train. Automated, I moved through the door, and back onto the burning heat. My walk was 15 minutes to the meeting point. 15 minutes of sun. 15 minutes of heat. 15 minutes of perspiring. Every step felt heavy, but light in a strange way. Almost to the point of enjoying the sun's company with the surrounding crowd of people. People thickened as I got closer to the festival. The smell of charcoal smoke and festive music blaring became louder with every step. The heat lifted off my shoulders, and a smile grew to my face, and I knew, that I would enjoy this day.