Archive | August, 2012

The State of In between

31 Aug

I was in that place, where only a few go.

Listen to the breath

feel it come in

hold it

the energy of life.

 

Who needs anything more,

for a while I had a problem,

focusing my attention.

And then I decided,

took a chance,

let me try it once

a few times.

 

And it took just that to get to that place

where time slows

literally ceases,

in such a way

that we become one.

 

mystical, no, just human.

 

Return to yourself,

you own yourself

you own this experience,

a spiritual being,

a being of the universe that is expressing itself

in one of the most beautiful forms this world has

the experience of humanity.

 

Once you get there,

you’ll have new eyes,

from which you’ll see the significance

of every object, every life form, and especially,

your own.

 

 

A Short Story, Also Many Thanks

30 Aug

First Before you read what I have written, I wanted to say thankyou for everyone who has read my posts, thankyou for commenting

than you for liking, I am so grateful and I feel so blessed, that I was able to have such, kind, creative, outstanding people who would read my blog. We come from different places, grew up in cultures which shaped the people we are today. And we have come together to create these amazing inventions called blogs, and I just sincerely want to say with all my heart, thankyou for taking your time to read, really thankyou so so very much, each and every one of you has given me inspiration and hope to go on.

So today I attempted the short story. I will tell you the truth, that I have tried many times, to write books, just as practice, just to see, if I can really express the emotion, the reality of being human in each of my characters. Anyway this is a short story, one that came to me in a dream.

I will warn you, that it does end quite abruptly, but I was just hoping,

if you wish to tell me what you think.

Is it okay? What can I improve on?

Honestly, it’s not about money, it’s not about fame, it’s about being able to connect with others, to give them a few moments of happiness or curiosity and I hope one day my stories, my books can inspire people, make em happy give em courage, as all my favorite books have given me.

Okay so here it is, and again THANKYOU for reading 🙂

———————————————————————————————————————————————

 

Tuesday shouldn’t be so exciting. Should be a day of work, and a cup of Joe.

They had other plans, my friends, those rascals I loved.

Lunch break, now it is time to go get a sandwich, maybe a Panini if I am feeling exotic.

Brown haired, and grey-eyed Tommy, intentionally, bumped into my arm so hard, they keys for the car fell to the ground.

“Damn it Tom!” and his stupid grin, it came across his face, faster than you can say J-a-c-k-r-a-b-b-i-t!

“Aw shucks, Mr.Bigbuissness, you turning on me.” Of course, he had used the same line since we were in grade school,

He picked it up on some TV show about cops and robbers. I never did like the thrill that he did. Then again, I was the one in the suit

And he was the one with a white T-shirt strung over his head, his chest bear and clear for all the world to see, cargo pants, and man boots on.

“Why are you here?” he bent down touched the side mirror of my crappy red car, licked his teeth, rearranged the shirt so it resembled more of a turban.

“If your on break lets go see Rilly-B” that wasn’t his name, but Tommy made up all our names. Nicknames he called them.

At twenty-seven, I know better, he was renaming us to make us… his.

I did not want to be late to work. In that office. Cramped.

Then again, it had been awhile since I saw Rilly.

“Get in the car.” Again, the goof smile, like he’d known, appearing unexpectedly, would make me do anything for him.

“When are you going to stop dressing like a moron?” I asked when he shut the door.

“Never-ever-I’m Peter-fucking-Pan!” he laughed at himself, isn’t that what all fools do, well only charismatic people get away with that. Or Crazies.

What was I thinking; traffic, at this time, noon, in this city. Awful idea, abysmal.

I started turning on Wingam Street ” Where are you going, hospitals the other way.” he exclaimed.

I slammed the brakes; thank god, no one was behind us.

“Hospital! Did you trick me, you idiot I don’t have enough money to get you into the hospital, ask your brother!” I yelled. Should have known,

Should have known he was doing this all for himself why else, would he come see me?

But this time, I was wrong.

“You’re an asshole. Rilly, is the one in the hospital.” His eyes, those grey eyes, with strange flicks of gold, burned a little brighter, maybe it was the sunlight. Or some weird disease.

Or maybe it was his anger.

My astonishment must have shown.

“St.Peters, its half-a…”

“I know where it is Tommy.”

Silence.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Rilly, had been a fat kid, in our youth. Tommy and I were always the first to defend him, and the last to pick fun.

Now, he lay in a hospital bed, skinny as can be. Damn. How many years had gone by?

His face was sunken in, bruises up and down his neck. An oxygen mask strapped to his face, the white robe and blankets cover him.

Tommy had put his shirt back on. Maybe it was out of respect, or cuz he was cold. I didn’t know anymore.

Visit Rilly. What a shit. Rilly was unconscious, hadn’t been awake in over a month.

“What happened?”

Tommy was sitting on a plastic white chair, his elbows on the bed, face in his hands. He looked like a kid. A kid at church, with his elbows on the railing, praying.

Finally, he looked up, but as the words were about to spill out, someone else filled me in.

“I’ll tell you what happened.” She had become beautiful, Sally that was. Rilly’s sister. Long curls not quite blonde or brown, but somewhere in the middle,

Sally was a nurse, here at the hospital. I remembered now, she had a divorce. I also remembered how good she looked in a bathing suit, in her prom dress,

and how much better she looked without them on.

Tommy gave her a nasty look. Don’t know if he was still mad she never gave in, or if now it was a bigger problem.

“Sally…I didn’t know.” I was saying.

“How could you? You forgot about all of us a long time ago.”

I wanted to say, I hadn’t forgotten, how could I? I just wanted, desperately,

To have something for myself, to know I could be my own person.

Heh, which was working out perfect.

“Listen up Nurse. I brought him. I’ll tell him.” Tommy said. Crouched like he was, Tommy seemed to be, protecting his friend.

From what?

She just laughed, waved her hand, as if to say, go on, you sack of shit.

“Your not gonna be happy, it started….well you know when it started.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked him.

If only Rilly was awake, he’d make a joke, break the ice. Because the three of us were, just…

too serious. Then again, this was not an occasion for laughter.

“Come on man, the summer before you left, ten years ago. The summer we found that shit, at my uncle’s place.”

His eyes were revolving now; those gold flecks seemed to be coming out of his eyes, shooting stars at me.

“I’ll tell you what I think.” Sally said her voice raising pitch, I wondered if there was anyone in the next bed.

“Oh shit.”

“Let her talk Tommy!” Half stammering, I must have sounded like an idiot.

“You two were idiots, snooping around, looking for trouble, like two seven year olds. Well guess what the boogey monsters real,

And this is what happens when you mess with it.”

I didn’t want to stare at her. The meaning was penetrating my memories. Of nights,

Filled with adventure, blood, and even worse…the things of taboo.

I needed a distraction, I couldn’t be here. I was not ready for where this conversation was heading. Anyway I wanted to come here alone, now that I knew. I felt awful. But I could not be here, between Tommy and Sally, I thought I might explode.

I looked down at the fake gold watch my mom had gotten me years ago. Good time to exit.

“I’ll be back later. I’m gonna be late for work.”

“Don’t you dare leave; this is your fault too!” Sally screamed. She was getting closer to me; I put my hands up and walked out.

Her face so outraged,

Her lips thinning,

That face, which was once so relaxed, so supple, and excited… was now, etched with concern, worry, anger most of all.

I’d been away from my friends to long.

——————————————————————————————————–

The Stolen Relic

29 Aug

Summer trickled down my ears,

and slid off my nose. The castle, which was once grand,

now stood in shambles,

an ancient relic, of a world placed in a war of religion and country.

A boy, who spoke fluently in a color of  five languages, was showing us around, for a little price

he did this, he said, for the family. Made some money

by showing tourists, his old stomping grounds of his childhood.

I wondered if his parents were angered that the ruins

would now become an exhibition to all in the world

wondering men and women

curious about the way things were.

But really, we were all here because of curiosity

there was a sort of magic up on that mountain,

the labyrinth of white stone and collapsed grayed walls around us.

I imagined what it must have been like hundreds of years before we stepped here

maybe a barbarian king sat at the slab of what resembled a table,

and all his warriors around him

The great height of beauty in which we stood could never be penetrated,

But after centuries, anything is possible.

I wandered away from the group,

I wanted my own secrets to bring back.

Decay, lizards and birds, insects prowling, overgrown tree’s and bushes,

If I had lived all those years ago, and known this would happen to my home

why I would be–a dismal being.

In a week, I’d be on a plane, thousands of miles away

an ocean between the ruins and I.

So I took something, stole it, I suppose but no one owned this place any longer

so why not take something back as to not forget it.

A heart shaped rock—carved by nature herself,

I held it, close to me, felt its energy in its ancient language.

The hum of animal and wind was all around,

and this would be the relic that I brought back,

to remember that this world is not as it seems.

That night, as the others drank I slept with the rock in my hand.

Dreams of sea, blood, battle, screams, cry’s, laughter, the aroma of herbs

touched me awake. Heart pounding, hand gripped in a fist, I let go of the rock,

–and it was the last time, it ever gave me another vision of the past.

For I think it sensed fear in me,

because the past, is wonderful, it’s beautiful, but I cannot understand it,

It felt as if I was there, as if I lived not in the modern era

but the time where men ran amuck  in this world,

no figmented laws to protect them.

For awhile, I forgot the dream,

Kept the rock hidden.

—————————————————–

I found the rock wrapped in cloth, with all my other trinkets

I touched it, and felt no energy, just a smooth surface.

It had been years since the rock was home,

and I wondered if I should bring it back?

Maybe it’s homesick?

maybe it’s lost its energy…

or maybe I simply lost mine.

Disgust Me

27 Aug

It was a Sunday afternoon,

when I saw the child beaten

Five years old

and I saw it.

They were outside,

throwing small rocks at the street

and one of them

mistakenly,

threw a rock at a moving car.

A small sleek car, too perfect for the neighborhood.

The rock hit the windshield,

I heard the crack, heard the car screech at a stop

my heart stopped, I let go of the Barbie,

my parents were upstairs I was in the front yard

I should have ran up…but shock kept me seated on the warm grass

A tall man slammed his door shut,

got out so quickly

the huddle of children were dispersing,

he grabbed one of the children by the neck

like a small puppy

the child in his little red t-shit struggled in the air

screamed, I let out a little yelp in response

but was too far, the man didn’t even notice me.

He threw the kid to the ground.

” You fucking shithead” I didn’t know what those words meant

but I remember the ferocity in which the man spoke them.

I ran towards the gates which encompassed the property,

I grabbed the wired holes with my little hands,

as he kicked the child, only seven maybe,

I cried out, “NO NO NO”

The man continued to hit him

screaming at the kid,

Where were the parents, why were kids only out here, why!

A bigger child, a plum little guy, with curly auburn hair and tan skin

ran out with a bat, he reached the man’s knees

and hit him,

the man grabbed the bat threw it to the ground.

I was running out now,

I don’t know what got a hold of me

I grabbed my grandfathers cane

both the kids were on the ground screaming

this all happened in a matter of minutes yet it felt like hours.

A little girl running with a cane,

I came at the man

and I yelled not in english,

He turned at me, I remember the barbarity of his eyes

those eyes were blue, and in another circumstance I would have called them

calm like a sea breeze

But they were full of anger,

he had the bat up,

he looked at me and stopped

a little girl in a pink dress,

with a cane,

astonishment crinkled on his face,

the bat dropped from his hands

clattered on the cement.

He stared at me,

I just looked up

” Shesto?” why? I asked

” I..” was all I remember

and then my mother ran out

screaming at the man,

other parents were coming out now

The man was still staring at me,

the cane still in my hand as my mother held on to me.

He ran back to his car, and sped off.

The police were called,

the kids went to the hospital,

I don’t know if that man was ever caught.

That night my mother held me,

crying,

thanking god her child hadn’t been hurt,

I remember telling her mama, mama its okay

I remember her singing in an ancient language, rocking me to sleep,

the children’s faces,

the man’s muscled arm, his leg ready for a swift kick.

Was it because I was a girl?

Is that why he stopped?

Years went by, we moved to a bigger house

my parents earned a great living

in a suburban town

with good to do people

where such things don’t happen, in the open.

But every once in a while,

I’ll see those eyes on another man or woman,

not the color, that doesn’t matter, the hate,

on a good to do person,

and that’s when I realize,

some people have a monster inside them

much worse than mine.

And they can hide it with facial expressions

and rich clothing

and a career to back it up,

but I know, that all these things

these accessories that we hide ourselves in, to pretend we aren’t human

can’t hide the fact that we are human.

Nearly twenty years have gone by,

and it’s crystal clear,

hardened in me,

forever I will hold the lesson,

and I hope you do to

that some people can quickly…

turn into monsters, and so can we

so can I, any of us can

that’s why we have to remember that there is such a thing

as right and wrong.

I’m still a little girl,

that brown cane in my hand,

that outrage in me.

How dare anyone do this,

I didn’t know the kids,

don’t know them now,

but violence is violence

and I wish everyday

that our world could forget it.

The struggle of revulsion,

The pain of that reality,

I’ll never understand.

Tiny Tale

26 Aug

Edges of dark tree’s and wood curved my vision. I rammed the car to push further, down the twirling road. Every now and then the night would hide parts of the road, and I’d think, oh dear that’s a hole ready to swallow me up.

No matter, hole or not. I was on a mission. Let the tree’s fall, hide the stars and lady moon, make invisible the path. I don’t care, even a ravenous coyote could come, and I’d kill it first.

Summer nights like these are not to be trusted. The wind turns ugly, beckoning the chill to come back.

Inside the car I wrapped my hands tightly against the leather wheel. Smell of menthol and fresh packaged mint creeping in the  atmosphere.

No music today. Only silence, for that is in itself where concentration lies.

The man I was searching for, the one I would find he sent me a message.

One I could not ignore, and although it was veiled to protect him, the words unsaid were obvious. Where others have failed, you will prevail.

To persist, agonizing as it was, I had to. No one else could, not in this.

I drove, deeper into wilderness, deeper into the arcane. Closer and closer I came.

No more tree’s no path. Only an open space, a field of grass, looking so black, one might have thought the sea was approaching.

Hands shaking, sweat, dripping down the body. I got out of the car. Out into the wild. And there it ended, and began…my pursuit, into the unreality.

Water to the Soul

24 Aug

I have not felt this free in weeks

It has taken me that long

To realize that I cannot let go of this one thing

To write is to think

I have been thirsty for days

Dying

Inside my body, I only feel the ache of a weakness

And I tried

Told my self I was not good enough to do this

Told my self I had no voice

And then in the midst of thirst

Insanity set in

And through it came my need

I broke down

The pen and paper came to me as if by magic

And in that way I could not stop

Hours went by

When I finally looked at a clock

My heart stopped

This is beauty

This is life

The ability of curiosity

Which some of us shut out–

Make it a thing unknown except in child hood memories but I have decided memory

Is no longer sufficient

I have decided that it is time

To brake the rules

Make a few mistakes and maybe through them something good will come

They tell me this is no way to live a life

They say that this is a long road of sorrow

But how am I suppose to cope

With out the pen

All these thoughts they jumble in my head

They squeeze together

Until I can’t live in there any longer

Finally the breath comes

The sip of water I had been restraining against

And I am completely again

I am human

Ugly and beautiful

Animal and spirit

And all of this makes me

Half lunatic

And half something else

Something I cannot define

Not yet not now.

Don’t ever hold it back

even if it seems like crap

Do not hold back

Wake Up

7 Aug

Life has meaning when you put meaning into it,

I’ve been in a rut for the past week.

Depressed, thinking stupid things,

wasting my time so I don’t have to deal with reality.

But this morning, my brain woke me up by way of a message :

That it’s a choice I am making

it’s a choice to sit around

it’s a choice to do something

and its a choice to start being happy,

to start remembering that everything in this world….

is connected

that everything in this world has a meaning.

I was so angry because

I couldn’t think up any stories

think up a beautiful tale to tell

and that’s silly

life has so many stories

I guess it’s about learning

it’s about just trying

I’ve been too embarrassed to tell the real stories

the stories about my life

but each chapter of my life is a book.

Each place I’ve moved to

the parties I’ve been to

the things I have seen

they are all stories

and its about paying attention to the world around you.

But why I am so focused on thinking up ways to write?

When I should just write

like right now I feel so good.

It’s like finally, finally I can write and all these emotions

all these realizations

they feel real

I feel real

I feel significant

worth it.

Sometimes when I get depressed,

I’ll start thinking that success is crazy

that how could I be successful?

But that’s so stupid!

I decided today

that I am no longer going to think that success is beyond my reach.

In fact I believe it is around the corner

but its time,

being an overactive human like myself

makes me want things fast

achieve fast

get it as soon as possible!

and when it doesn’t come fast

I get frustrated

I become a zombie.

That’s no way to live,

that’s not a mentality that I want to stay in

I want to be calm

I want to accept the world around me

I want to breathe in its beauty

I am curious about everything

I want to know why the world is the way it is

And I believe, that it is through my own fiction

that I can learn, understand and most of all appreciate my life.

You see I have a theory

that when one sits down to write

they should just do that

just go through the motions

just do it,

don’t think, that what your writing is stupid

because that’s completely cutting off your value as a person.

And that’s not fair to ourselves,

Right now I feel super inspired

I can feel like this any day any time

by just remembering that even the motion of writing

even trying is significant

I am significant

This world we live in today

this era

its full of so many distractions

so many things that keep taking away

our significance.

Because by saying ah I don’t feel like studying

I don’t feel like writing

I don’t feel like working

let me watch some tv or go on the computer and play games or watch a show,

by doing that, we are essentially giving away what makes us

unique

and instead filling our minds with a pollution

that does not allow any time to think

for ourselves.

However, we can escape this bombardment of messages—

by self-control,

remembering what it is we want

remembering that every single person, every life

your life, is more important

than wasting time

and once your dreams come true,

that’s when life gives us even more

opportunities, hopes,

and most of all we appreciate.

That’s the point, isn’t it–

to take pleasure

in the work we do

in the lives we live

by remembering

we are here

we are alive

we are connected

and most of all:

we are significant