Tag Archives: Reality

Dreamer’s Struggle—Reality or Fear?

4 Nov

My blood is pumping, my ears cannot distinguish between the sounds of screams, moans and yells, the mob is too much. Clusters of people are gathering around squishing, pushing, no hesitation, only panic.

I wake up. Dead air, silence, nothing.

I can go back in time,

I can rehearse the chaos,

Feel the hands, and fingers of hundreds poking at me,

grabbing,

what is this nightmare?
Is it a reality? A memory from before this life?

How can a dream feel so vivid, so real….so much like the crystallized snapshot,

only memories are capable of producing?

I close my eyes, the bed says sleep child, sleep.

Yet the child shivers,

And though my body is no longer small and weak,

Though my hands have grown,

And my knowledge of this world deepended,

The helplessness is still there,

The unknowing, that fear that is easy to push down,

Comes back up sometimes…

I tell myself it is not real…I am in control.

Sometimes though, when I have fought too much,

When my armor is off,

It is hard, it is a choice.

Let the fear consume me, I could just stay in my shell forever.

Or crush my teeth together, scream at this nameless evil,

And reach a state of happiness,

Hard to grasp,

But once I’m there—

The struggle makes sense,

The worth of happiness is stronger than the price of remaining nothing.

Ever Wish

20 Oct

All these charismatic people,

standing around me,

Speaking only when value comes to mind,

Their smiles are gold,

It makes even the most desolate, glimmer in hope.

Oh, they play the game well,

yet–

they are all mad.

 

INSANE—yet it would be criminal–

to sound out this truth,

I will cling to their personas

and wish they were my own.

How natural their gestures

and questions

their rhythmic dancing and composed faces,

ah if only I could be like these beautiful creatures

each reflecting the delicacy of life.

 

All around me, I watch,

as they laugh at those who could never be lunatics like them,

silence grip me—

Because they’ll show their humanity

give a hand where it needed

and a lack of control on my part seeps out

 

—-for how can one be so cruel and at the next moment,

the philanthropist?

 

These things I will never put a name on,

never know what defines them,

will their karmic damage ever manifest?

 

All these charismatic people,

are the characters that color my life

and I’ll love them forever,

even if I cannot understand every action,

I’ll still wish I could be them…..

But at least I get to watch.

Inside Paramnesia

9 Oct

I forget that I am human,

I forget that perfection is a disease.

That it can take us towards a level of inaccuracy about ourselves

That starves the soul

Of the water, it needs to grow.

 

It is easy to dwell on the things we do not have

It is easy to wish for the body of the gods

The lips of Aphrodite

The eyes of muses,

But do not get lost in these physical constraints

The world is constantly changing

One day this is good

And that is bad

And back again

So why waste the mental space with

The nonsensical?

Maybe we are trained to want the things we can’t have

Trained to constantly be unhappy

Buy this lipstick and you will cause envy

Spray this fragrance and you will be irresistible.

 

All these physical things

Are much more products of insanity.

Because, it’s not the product that makes you iressistable, beautiful, charismatic,

It is you, who encompasses all the

Attributes of the great.

 

So take a step back

Ask yourself does this matter?

It’s easy to get lost,

Its easy to think the ridiculous is what you want,

That’s why we must question our selves

Question where the motive comes from.

Because in the end, we are all human

All given the same gift,

Of a life no other being encompasses,

Cherish that which matters

That, which counts,

Forget the nonsense,

Forget the noise

Remember the music—

The beat called life.

Seeds of Illness

12 Sep

To say I am angry, is not enough.

Anger makes me an irrational animal,

I’ll bite you,

I’ll growl,

I’ll make you bleed!

 

The result, is worse for me than you.

 

I’ll look, at what I did and said—

and think, that wasn’t worth it.

Praying, wishing that it could be erased

just the event, let time create another memory for me,

one in which guilt won’t follow.

 

 

 

I question my anger. I question the source.

I ask what is your purpose?

I’ll find it has no aim

no goal.

 

It’s a temporary sickness.

The minds disease when unsure how to cope,

but most of all,

when there is not an inch of understanding,

 

How can we start thinking of solutions?

 

Maybe it’s about caring

about giving a shit

about putting it all together

and asking yourself

before anything else transpires

what does this mean to me?

What is going to happen, if I pull that trigger to my insanity?

Whats gonna be the result?

 

 

It’s no good.

It’s no solution,

it’s no answer.

 

Question your anger

question what it means,

and most of all–you must remember,

that anger starts as a seed…

 

Pluck it OUT of your mind,

throw it to the wind.

because anger is NOT REAL.

And it only becomes so–when you let it enter reality,

don’t let your anger become a physical manifestation,

mark it as useless.

 

 

Become the strong spirit you are.

Find it within yourself

that strength,

can come when

the illness of the mind

no longer exists.

Sweetest Taste

2 Sep

Have you ever tasted success?

Felt it on the tip of your tongue,

swirled in your mouth,

every taste bud jumping,

and then the great swallow,

of that wonderful wine, that beautiful dip,

down your throat into your body.

Success, feeds your organs,

gives them new energy,

a vibration clinging to the mind,

the accomplishment,

the goal is never too far

if one has the desire to taste the greatest wine of them all.

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.