Flame Inside

What started as a spark, tiny
and insignificant
Grew
It grew into a wee flame
a flame that kept my heart warm
kept me alive
But if you feed the fire
it will grow still
More and more it grows
and the flame is no more
A raging inferno
consuming everything it touches
until there is nothing left
of me
A pile of ashes is all
you've left inside of me
and I grow cold
am no more
flame died
so did I


(05-06-2016)

Older, am I?

Am I growing older
when I can feel the days
growing longer as well
and there's no excitement left
Oh, I feel time
shaping me, beating me down
Is this what it's like
growing old and tired
urging time to move faster
I desire
propelling me forward
to that one thing
I haven't tried
yet


(05-06-2016)

that which dulls

I use it
I need it
I want it
that which dulls
the pain of life
the horror of morning
the fright of night
that which dulls
deep in my system
blinding my eyes
steadying my breath
that which dulls
my heart racing
emotions storming
I need
that which dulls


(19-05-2016)

frustration

Blood. Boiling.
Heavy in my flesh.
Head, pounding
storm raging inside.
This anger
consumes
and I
lose
myself.


(19-05-2016)

My Fascination

Dark and lovely
Shining skin
Low eyes under thick lashes
Graceful legs
Strong and powerful

The will shining through
Mesmerises me to you


(19-05-2016)

to begin anew

As we search for new beginnings,
I wonder.
As they search for new beginnings,
so do I.
We measure illogically
in the end, there was only one
beginning

History repeats
is that because of all our
made up beginnings?
So much better then
not to begin anew
but to continue

I used to hope for new beginnings
where I would be better
but how?
No
I won't look for them anymore

I will continue
never again start at the beginning
I will use everything I've learned
experienced
Every thought I've had
I won't look to repeat
I will be better
by continuing

I'm in the middle,
here, I will grow


(02-03-2016)

A heavy hope

A heavy hope
lies in my heart
Lies safe in my
changeable heart
A heart of a weak woman
of a Ruling Queen
Oh, if I could banish that hope
have it leave me be
Heavy rests the head
that wears the crown
and there should be
no hope for me

(16-12-2015)

This is (melody)

This is for those who dabble in darkness
This is for those we lost to the flames
This is for those we never truly loved
This is for those who take the blame
This is for you and me
So lost yet so free
I don't know where we'll be
come morning time

This is for those without direction
This is for those who feel nothing but pain
This is for those who shine so bright

This is for those who'd do it all again
This is for us who believe
This is for those who see
This is for all who try
This is for you and I

(25-01-2016)

Who is the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakers?

The Godly One
who changes
face
name
person
The Godly One
without a
home
calm
trust
The Godly One
who is
afraid

(23-01-2016)

Safe Space

Your breathe on my skin
Your hands locked in mind
Your determination to hold my heart
and protect it
Your kind eyes gazing into mine
Your kisses on my forehead
Please let me stay
You are my safe space

(10-12-2015)

Fear the forest

fear the forest
he creeps close
the keymaker snapping twigs
losing his mind
locking his heart
fear the forest
fear his home
fear your grave
moonlight filled

(11-02-2013)

I've been Waiting for the Rain

I've been waiting for the rain 
for days and days I've waited 
It suits my mood, the rainy skies 
that I have longed for for so long 
I want the cold I want the wind
I want the rain to thunder down 
I've been waiting for the rain 
come to me, to the earth, to my home 

I've been waiting for the rain 
and now it finally is here 
In shallow drops it trickles down 
not the storm that I forsaw 
I love the rain even if it's small 
I love the cool air that follows 
I love how raindrops dress my hair 
I love the smell of autumn in the air 
I've been waiting for the rain 
it didn't come as I had thought 
I've been waiting for the rain
and it was worth the wait 

Autumn. Fall.

Stairway. Leaves.

The shoes that take me anywhere

The shoes that walk without despair
The shoes that take me along the path
The shoes go both to home and hearth
The shoes go away on adventures too
but they will always bring me back to you

Kwasi and Marcus

(Written with "random first line generator", "He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw...")

He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw the beautiful vase his grandmother had given him for his 25th birthday laying in a hundred pieces on the floor. Stepping carefully to avoid the shards, he went into the kitchen. The chaos that met him there made him very sure of one thing: Marcus had forged a war against the fridge, which had ended in a massacre. The refrigerator door was open, with half of the foods spilt down onto the floor. The cake Kwasi had made that very morning was gone.

He closed his eyes, and sighed.

He needed to find that dumb dog. Marcus was most likely hiding somewhere in shame, but with all the broken glass, Kwasi couldn't help but be a bit worried that Marcus might have hurt himself. It didn't take him long to find his bufoon of a companion, however - a slight whimpering from his bedroom closet clued him in to Marcus's hiding place. He certainly wasn't a particularly clever dog - he always hid in the closet. And he loved Kwasi so much, he couldn't stand not greeting him by the door like he usually did, but he knew he'd done a bad thing, so he hid, but he whimpered. When Kwasi opened the door and looked at his dog, he was met with the saddest couple of brown eyes he had ever seen.

"Oh, Marcus... You're not making it easy for us, are you?"

Kwasi made sure to show him how disappointed and angry he was, hoping that Marcus might be able to keep himself in line the next time. He hadn't been alone for more than three hours, but that was enough for mischief to strike. When Kwasi had cleaned up the mess, and hoovered the entire flat twice, for fear of finding more glass shards in random places, he called his friend.

"Hey, Abby... Yeah, yeah, I'm alright, thanks. Hey listen, that cake I promised you... Oh no, I didn't forget! I made it this morning, and it looked good too, I even took a picture... But I happen to have a dumb and hungry dog... Yes, he did. He raided the entire fridge, it honestly looked like a war zone when I got home... I can bake another, of course, but I probably won't be able to get there early... Thanks for understanding! No, I don't mind, I want to get you that cake, come on... Alright great, I'll see you tonight!"

Kwasi had initially planned on doing laundry, as well as reading the next few chapters in the current murder mystery he was engrossed in, but that would have to wait. He took Marcus out for a walk, and proceeded to buy more eggs and butter, since the ones he'd had at home had fallen victims in the Great Fridge Raid. He wouldn't let Marcus stay in the kitchen, but kept the door into the living room open, so that they could see each other. Kwasi enjoyed pottering around in the kitchen, and Marcus was otherwise always allowed in there. Not today though, he was left to lie on the sofa, softly whimpering and looking rather pathetic. Kwasi reminded him that it was his own doing for ruining the vase and the food, and stealing the first cake. He thought it a rather fitting punishment, but he couldn't stay angry with his dog, and kept chatting happily to him while he worked.

While the cake stood in the oven, Kwasi got himself ready for the party. Abby had finally gotten that promotion she had so desired at the law firm where she worked, and they were celebrating it with cake and drinks for all her friends. He still wouldn't let Marcus into the kitchen when he got the cake out of the oven, and made ready to leave.

"Now, I'm going to be gone for another couple of hours, okay, and when I get home I don't want to find another mess... You be a good boy tonight, alright, Marcus?"

The party was very successful, the cake much appreciated by everyone, and Abby all smiles and pride. Kwasi felt quite pleased with himself and the cake, when he came home, a little over two hours later. He turned the key in the lock, and this time he heard the distinct sound of paws thundering toward the door. When he stepped inside, he was met with a happy, jumping dog, who seemed determined to lick him in the face. Kwasi laughed and managed to calm Marcus down. The dog was clearly proud of this time having no reason to hide from shame, he had behaved just as he ought. Besides, there were no more cake for him to eat, or so he thought. But a little whiles later found Marcus and Kwasi curled up on the sofa, and Kwasi produced a last piece of cake that had been left over from the party. He put it down in a bowl in front of Marcus, who took a huge bite, before remembering himself. He looked up at Kwasi with big, pleading eyes, as if to ask if this piece of cake really was for him.

"Yeah buddy, that's your cake." He knew it wasn't very smart, but Kwasi couldn't help himself. He just loved that dumb dog.

Aiko's town

(Written after the "random first line generator"; "the house wasn't the same to her any more")


The house wasn't the same to her any more. This place, that used to be so dark and gloomy, was now full of light, of laughter and love. Had anyone told her a year ago that she would start to feel this way, surly she wouldn't have believed them.

A year ago, Aiko had moved to this tiny, dull town, to get away from the stressful life she had led in London. It certainly wasn't her idea - she loved the buzz of the city, her challenging job, and her exciting social life. But after the accident her doctor made her see a psychiatrist, and here she was. It hadn't taken the shrink many sessions with her to diagnose her as completely stressed out, too frazzled and depressed to find any real joy in life. Aiko gave him a rather colourful response to that. To think she paid him 200 pounds! She would have been happy to leave and resume her life as though nothing had disrupted it, but her boss wouldn't let her quit the shrink. She then made the mistake of telling her mother about his absurd idea for her to move to the country... Aiko had been kicking herself for months over that. Of course her mother would find it a splendid idea, and take it upon herself to find her daughter a nice place far out of town.

At least she had been allowed to work. Aiko would have gone out of her mind if she was to sit at home every day, and her doctor and psychiatrist both agreed that some work might be good for her. Not a full 100% of course, and nothing too straining. Aiko took a job as a half-time sales assistant in the local textile shop, and thus her life of serving dull, old ladies began.

The little town had at first seemed as taken from one of her nightmares. People were uncultivated and traditional, their fondest conversation topic was the weather, and there was no night life. The town had one pub. It closed at eight.

It wasn't until she met Mrs Dower, two and a half months after she moved there, that things started to change. Mrs Dower was a social butterfly of an old lady, 71 years old but still full of joy and energy. She came into the shop one day and made Aiko's acquaintance, and slowly but surly turned her life around. She introduced her to the popular chess club, where she met Patrick and Theyla. She took her to the pub's open mic night for the monthly Poetry Slam, and Aiko found a new friend in the shy but very talented Jaime. Mrs Dower took her out for coffee at the town's only café, and Aiko soon found herself engrossed in a conversation about baking with the café owner, Rita Stalski. To her great surprise, she started to view Tuesdays not as the week's first Try Not To Scream At The Bloody Ladies Who Cannot Decide Which Pattern They Need For Their Unnecessary Redecorating Because They Are Old And Might Die From A Heart Attack Day, but as Chess Club Day at the Inn. Wednesdays  became Weekly Walks With Mrs Dower Day, Thursdays Pub Quiz Night, and once every months, Saturdays turned from Fuckity Poop, Tickets To London Are Expensive! to Open Mic Poetry Slam.

Her third PS (because that was what the locals, and she too, called the poetry nights) was the one when she met Camden, and in turn, his fiancé James. Camden was big, safe, and welcoming, and the absolute worst poetry writer the town had ever had. He proudly grasped the microphone as the fourth person that evening, and went on to read a poem about crows and pies, so bad that Aiko didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She later found out that he had lost a bet to James, who laughed hysterically when Camden's reading was done. Aiko made herself known to the couple simply by being the only one who to applaud, out of pity more than anything else. Camden has been calling her his "Biggest Fan" ever since, and has even promised her a personal poem for her birthday.

No, a year ago Aiko wouldn't have had any hopes of ever being happy in this tiny town... And yet, thinking back of all she had done since coming here, and looking at the scene in front of her now, that's what she was. In front of her, gathered in her great living room, were her friends. Camden and Jaime was teaching Patrick's kids how to play Backgammon. Mrs Dower currently seemed to be winning over James in a game of chess, Theyla and her new boyfriend Derek argued over the amount of sugar needed in the perfect cup of tea. Rita just came in from the kitchen, carrying a large tray of scones and home made jam. Aiko smiled. These were the people who had helped her fit in, and calm down, the people who made her love this town and her place in it. They helped her forget about the accident and the bitterness still connected to losing her left arm, they made her feel sufficient even without it. And she inspired them too; Board Game Night was her idea, and there was even talk of letting the pub stay open until nine next Friday!

Aiko felt a small hand curl into hers, and looked down to see Rebekah, Patrickäs youngest, smiling shyly up at her.
"Will you sit next to me and Daddy when we have scones? I want you to help me butter! Please."
Aiko exchanged a look with Patrick, and gave Rebekah's hand a nudge.
"Of course, sweetheart, let's get everyone seated!" she agreed with a smile.

~fin~

(03-10-2015)

Feet in the wet wet

Left my shoes on the ground

Left my mark later on

A Land under the Glittering Sea

A land under the glittering sea

oh, there is where I'd like to be

Floating at a slower pace

with cool, dark waters caressing my face

Don't follow me there, I beg,

I want to escape your sound

No talking, no more fuss, let me leave

You won't find me there,

in the Land under the Sea

(14-09-15)

Maybe every day

Maybe every day changes us,
moulds us so thoroughly,
in preparation for what comes next,
After this life.
I guess I will know in time.
I believe though, that every day
Should still be enjoyed,
Still seen as an opportunity,
a Chance to thoroughly live This life.

(21-07-2015)

OBLIVION

I know in theory how it works
We die and are gone
The memory lives only a short while
You can raise my grave stone,
but it will crumble with time
You can read my writings,
but they will get lost with time
You can save me,
but never forever
Oblivion is inevitable
I want to be remembered
I wish to leave a mark
Oblivion is escapable
The energy of my life
will flow through this earth
The earth I walked upon
My energy will give new life
and continue for aeons
And so, I shall live forever,
escaping oblivion

(19-07-2015)

The Shabti

I am a Shabti,
handmade by me,
commissioned by others.
I formed this shell
from their expectations,
their opinions thrust upon me.
I lost my voice, my flesh, my blood,
wandering aimlessly within myself.
Myself? No,
this mud shell is but a prison.

I am no Shabti,
not made from weakened clay,
I shall recall myself,
emerge from the Duat.
I am stronger, braver, bigger,
crushing this Shabti,
this image caging me in.
I adhere no expectations,
but only my own anew.
Finding my voice, my Ba and Rem,
new courage to break this shell.


(9-11-07-2015)

The Angry Elf

Fluttering wings in the soft summer air

Swirling dress in white

Glaring eyes, knotted hands

Annoying little creature flying around

Ignorant people never see

the tiny ones right in front of them

His eyes shooting daggers,

his sharp teeth sinking into human flesh

"Ugh", they complain,

"Another mosquito."

(08-07-2015)

Unfinished poem

For the first time in so long
I breathe freely now
The sweet release of letting go
moving forward without regret

(23-03-2015)

Evening Sea

Roses

Snapshots from Ilford

~ THROUGH THE WINDOW OF YOUR EYES ~

A nothing-day, 
they called it at home,
so plain, mundane,
nothing to remember.
But alone in the car
it was not nothing
- it rather meant a lot.
Raindrops slashed down
exploding onto the window
like bombs in a war.
If this was a war,
it was their own,
and peace treaties had been signed.
The shaking of the hands
did not go as well,
agreement though there was.
It took too long
and meant too much,
palms sweaty but soft.
They both looked out the window
on the scenery beyond.
Beautiful as it was,
it did nothing to compare. 
They turned the radio on
and one of them made a joke. 
Laughter awkwardly ended
when self conciousness came back.
It was the first nothing-day
when everything happened.

(01-07-2013) 

~ BY THE LAKE ~

The sky was reflected in the still water,
like a mirror it showed what was far above. 
Clouds tumbled in the lake,
soft looking and white. Pretty clouds. 
He thought of her face, those sparkling eyes. 
The past is always filled with clouds. 
If the picture mirrored in the lake was now,
the sky was the past,
those moments with her. 
Whenever they were together,
every colour in the world
turned its most vibrant shade. 
So pretty. So alive. 
Her eyes used to sparkle from all she would dream. 
He turned from the lake,
saw her face.
Her eyes burned with all the things she had seen,
and he could not tear himself away.
Dared not.
A leaf came tumbling across the air,
cutting a line between them
like leaves sometimes do.
He followed its way down to the water,
saw it land simply, already afloat.
He sent a smile her way, as though it was before,
and it grew wider,
as she smiled back. 

(01-07-2013)

Rain over Regents Park

From the evening stroll

The tree that glows

in the evening light 

can even from afar

showcase grace and might