It was a moment so chilling when I realized I had feelings for you again.
This rotation of endless "agains" has kept me up day and night in anger,
love, lust, but most of all, confusion.
This relation we have is driven by sexual jabs and hurtful comments
designed to inflict the most pain on each other.
This "again" that I feel will fade into nothing more than another hatred for you.
But just like every other time, soon we will both start gazing at each other from across the room
and quickly looking away as though the other hadn't seen our eyes on their face;
We will begin once again lose the offensive spews
and our small conversations will evolve into tense talks with blushed cheeks and hot ears;
Yet somehow, I cannot get enough of this cycle of "agains".
It is addictive like your personality.
It is an obsession like your ability to make me crazy.
I am crazy for you,
but at the same time I fear that this lusty craze with wear off
and we will be left with nothing but silence.
Could this be true admiration for one another? Is this chemical?
Or is this passionate relationship powered on by our teenage hormones and sexually-frustrated bodies?
Just tell me what you want.
If you are happy, I will be content.
I guess, if you look at our situation from afar,
you could say we're in love. I’d disagree.
This is nothing but an infatuation between two people both sharing one common thing:
somebody who they can imitate passionate love with again and again.
I crave your physical touch and your boyish humor.
I need your attention most of all.
You need it too; you need me more than I need you.
How you wish to brush your lips against mine and feel my body and hold my hand and be mine. Nonetheless I wish for that too. Badly.
Nightly I torture myself over what to think, what to want.
But every time this happens, I push you away.
And the cycle of "agains" return, only to ruin us inside even more.
angry with yourself
start self-defense mechanism
angry at the world
The beginning was
over before the start…
It was daunting how she could read
my reflection, in the still waters,
like the book about the stormy seas of my mind.
It is said that “still waters run deep”
Is my soul’s estuary a shallow and barren desert?
With too many glaring imperfections ?
Have the depths of my spirit
reached for the lighted surface
only to see hope evaporate into thin air?
Wanting to feel understood
is a reflection of my heart
and yet I feel the need to harbor,
undiscoverable traits in my cage of solitude...
Am I, one heart only lying to my mind?
As if I were not whole?
Four separated distinct parts…
These hands adorn the quill of
the head, the heart, body and soul...
am I only an illusion of my own wholeness?
After carefully considering
my reflections in the mirror of her eyes,
a breathless panic fell like a dark fog,
blocking her vision into the book of my mind.
Backed up against the corner wall,
I felt like running as my biggest fears manifest
in the realization that our final moment had come...
If… “Am I ? ” ... is the question?
"Four separated, in-congruent pieces is the answer"…
I’ve been fooling myself all along
away seemed better
on my hands and knees
just seems unfair.…
© Harlon Rivers
Paper notes are nothing without the air that fuels their journey
From hand to hand, money to palm, no, I want that inbetween
That fair exchange, that feel good feeling.
I have faith in that ease.
But you are blind to what I see
You believe it's brought everything, this paper wrapped in thorns.
Independence, equality and within us, no judgement or scorn
I laugh even though it hurts from the lungs you've torn
Your air isn't fit to breathe anymore
From firestarters to materials, from nowhere at all to experiences
The answer lies not within the devious
So I wait
A precarious balance to one day think you can pay off fate
You hold it tight, until the moment comes.
Through snow, through sleet, sunshine and rain.
You'll have that goodie today.
And nothing can stop you but a lack of change.
When life and death is trivial, you can hear the quarters coming
You're full to the brim with it
But it's nothing.
An overflow of twinkling coins and shiny bills
It's the journey, the reward, that brings those thrills.
I want to remove the middle man, the mad man, the money mind-set banned
And instantly connect those two generous hands
Together we'll make it happen, let's start with a global call
Inexpensive and cheap, abundance and freedom is solved
Monsanto the monster hiding beneath our countries bed
The internet our new best friend
It is our turn now, to bring this to an end
Poverty and addiction is a just a bad dream, wake up!
It's never too late to have had enough
I hide behind a blue sky
Saw the birds flying in the current, high
Wishing for some star shine
I really love the morning time
Yet here I am inside
On the couch, with a slouch, hoping for a way out
When the door is right in front of me
But I'm convinced I'm too busy
I am climbing the digital tree
Forgetting to breathe
When I want to smell the airy breeze
Come up for air and stay there
Soul open, eyes closed, alert and aware
I imagined a place where...
I go to close the screen, but I hesitate
Is today really the day?
Couldn't I just sit here a while
Another year, read another mile
Like this, post that, fake a smile
Until I forget this epiphany ever existed
This future I've too long resisted
Now my mind and body is twisted
Unaligned and with no compromise
Or a sign things will be alright
It's a leap of faith, I read it all the time
Stay in the present, unravel the twine
Meditate often, remember your past lives
Stretch, Run, Play, repeat, then rewind
To release your fears and let in the light
To be out there and catch the sunrise
You're not alone, you know it's time to go
A moment can last forever
These pathways stay together
The brain is a place of endeavors
Where you can forget to remember
But when two halves become as one, trust inside
The words that speak from between your eyes
Let in spirit lest the ego try
To find a foothold in your mind
Start with the stars, and then the sunrise
Look up at the clouds and follow the silver line
It's funny that you work in a place I escape to drink to
I'm just here for the burgers and sun maybe a beer or two
Sitting day dreaming absentmindedly when you walk up to me
And when I turn the first thing I see is your infectious smile
And then your looking at me with those sparkling eyes too
Why not make it a hat trick and start talking with that sweet sexy cool accent?
Oh what was it I wanted to order? I forget can you give me a minute?
It never crossed my mind that I had any consequence
I was just happy to take the smiles and my day dreams home in silence
But on the receipt you had a name for me aside from the bill of forty ones
I think it's the sweetest thing a girls done lately to call me "Nicedude1"
-Azrael Always James
© Copyright 2013
It was after the Second Anglo-Boer War. Some of the soldiers went to brothels and taverns and places as such. It reminded them of the vibes in canteens. One soldier named Jokas took the advice of several of his friends and bought a sex worker. He had been disappointed by the fact that his girlfriend married a lawyer. And so Jokas had his fun, this didn't last though for he still had the appetite for commitment.
So he kept returning to the same brothel - buying the same sex worker. In time they developed feelings for each other, writing letters and sending pictures when away to see relatives... but this wouldn't be as Dennis, a friend of his, introduced his cousin to Jokas. She was nice, had a decent job and was ready to settle. Her name was Anna. So Jokas stopped going to the brothel and opted to start a life with Anna, it seemed the sensible thing to do. Jokas moved with Anna, they both went overseas. Valerie was the name of the sex worker he had feelings for, what Jokas didn't know was that Valerie had fallen pregnant. A few years later she got a job at a bistro and lived in a vacant storage room with her son, Warkos. Warkos was raised in a bistro, there he got advice about life, culture and women from drunkards, thieves, policemen, lawyers and loafers. He had little formal education. He grew up resenting life and lacked a sense of belonging. He started being mischievous when he pick-pocketed a rich businessman, when he was only seven years old.
He used getting into trouble as an outlet for his anger and loneliness. His mother didn't keep men whom he could look up to. Although she began spending a lot of time alone and didn't care much about men, since her prostitution days. At age 14 Warkos met a girl with a strange name; Tellaby. Tellaby gave his life purpose at a time when he was suicidal.
She was a pretty, decent and very respectful girl who came from a well-to-do family. Days in the park with her was his escape, it gave him a sense of normality. However he would go back to the real world, back home his mom had been enduring depression and took up smoking. She was stressed by the fact that her boss kept abusing her (emotionally and verbally). Warkos formed a gang at age 16, he recruited a few dysfunctional teens in the neighborhood who spent most of their time loafing and stealing. His dream was to make enough money to buy his mother a house, find his father - so to find function; whatever that meant.
At age 17 Warkos got arrested for drug possession. He spent only 6months in prison as he had a witness who testified that the drugs were planted. The witness was paid by his gang of course. So he served 6 months for assaulting a police officer. All the while Tellaby got herself a boyfriend, he was a functional, smart boy who had a scholarship to study overseas at Oxford University. Tellaby's family approved of the relationship and pressured her to continue seeing him.
When Warkos got out, he heard the news and attempted to stab Tellaby's new boyfriend but was stopped by Tellaby... When Tellaby chose Eric, her new boyfriend, over him it was the end of his heaven and sense of normality. Drugs he found too dangerous and started researching fraud, he met a few intelligent con-men and together they forged cheques. In just one year he had about R500 000 and bought a nice cottage for his mom in the quiet small town of Andbury. This earned him prestigious status and he met with his gang again, had his mother's old boss murdered and took over the business. He ran three brothels and about five bars in three towns. He was only in his mid-twenties when he made his first million. He had a vice, to heal his pain of not feeling loved, and to forget about the pain and the void of not knowing his father he used heroin. Of course prestige comes with a price, there was a mob which was government-owned (secretly of course), it didn't like the growing competition, so when Warkos was 27, he was shot twice in the chest, once in the shoulder. The assassin was not found when the police investigated and he left few, if any, traces. Warkos survived the murder attempt after he was rushed to hospital, the bullets missed the heart but wounded his ribs.
Being housed was no longer safe for him so with his convoy, they moved from city to city, robbing banks and restaurants. At this time his gang earned notorious status. They were dubbed The Notorious Warks by journalists. On one heist he got shot on the arm and leg but this inspired him to earn even more power... A month later he funded a Black Resistance Movement, in papers they wrote about him as, "Warkos the Invincible Horse". Funding this political movement enabled him to expand his power and fight the force that was against him. He provided guns and grenades to a sect within the movement to attack government officials and invade and batter their homes. This moved to hijacking their cars. Soon this sect of guerillas had enough power to do crime in the cities, however they secretly met to be independent and not be under Warkos.
So among them there was an informer who leaked Warkos' whereabouts, he was shot twice in one shoulder but his men took cover and they escaped. Warkos, 29 years old, was getting tired of this violent life, he abandoned his gang and had a lump sum of money sent to his mother. He even investigated the whereabouts of Tellaby and stalked her for a while. He decided to go back where he grew up, he went to the storeroom which he and his mother lived in... In it was a locker; he opened the locker and found a box which had pictures and letters from his father, sent to his mother... In one letter was a poem written to his mother, Valerie, it read:
I have been fooled by ruling men
You believe in honour and glory
but you do not see the Be Lie in "believe"
and now I feel no better than these thieves
I only find comfort in being with you, Valerie.
At that moment he cried and kicked himself for he felt he had been living a shallow life... He thought to himself that his father was a good man and that he probably wouldn't be proud of him...
The next day he did nothing but think and that's when he got shot by Eric. He had been trying to get hold of Valerie as they (Eric and Valerie) were in the country to celebrate Easter... Eric found out and because he despised him with a passion he got word out to the police but the police feared him so they had to use an intelligent strategy; Eric insisted that it be him who murders Warkos as he will have done his country a great honour. So he came as a paying customer at the tavern/bistro, all the other customers left, as well as the staff. Warkos was unmoved by this, as he was deep in thoughts. This became easy for Eric, never had anyone been murdered with such pleasure... It is documented that Warkos' last words, softly and lazily uttered, were: "Where's Tellaby?"
There's something about everything about nothing about how we were created, tiny blips in a system of "Nothing Even Matters" starring the worst producers in the universe. One could catch a glimpse of us as they pass by to get to somewhere better and laugh, and shake their heads and they would know our only purpose in existence was to make them feel better inside. But whoever writes a book in the view of the indifferent? Whoever directs a movie where nothing different happens? That's like asking who remembers the forgotten, it's possible but ever so unlikely, and sure as sine is undulated, under appreciated, somewhat very deflated, and though we aren't remembered, we sure aren't too terribly hated.
There's something about anything that could be distributed as significance in this underrated little beauty, flourished world that runs about full of life and clarity, streaming with disparity, slow depreciating, and sometimes we're defeating the purpose of why we're unique, and we slowly take the filters out of our little selfie, loosing all this isn't healthy, and we diminish all signs of any significance and we become as lifeless as a meteor, and I sometimes think "What is this for?" And then I simply sigh and take my sunglasses outside and stare into the sun, and wonder if anyone in the entire world has gotten off their iPhones or TVs and stared at the sun along with me.
There's something about how I feel when the little things get to me, like grades or dating drama, getting larger, more dramatic, oh it's such a ceaseless phlegmatic, and I sit at my stirring house and wonder how I can bear to live it anymore. But then I start to realise the person passing over is really staring us in the face and watching this world run in place. I'm not going to think about it anymore, it's all part of Earth's perpetual cycle, I'm not going to stop this utter nonsense now because it's time for me to go to my next class.
Seem so hard anymore
A way out, now, and more
When she comes
Strutting down the street
Past problems have been beat
When she says
When can we meet?
Squirming in my seat
Tripping over my own two feet
Everything is hit or miss
And they say
That everything's worth a try
And they say
Someone out there is worth you to die
And they say
Just keep carrying on by
Never let slip past your guard, a lie
Just fasten up your ties
Don't you dare be shy now
Sidewalk cracks passing
Thoughts of you are fleeting
Time I've spent just keeps on leaving
Nothing I do is helping
Guess I just have to start accepting
What they say may be true
But thinking of you
Don't do nothing but turn me blue
The future has been around for hundreds of years
Shadowed in doubt and shadowed in fears
But when the upcoming becomes the past
We find the answers to what we’ve asked.
We learn our meaning and find our desires,
We mend our wounds and start new fires,
We discover friends and hear their requests,
We accept new jobs and are paid in stress.
The future, for decades has been the same
A test for humans, a waiting game.
The future becomes present, and soon - past
Always answering what we once have asked.
The only variable to change in years
Are the answers determined by our peers.
So do not fret for what is not now
The future is only what you allow.