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Neo Dore Mar 2021
The gait of her walk? The way she talked? It seemed...different. Watching her stride across the room, abruptly whisking left and right. Slender, thin-jawed, blonde, unfazed, stern stare, luminescent skin.

I've seen her repeat this very pattern several times before. But we've never talked. I just observe through my window. The window that is my world.
Neo Dore Mar 2021
I used to be a romantic. Staring into her milky pearls, illuminated by the dusk orange, mango light glittering into mine. Lemon tinge saturated skin.  Caressed by the salty wind, sometimes, I felt, even before mine.

The grainy gold-ash pebbled ground like a powdered cushion, our feets sunk deep. Whisk, and whim of clashing waves, crashing into the shore. Nebulous sky blue mirror of perpetual unrest, trickles. Bickering seagulls on sandcastles.

My olympian gaze at venus, her acoustic voice. Her arachnid stare into mine. She's a siren. I used to be a romantic. But she consumed me. She's consumed me and there's nothing left...Now I'm just a fool.
Neo Dore Oct 2019
The stage is a world of imagination.
A place where our minds can run free without a sense of direction. As the characters make us fly through a catharsis of laugh and cries. A combination of gestures and movement, each playing their part  in unison towards a certain fate

Although the humor makes the audience forget the sorrow, pain, and misery of reality, as the scenes guide them, the acts show them and the actions amaze them of the destiny even in the conflict of scenes, all is done in resolution of the might and glory of an all-father, as people gather to watch the incredible power of God in play and they pause in amazement of the greatness of him as the impossible the eyes see in the beauty of the STAGE
Neo Dore Oct 2019
Faint clap
Lighting
spontaneous scream -Thunder
Dark and gloomy skies
Raindrops
The wind dances with the branches

Creatures race to shelter
Cold breeze whistles, kicks the grasses and drag the leaves
The animals slowly wait and watch from the dancing trees
Echoing caves and fading sandcastles
a STORM
Neo Dore Oct 2019
Hidden glare of strangers
Maybe all over now
even if you forgive me not
I'll always be here with you


Wake me when it's over
Wake me to a place I know
Hidden glare of strangers
Will never go.

You don't seem to understand
Shame on all the fears we hold so dear
You know what they say might hurt you
Even if they'll never go.
Neo Dore Oct 2019
School? Tsk...Tsk...Tsk. What a spectacle.
I hear the bell chiming already- ding...ding...ding
Then sick and scowled, we'd walk right to were we were meant to be. "Meant to be". Heart pounding 'cos if we were late!? Or in the wrong place or mixed up the wrong dates!? No...no...no that was trouble. "The bell is the voice of God"  The priest(s) would say, each day, "and when it rings you must obey" A bell? I thought, the voice of God? I chuckled.

I remember the shadows of the seminarians watching.
The irate stare and feign smile. Weren't these men of God!?  They came in new and good, but give them a day or two and...and my God!!!
There were rumors of bizarre things that happened behind closed doors, no one "saw", but walls. I know someone was there. Had to be! When the last bell rang, and the lights faded out. People became monsters. It changes people. And it would, you too because real monsters are in the light and you too are one of them.

The mass either left you hungry and empty, guilty and filthy or just feeling good about yourself for no good reason because some preacher said: "Hark, all worries will be left behind, and all disappoint too, will be gone forever..."  It was the same thing, day in and day out. One man's crime was all mens'. And our tongue just clung to our mouth because who would dare raise a finger in anger to a priest? God's delegate.  There were rumors.  

There were rumors no one would admit they saw until dusk when the light-out hour came and we streaked together muffle and scoffled about everything. It was either that or we tried, however, we could to get food. Some even looted goods, black and white was the code and we hid it safe as gold. You won't get it. Sometimes people would go as far as...sign  

****...****...****
Heavy eyed and tired. The bell snaped you from your dream back to this hellfire. And before you blinked you were in class
Then smell of dry papers and ink, sound of pens screeching and then you see.
Students hastily walking to where they are meant to be? "Meant to be!?"
Teachers, few, pretty as rose and others old and cold. All claiming they had gold to impact on us. Most times, the men, well tucked, some tall and maybe bit lanky.

The priests were like ghosts. Some went as far as saying Godly. Their bellowing white-blue cassock whipped by, and while some would sigh, others would hush and some would rush to where they were meant to be. Meant to be. Now ghost quiet, staring from somewhere was the priest ghost silent...



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— The End —