Good sir, I remember when our adventure first began
At that party, among many hugs and the odd “I love you man!”

After that life has never been quite the same
You brought another sun into my world, for me to bask in its flame

In time we got to know each other and it grew brighter until
You made me a Protagonist, and I joined you in battling evil

However, you were so sad for reasons only you can really know
For its true the greatest enemy lies within, and it’s not easy to show

But we all cared for you so much, and again our days grew brighter
After all, you are a Protagonist, and at heart the greatest fighter

Together we overcame all, defeating the darkness we ever faced
With the mages power, the warriors skill, the ninjas stealth and haste

And while you may sometimes feel sad, as the good-hearted often do
I will always say; this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

For when you tire from life’s battles, and all others fail or flee
I will always be by your side, for you to lean on me

Even when I leave the world, and am set free of this mortal coil
My spirit will be there to guide you, through all hardships and toil

Though I think you will seldom need me, no matter your feelings hue
Because you possess a  unique soul, one Beautiful, Strong, and True

Though yet many sunny days and moonlight night lay ahead, filled with laughter, good times and a friendship most epically won

I think our adventures, Sir Brandin, have only just begun

I was at a party the other day
I don't usually go to parties
I don't like crowds
I don't like gatherings
I don't like, new people.
But I'm here as a favour to a friend,
And so I stand in this hovel
That looks like the dodgy part of *****
Or the ganglands of Gomorrah,
Pathetically clutching my long empty beer bottle
And breathing in air that's more smoke than oxygen.
Desperately hoping
That if I pretend to be drunk enough
I wont have to meet anybody new.

But as luck would often have it
As luck and I do not get on
My friend beckons me from a darkened corner
Surrounded by people I don't know.
She's confident, enigmatic and wants me to come over.
And because I owe her a favour I cant say no
And so I trudge towards her with all the enthusiasm
Of an arthritic Labrador, dragging my hind legs
Across the sweat stained carpet
Bracing myself for someone new.

And as I place one foot in front of the other
I can practically see the outline of the gallows.
And I notice that the walls really are an especially ugly colour
And that boy surely isn't old enough to be drinking without permission from his mother.
And someone please tell those guys not to put the owners dog in the oven.
And I wonder if I should break up those limb tangled lovers
Because I hear that that one, who's dating that one, gave that one chlamydia
and suddenly the air is too thick
And too hot
But my feet will not stop.
Because I owe my friend a favour.
But this hideous carpet might as well be an ocean
Because believe me, I'm drowning, adrift.
This feels like I've left my stomach
Somewhere four feet behind me
And I've always been so used to listening to my gut.

This is not fear, this is anxiety
The two are so easily confused, but
Unfortunately by now I know the difference
More intimately than many people do.
Fear is a cold steel
Sharp knife, with smooth un-serrated edges
That drives into your chest or your head or your belly
And it takes what it wants from you, and then is wrenched back out
And its painful, but its usually there for a reason.
Fear can be conquered
Don't laugh I've seen it
Fear grapples with the human spirit in the eyes of every
Soldier still fighting
No matter what the battlefield.
Be it desert or office or kitchen or playground.

But anxiety is fears younger cousin
and it is a wire sponge against your chest
Like the ones they use on cleaning dishes.
And it grates at you until you're raw
And scrubs at every inch of skin
There's hardly a moment when you're not itchingly pink
Until it feels as though your ribs are utterly exposed
And every eye is fixed on what you hide within.
But that's not the worst thing about it.
That's not what drives you every second, mad.
I can handle the razor winged moths that make a home in my stomach
The worst, is the irrational nature of this relative of fear.

I should not be afraid to open my mouth
To be seen, and immediately judged
Even though I know in reality
The most important people won't reckon me
On the first impression, first look, first word.
But I still am
I am scared, and that is terrifying.
And I know that this might just pass
It could be teenage angst
My lack of self confidence holding me back.
But whatever it is.
Right now, it is Everest.
So don't you dare tell me just to get over it.

But as I sidle up beside my best friend, I know she doesn't understand
And I hope she never does.
One, Two, Three.
Three people who are new,
Three epinephrine shots of irrational anxiety pumping through my blood.
And she smiles so encouragingly,
All yellow and marmoset eager.
And I take one, two, three deep breaths of smoky air,
And let my mind play marionette to the corners of my mouth,
Tugging them into a smile that's somewhat believable.
And the first word that tumbles out of my mouth is a hideously unimaginative,
“Hey.”
But they don't seem to mind.

This small talk we're making, that for me is colossal
Gradually settles the pinpricks of venom beneath my skin
Into something entirely more manageable.
And by the end of the night
Two of those three people are no longer somebody new.
And I feel as though I've made the progress of a few meters
In climbing my Everest.
But there's still miles and miles to go.  
But the thing to remember...
What I must remember,
No matter what mountain anxiety builds for you,
Be it Atlas or Snowdon,
Be it at a school, or an office or at home,
Every step that we make, on our own or pushed forward by friends
Is another meter or mile, on this arduous road
That will eventually lead to a summit, ten times more beautiful
Than the valley we just left below.

Passions are liken’d best to floods and streams:
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb;
So, when affection yields discourse, it seems
  The bottom is but shallow whence they come.
They that are rich in words, in words discover
That they are poor in that which makes a lover.

Worry had never been the cause
of his laughter lines, the kindly crow's feet,
except that moment; the time
we all realised.
Being old had other symptoms
than grumpiness, and white hair.

So, like watching a monument crumble,
we saw the old man shudder and shake.
Then with mouths agape, we knew
he had other flaws, our Old Wise Owl,
and so it turns out,
our Grandfather, placed on the pedestal tall,
was, in fact, afraid of heights.

I'm not really a rude person,
I'm just being like this
in order for you not to notice
that I'm starting to like you.

soft and loving
tender touch
kind and careful
not often enough
cautious kiss
I'm rarely graced
with little risk
you'd be replaced
though no one but you
leaves me satisfied
our thoughts run true
although we hide
them all so well
in our ribbed cage
the beating swells
with passion and rage
the flair returns dust
as two turns to one
though Iron will rust
we've only begun.

Fan letters filled with hawk feathers.
Sticking them in paper like
Razor blades into wrists.
Drawing life from the abyss;
Weatherman predicts clouds
And rain.

Gray and
Grains in the camera; Dharma, I
And Karma took the photo
Of the millennia. Deep in the Congo
Jungle, we stumbled  across a tribal
Ensemble praising Pluto.

Smoke rising from the tribunal pyre.
Through the moonlight you could see the
Galaxy swirling with each gust.

Their lack of attire made their skin shine
Brilliantly in the dark reflections of the fire.
The sweat. The song. The symmetry. The immensity
Of it all was entrancing. We dived into the celebration of
Existence  with little regard of our path.
It was a step forward we'll never take back.

Dear Arjana,
Isis told me that you left your paradise for love in disguise 
Camouflage love 
Erroneous love 
Inaccurate love 
Artificial love 
Mimic love 
Man-made love 
...
Substitute love
...
I can't trust the "fact" that you wanna desert me only to hydrate a man who's life is so sparse with affection 
Can't you tell by how devoid his life is of women? 
He can't storm into your life and bring forth lush 
He can't be your sunshine and make you feel tropic 
He can't have you sprung and spring you out of your glacial phase 
...Smh 
Bottom line Arjana babe 
Is that he cannot draw the line between your north and south poles where it's typically warm when I'm around and rock your equator wild as a 200 miles per hour cyclone Lol!!!
...
He just can't 
And I could 
So why do you even give G-Gwa-Gwala a chance? 
However you say his name! 
You need to come back home to your paradise 
Before you end up a dystopian 
Please reply =-|
Sincerely Masika "Zola" Oluchi

Cast iron clouds call their brushed allegiance to the age-clad masonry.
Whilst the mangled percussion of the infants' school bickers
with the soft tones of the older boys' band.
Still their sound is drowned by the whistling wind,
carrying parents' pleas that it's time to leave,
as the small groups crawl through the churchyard.
In a mossy corner, the window-man clatters,
with his brushes and buckets at the side of the oak shaded vicarage.
A scarf slides from an old man's neck
whilst he motionlessly salutes the monument;
his medals are dull in the lacklustre light.
But for all that's here, there's one thing not,
where I sit by this silent 'here lies' spot.