#anecdote
Pie for an ear
Pie for a whistle, to come
Pie for a craven side of a liberty's near
Pie for a wish in the watch, of home
Pulling the talk, no the what the ****
Of grace to step forward, no man has a better plan
Sour old willful, and seeking stink, the eye to pluck
A hardy share of truth from the side of your face, where sincerity can
Roles of the ****** with a care
Suggestion is ours, for a lank memory, alive in the known
Truer to **** the pie off, for we take the time to fare
The skill's of another mind, with the very thoughts of oblivion?
Wages we never collected, but gave freely
Since we were the coping half, of a clock in the mission of a lifetime
Can a meager sword of conscience, stand to wishes we found, in the ear
Speed to a special lip, and tongue of ecstasy that has your crime
Water, what ask's tomorrow eaches reason?
Pain and the train of thought that made us
Is a wholly different idea, is knowing all in season
When none is ours, for a colossal clash with the written word, thus
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 11:26 AM UTC
Roses, at no known noses
Halt and havoc
Before a rage loses
It's hap, hate me for a clock...
Yeast and mustard
Together to dance, a ruley wind
Looking for a grace, to pardon
A whole sincerity, for a clashing mind
Think the bride, the groom
Of a voices violence, but know
A rage in the heart is nothing but doom
Was is a child here, a bared wish to blow
Your mind, with a smile
Cause, quarter, and a cornered clique
With the move's of life, so simple
Seem the next, the expected generation; an it
Is it me, with a sanity?
Is it me, in the denial of a lifetime?
Is it me, arguing the thunder and lightning, in the sky?
Is it me, with a probing tongue, for another lover's chime?
Two bad, I had to fall in love...
Fleeting success, eating lest
A creation of desperation, with a final covenant
These prophecies, make us cry like a passion is our bless...
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 8:19 AM UTC
Cornered stillness
Wages of redemption, to savor a poise
Purpose is a revelation of lasts, without a bless?
For a family of thought, that has reason by the other side, of a charity of choice...
Time and harmony's privacy
Sexier hours by the cold shoulders, of a won...
Wondering by ... and the dote of a special trying
Seemly dependency of a quiet need, for decency's plan...?
Sense in the open, curiosity to venture...
One, two, three; a hat for silent opportunity?
Compare a bystander, to the questions of yore
Can a proper gayness's holiday, have presents for presence of mendacity...?
The meaning of finished smiles...
The character of sincerity, to contain an intensity's justice...
Justified by solemn stares, that confirmed a notion's while...
In the hand of virtue, still wondering if a voice is to be something greater than undue nicety...
Careful now, does home for honey for a human honor...
Sit pretty or potentialize pity?
Sit well, the nefarious eye of hope; is a promise petty...?
The lights of wonder, as if avarice or peace, is a city of essences liberty...?
With the voice of a lion...
The stir of stillness, as a word to the wise
Has the fame of nary a sakes patience, in bared eyes, directed to audacity's silence...?
All in a better smile, made from avid chance, to liberate even tomorrow's sigh's?
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 10:45 PM UTC
Yet this anecdote
about father says little --
about who he is.
Aug 10, 2024
Aug 10, 2024 at 2:28 AM UTC
Beached craft
Begging a current...
When the sun shines, does water laugh?
Dependency is the joke, to never relent...
Oil, has forgotten the cares of us...?
Slippery and truthful
Teeth are sincerity's weapon, poised to hush?
A saving ask, of when the truth is same's goal...
Justice for a tear?
Simple chaste, to entail charisma
Form and function, with pity's honor?
Sake promised, a fate before silence and sanity...
A ****** eye, with a stark devotion...
Paired to consume
The deeds of actual shares, a time for notions
That played their part, to a divine doom?
When is water, a living miracle?
When it feeds you...
Spare shadows and hunger, and means to lend a will...
Avid to terror's dream, who else sniff's glue?
Apr 3, 2024
Apr 3, 2024 at 5:05 PM UTC
Places of virtue, with no elaboration?
Found timely, after a version of sincerer orders...
Sweet to the eye, but lead to forever for a sin?
We remember you, when the world has obscured...
A rainbow from the stead we favor
Sat in the curiosity of a judged silence
We know you, as if fascination has a flavor
Spare and tiding a gentler eye, we dote is again...
The good nature of promises made, promises ought
The tows of sharing, the shadow of worth, with one more wish
For an illuminated smile, you offered for first and not
The second silence of the future, where an awoken friend is...
Smile for me, one more, time...
If senses approve, senses know a season
With a realm to its shall, a host of sincerity trying
The about you show, waiting on a house of forces, and legend...
Habit, does a crying home have the sense to know you?
Welcome to a door, that changed the rage of avarice, into a blue sky
Does liberty's accuse, compare me to a wizening pace to view
The reasons of worth, made grandiose or aled to when life is why?
Your affront, the taste of a hand of love
Set to rights, or making the times known, by the sides of renown
Rest and see, a lover make you the qualm, if not a history with a covenant
Sickened eyes with a role vain enough to pray for your dream to be found...
Jan 9, 2024
Jan 9, 2024 at 8:13 AM UTC
Tale of the none, with silence
The risks we endeavor, are forever?
And a daydream, that has a moment to suffice
Create me an avid soul, shrewder thoughts for lovers...
People of charming since
And guarantee's hence, with a smile
Of recourse, I will know a rage, insight lends
The times of virtue in calm, and duty to shyness...
Mercy in a carried few
Witnessing the gifts and presence of mind
With the senses of curiosity come patience, we due
To a passion of simply asking for help, in time
Allied solace, the terms and needs of equity
Privileged intuitions of a charity in call, and prowess
The turn of composure into gold, absentia in divinity
Suggesting hope, is a long cool look at love we guest
Many days like these
Energy in forms we can understand
Solitude forth a response, to aging tomorrows we please
First and foremost, the basis of comparison to answer a land
My needs are my promise
Salutations in couth, the liberty to accept austerity
With the sincerity of kind, a sharing seemliness of the wise?
And to a shrewder how in the season of now, the candidness of disparity?
Sep 4, 2023
Sep 4, 2023 at 11:24 AM UTC
Roses, we never...
Stations of man...
Seasons of women, lover...
The promise of cares to know elan...
The personality of curiosity
The passion of consciences need, me
Actual live and lets live, is patience's heed?
The voice of causes in love with the sea...
Prepare a friend for a choice, in silence
In a careful our, the times to share a challenge
That lowly, is a seldom seen force, that comes to ends
Like us, but in the portion of beauty, is a stone to many...
Finish your daydream with a salt...
Majority's and meager kind, waits with a palpable goal
Prevailing upon a coping house, we conceive of liberty's all
As a welfare of stigmata, like a child of quiet to fulfil strength's, of old...
Archaic sensibility's, the role of service
To an ideal, adding wishes, of privilege to step forward
Thirst and communion of hunger, has become a beauty's sigh
With but a kindred to assume a whole chance, of a needy star?
Resolute, lovers remind, the sincerity of ambience
Is like the back of the land, a halo of voice to share, the new
And then, the silence of composure broken, with a stare to bless
The rosey attitude of health, that worships a pace of peace to come soon
Fed with liberty, and the tooth of summation
A body will know the lingering shadow of timidity
Shall, tows of waiting powers, the keep of intuition...
Is my fury at secrecy owed, or is my cause a saving identity?
Jul 27, 2023
Jul 27, 2023 at 2:00 PM UTC
Due, the times
Arrival of a concerted friend
At the designated since, the basis of every crime
To be, a whole salvation of what ends
Keep, the times
Rue and divulgence to a rapid and just
Merit, the coping suggestion of what ides
Were, the note of atonement in fair, if not ought's must
Solemn, the times
Strange horizon's with a calling
Ably, the needs of another, shied
And true, sigh of curiosity, that has seen falling
Adage, the times
Sworn to better kind
Turns of repose, have the sense to shine
Well and could, the very order of what mind
Secret, the times
May to fore, the airing, a league with might
To know a callous sorts of claim, the history of why
We are that we are, the other side of what mercy might
Stars, the time
Worth neither whether willing nor would
Comparison needs the let, the better in a wishful lime
Tow and certainty to hold, a portrayal of hosts who could...
Mar 8, 2023
Mar 8, 2023 at 12:27 PM UTC
I was walking down the street of rainbows and sunshines. The very street where everything seems possible and life is a fairytale.
Well, there are little rains and sometimes downpour but every chapter ends with a happy ending.
The time came that I had to step into a new world--- full of strangers, of darkness and cruelty. However, I saw it almost like a utopia. I hid the royalty in me and choose to start from scratch.
One day, I came across a stranger along a dark alley. Aloft, alone, and bringing dark clouds with him. I smiled at him but got no reply. I only saw ice and sorrow in his eyes.
I remember that time, I was glowing with light while you were stuck in the dark pits of brokenness. I heard your cries and stories of hell and how you attempted to end it. You asked why such a fresh, innocent soul glows with much optimism.
I told you that life is the very reason to continue living. I told you there are more reasons to live: that there's beauty, there's happiness. There's love.
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 1:27 AM UTC
And the boys see your tears as nectar. Flocking, not seeing the cyanide flowing from your eyes, wanting to be the savior. They’ll never be the anecdote, but, after all, a savior isn’t needed, just wanted.
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 12:29 AM UTC
Her face was like an auto
While being struck by an auto.
And the driver?
Well, the driver just laughed.
“Thanks god my car isn’t damaged;
I stole it yesterday night.”
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 9:32 PM UTC
01/31/2019
Today, I learned the true extent to which I loathe the IRS. To be fair, I've always known that I hated them. I've had plenty of legitimate reasons for this in the past. For instance, every year, they casually extort our wage and salary, pretending to allocate it for the building of bridges, roads, and schools. While in reality, the infrastructure and educational system crumble, and defense spending grows without limit.
But then again, I do suppose that in a certain sense, roads, bridges, and schools are built indirectly with these funds; but only after the funds are used to blow these institutions to smithereens in third world countries, and private corporations like Halliburton are contracted to rebuild them for egregious profits. Profits, mind you, which are shuffled to dozens of offshore shell corporations, ensuring that they are taxed at a rate exponentially lower than the profits of the average working citizen.
But today, I experienced a type of hatred entirely novel to my conceptions of what is even possible in the realm of consciousness. A loathing so intense that it paralyzed my rationality, sending me into fits of rage and bewildered astonishment that I would wish on NO ONE . . . except Cheney or Kissinger, the ******* ******** For today, for the first time in all my 28 years of life, I filed my federal income taxes. I knew that one day the chore would inevitably arise, but I still consider it an accomplishment to have made it through an entire third or more of my life without ever actually dirtying my hands with the wretched muck. All that aside, the story goes like this:
I work as an “independent contractor” for a friend who runs a small business. I perform various services around the office, and he cuts me a check at the end of the week. I've been working there “on paper” for about a year, really a bit longer, but “what they don't know...” so goes the old adage. We had, the both of us, anticipated with tempered irritation, the arrival of this bureaucratic beast of burden. However, neither of us knew that the deadline mailing date for “independent contractors” comes nary two months sooner than for payroll employees. This information was sprung on us at the very last minute by his tax attorney who, from this point on, will be referred only to as 'G.S.' (grease stain).
As I was fulfilling my duties, my friend urgently beckoned to me “STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING. TAXES ARE DUE TODAY, AND WE HAVE TO FILE THEM NOW!” Naturally, I panicked. I had seen an income tax form . . . perhaps once or twice? . . . much less filled one out . . . maybe once at 17 during the employment process at a fast food joint? . . . Initially, we had thought it would be a simple matter of the W-2, the likes of which had been filled out automatically for me by employers in the past as a part of the hiring phase. Nonetheless, since my status of “independent contractor” placed me into a different tax category, I had to fill out what is known as a 1099-MISC. “Simple enough!” thought I, “I'll just fill in the relevant details and get back to work.” . . . “NOT SO FAST, CASEY JONES!” screamed the form, with all its talk of “fishing boat expenses” and “crop insurance” . . . “O...K?” “and what precisely has this to do with me?” thought I.
My employer, courteous as he can sometimes be, called up (t)rusty old G.S., who referred us to a site where the form could be understood more intelligibly. After a bit of head scratching and chin stroking, we figured it out. No matter, though! Because once we figured the form out, we couldn't figure out what to DO with the ******* thing. 'G.S.' was once again consulted, and he told us that we could simply print the form, and take it to an H&R Block office for submission. “Okay, simple enough!” thought I . . . but alas! It was not to be so. When we arrived at said office, the agent . . . who looked like a burned out caricature of William H. Macy . . . reviewed the forms, and said that to apply the deductions I had calculated, he would require a $300 fee for his services, and that I would need to fill out a “Section-C.” This lanky, rasp-voiced, twig of a man then withdrew from his cubicle, at which point, my employer whispered to me **** that, I've done Section-C forms hundreds of times, we're ditching these crooks”
At this point, we retreated back to the office, found what we thought to be the relevant forms, but were soon swept up in a vicious monsoon of bureaucratic legalese which, although it resembled English, bore few similarities other than word spelling and grammatical form. It is sometimes alleged that Kafka was haunted by ghosts which had an insatiable appetite for stories. The legend further has it that he would write for them to quell their unyielding wrath. Those of us who have read Kafka know intimately of his satirical preoccupation with the absurdity of bureaucracy. Perhaps these stories pleased the ominous specters which loomed over him like the fluorescent light beaming down upon me as I type these words. Some things can never be known for certain. If, however, this were truly the case, then it would seem that Kafka's ghost had now taken the role of writing MY story for his own amusement. Every cliché of the DMV and social services building was present in this ghastly affair. “Fill out this form; stand in this line; oh, I'm sorry, sir. You've got the wrong form. You'll need to file a (…) and take it to (…), their hours are MwAhMwAhMwAhMwAhMwAh” This futile circumlocution went on for SIX HOURS. All the while, thoughts of a perfectly wound noose, crafted of thick hemp rope, with thirteen pristine wraps forming a slipknot to be fitted as though tailor made around my neck filled my mind, as the acute stages of benzodiazepene withdrawal began to set it. Luckily enough, or so we suspect. We figured it out, and now I have only to wait for my return to come in the mail to see what I owe.
But once I got home, I got to thinking. There is a copy of 'Infinite Jest' on my coffee table. A literary epic whose magnitude cannot possibly be overstated. I began to think deeply reverential thoughts of the author of this book, and then something clicked in my mind: on that fateful day when Wallace took his own life by the noose, he was in the middle of writing a novel about nothing less than the 1985 Tax Code in Illinois, and a group of IRS agents. Being the adamant researcher of all topics that he was, we can hardly imagine that he did not give this terrible ********** of language what he felt to be its due diligence. Of course, any responsible thinker understands that correlation does not equal causation; but as the admittedly ironic thoughts of suicide filled my mind over the course of this afternoon and evening, I can't help but be left to wonder if a mind so vastly superior to mine as his did not experience these ideas with markedly less irony as he reveled in the vile idiosyncrasies of bureaucratic jargon. Again. Some things can never be known.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 2:19 AM UTC
The temperature has been in the low single digits since the early morning hours. As I venture outside, everything is gray and lifeless. The brightest and most vibrant objects in this glum portrait of a day are the snowflakes. They dance; they flicker; they undulate, glistening midair in balletic flourishes, descending hesitantly to the ground, and then scattering back into the winds as they land. One of nature's cryptic metaphors? Perhaps, but who's to say? As my eyes take stock of the world around me, I find that I am surrounded on all sides by death and decay. Time has stripped the deciduous trees of their once vibrant autumn leaves, which have long since abandoned the branches to be raked up and wither into mulch. Juxtaposed against these, every block or so, are the evergreens, which seem at once to mock proudly their barren counterparts, and also to weep quietly in sullen isolation. The sod has become a hazy yellow which resembles straw, brittle in texture, and browning toward the roots. Within this morbid scenery, I understand that in only a few hours, I could just as easily succumb to the forces of nature which brought it about and become but another mere instance of it. A true illustration of the philosophical doctrine of sublimity. As soon as the sting of the cold makes contact with the skin, the brain kicks into survival mode. “I must escape this.” Nothing could possibly be more important. The leisure with which the homeward journey is usually pursued is completely abandoned. Only urgency remains:
GET IN CAR
MAKE ROUNDS
STOP AT SIGN
“YOU'RE STOPPING, TOO?
“TOO BAD; TOO SLOW;
“**TOO. ******* COLD.
“I. GO. FIRST.**”
“HEATER'S NOT WORKING??!?!?!”
BANG ON DASHBOARD LIKE CHILD MID-TANTRUM
“HEATER IS WORKING?!?!?!?!”
HANDS IN FRONT OF WARM VENTS
“WINTER'S FORBIDDEN FRUIT!!!!!!!!”
**** NOW IT'S COLD AGAIN?!?!?!
“TURN. THE VENTS. OFF.”
“WHY EVEN HAVE A HEATER
“IF IT ONLY WORKS FOR 30 SEC-”
“**WHY ARE YOU STOPPING?!?!?!
THE ******* LIGHT IS
GREEEEEENNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**”
LOOK OVER LEFT SHOULDER
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE, I'LL DIE:
“NOPE... WAIT, THERE'S MY IN!!!!!!
“FINALLY, A STRAIGHTAWAY!!!!!!”
“THE SNOW'S NOT STICKING,
I CAN GO FASTER THAN THIS. NO COP WOULD DARE PULL ME OVER IN THIS ****
Well, maybe a sadomasochist on some “sir, please step out of the car” type **** but I don't see one, anyhow.”
*Okay, getting closer now. Can almost feel the loving protection of the stately brick walls, the roaring furnace, the tenacious water heater. Just another mile...
Up the hill- left turn- right turn- pull up- park. “Oh boy, here we go again”
Rigorously examine pockets and center console to be sure nothing is accidentally left behind
Car door opens
“RUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
I reach the door, shivering like a frightened Chihuahua, hands palsied with cold as I fumble desperately for my key and struggle in the darkness to find the lock. “Click” GOT IT!!!!!!! I turn the key and push the door, but experience resistance due to the towel placed underneath to prevent the draft from coming in. I heave with all my weight and the door budges as I violently stagger into my humble domicile. I make my way into my room to find my cats sleeping intently on my bed. One of them looks up at me like “What's your deal?” Oh, Dante, if only you knew.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 1:11 AM UTC
The dream I dreamed tonight
Was me with a cabin light
A cliff by the seaside,
I watched the falling stars
The sky turned purple
and I heard the singing grass
You flew to my side
and together we laughed
on how silly is the night owl,
to be drinking tea at night
I had a pet white tiger
and a carriage made of clouds
And a set of picnic materials,
I had you by myside
Was it a paradise?
The joy I felt was everlasting,
I did not wish to say goodbye
We listened to invented melodies
and slept to mythical charms
of how happiness will always stay,
how undefeated we will be
I heard you plead, "Don't leave me",
I responded with a smile
There, I promised to fight,
for you I will thrive
I am brave in a dream,
I am strong in a dream
Was it paradise?
I dreamed a dream tonight
And never will I wake up
I dreamed of you tonight
I missed your little laughs
Goodbye to you my love.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC
"You know, I don't think you have
The right
To be angry with me right now."
Maybe I am being irrational
Maybe I am stubborn and a little begrudging
Maybe I am silly
Hormonal
And stupid
but I have the right
to feel whatever emotion I want to
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 7:55 PM UTC
I think it’s important to make peace with your long line of perpetually confused and self-indulgent ancestry once grasping at and fumbling through a life at which they, preceding you, assumed they occupied the centre of and sought to prove this to mostly anyone, with rapacious might and puerile visions of their own success story, which no matter how successful would always only occupy the dark corners of their blood-successors’ historical records of themselves, which is to say you, adding them up with other people who were once important to them and stuffing them into some numerical equation on which they occupy the left, and you the right side of the equal-sign, but all of which exists in the vast and endless vicissitude of spinning void, of which you both (and us all) occupy some cosmic equivalence (and importance) of the universes stray skin-cell, somewhere on the foot perhaps, unconsidered and left alone until we all disappear into the casket of an unrecorded history.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
"Loads of guys talk to Rhi"
On a day such statements and possible insinuations don't **** me off
they actually entertain me.
What do people think of me?
What do they really see?
Used to be a source of teenage paranoia
Now I'm more intrigued
It's 6 am,
After party at Mag's house!
Everyone's sleepy
Sun's coming up
Smokers coming in and out from the balcony
Sliding doors
Dawn chorus
Sat in the darkest corner
On a wicker chair
Tryin to go unseen
Feelin I look a state
Makeup has started to fade
No longer hiding me
No one in this room
Would know though
About that insecurity
Had me Avoidin mirrors
When out since the age of 15
That's a long time to not be
able to face yourself
But now this young guys facing me
I've sparked an interest you see
Half cut Johny who I shared the car journey
Back with has been spreading the word
That I do carpentry
And he's intrigued
So he's crouched down beside me
Eyes wide open,
Probing me, testing my knowledge
Rollin off his story of going off the rails
And joining the army
But how carpentry gives him some peace
I smile, I listen, I speak
Shake his hand
As he introduces himself as Steve
Asks if he's steppin on anyone's toes
Cause he believes the Dj
That's followed us back
For the after party
Is my boyfriend
Cause we were talkin
And he was stood next to me
I laugh at how fast
Assumptions are made
In the dark
It's kinda funny
He feels awkward now
Says it's nice to meet me
Leaves
Sigh of relief
Why do loads of guys talk to Rhi?
The banter most probably
Hear Dj taking the Micky
(Turns out to be his name ironically)
As he walks back in
Tryin to set up his sound system
Steve says get some Scart leads
We're cracking up
I say something off the cuff, witty
He Spuds me
I'm a "bro" after all right
What do you do?
I dance
But you was stood behind me all night!
*Ha! No, just for a bit,
I was watching what you was doin*
He starts telling me about beats per minute
I ask him bout the Djing
How I'm interested in doin it
We Banter about how he'd teach me
How I'd be his prodigy
I think he means it
Says we got him in trouble with the club
For changing up his set
Cause we were goin in
We were feelin it
Asks me to guess where he's from
I say *You look mixed race
But I bet your Cypriot*
Says he's Half Turk, half Greek
**That's why things didn't work out
between Mummy and Daddy**
Chuckles softly
He's a Barber during the week
Cut Rita Oras hair the other day
Shows me the tweet
He's likable, pretty sweet
Says he's glad I'm there
Cause he doesn't know anyone here
And he'd have no one to talk to
A shy dj
Looks like Drake
Kind of a giveaway
His Nose is running
I say
what have you been sniffing
Grinning teeth
Smiles and shakes his head
**How can you say that
To Someone you've just met?!
You're cheeky!**
Asks if I smoke or do drugs
When I reply no
He jokingly asks to marry me
I say where's the ring?
He gets out his keys
Puts it on my finger we laugh
**Who knew getting a wife
would be that easy?**
*Calm down sunshine!
my games more stealthy*
But I reiterate
"loads of guys talk to Rhi"
What do they mean?
I'm a guys girl
Always have always will be
If this night has confirmed anything
It's that
Certain females just don't warm to me
Give them a compliment
They're ******** me
Make a joke
They're ******** me
Dance by one
Accidentally knock her phone
Out her hand she sits down immediately
Face of thunder
I Say sorry,
Skulk off awkwardly
Beat myself up about it momentarily
Then get annoyed and think **** it
Head back to where I'm meant to be
Just the dance floor and me
Where I get smiles and laughs and looks
I can't quite decipher
"White gyal skanker!"
Mutter out apologies as I stand on
Some guys toes
Tells me no worries I'm a dancer
Hell I'm a flirt too!
I speak to guys cause
it's what I know how to do
It's easy conversation
It's fun
But I know that when this nights over
it's all said and done
No need to mention
I have no true intention
Of speaking to or seeing these people again
Maybe I should
Maybe that's how I'll make connections
But for now I'm tired but it's a good tired
I feel at peace
There's something wonderfully dreamy
About the after party
People slowly waking up from the make believe of the night
As they're fighting off sleep
DJ Micky making his way out the door
Shoutin back
Make sure you message me!
I won't
For now It's time to head home
I take my leave
As I exit
Wave bye to Steve
Thinkin Why is it guys talk to me?
For the same reasons anyone would really
I listen
I guess maybe I put them at ease
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
I remember when I wrote
my first proper story at ten
It was called Gateway to Heaven.
When My grandad died
I found myself preoccupied
With the notion of the afterlife
Cause I could not believe that someone
Like him could simply be gone.
Couple that with an obsession
With space exploration
And what you got was a spiritual sci-fi.
To be honest it was more a screenplay
I bought it into class
for some reason one day
Not sure why
Maybe I wanted someone to read it.
Left it on my desk and went for a ****
And when I got back my teacher
Who had a bit of a flare for the amateur dramatics
WAS reading it.
I was met with an intrigued gaze as I walked back in,
I remember thinking
*ahh why are you going through peoples things?!
That's rude!*
(Although I secretly knew she would)
Tryin not to blush as she asked
Me questions about it,
then asked me to stand up and read the plot out to the class.
At this point what you've got to factor in
is that I was incredibly shy,
hmm no maybe not shy,
more under confident.
Not cripplingly so,
don't get me wrong
I was incredibly social,
was very popular in my class as a child
but when it came to sharing thoughts of my introspection,
any talent or shows of confidence,
well let's just say I'd learnt to keep that **** to myself...
But I stood up and read it.
And was met with a
mass of baffled gazes,
a memory that I don't think
will ever leave me.
To be fair it was pretty out there,
all black holes, theology and grief.
The silence that fell,
matching the silence of space itself
makes me wary of silences still.
That eternal moment
Tryin to Guage the judgement
thinking oh **** it!
now everyone knows I'm weird,
shoulda just stuck to my status quo in my final year.
But it was broken eventually
by my friend Funmi who said
"I don't get it"
I'll never forget it,
it was sorta funny,
mostly disappointing.
I wish I had the mentality at that time to think these guys just ain't ready for me
but I guess that was that,
class went back to what it was doing,
teacher came up with
a look of approval and some words of encouragement which was odd,
she wasn't my favourite teacher at all
and she knew it full well
and i spose that marks my underwhelming moment in the spotlight...
*Although I've always
maintained the belief
that it'll shine bright on me one day
or maybe I'll outshine it*
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 3:10 PM UTC
i remember that
game of dominoes
we played at your
grandma’s house
and your grandad
made us tea and
we ate your favourite
biscuits and all i
can recall is the way
you whispered
“i’m so glad you’re here”
over the table and
we were supposed to
be that couple who
were eighty playing
dominoes with our
grandson and his
new girlfriend he’d
brought home and
they’d drink tea and
she’d eat his favourite
biscuits and their
love would be like
déjà vu and his
whispers would bounce
to her over the table
is there a secret
to making a love
as strong as i believed
ours was, last?
maybe i should have
asked your grandparents
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Romantically, it is when we lie in a pool of passion where dreams flood our souls and engulf our hearts. It is the ****** of all infatuations when lust changes into love.
In reality, it is much simpler.
It is when we reveal the rips on our jeans, the crumbs on our floor, that weird freckle on our backs, the shirts we have stolen, the keys we have lost, the dust on our shelves, the journals we wrote, the letters we never sent, the stories from our past, and the lives we thought we deserved.
Intimacy is the privilege to witness someone in their most vulnerable state, to accept all their blemishes, and somehow remain in utter bliss.
That my friend is intimacy.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
Ten percent of the world are evil,
For them we made the Hearse,
The other percent are boring...
Perhaps that's even worse.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 8:19 PM UTC