Rebel 

Oblivious in their attempts to guide us, they fail to realize that, the advice provided on our vices, only demises the life inside us, dims the brightness of light inside us. Until there is only ice where warmth once resided, until they loose their vises and tend to grow violent…. and vice versa.

We all break free from Inertia, and act out. rapidly illuminating all the negativity we both blacked out.

Presented only with what they perceive to be shallow adolescents, desperate to circumvent actuality. They have no prescience of what our impertinence actually represents.

The repercussions of our actions is judgement and punishment. they attempt to suppress our individuality. Their perspective is now stained with precedence of position and vanity,

 we longer see where their intentions lie actually…we see only lies

and they see… only the subversive 

 

Queen mother 

She rises before the sun, wiser and older. Each passing day adds weight onto her already burdened shoulders. Even as her knights grow colder, she stands in the front line with her soldiers, waging a never ending war against the harsh realities of life.

She represses all the pain she posses.  In attempts to adorn the ones under her dominion, yet they scorn her with their misplaced opinions, and although they occasionally trigger her wrath, they do not deter her from the path, she was always destined to be on.

An anomaly in her colony. Both the junta and the labour force of her economy. With an open heart and an iron fist, through whatever anarchy afflicts her monarchy, she persists.

Unconditionally kind, not only to her kind, graceful in humility, adept at the art of empathy, and undeterred in her loyalty. These are the elements of her eminence and royalty.

Although she is not perfect by any means, she is and always will be a queen.

 

Uni-verse 

A vacation of fabrication, seen with inner vision, a place where Inhibitions, get left behind, an escape to find, landscapes pre-designed, yet untainted my mankind. Liberation redefined, unaffected by time, an uncontrolled state of mind.

Populated by lines, but no order, spaces with no borders, a nation which trades inspiration. Where subjects of no sovereign morph through metaphors, created by the natural force of assertion. A festival of adjectival perversions. Where fact is no different from fiction, and diction is the only jurisdiction.

That’s where I go when I’m quiet…

GREY

On the outside looking in, but invites to step inside, will simply get declined, he oddly feels content with his position… He takes a few steps back, to get a better view of the dark clouds, that crowd his minds Vison, this only reinforces his disposition…

He attempts to move forward, as those dark clouds turn to thunderous showers, he feel stuck as he ponders for hours, too bold to be scared. Too smart to be brave, a rebellious child seeking permission… from a source of uncertainty… For all eternity bound to be enslaved by the things he cannot change… Now there seems to be no shelter from the storms rage… He puts on a show, even though, the storms ever growing flow, has made him outlandish at that stage. A tired man, at young age

The showers turn to floods, the storms refuse to subside, and the time has come to decide… Will he sink or swim… The future is as unclear, as the water he chokes in, yet the past he cannot forget… He takes a gulp of the water he treads, as he realises, not choosing is a choice he now regrets…he tries to jostle, but only causes a few splashes and bubbles, Stuck between previous struggles, and future riddles….timelessly floating…

in the middle…

chidi3s ©

Fruition 

What is a personality. There’s no longer anything personal about it. We’re nothing but the reflections of society that we need to be. Born free, we enslave our selves to bills and fees. In the quest for pay rises and uni degrees. We chase a “better life” although the term remains undefined. We all seem so eager to fall in line, Our individuality becomes undermined…


What good is a first impression, when self expression is reduced to a prosaic mosaic, made from, the broken pieces of freedom, we flee from. We’re obliged to conform. Stray never too far from the norm.
though this persistent resistance defies the very nature to which we were born. Torn, Our existence is now based on a need to belong…
We follow another mans plans to strive for the upper hand, As we fail to understand how to meet lifes demands.spite and envy, occupy the earths atmosphere, like the oxygen we respire, it runs through our systems.


We are all victims, of the day to day stress, as we dress to impress, under discrete duress. Work till were depressed. Ruined by the influence of affluence, when we were all born blessed… 


We must try not to forget, in this life full of regrets. Being who you really are is the only true success.  

chidi3s ©