Shallow tears

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Her heart breaks, not for the player and his promiscuous ways, but for the homeless lady she sees in the same spot everyday. Her heart bleeds, not for gucci bags or anything else she might wish to keep. But because she heard about families in Grenfell towers burning in their sleep. Her heart weeps not because of her flaws or insecurities, but for the mother of that little boy that was stabbed on her own high street. She’s human too. Full of her own doubts regrets and fears. But her angelic eyes would just not let her cry,  shallow tears.

 

Buried alive 

‘Buried alive’ 

Feelings that had blossomed into something beautiful, thrown back into the undergrowth, like a beam of  light sucked into a black hole. I couldn’t see the picture, you couldn’t play the roll… So we fought what felt right, and turned dawn back into night. We buried our emotions… a thought that has left me terrified. because I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I burried mine alive…and that is such a cruel thing to do, to anything at all…

concrete jungle

In this capitalist climate, where you’re only as good as the goods and services you provide, the way you’re taught to market yourself is often mistaken for a personality… When really, we’re all just products of the massive factory our environment has become…put some pretty packaging on, and hope you fit in with the rest of the breathing statistics.
It is, however, what it is… Get lost, or get with it… At least that what they tell us.
When they can’t see what propells us. They’ll say we’re headstrong and overzealous…but the sad fact is that, living or loving freely in this mad factory, will leave you labelled as rebellious…

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Beautiful Struggle

so much beauty…you would struggle to see, but be left in awe once you saw it… I watched myself profit from my plummet…

Encouraged  by contagiously courageous condemnation,  inspired by painstakingly painful perspicacity…

What gave me the audacity, to stay, to face it… I had to face it, I could never escape it, through empty glasses, or an overflowing ash tray…the storm always passes, to reveal evermore joyous days…

beautiful cliches, describe all the romantic realizations… I struggle to say…

What gave me the grace, to stay…grateful, humble…to seek not trouble, when I stumbled, to burst only the bubbles, that confined I… My life-style has been ruled by error and trail, so my eye, must Seek truth, until ONE can no longer hide behind Denial…

I changed my mind to find;

The true intentions behind ,the whimsical lies of life, the tranquil amidst the turmoil, the strength in each stumble, the air within the bubble, the relics among the rubble…all that is beautiful within, my struggle

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Half heartedly in love 

IMG_7289They met in a dream, so real to him, she had made a lasting impression, but never hung around to be recalled at his discretion…
One half of his heart she would fill with love, the other with tension. He knew she would either be a life partner or another life lesson

Despite his many insecurities, he would strive towards making her a priority…He searched;

endlessly, to find the time,

relentlessly, for new ways to prove he loved her.

His charm, his smile, they did their bit to help, they pleaded a case to her, but they never proved what he needed to, to himself.
He begged her to stay, as he pushed her away. She was a beautiful mistake , one he was dying to make… The girl from his dream, that had him sat up all night, awake…

Sinai 

    The preacher begins to speak of peace, as the quire grows quiet. The sermon was yearning to learn, the demons were burning in the urns of those earning. 

The spirit however, did not desert the undeserving. Every soul within the temple could feel a tide turning, in a baptism of realism. Manifested true, through a catalogue of material cataclysms. Each eye saw the same Visions of the Schism.
The walls began to burn, unconcerned by who was what, or who wasn’t  with sin. The temple began combusting, like a furnace, yet not even a single Scream scratched the surface; 

The preacher was now looking increasingly nervous. Pushing his faith desperate to see the purpose, of the torture that he had used to torch the tortious…

Wealth had now become worthless; to all the snowy Saints in their burning churches. That now claimed to know of holy verses, yet could not recall their saviours birthplace; 
The quire so inspired that they sang through the fire, until the entire procession sought out a new professions. 
Like the holy smoke that filled their lungs and stained the air. They where there, yet everywhere. A heavy cross to bare, till they were near, their last breath…

A church full of New desciples that wrote divergent bibles, as they stifled, walking through the fiery shadow of death…

Faded memories 

 

Memories faded from the day I swapped hills and valleys for streets and alleys. Time wasted, days played out the same way, summed up at the bottom of a rhum cup 
Darkness comes and goes as it pleases. Time may heal all wounds, but I’ve been a patient patient, now I do what I must to ensure the pain eases. I find short lived moments of peace, while lost in the solitude. I’ve been struggling to force fortitude, while watching my darkest fortunes come true… I run towards yesterday, for I fear Tomorrow is just another today…  

Memories faded, from the day I swapped suits and ties for peace of mind, and busy scenes for planes of green. Temporary moments of peace found their way to me, through fresh air and stunning views. Almost beautiful enough to help me forget the hell ive been through… 
Bluer skies and brighter days, all to help memories fade 

Hunter 

  

They came like ants swarming the school,

Guns blazing, voices raised to decibels I could only assume

My time was up.

Lined against the wall, everyday tasks now twisted

Teachers pinned against the black board 

Red chalk newly scripted

Self fulfilling prophecy eyes now at the back of the head.

Some, could no longer see a head.
Another dead lesson, everyday tasks now twisted…

Mathematics, as I panicked, trying to sum up the time I existed 

History lessons, my life flashed before my eyes. 
Terror from fellow pupils followed the flashes across my pupils. reflecting, thinking, life is but a lesson… over the hellish harmony of scared screams still singing, I could just about make out the sounds of the school bells ringing… 

Co written by: https://soromtbte.wordpress.com

Concentric 

 

The ‘hows?’ are locked down in the basement, the ‘whys?’ are trapped up in the attic.

The truth is often several stories too high, or too low, to be of any use, to us…white lies are just, easier to trust 

We strive to see, our perspective rise, with our pasts disguised as now, looking for the wise with know-how 

For every waking minute, we see, the ego diminishes, what we analyse… within our minds , we realize,  eyes were never that precise.

As we visualize and manifest our goals, the ‘why?’ is the cause, the ‘how?’ is the reaction, governing our laws of attraction. A dispondent correspondence, that vibrates even the greatest of pagans…

In the maddening mystery, that is the architecture of our surreal reality,  it is from the ‘whys?’ we derive true satisfaction, the ‘hows?’ are but beautiful distractions.

Perched in the dark, like the old owl, The whys make us wiser, the hows make us howl. We take flight into the untold night… The wise always find out how, by asking why