Infatuation: A Haiku

Watching from afar,
i wonder what it's like to
be wrapped in your arms.

Flash Fiction Friday #30: Charmer

fff#30: (inclusion) snakecharmer, citrus, book(s) 

Not quite sure if i got what i was supposed to do quite right, but no scene :)

The snakecharmer plays his instrument and sways, serene, almost oblivious to the fact that the very breaths he takes enthralls the creature before him. So it was with me and him. The melody of his voice drove me to distraction whenever he spoke to me, and the movement of his hips when he walked away hypnotized me. But he wasn’t oblivious to the effect he had on me. Oh no, it was quite the opposite. He read me like an open book, saw the infatuation on my face as plain as if it were printed in ink, he caressed my spine and knew each page intimately.

He smelled of paint and canvas and ink mostly, but beneath all that lingered the faint but undeniable scent of something citrus. The citrus was the smell that snaked into your nostrils and hung around him no matter what he did, it was in his blood, and his kisses tasted of it. After the puppy love wore off and we grew apart, the citrus is what stayed with me the longest, and even now, it takes me back to the days of flavoured kisses, when his voice captivated me and his hips mesmerized me.

Fluff

I'm being very mean to these two pieces and posting them together because they're both fluffy bits of silliness.... 


Like

I like you.

Stupid me.

Stupid you.

Me for liking,

You for being so likeable.

But alas,

So be it,

I like you.

There's the first one. And this is the second.

Maybe

Maybe in another life,

If I still weave words

And you still write symphonies,

I’ll write you sweet nothings

And whisper them in your ear

While you play me a song

That only I will hear.

Writers' Insomnia

I write best late at night. Maybe it’s the silence that forces me and my thoughts to spend some quality time together; a silence that is interrupted only by my fidgeting, or the clacking of the keyboard or a pencil scrawling across paper, or the lack of people bothering or observing or disturbing with their mere presence. Somewhen between midnight and 3am on a good night, when everyone else is sound asleep, my mind is full of ideas, keeping me from sleep and forcing me awake until I let them out.  My suspicious mind thinks that anyone who happens to hear me probably assumes I’m watching porn or doing something naughty, but I can’t help it. The urge burns me with fervor most foul; it is an itch I must scratch. As to whether it’s any good in the morning, however, is an entirely different kettle of fish.

Flash Fiction Friday #22: When I Drink

fff#22: (starter) when I drink

(ah find d permalink! plus the link for the blog itself is HERE. also, i don't drink. seriously).

when i drink,

the warmth trickles down my throat,

settles in my tummy for a moment,

then rushes off to curl my toes.

the warmth then moves to my head

to cloud my judgment,

heighten my thoughts,

and dull the reasons why i don’t think about them.

the warmth then envelops me,

heats the tips of my ears,

then whispers into them,

and tells me i’m invincible,

and so i am.

but eventually the warmth dissipates,

the toes uncurl,

clarity returns with a friend,

the pounding in my brain,

and i’m left with the cold,

and just how invincible

i am not.

Flash Fiction Friday #18: Dance

Let it be known that prance is an incredibly UNATTRACTIVE word.
fff#18: (inclusion) dance, glance, trance, prance, pants

she enters as the music dims to announce that dj prance would be supplying the tunes for the night. the club is dark and the crowd moves, almost in a trance, to the carnal demands of the pounding bass. she makes her way from the bar, drink in hand, to join the mass of bodies pressed together as they dip and sway in time to the music. she takes a glance around her, and their eyes meet. she bites her lip and their eyes say all. they meet halfway. his hands run up the length of her thigh and fingers hook on the loops of her pants. their bodies mold together as they begin to move in time. and then they dance.

Just A Thought

All my qualms and worries about whether I’m cut out for writing dissipate when I realize that writing calms my soul in ways that no person or drug or possession ever can.

Speak

Speak to me,

Write me a letter

With your spray-paint pens

And emulsion ink.

Tell me your wants

Tell me your needs

Your dreams,

Tell me what you feel

Show me

Yell it to me

In the brightest colours

Of your rage

Your joy

You passion

Your sorrow

Your visions of future,

Past,

Tainted utopias,

And perfection in chaos

Shout at me.

Shout at me,

Make me listen.

And when I am listening,

Remind me,

That I too

Should be speaking.

The Journey

The move from

mind to pen,

pen to paper,

paper to

keyboard,

Word to world,

Is a journey

where

thoughts are

lost

found

replaced

like baggage.

Filled with

love

hate

need.

The need to be

read

shared

understood.

They cannot stay

under wraps

under your wing

underappreciated.

If you love them,

begin the journey,

set them free.

Ode To Cigarette Adonis

I'd like to make it explicitly clear that I am not a smoker and this poem is a glamorization of something that happened this one time....


Ode To Cigarette Adonis

You slip outside,

Cigarette in delicate hand,

And your perfect lips

Pull a pouty puff.

You tap the ash away,

And I feel it cry

Anguished at the loss

Of your closeness.

I thank the fates

Your languid draws

Draw out my time

To bask in your glory.

I take furtive glances,

Least the heavens

Punish me

For daring to stare

At their most precious.

You take your last drag,

And my heart breaks

As the butt goes the way of the ash,

And is crushed elegantly,

Artfully, under your boot.

You leave, but not before glancing,

And smiling,

At this poor pining mortal.

I never see you again,

But ever so often

Outside finds me

Cigarette in hand.

I do this

In memory of you.

mama doesn't want to grow old

mama doesn’t want to grow old.

bones breaking,

mouth drooling,

jaw slack,

some one to

clean you

change you

chew and swallow for you.

mama saw her mama

whither.

prisoner

of her feeble body,

jailed

by her failing mind.

a sliver

of a shadow

of her former self.

mama doesn’t want

to lose her mind

or be trapped

as her body

crumbles.

mama wants me

to cut her off

to unplug her

to give her the red pill

and release her.

but mama doesn’t

think about after

mama doesn’t

think about me.

because

when they ask

‘where’s your mama?’

i’ll just say,

‘mama?

mama’s dead.

i killed her.’

Muse

I sent this to The Student Press one time and it got published and people nearly exploded tryna maco who it was about... I said it was about no one because they wouldn't quite understand, but whatever...

Muse

Amuse me

Confuse me

Bemuse me

Till you consume me

Anything,

Just don’t refuse me

Art

paint

splattered

on walls,

pavement.

handprints,

assprints,

cover

stop signs

cars.

but

murals,

graffiti,

remain

untouched.

artists

never

defile

art.

Deadly Sins

I want you.

I want all of you,

I long for your lips and body against mine,

And I don’t want to share you.

I want you all to myself.

I covet my neighbour’s time with you,

I envy any look that’s not for me.

What’s stopping me,

Keeping me chaste?

Maybe it’s pride,

But I’d give in to you in a heartbeat,

So maybe not.

Cowardice isn’t a deadly sin,

But it should be.

New Frontier

So funny story about this poem... The timestamp for the creation is the 5th of august 2008. See what had happened was I started this poem and just never finished it... I couldn't quite find the direction I wanted it to go in, until one night, the fevers of writing possessed my brain, (lol whut??), and it came to me. And so on the 22rd of September 2010, in the late hours of the night, I finally freakin' finished the poem. And here it is in it's longsuffering glory. The title is a work in progress. Give it a year or so.


New Frontier

Poetry is the new frontier.

To me, it is a frightful forest

Full of ideals, towering and exotic

Clever words, double meanings

To intrigue and delude

Like a subtle jungle cat

And eat me alive at the sign of weakness.

But in this jungle of irony, paradox and rhyme,

There are no natives

Each man to brave the wordy wilds alone,

Leaving trails and allusions of trails.

No man can charter a course,

Because as quickly as butterfly words

Land upon the tip of your tongue like leaves,

They flitter away,

As swiftly as the slender snake of ideas slithers away

Through the grass of inspiration,

Gone in an instant.

Yet some times it reaches you

Like bushfires in a drought of thought,

Brought by lightening

And raging till it is doused

Or, if left alone,

Consumes,

Burns,

Devours,

Every fibre of your being,

And it wears itself out

And eventually the last ember dies.

All one can do,

Is not move too fast,

Too suddenly,

Least you disturb it

As it falls,

Springs,

Becomes,

Is,

As delicately,

As remarkably unremarkable

As a falling snowflake,

And capture its beauty

With the paintbrush of your words.

There it is. Can you tell where the two year gap is? 

Poeeeemmmsssss

It just occurred to me how sad it would be if no one ever read this, but I've quickly banished this thought from my head. There. Gone. ... ... ... Right.

Poems will be posted individually with whatever anecdotes I can remember or care to share about them ^_^ And I'm very proud that I did that fff and I intend to keep it up :) Though you know what is said about the road to hell...

Flash Fiction Friday #29 Curlylocks

Flash Fiction Fridays

Trigger: (starter) as much/little as

As much as it may surprise some, the way I wear my hair now a days did not start off as this huge social statement many take it to be. I mean, two and a half years ago when I decided to go free and be happy to be nappy with the hair one Carnival Friday for school, I didn’t really have anything on my mind other than, “Hmm, what the hell can I do with my hair that isn’t a bun or 2 ponytails or spending 3 hours with a flat iron?”

 My memory is a little hazy, but I remember a lot of people being intrigued, and I’m sure there were some “what d hell goin’ on wit’ she boy?”s, and I certainly remember a friend saying that a friend of hers found my look “funky”, (though to be honest I was also going through my tie faze and it may have been a lot for him to handle), but it didn’t matter. I liked the hair, I liked how I didn’t have to fight up with it and I liked how it framed my face. And thus, the Powerpuff Girls were born! Not really, but my signature look certainly was.

 A couple months later I cut my hair to the shortest it had ever been, (chop chop chop, PIECES), and didn’t look back. I perfected the various formulae for product that would provide me with maximum curl and minimum frizz and my flat iron took a back seat. The hair with its bigness and puffyness and its notice-me-ness began to grow on people, and the naysayers became less frequent, (though as they say, those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind, and my close friends always liked my wild look), and people began to associate me with the hair.

 Doh feel I forget I called my hair a social statement however. I like to joke about how I don’t let Babylon dictate the style I choose to wear my locks, but like the best jokes, there is truth in my jest. I don’t need to straighten it if I don’t want to. I still do different things with my hair from time to time, but I always remember that straight isn’t the only “nice hair”, natural and curly is beautiful too. There are those who disagree still, I know, but I can’t say that I care, honestly. Who vex loss. Talk done.

Post Number 1

Hi. I've started this blog in an effort to stimulate creativity. I suppose I can post the stuff I have written to prove that I am actually capable of writing, but i mainly hope to be doing flash fiction fridays, (click here for the person who organizes the fff and her bloggity), but other than that, it's good to write, and I can't claim to be a writer if i don't do any writing! So, stay with me, fair reader, and a promise i will make it worth your while :)