Who’s willing t…

Who’s willing to try
Yes, to save a world
Yea, save our sweet world
Save a world that is destined to die

Marvin Gaye

Tabs of Life

Sometimes my browser gets clouded

With different artistic tabs

Computer slows down

Begging, that I may close these tabs

Then I think

Where would these tabs be?

If the artist refused to paint

Share a piece of mind

Bash a brick of wall

For all to see

And feel the moment

When those words flowed

Without hate, only real

So I say

Thanks to the tabs of life

SIMPLE WORLD: Summer in Saturn

“So, you’re telling me you have it?”

“Yes I do, every part of me holds it.”
“I can take you with me,”
“To where I found the answers”

“Then give it to me, take me there, I want it, I need it.”

The stars were bright and the showers poured down heavily with haste. The beautiful woman looked at him, staring at his face deep into his soul, as though she had finally found another to share her new found joy.

From her dripping wet hair, to her frivolous smile, she had captured his attention like no other. Struck with an arrow sent from an angel not cupid, he had been hit right on his throbbing heart. He had always protected his heart with anger and fear, but she had gotten hold of his passkeys, with which she had ignited a burning fire deep in his vessel vase flowing with red.

“Who was she?” he thought. She had appeared to him from nowhere telling him that he had nothing to lose in life.
They both sat on the red couch in quiescence, embracing each other, hands interlocked together. In this place, right then, these two souls had broken free from the hard lock of senses, and had found the land beyond love. What was to come? Neither knew. The journey of romance was spread down and the two lovers laid down in the bed of love.

Touch
All alone with his many talking machines, he was lost with the light that shined from all his acquired motherboards. Sounds of bits from his computers all crowded his mind; days after hours, he spent all the years stuck in his own time.
“He was in alone in peace,” he thought. “Away from the hatred”

“But all you have is a piece of this and that,” She said.
“You built a wall of moments.”
“I hold a fragment of time, though not much, I have much to give.”

“Can we do it right?” he asked.

“If we do, we’ll feel it, never stopping to ask if we did.” She replied

“I don’t want to be lost again”

“How can we know we’re lost, when we cannot turn back and see our own shadows?”
“Love, all we need is a time lost in magic.”

Holding On
Where most rocket engines fell apart, the ivory lady and the man in red blasted forward, reaching high up into the skies floating there amongst stars until they both reached the planet Saturn. The sound was absent there because, sound was too loud for one to conceive at a time such as they were in. Screeching to a stop; the flight they took was plummeting to a finale.

“It was the end for them,” some thought.
“How high can one truly go?”

“High enough to fall down flat, only to get back up and fly again,” the two replied both in a singular unison.
“We did it,” she smilingly said.

“Yes, we found the way beyond the land of red,” he replied.

This chapter might be irreversibly lost by alphabets and characters, but their dreams lived on even beyond the closure of books and vinyl cases. The light above the cloud blessed their souls with recurring dreams.

Lucky distances with spinning beginnings.
Out to break away into the light.

SUMMER IN SATURN
.

Letting your writing ‘flow’

helpful read

LionAroundWriting's avatarLionAroundWriting

optimal flow

Optimal Experience by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (1995)

No doubt you’ve heard the expression ‘in the flow of things’ the idea of being in the zone, a place where nothing can interrupt your thinking. It all comes so naturally, so easily, as if by instinct.

But what is flow? Is it definable? According to Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi (try remembering that for an exam), flow is being in a place mentally where little else has meaning, as if able to block out external stimuli, to focus on one thing totally. Crucially, flow is intrinsically motivated and often has no tangible reward other than the performance of the activity itself. It is self-fulfilling, but that is not to say that if rewards become part of this process you will suddenly cease to enjoy the activity. There are those who disagree:

“No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.” Samuel Johnson

Examples of people who…

View original post 802 more words

There are momen…

There are moments I want to write, to share, but there are those special ones so hot and intense; moments I just want kept locked away in my heart forever.
Greedy I know, but it’s a matta only meant for face to face

Simple World Part II

And like that, he stood up and watched all eyes turned to him. Intimidated by the stares, he tried to create leeway through the crowd. The squishing got tighter by each movement. His suit was painted in red attracting those without colors to him.
He had to find another place, he thought. As he went into solace, he found the new sound, music it was, but unfamiliar; the birth of a new muse. The speculation was that the man in red had returned from the unknown. He had been elevated by the new muse to above and beyond plain ground.
The element had been made and a name was required. The power to create a space, a world, a lane, or a chassis is there for all to grasp. Still do what you think of. This is not a message from the hungry pulpit. The driven make those who taste bitter cringe until all they have left is to turn right and chew away: sweet sonic. Harsh reality, time passed quickly and he became the living evidence. A wide range to cover and conquer. Brace for the birth of Cocoa Sola.
How can you understand when you think time goes by the ways of the watch? Keep hold but free loose. Of course, the ground shook when the aliens came to earth. Foreigners of some kind, they enlightened those who choose to look with their already acquired powers. The aliens did not call it power, but as usual, folks can never phantom the light beyond the wires.
Their cars crashed on the covers that protect those from their own nightmares. Hovering in a singular pattern. Resonating uncalculated sounds. Those who remembered came out and spoke freely to the unhinged figures. The mind most lost could have been preventable if only the saying became a living proof.
The people saw forward and back without living here and there. The new anthem is: Real is fear. The description is in the lessons not the flowing down of necks. The taste is strong when the garnishing is left to those who refuse sweetness. Mixing chemicals failed the professor so he threw away all he had worked for. It rained and he wished for her to be here with him.
The girl was a sting, a second after. Drifting quietly inwards, the incitation chants rang deep till the dreams of a Lion was fully told. Now onto ink and matta.
Swollen Intermission, red eyes. Yes they know you now, fully blooded they call him. Always painted, they pointed. Agreed, but my infinite vision is beyond you definite thinking. Growth by each word; powers born to rage full in bright red.
My Arrival; hence the mission to bring a new world in this green and already recycled world.
Residing tide, reincarnated man
The suit lasted and lasted till it became pale in red. The origins of the man in red. Bathed with elevation, he was lifted with many more in-nights.

If the afternoon be kind to you, catch up with Simple World 1, by clicking here

Far Apart, Though Sunday

The things we have stretched
The hugs we wrongly refused
Hate bound
Landed smile
Empty vessel
it ain’t right, he said
Playing the game of circles
Biting hard only to recieve water
The thirst for red
A roundabout of situations
The effects of mankind
Right on the ledge
A broken society about to break
Another demise
So far, so good
Bad for throat
Thick lump for soul
Vocal lullabies of a written cycle

Tribal Thirst (SW)

Heart to sleeves

Pact of wolves

Chilled anthems

Scattered verbatim

 

The world, word

Staining the proud, loud

Dirty road

Maybe crowded, padded

 

 

Word of the proud

Crystal hound

Believing the void that dropped

 

Selective thirst

Words, the lost stole

Origin, the ones that held

 

Seconds dropped, voices laid

Shower spending, timing Skype