Writing – Page 8 – SIMPLE WORLD

Striking Resemblance

I steer clear from the pretentious

My wheels of thoughts drive off

Into there and here

Looking for a road without dust

How pretentious.

Away, again, I found that same road

Another trace of lies

From the start, it seemed anew

But, the finish begged to differ

Never repeating my mistakes

I lunged into the old tale called love

Hoping to keep sanity

How pretentious.

The Crocodile City

The city stank of death and utter desolation. Many dirty gutters were scattered all over the city showering their many unwanted blessings to those who dared to breathe.

The city was abundantly filled with platinum lies;

“Records of misdirected words

Mixed with a rejuvenated beast

Marked with a line of ill

Too ill to spill puke

Too insane to sniff coke

How far, too long

Till she shakes off her pride

And then all that was wrong spins around

Back along that same place

Where honey tasted better than sex

There she lay, the Queen of the night, deep inside the city of crocodiles.”

Finders Keepers

We all need somebody

The blow was heavy

So we ask for rest

Bright in the day

The stab was deep

At a time when all we knew was red

We all need somebody

We all need another

Another to quench the thirst

Another to heal the bruise

Another to say all is well

Glass Messages

The preacher lied, they said

Some danced, others watched

We all live in a lie, a few whispered

A tear never wasted

A reservoir of redemption

Living where no soul dared

All vanity, he said

Yet they knew he spoke some truth

Every step up that ladder seemed unattainable. The progress made so far was slow as it needed to be. Our thoughts were closer to pain than hope. Pain was easy to obtain. Pain required no formalities to settle into your place of rest; like an unwanted guest who refused to depart.
So I tried; again and again, on and on, I revved, but the clock refused to heed to my words. The wheels kept pushing forward; upward to somewhere that looked like heaven. So to the edge I step; a place where I had no choice but to move on.
Silence engulfs me
A deep sigh,
Back here, one last time
Then it begins
Forgetting pain and sweat, I run
My path gets more unclear by the day
But I preserve and scratch deep down
With my heart bleeding courage
I reached
I had come in last but nonetheless I had succeeded
To my own voice,
With precise clarity
I heard emptiness had fled away
Leaving behind a taste for survival

People of the Night

At this hour
Those without sleep, still search
The day was unsuccessful,
So they wait quietly in the night
Hopeful
Without any rightful mission in mind
While,
Some crave for sex in the darkness
Others crave for nothing in particular
Depriving themselves of sleep,
Only to lay down for a few hours,
And wake up miserable in the morning

Spin

When the young arrived the old quietly sat on their chairs

Our lives spin in circles hoping to align directly with our desires. Some people never get to see their deepest wishes come to fulfillment, but only a few realize whatever their heart had hoped for. They journey into loneliness without preconceived pressure, but with a free-flowing effortlessness. Unfair civilization; definitions of the world we continually live in. We are bound to hate one another with disdain and bitterness. Sometimes hoping for a change is like a ball stuck in a dead stream; hopelessly stagnant. Slowly and gradually we disappear into solitude and despair. Love seemed to be the right way but when sought and pursued, a cold shiver was received. SPIN

Third Person (Voice)

You know after all this; the constant pressure to succeed or fail, the pressure to fake a smile or a frown, the pressure to find one or another, or the constant looks from the street judges, there I am (moi). Standing there or maybe walking with my back turned, I look strange just walking, fighting my through another man’s time. I know that’s contemporary life; “you work to live,” but where is my own time?

The elites might know, I mean I toil for them everyday. They should know something, right?

Where am I in this ‘scatta’ ‘scatta’ mess?

Have you seen me lately?

I think I’m lost, missing in action

So is my voice lost in this strictly commercialized noise?

Oh well there it goes again, echoing away my soul

I can’t hear it, even if I lean further, it has gone too far, or am I too far away?

After all this motion and more motion

Where am I?

Where is my voice?

I think I might have to shout much more louder to get it back. Reach for the stars, they say!

Primary Times

The clock strikes

The girls bite

Pinch and tease

Leaving their trademarks

Drama queens

In need of attention

Like always, I run

I run past them

Girls that bite

Some I dance with

A few I touch

The ring of the bell,

Then, it’s all over again

The Curse of the Hedgehog

After he had got bitten to death by the once seemingly sane hedge-hog, the yellow squirrel returned from the underworld only to receive an interesting call.

“Hello, my name is Mr. Hedge-hog. I am calling on behalf of Zerrazen. Am I speaking to Mr. Yellow Squirrel?”

“Yes you are,” replied Mr. Yellow Squirrel.

“Well sir, I am contacting you in regards to a past due balance on your account.”

“Yes, I know, but I could not pay my bills on time because at that time I was M.I.A.”

“Oh yes sir, it says on your bill, that you are currently in transition to becoming a fully fledged zombie, and we at Zerrazen take that seriously.”

“Well, if you or Zerrazen really understood my situation, you all should also know that getting a job in my current state is practically impossible. I mean everyone keeps running away from me, it’s like I’m cursed.”

“Well sir, you are a zombie in transition, I mean you’re practically not alive.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? I am freaking dead walking yellow squirrel.”

“I understand your situation Sir, if I was bitten by a zombie Hedge-hog, I too would be fuming.”

“Argh argh argh argh argh rah argh rah rah awrrrrrrr rahhhhhhhhhhh”

“Sir, are you there?”

“Arghhh rah argh rah arghhh rah rah rah awrrrr rahhhhhh”

“Sir, oh my, what a pity, there goes another Zerrazen customer. He didn’t even get to pay his past due bill.”

The hedge-hog quietly dropped the phone and sighed. “Typical of a yellow squirrel”