Pride brings a person low, but the lowly in spirit gain honour. Proverbs 29:23


October 2016


The future is controlled by the present. So in a way it can be a scary place, if the world around us is slowly falling away, spiralling out of control. But as it always has, the future was designed to surprise us in numerous ways. It is not controlled by one man, one ruler, a king whose power only stretches as far as the extensions in his royal mind. Underneath all the materialistic things that our eyes can see, there is a transparent lining intertwined with all the fibres of existence in a sacred world. Whatever it is, there is no denying its omnipotence and supreme power that transcends all that we know. It does not flaunt its power. It is impossible to relive what was once and what cannot be. We warily look ahead in order to prepare ourselves for the twists and turns that this journey will take us on but our faltering souls will always look away, be distracted, lose focus and then we will be in a place that we cannot go back to. Like moving from a childhood to a teenager, an adult, we must abandon the past in order to move to the future never forgetting that what happened in the past will shape our present being and eventually decide the future that is a void. Somehow, and miraculously, that void will be filled something. It could be an hindrance, a happiness, a confusion or a glimpse back into the past where you discover something that reminds you of the person you chose to be. You are on cycles that the transparent lining controls and stimulates you on. Where it talks to your soul and where you make decisions that at first may seem harmless but gradually, it becomes more apparent how far you had come from the start. There is no point of fighting life, whose existence is merely immortal. It is a complex theory of bias and fact.


Click here for Railway Days.

Tangled Dreams

My mind is a tangle of complex roots,

That intertwine and wrap around,

Like the branches of a tree.

They dig deep into places that even I,

Want to but fear to know;

Because a vault of dark secrets hide there.

No matter what I go through,

Despite all the complications I’ve endured,

My mind is still young and fresh,

Open to any troublesome thoughts,

Open to hurt and sorrow.

Confusion, you see I have been stupid.

A fool who took too long to be a person.

What doesn’t make sense now,

Makes sense in the future; near or far.



Railway Days

Is it possible that all this depression was exaggerated by the raging lusts of the mind,

And the supposed deterioration of a young vixen’s physical form merely an extravagant show orchestrated in the dim chambers of a confused mind.

All these days wandering the bare carpets, as if I were treading some large, extra-terrestrial distance,

Where specks of dying leaves, sifting through the saturated Sun air, lie next to chewed up pens and torn pieces of paper.

Does no-one notice the significance of the insignificant, brilliant details of the obtrusive elements of a normal day?

See how they mirror our shy souls.

Emerge and conceal.


Click here for Pebbles.


I had begun to believe that there was no going back into the person that I once was, and the world that she lived in. But today, it was like I had walked into a beautiful painting where I once existed. I’d been downcast, wandering around in this desert where no-one would help me. I slowly felt myself floating, losing balance and gravity. It occurred to me that there was no point in trying so hard to exist in this demanding world.

You only have to stand in the light and face the darkness you were in, to know how dark your past was. Sometimes, I kind of wish that I could be back in that cycle but that could be my mind playing silly tricks on me. But I kind of knew that that was eventually going to happen. Sometimes, the faults in us need to be corrected and sometimes we should grow from them.

Sometimes, we deal with these faults and errors, in the wrong way. Instead of going in one path, our mind confuses the right with the wrong and so we end up reverting back to our original mistakes. But once you learn, you know how to rectify what has been made wrong. I’m happy now. Because even if I make a mistake, I know that I am capable of making that wrong right with the help of my God above.


Click here for Childhood.


Two pebbles lie on my eyelids,

With the weight of these smooth pebbles pressing against the thin layer of skin that protects the egg-like eyeballs,

And my brown pupils whose colours are now burning like flames in the night,

The coffee-brown colours are swimming, swirling around and glistening in the rays of sunlight, pupils dilating.

The lashes of these two big, brown eyes curl up like the edges of a crown,

Royal and magnificent but they carry the same reminder of a troubled soul who fights for peace.

They are not merely the parts of the face, not just a shield to the soul underneath, nor a window to the soul, the gateway to the spirit, the key to the heart, no,

They are the parts of a living, a breathing and dying beast.

Who bats her coffee-brown eyes and sends shudders rippling down the backs of those who look upon her,

Whose lashes do not blink but instead boast their awkwardness that is deeply alluring to the undisturbed mortal,

And kind and gentle one whose devotions lie elsewhere, in another resting place…



The Truth

I see the same roof everyday,

And nothing changes when I feel the touch of the surface underneath,

I loathe the same faces, whose eyes expose shiny, animated dollar signs,

And the cowardice that surrounds the atmosphere is so powerful, that battles are fought each day so that my purity may still exist.

I excuse myself, in the ending of sessions, surreptitiously looking around, behind and ahead.

The thing that I covet is out of reach, floating, protected, past murky waters I will never touch again even if I wanted to.

She told her friends, “Sit in the rain and let my sorrow have respite today.”

But they would not let me, I sat there drowning in the unspeakable, unseeable wave of sadness.

What I want is nothing now, because I know too much,

Too much and sometimes nothing, and I’m sad to the point of, to the point of complete madness.

So what am I fighting and why are my instincts pushing me to fight it?

I fear the unknown and possibly the nonexistent.



Little Hearts

“Slowly, slowly,

And quietly, so quietly,

They tear away the only defences I have,

These savages, so savagely,

And without your mercy, so merciless.

At the end I don’t know if I will survive.

Like a dying animal,

Lifelessly, they called me a lifeless beast.

With every gaze, I feel the rays of supreme hate,

Your eyes scorch my tender soul, no, my soul is already broken,

Broken in tiny pieces,

You broke my soul,

But you did it all so slowly, slowly,

And savagely, so savagely,

And beautifully you crafted your design,

Before I even knew,

And now, look little hearts,

Little hearts look.

You destroyed me, little hearts,

And tore away all that I built.”



Click here for Solitude.

Reverse Psychology

Reverse psychology has overtaken the mind of a young girl,

She is distraught and knows the situation she is under, yet she condemns herself this to oblivion,

She is not shackled to chains by force but by her own will,

All the responses that she observes on a day-to-day basis are translated into an opposite reaction,

Elation as sadness, and melancholy as bliss.

She doesn’t understand what has happened to her youthful desires that were once a vivid reminder of her power.

The tears that she weeps are the result of her own fault, her own thirst to delve to deep into the void that contained the information that she was not yet ready to absorb.

And yet she did, now she prays to mend her ways, to reverse what has been done.



Grand Scheme

The neglect of nurturing young souls has led into a widespread epidemic,

Still, silent as we watch the lines of purity one by one being consumed into the grand scheme of cheating and lies,

We will only have but negligence to blame the globally attacked state of innocence lost,

And innocence destroyed, and the creation of manmade disillusions siphoning out the carefree hearts of a child.

Little lives who once were the orchestrators behind mischievous tricks are now the pawns in the intoxicated industry that they surrender each breath to.

And this industry; it teaches the corruption of beauty, of the sublime orthodox rules now ravaged by savage animals in bow ties and black suits,

Polished suits and tar black hearts, your clean shaven faces to your crooked intentions.

Cheats and liars, and sadly, we are the acceptors of such an explicit lifestyle.



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