Goodbye July

Leaning on a broken wall,
Leaning on people that treat me so cold,
Is this my destiny or just a call?
Every minor rise ends with a big fall,
Leaving me more weaker than before.

Trying to see myself through a broken mirror,
My broken heart keeps asking how did we get here,
Get to this room where nothing is as it appears,
Nothing but my pain that is crystal clear,
and blood on my cheeks instead of tears. Continue reading “Goodbye July”

Love is Orange in Colour III: My Pharisaic Advocate

Disclaimer Alert: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

You know one of the best things about life I have come to learn in my twenty-something years? The fact that someone is impatiently thinking about you; it kind of gives you the urge to want to exist, even if this relationship with you dear reader is digitally defined. I loathe technology just as much as I cannot dread to live without it.

I understand I owe you an explanation on why I have been away for some time. I have been in therapy, and no I am not demented. I promised you an-average-guy-seeking-love manifesto; sadly, I cannot share it yet because my shrink thinks I am someone who has potential and should not consider himself as average. So, there is no manifesto, at least for now.

You know therapies are supposed to make you better and happy, but mine seems to be depressing me more. I don’t honestly get it why Suzie thinks this is a better step for our failing what-she-calls-relationship. Maybe it is depressing because I have to really work hard and be miserable not to feel alone. Has anyone of you ever been in that situation? No, I bet not; this is the life you reserve for people who see shrinks because they slept with someone they wanted to and it pissed off the other person who does not want to lose them. People put so much of a big deal in something that has become the modern god; sex, sex, and sex. Tell me, what is it about it that has never crossed your mind? I can share my ten-piece here, but that would make me less appealing. Continue reading “Love is Orange in Colour III: My Pharisaic Advocate”

Love is Orange in Colour II: My Misdemeanour’s Apprentice

Disclaimer Alert: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Sometimes I tend to question my integrity, but not really in everything that I have to do. Tonight though is exceptional, and I am beginning to think that I deserve the worst after the choices I have been making of late. By of late I mean in the last.. wait a minute I am smart, so this should not be hard, how many days has it been since January 1st? I hate mathematics, and I hate everything to do with numbers, I hate my age because it continuously alarms me that I am growing old and I have not made sense of my life. Even before I finish imagining that my birthday is coming soon, I am reminded that this is the fifth cigarette I am smoking today and it is barely noon. Continue reading “Love is Orange in Colour II: My Misdemeanour’s Apprentice”

Afterthoughts on the Movie Amélie

So let’s begin by saying I am an ardent fan of movies, and I am not just talking about the blockbuster films that gross millions of dollars on their release dates, as a matter of fact, I don’t like movies that people impatiently wait for, not unless it something with DC Legends in it.

So then, what are my kinds of movies? You sure would ask.

I will say I love books, just as I love movies, I try and avoid best sellers not unless it is the first or second print by an author, and even if it is the first one, then it should not be something that makes the world chaotic. I am unashamed to say that with all due respect and much love that I have for J.K. Rowling,

Continue reading “Afterthoughts on the Movie Amélie”

Red Heels at the Doorstep

Hold me now love because I need you to stay
We are not the love story with a perfect start
You are just typical you and I am just typical me
An erotic note hidden between pages of my life
A kiss that do not last behind your masked smile

There is a small voice within myself and it whispers
-Magical mess, beautifully violent and a humble wreck-
I feel I am when your warm feet caress my cold feet Continue reading “Red Heels at the Doorstep”

Love is Orange in Colour I: My Drinking Musings

Disclaimer Alert: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

“Did you know that for every man there are three women for him?
This is an outrageous statistics right?” Doug smiles, sipping from his bottle of cheap Kenyan beer. Suddenly there is a wild roar from the club we are sitting in to remind me of a game that we had come to watch. “I have to tell you, man, this is why you got to love Chelsea, did you see that?” I convincingly smile. No, basically I did not see that. He continues, “you know one thing man, I love my wife.”

It has been 23 days since my team drew with Swansea and that is not the event I reckon about October 1st, but rather it has been 23 days since I saw the lady I was about to talk to. Do not get me wrong, I love Liverpool FC and I believe it is one of the big teams in Europe (only Arsenal fans will disagree with me here); and I am not at this club because of the lady, but I missed my game yesterday and here I am ‘watching’ the heated game of Manchester United vs. Chelsea. Why am I here again?

“Marriage is a complicated justice,” he says, I listen like a child, “sometimes you just need something new.”

I love Doug like a brother. He and I are of the same age but unlike me,  he was very familiar with the world, he was, and he had a knack of telling me things I like to hear. What more can a man ask for? Continue reading “Love is Orange in Colour I: My Drinking Musings”

The Constant Listener

I am marvelled by certain tragedies that I cannot touch
The beauty in the hands that have been held in time
In darkness and in tragedies that I know are not mine
These are pots of gold hidden beneath a tombstone
That I know I shall never (not even once) sleep beneath

I have sat (for hours) on the banks of a river that don’t run
My feet soaked in clay that I know was once my womb Continue reading “The Constant Listener”

Life is a Silent Death

Often he heard of the knock before the welcome
As always his sun was often up before morning
Youth he was that chaseth all he deserved
And elderly he had grown to forget all he loved
Life is lived by the edges of the blinking hearts

Mock him today as he toils the land for tomorrow
Saying that we live once as if today shall cease Continue reading “Life is a Silent Death”