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A dead forest

Eventually, bottom Oak tree branch will fail under increasing consignments from a supreme thicker one that has thicker and bigger leaves. Leaves that allowed no sunshine to nourish deprived skinny branch that had always been thirsty for sunlight. Apes swings around under leave’s shade enjoying free food; breeding in summer. Forgotten the long lived agony’s ember. Life just got so neutral after Tarzan’s departure to the gambling city. Failed again to promote forest’s life as gamblers fancied contemporary fashion trends. Tarzan, dare you yoga or say yes to renounce ancient beliefs rooted within weak branches. Symptoms of Alzheimer, inequality of leaves poisoned authentic social ties within butterfly’s society as they fear wild snakes with faces looks more like wicked witch’s on a broom; Tarzan, remember her hair cut?

On the top branches stood the hungry eagles staring in patience at the occupants in the shed bellow. Eagle’s babies expecting a fresh tasty meal. An early morning promise made by their muscular father prior the departure. Quarterly, frogs ranks eagle’s devoted ethos as they gain weight. Branch can no longer absorb sharp nails tightness. Never disdained polluted Autumn’s wild wind, the branch’s lungs can take it no more; such a past time sin’s fulfillment. Forest, passed away in serenity before dawn. Centuries back, in a perilous valley, drunk lizards celebrated stitching forest’s bloody dreadful coffin. Black warmth at midnight gifted nasty lizards’ tinny rotten arrogance. Hey ya Elephant, while pregnant keep both eyes open, your forest might be next to die in peace ? Endlessly private.

Bianca and the farm

Born in a detached village on a carpet in a cold cottage basement. Late November 1712, it was snowing heavenly and his father just stood hopeless as the mother gave birth to a cute baby girl minutes before she took the last breath. He had to suffer for two days in front of the body till he had the chance to bury his wife without even a decent funeral. At least she gave birth to their first child. She was ‘Bianca’, a name the mother has always dreamed of calling her daughter by.

The father used to get up before sunrise to reach his potato farm that fed the family for years. Bianca could not accompany her father as she was born with paralyzed legs. The father spent twelve years trying to heal Bianca’s illness but unfortunately it was incurable. He felt the guilt and poverty tightened his ability to offer anything. he sold the farm, the house, and all their belongings including Bianca’s mother cheap weeding dress trying to find a cure; useless. Father drove Bianca to the neighbor’s cottage. His body was found after three weeks by the river side in the farm he sold with left hand’s veins cut.

Terminoogy                            

Scarce are the moments where she could release her deepest compassion. Dare you recall those. An elevation of stones mounted higher than teenager’s magical dreams. Dreams where she feared to stress out her rabid heart pulse. Moments deeply engraved in her sub conscious since ever. A useless attempt to dig for and find the best terminology to breath it all out before mid night.

Summer passed; not so joyful. She sought after help from a roommate; mostly drunk. Such a shame for someone studying cultures. She faced it many times, a lovely red haired skinny tall young lady; physically wanted day and night. He was so dishonest. Left the flat to the coffee shop across the street; please, double espresso and a chocolate cupcake. The waitress waited and wondered: will you pay for that?; she asked. Of course, she responded. How did you earn the cash? Waitress asked again. Have you tried a shoot in the forehead before? Damn this place; nasty terminology flourished. She stared at the entrance, Gosh, guess who was stepping in?

Waxion; a bit..

Feel the anger; wax it,

Meet dead ends; waxed,

Knew it; damn sunshine.

Dream freedom; a bit,

Wax n brain wash; an abundant of.

A bit; devastating ugliness,

Humans waxed; just a lot.

Destination, Pacific shore; alone honey,

Devil is your drunk captain;

Sailing smoothly all the way,

Across the ocean, feel his sharp nail around your neck,

Dipped in melted wax,

Bleeding love; shore is quite unreachable.

learning to quit.

I sometimes get frustrated with the fact that an overwhelming negative thoughts roles one’s behavior. How hard can it be to convince your inner conscience that you need to keep on learning even when reaching fifty one. A quality learning is what we talk about here not just  information that can be just collected from the web. Affording a quality learning is another concern to many keeping in mind that one needs to increase his income.

Work or learn? This us the formula to be solved when you get older, regardless what you perceive ‘older’. The solution must be urgently defined as prompt action are necessary.

Do we learn to discover ourselves or it is just what mum and dad wants? I believe it is a necessity to breath, to survive, and mainly to live the joy of achievement. Quitting is an achievement as well; isn’t it?

the last serenade..

As he approaches her cottage, she could feel his heart beats; Can it be true? She whispers. After all those years, he is back; I must dress up- I will put on the velvet dress he adores. His foot steps are becoming closer and closer; she hears knocks on the door. Gosh, where is the perfume he bought me on our first Valentines day? Here it is and I will just play the music we used to dance to all night long.

She rushed down stairs to the main door; My God, you are still so handsome love… But why sadness fills your eyes?. I am sorry baby, tonight you will go to bed listening to the serenade I composed especially for you. With no regrets; darling, read my mind- a gorgeous red-haired is an aspiration- a fresh blossom.

Texture; Manhood

Adam is still confronting tons of blockades since he embarked on a journey to achieve a long desired radical revolution to own present routine. A journey to generate pleasures that transfers him-as a man through time to his mid-twenties. The enthusiasm has accompanied him for years as he was held back by prehistoric traditions pinned in solid believes that was deeply planted in every cell. Adam suffered, yes and in total silence; manhood, bravery and dignity to be maintained unscratched.

A revision of his life style, though essential, is useless. Illogical explanations looms as ugly thoughts approach darkened souls. Man, get rid of it all-if any. Unwelcome current long-lived textures; lust, fear, longing. Craving for a warm blossomed breath with a gentle hug till sunshine. Morning light ignites his grey hair taking him places; another illusion of a back to life lie. Long straightened dark black hair used to lay all over him on cold lonely winter nights. A tenderness that has gone astray when the wind of jealousy conquered her fifty-three years back at the shores of a dry lake.

Turned to a fragmented soul, brain’s power fading so does the testosterone factory production; sick of continuous manly performance failure, he wonders-till when? Remembering the swan lake could neither heal bleeding wounds nor the pulse tenseness. Dawn textured a thread of lies; babe is returning to the gentle custody; noisy entertainment overwhelms as his bones shiver. Will she ever? he murmured. Red curtain falls on another fake curvy texture; awaited in tranquil man’s misery in his quest to escape his long-lived mid-life crisis rhythm.

The womb.

womanSometime at late fifties, on a dark winter night, on a small sea side village full of farmers lived a young boy called ”Nameless”; seems nuts. His mother got trapped between the father who sails eight months a year and a nasty boss who is around daily as she cleans the office and serves his coffee. Admit it, an old approach to life, cheaters are all over, regardless. ”Nameless” has got no education till lately. He learned the hard way, begging for passion and tenderness but mainly for house expenses that Father used to waste on the blond- Boss’s assistant. Damn it, ”Nameless” can take it no more. Father, left them to poverty that torn them apart. Mum has longed for a brave husband to defend her. The boss was a demanding cowered; just as the husband in most of the nights he was around.

How do you think son’s feelings were like then? Never mind, now he just doesn’t care. She used to plea for mercy time and time again. Surrounding males’ approach stinks ones soul. At those times, ‘’Nameless’’ saw it all. But, unfortunately, he was so weak to fight back defending his fragile mother. Mother surrendered and collapsed. ‘’Nameless’’ lost interest of school’s home works. Failed with all life’s aspects. A life that made him as fragile as a bleeding womb. A female attitude in a male’s body, toilet, and name maybe. Not sure of it all. Life has turned bleak just as mother’s cracked womb. Is it still hard for you to remember when Mum was as fresh as a morning blossomed rose, slushy as fresh honey?! Damn you Dad; if I may- We literally were turned into walking dead. Under the shower, bloody water drained away tears of  grief as it smoothly slipped over the shoulders. A totally new womb melted with anger. Curtains falls on a miserable scene; father arrives at the door step; Sorry, you are no more welcomed, neither is the Boss.