freedom

The moment I said I was a pessimist,
I knew it was a lie.
Once I realized everyone has vulnerabilities and weaknesses too,
I decided to hell with it.
I’m sick of hiding in the shadows.
For what?
I don’t feel I have anything to lose.
I don’t care what people think.
The world doesn’t owe me anything.
I’m free from fear and society’s standards for what is considered tolerable or deviant.
The time eventually arrived
When all that was left to do was to roll the dice
Rather than remain confined in my psyche’s aegis captivity,
For it had been more scrutinizing
Than the gamble it took to soar.
I relish in the boffo of freedom!

Feel free to check my latest book, a book of poetry called Trials and Tribulations! http://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B018ZR0IVA/ref=mp_s_a_1_1?qid=1460319936&sr=8-1&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_QL65&keywords=trials+and+tribulations+sufian

Salvation II

Posted on November 28, 2015 by The One-Eyed Angel

I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings –
However I can’t save you from your morbid cynicism.
I humbly repent for my sins in nostalgic recollection of a felicitous truth.
This world of forms is full of endless possibilities.
Each living entity has an entirely unique experience.
The sights they see, the sounds they hear.
The lives they live are so labyrinthine… and yet so unadorned.
Because you’re something extraordinary.
You’re a human being.

Feel free to like or comment on this post. I will always reply back to comments! And please check out my eBook: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B012BSPFCQ/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdm_EgmSvb1FDR2EB Thanks for reading 🙂

Severed Cords

Posted on September 29, 2015 by The One-Eyed Angel

Crawling blades of grass,
Plummeting plateau,
Bubbling suds cascading down,
Briny depths await below,
Aquatic departure,
Pristine submission,
Wooden pier,
Viridescent canoe,
Fishermen’s knot,
Man rolls luggage,
Wheels skip boastfully,
Schoolboy jolting towards the playground,
Eager to abscond the miasma,
From the reason he was animated,
To the denouement of my misery,
Belongings thrown posthaste,
Onto the adjacent side,
Machete poised and ready,
Sever the noose attached,
Unplug the silver cord that lost its spark,
Snatch oars in arms’ reach,
Row towards the new horizon,
Mistaken for vintage,
Imagery shrinkage,
Implosion internal bleeding,
Water’s surface spread pastel,
Violet and indigo and cerulean,
Darkest before the dawn,
For water knows no drink,
Apollo peeks prior its peak,
Rubicund and saffron and topaz too,
Hope exists regardless of where you are

In distress

Posted on September 11, 2015 by The One-Eyed Angel

Part two of Damsel

A stained piece of parchment had been delivered to the king’s residence. A servant, whose domain was the front lobby, found it odd that the letter had nothing written on the outside. Usually a note’s exterior donned the name of who it’s from and who it’s addressed to. A turquoise insignia was melted onto the paper to seal it securely. He immediately made his way through the radiant labyrinth of mess halls he knew so well after 15 years on the job.
Upon entering the king’s chambers, the servant still clasped the bronze doorknob even after the fact to see the queen nursing herself back to health again. Her face was painted black and blue from a palette of limited colors. She gasped at the sound of the doorhinges being swung on its axis in fear of her loving tormentor.
Oh dear, he thought to himself, the king is drunken on the shipment of ale that arrived early this morning…. So he went by her side, standing near the window outlooking the courtyard in the center of the kingdom’s folly. Perhaps this letter held the contents of news that could cheer her up, the servant thought to himself before nonchalantly handing it to her.
A quick smile flashed on his face for just a split second like most people do when they sympathize with someone. But the queen didn’t imitate it for she wasn’t as positive and hopeful as he was.
A letter opener had been picked up off her husband’s study to carefully unfasten the piece of parchment. Together they both peered at the words scribbled in haste saying, “Have you wondered where your daughter was all day? In case you were, I’ll have you know I have your precious little girl. Meet me at the dock in Cape Forke by dawn with one million shillings or your kingdom will suffer a great loss.”
No! Terror was paved on her face. Tears streamed down in waves. Her manservant lended his royal highness his handkerchief before beginning his departure to find the king for aid. But she already knew this and forcefully grabbed his arm and shook her head fast.
Instead of alerting the king of the sudden leap of absence, they managed to make it to the vault where all their gold and other worldly possessions stayed covered in dust. The queen filled up bags and bags of shillings as the servant held a wheelbarrow in place until there was as much as the kidnapper desired. All while the queen snifled every few seconds in realization that her daughter was in grave danger! As if she wasn’t already under the king’s rule.
Both of them stealthily journeyed through the halls without getting detected by another soul. The queen eventually reached the back doorway trailing behind her servant before lightly closing the doors behind her. But incidentally, they were left open just a crack.
Dawn neared its approach into that day’s existence. The zenith of darkness before light would encase their world once more. The wheels of the wooden wheelbarrow skipped on the planks on the dock like a schoolboy skipping towards the playground. Once they nearly reached the outstretched hand of the Cape, they stopped midway before a ship pulled into view. The woodsman tied his boat onto the dock’s edge.
The queen and her only friend watched anxiously as the mysterious man rudely ushered his captive into plain sight. A sob held in since opening the ransom note rushed out of the mother’s mouth in uncontrollable bursts. Isra wasn’t even crying nor struggling for her freedom, however. So at once, the servant began to make his way to the kidnapper with that he was requested to give him.
Suddenly, the Sun finally managed to peek out into view, blinding the criminal temporarily. Isra snatched the dagger from his makeshift robe-belt, stabbed the evil man square in his chest, grabbed the wheelbarrow and all its contents, ran back onto the boat, and cut the robe tying her to her past before sailing away.
The mother yelled fearfully, reaching her hand out towards the distant ship sailing off into the horizon, her hope getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared altogether. She would have probably dived into the ocean if it wasn’t for her manservant holding her back. So the queen sink onto her bruised knees with a yelp of pain, fully aware that she had to go back to the king empty handed.

Damsel

Posted on September 9, 2015 by The One-Eyed Angel

Isra was such an odd name for a child, especially one from royal descent. At a ripe age of 13, such high expectations were placed on her for she would be the Queen someday.
However, she differed from her mother in many ways. Children should be seen and not heard, no one ever let her forget it. Her mother constantly reminded her that it’s always been that way. Rebellious preludes slowly tore Isra away from her family.
Her mother’s vacant, grey eyes bore into her before the curtain call. Any talk of adult things drowned out Sunday’s sermon with the help of locked doors.
The princess grew annoyed with being ignored. Sounds of anguish reverberated from the other side. Screams of agony emanated from the living alcove. But only her parents were in there. No kings of foreign nations. No queens of Saigon bent on revenge.
Perhaps some wars were fought at home.
Her long, blonde hair swayed valiantly as she jolted towards her bedchambers to collapse in seclusion. But before she reached her anticipated destination, Isra decided to trek out of the castle grounds instead. The bellowing wind sighed when the main doors were pushed wide open in a frenzy.
A lot of Isra’s studies were indoors and free time was hard to come by. But whenever leisure left holes in her daily routines, she treasured the outdoors. Birds intrigued her the most due to their fragile yet omnipresent nature. Wings granting the ability of flight, able to fly away at any time.
A bluejay landed on her index finger while she meandered down a hidden dirt path protruding from the open space and into the emerald canopy stretched over her. It bobbed its head instinctively in that awkward movement that most animals have mastered. Melodic chirping made Isra giggle soundlessly. Inevitably, it let go and dove into the open blue towards the heavens from whence it came.
Where the light recently bled through the openings made from newly bloomed leaves on outreached branches, a rush of cold air undulated heavily until it was as if the moon took its place prematurely.
Suddenly, a handsome yet middle-aged man stood against the bark of an evergreen tree. Obsidian locks spilled out of his hood. His hair may have been long but there was no essence of femininity surrounding his persona at all. Green eyes peeked out from beneath the fathoms of his robes.
The young girl’s mouth formed an “O.” All the air had been sucked out her lungs yet vehement attempts occurred to regain all oxygen. Fear took its toll. Isra saw the foreigner reach lucratively for a dagger held snugly in the robe tied around his slender waist. She didn’t wait for him to take anymore steps closer than he already had. Thank the Lord Isra chose not to wear the uncomfortable heels her mother wanted her to that day. These wooden shoes sufficed for running away from strangers in the woods. She dared to peek behind her to acknowledge that he didn’t even budge. Her glance aimed forward once more, but to her utmost dismay, Isra tripped over a makeshift snare. Ultimately, the snare enacted a net to snatch the princess straight from the earth to mid-air. A ravenous shriek escaped her chapped lips. The woodsman, she realized he was, strutted towards her before her vision failed her….

(To be continued in… “In Distress”)