Love Cat Brigade

Facade - Alternative Ending.

2012-01-07T18:38:00.003+11:00

* A generated Stage Play *

I'd always wondered what would happen if Vince and Elle could not reconcile. So I made an alternative ending. The play commences just near the end (so I won't repost the entire play again, but rather start from partway in the play) - so the reader will remember what happened during that moment of the play, but also experience the alternative ending.

(The room is silent for a moment with Vince and Elle fuming. Stella sits nervously on the couch – completely at a loss of words).

VINCE: (Waving his hands in the air with frustration) Okay, I’ve had enough of this bullshit!
Do you guys really want to know the truth? Huh?
(To Stella) Stella, do you want to hear it?
STELLA: (Nervous) Okay.
VINCE: Elle, huh?
ELLE: Yes!
VINCE: See, I’ve been paying close attention to you tonight, Stella.
Judging by your behaviour – it makes me wonder if you’re really my friend or not.
ELLE: Vince!
VINCE: (Ignoring Elle) So I just want you to answer me one thing.
Stella, yes or no. . .
Do you really think that by saying how you thought marriage was supposed to be the most important thing, but then even MENTIONING the thought of Elle and I getting divorced – That it’s all supposed to make me realize something about myself?
Is what you’ve said tonight supposed to add up somehow, to something?
STELLA: (Silence)
VINCE: Is it? I just want a yes or no.
STELLA: (Pause) Yes.
VINCE: Alright.
(Shifting down a gear) Elle. . .I know you want to be an artist.
(Realising the truth) But. . .I could never be married to you if you were.
STELLA and ELLE: What?
VINCE: I can’t – I – I just can’t. . .
ELLE: But Vince –
VINCE: (Pressing on) When I married you, I was sure I could convince you to give it up, to – to go into advertising.
And – and I did it, and it worked.
But now. . . I – I don’t know Elle.
(Sighing) I don’t know. . .
ELLE: (Realising the painful truth as well) Oh my God. . .
(Pause) I’m going to give you the truth too, Vince.
VINCE: What?
ELLE: (Motioning the painting) I – I painted this.
VINCE: (With disbelief) Bullshit.
ELLE: (Angry) I am an artist, Vince, fuck you.
VINCE: You’ve been secretly painting? When – when did –
ELLE: Every time you go on a god-damned business trip, I paint.
VINCE: (Running a hand through his hair) Jesus. . .!

(The room is silent for a while with Vince and Elle contemplating their thoughts)
VINCE: (Pause) Okay. . .I have one more thing to say.
ELLE: What?
VINCE: See. . . I – I’m ashamed of my parents.
ELLE: What? Your parents are great. I love seeing them.
VINCE: I know, I know. But compared to yours. . .they’re so. . .ignorant.
ELLE: But they’re real. I hate how my parents are pretending to be something –
VINCE: I’ve tried hard to be like your family.
ELLE: Vince, really? I don’t –
VINCE: (Cutting her off) But I feel like a phony. I feel like I can never get rid of my past.
It’s kind of like I don’t know who I am anymore.
ELLE: (Stunned) Oh my God. . .
(Long pause, at a loss) This changes everything. . .
VINCE: Yeah. . .
You. . .you really have to be an artist.
ELLE: You finally admitted it – you just don’t want me to be an artist. . .
VINCE: And you think I’m a phony for despising my upbringing. . .
ELLE: But at least you had a real upbringing. It’s be who had a fake one. . .

VINCE: (Walking towards the front door, shifting down a gear) I think it’s over.
ELLE: Vince, what –
VINCE: (Stopping and interrupting her) No!
It’s over, Elle, don’t you see that?
ELLE: Whaa. . .You just told me –
VINCE: (Interrupting her again) I just told you something about us that I should have said a long time ago: I manipulated you into advertising.
And about me. . . I’m a phony.
ELLE: Vince I –
VINCE: No, Elle, this is about me and it’s about us. . .but it’s not about you.
ELLE: Not about me?
(Vince continues to the front door)
ELLE: Hey, no. . .wait!
VINCE: (Stops to look over his shoulder) Stella, I’m sorry.
(He proceeds to exit the room)
ELLE: Vince. . .VINCE!
(She turns to Stella) Oh my God. . .I should have told him that I –
I could have told him that. . .

(Stage fades to black)

Facade

2011-12-24T09:51:00.004+11:00

* A Generated stage play *

Hey Stella it’s Vince. . .um, wow – it’s been a while since we all talked, er, but – but Elle and I thought it’d be really nice to see you tonight. Er, so just stop by tonight, around 8 o’clock or so. It’ll be great – so er. . .see you then.

[8pm: Vince and Elle’s apartment – New York]

(Stella steps out of the elevator and heads towards Vince and Elles’ front door)
(Before she can knock, she overhears a conversation from inside)

VINCE: (From inside) Where are the new wine glasses?
ELLE: What for?
VINCE: That should be obvious!
ELLE: Oh God, Vince – don’t turn this into a big production, please!
VINCE: Jesus, Elle. Come on, I’m not asking a lot here!

(Stella knocks on the front door – interrupting the conversation inside)

VINCE: (From inside) Uhp! She’s here!
ELLE: What? You told me it’d be an hour from now!
VINCE: No, she’s supposed to be here now.
ELLE: God. . .Vince!

(Vince opens the front door)

VINCE: Stella! (Greets Stella with a warm hug)
Hey, it’s been too long!
STELLA: Vince! It’s good to see you. Yeah, it’s been a while. . .
VINCE: How are you doing?
STELLA: I’ve been busy with work, you know. I’ve been so busy that I feel like I haven’t had enough time to look after myself.
VINCE: Well you look great.
STELLA: Why thank you! So do you. How have you guys been?
VINCE: We’re great – just great! We actually got back from a trip to Italy recently. I’ll have to tell you about it.
STELLA: Great!
VINCE: Well come on in! (Shows Stella inside)

(Stella is led into a modern apartment bearing a striking view of the city)
(Elle enters the room)

ELLE: Stella. . . (She gives Stella a polite kiss on the cheek)
How are you?
STELLA: I’m fine. It’s good to see you again Elle.
ELLE: God, it’s been a while.
VINCE: Yeah, it has been a long time.
STELLA: (To Elle) How are you?
ELLE: I’m great!
And I must say, you look fabulous!
STELLA: Why thank you – you too!
ELLE: Aww, h-mm (Happy smile sound)
Well, come on in and make yourself at home (She gestures to the nearby couch)

(Elle sits on the couch)
(Stella goes to join her but is interrupted by Vince)

VINCE: Before you sit down Stella, take a look at this photo I just put up from the trip to Italy.
(Elle sighs a little as Stella inspects the framed photo)
Now, what does this picture make you think of?
ELLE: Oh Vince. Don’t put our friend on the spot like that. . .
VINCE: (Ignoring Elle) In a word, what does this say to you?
STELLA: Leisure?
VINCE: Mm. No. . .
ELLE: I like that, that’s a good answer
STELLA: Romance?
VINCE: Right! Love! Romance!
(Elle rolls her eyes at Vince)
VINCE: (Noting Elle’s eye-roll) Well, I’m not going to bore you with the details. . .

(The pair join Elle on the couch)

STELLA: So how is work?
ELLE: Oh yeah, let me tell you about work! I’m the lead designer on a new project, heh.
VINCE: Our project.
It was quite a coup when I brought this new account in. Print ads for bridal fashions – very big.
ELLE: (Rolls her eyes again) Trip’s job is to use his ‘charm’ to woo the female clients.
I suppose that’s how he won this client.
VINCE: It’s how I won you, isn’t it? Heh heh heh. . .
So I have a way with women. What can I say?

(A slight pause in the conversation)
STELLA: I must say, your apartment looks great!
VINCE: Yeah, it’s great. Everybody loves it when they come in and see our latest decoration scheme!
ELLE: You know, ever since we got married, Vince is forever trying to get me to buy new furniture and redecorate
And – and it’s true, I kind of enjoy it.
But Stella, this does not look great. You have to look at this room and admit it looks terrible.
VINCE: Elle –
ELLE: I mean, look around, this room. . .it’s hideous
STELLA: Don’t be so hard on yourself. I think it’s lovely. I mean, look at this painting.
(Motions to a large painting above the couch) It’s wonderful!
VINCE: Ah yeah, Stella, I knew you’d like it.
See Elle, you don’t realise how good this all looks – and, and how good you look!
ELLE: You know at work, I waste all day designing ads for apartments with perfect views like this
And then it makes me think, I want to design it into my apartment. . .
VINCE: This view makes me feel like a million bucks.
You have to appreciate how after a full day’s work designing these ads, Elle can find the time to redecorate.
ELLE: But I’m wrong. I simply want a view of trees and green.
VINCE: Trees? What?
ELLE: (Annoyed sigh) I bet I can return most of this and start over again on this room. . .
VINCE: Wait! Elle, I don’t know where you’re getting this –
ELLE: You know Vince, do you realise that if you hadn’t convinced me to go into advertising, I could have painted that painting on the wall instead of buying it?
VINCE: (Scoffs) Oh yeah, we’ve seen how your artist friends live. As if you could survive that kind of lifestyle. Heh heh.
(Vince clears his throat)
VINCE: So Stella, how about a drink? You need to help me break in my expensive new set of cocktail making accessories.
STELLA: Um, sure. Sounds great!

(Vince gets up from the couch and heads over to the mini bar)

ELLE: (Still annoyed from his previous remark about an artist’s lifestyle) Vince’s favourite past-time is to get the blood alcohol content of his guests higher than his golf score.
VINCE: (Ignoring Elle’s comment) Why don’t I make us one of my new drink inventions?
I call it Elle’s Inner Soul.
STELLA: What?
VINCE: It’s a mixture of chardonnay, bitters and lots of ice.
ELLE: (Snidely) It’s a secret – Vince doesn’t even like the taste of alcohol.
VINCE: So Stella, how does that sound?
STELLA: (Uncomfortable from the tension in the air that is clearly rising) Uhh, okay. Sure?
VINCE: Ah, you’re an adventurous drinker, like me.
ELLE: No no no Stella, Vince is getting a little carried away. Maybe you just want some juice, or mineral water?
(Vince sighs tensely)
STELLA: Oh no, it’s fine. Really.
VINCE: Yeah, I’m going to make this drink for us.
(A little more tense) Our friend is here, we’re going to enjoy ourselves, that’s all there is to it!
(Elle sighs in frustration)
VINCE: Elle, everybody loves my drinks, you know that don’t you? Everybody!
ELLE: (Coolly) Well of course Vince. After all, you got enough practice when you were a real bartender.
VINCE: (Caught off guard) What?
ELLE: In college, you were a bartender.
STELLA: Wow, really?
VINCE: How – how do you know about that?
ELLE: Oh I know you were trying to keep it a big secret, but. . .one time my friends and I went slumming off-campus to some crappy bar in the sticks and we saw you there.
VINCE: (Annoyed) Oh. . .great.

(Vince becomes angry)
VINCE: I don’t know what is with you tonight Elle.
You’re driving me insane!
(Muttering) God damn slumming it off campus. . .
No wonder why you’re so distant – you hide things from me!
ELLE: (Rising to the challenge) Well you keep trying to make our lives so shallow and fake!
I don’t want to live a fake life, Vince!
VINCE: (Shifting down a gear) Okay, you know what? Stella, I’m going to ask you something.
STELLA: (Preparing for the worst) Okay. . .
ELLE: Vince –
VINCE: Elle, let me ask our guest a question.
Stella, yes or no. . .
Isn’t marriage supposed to be the most important thing in your life?
STELLA and ELLE: What?
VINCE: I mean, marriage is supposed to the most important, meaningful thing in your life, right?
STELLA: I – I don’t see how –
VINCE: Just yes, or no.
STELLA: Um, okay. . .Sure.
ELLE: Don’t you see Vince? There’s no passion in our marriage! No beauty. . .no anything! It’s completely and utterly devoid of everything!
(Elle leaves the room in a huff)
VINCE: (Folding his arms ) Uh! Yeah, go on, get away from me!
I can’t stand frigging looking at you!
STELLA: Elle, wait! (Follows Elle out of the room)

(Stella does her best to console Elle, while Vince remains in the living room, fuming)
STELLA: (Comforting Elle with a hug) Elle?
What is going on around here?
ELLE: (Drying her eyes with a tissue) Stella, we’re not normally like this. I don’t know what’s going on. . .
STELLA: Well whatever it is, it looks like now is the best time to get everything out in the open – so you can resolve this.
ELLE: Stella. . .I – I don’t know.
STELLA: You need to talk to Vince, Elle. You need to sort this out.

(They both walk back into the living room)
ELLE: It’s just that Vince – he – he can just be so. . .
VINCE: (Interrupting their conversation having overheard it) Oh, so we’re talking about me, are we?
ELLE: What?
(Pauses) You know what Stella? It’s about time Vince finally just admits that our marriage –
VINCE: (Interrupting her again) Elle, don’t – no, you don’t need to –
ELLE: (Trying to speak over Vince) Just admits that our marriage is not –
VINCE: Stop it, stop it!
ELLE: (Sighs in annoyance) Uh. . .! God. . .!
STELLA: (With caution) You – you’re not thinking of getting a divorce – are you?
(She sits on the couch in front of the couple) Say it isn’t so.
VINCE: (Taken back) D – Divorce?
(He looks at Elle) God, I – I mean to even suggest divorce is. . .
(He looks to Stella) Look, I’ll just forget you said that.
ELLE: We need to keep the focus on us: our relationship.
VINCE: (Rising to the challenge) Alright then. . .You know what I want to know? Do you?
Why is it that anytime I want to do something nice for you, you resist it?
ELLE: Vince. . .
VINCE: It’s like I always have to convince you? Why?
ELLE: Well Vince, maybe if you didn’t try to ‘convince’ me of things, I might want them more!
VINCE: (Rubbing his forehead) Oh Christ.
ELLE: Vince, can’t you see? It’s the way you speak – the – the way you talk to me. . .!
VINCE: (Incredulously) What, I’m not allowed to be angry?
ELLE: You tell me what to do. You don’t listen.
VINCE: I’m not telling you what – (Pauses)
I’m the one trying to reach out to you, Elle.
ELLE: What?
VINCE: You see Elle, I don’t think you really do want us to quit our jobs and lead a simpler lifestyle..
ELLE: What? Vince, you know what I –
VINCE: (Interrupting her) Oh come on! You grew up with a silver spoon in your mouth. You can’t live any other way.
ELLE: I can’t?
VINCE: (To Stella) Stella, look around this apartment. It’s got everything anyone would ever want. But Elle? Oh no, she’s NEVER satisfied.
ELLE: (Rolling her eyes) Vince. . .ugh. . .I am so sick of this.
VINCE: Well, we’ve got everything
ELLE: Vince, you just don’t. . .uhh!
VINCE: (Turning to Stella), Stella, give me some advice here!
STELLA: (At a loss) I – I just don’t –

ELLE: (Folding her arms and changing the subject) You know what, Stella? I think Trip’s afraid of visiting his parents. He does everything he can to avoid seeing them.
VINCE: (Angry) Afraid of my parents?! What?! That’s ridiculous. Why would I – why would I be afraid of their stupid meatloaves, their tacky house and their crappy wine...?
ELLE: (Shifting down a gear) Vince, don’t be such a snob.
VINCE: (Rising up a gear) Well, you know what makes me so angry?
ELLE and STELLA: What?
VINCE: How you’ve so conveniently forgotten how much you used to actually hate art! (He motions to the painting)
ELLE: (Slightly embarrassed) Uhh. . .
(To Stella) Well. . .with this painting. . .see, all I really wanted was something personal and, uh. . .beautiful and special. . .
VINCE: Elle, even though you’re now a creative director at work. . .
The truth is. . .you’re not an artist.
ELLE: (Offended) What?
VINCE: I’m sorry – but you’re not.
ELLE: Vince, you have NO idea what an artist is – no idea.
(The room is silent for a moment with Vince and Elle fuming. Stella sits nervously on the couch – completely at a loss of words).
VINCE: (Waving his hands in the air with frustration) Okay, I’ve had enough of this bullshit!
Do you guys really want to know the truth? Huh?
(To Stella) Stella, do you want to hear it?
STELLA: (Nervous) Okay.
VINCE: Elle, huh?
ELLE: Yes!
VINCE: See, I’ve been paying close attention to you tonight, Stella.
Judging by your behaviour – it makes me wonder if you’re really my friend or not.
ELLE: Vince!
VINCE: (Ignoring Elle) So I just want you to answer me one thing.
Stella, yes or no. . .
Do you really think that by saying how you thought marriage was supposed to be the most important thing, but then even MENTIONING the thought of Elle and I getting divorced – That it’s all supposed to make me realize something about myself?
Is what you’ve said tonight supposed to add up somehow, to something?
STELLA: (Silence)
VINCE: Is it? I just want a yes or no.
STELLA: (Pause) Yes.
VINCE: Alright.
(Shifting down a gear) Elle. . .I know you want to be an artist.
(Realising the truth) But. . .I could never be married to you if you were.
STELLA and ELLE: What?
VINCE: I can’t – I – I just can’t. . .
ELLE: But Vince –
VINCE: (Pressing on) When I married you, I was sure I could convince you to give it up, to – to go into advertising.
And – and I did it, and it worked.
But now. . . I – I don’t know Elle.
(Sighing) I don’t know. . .
ELLE: (Realising the painful truth as well) Oh my God. . .
(Pause) I’m going to give you the truth too, Vince.
VINCE: What?
ELLE: (Motioning the painting) I – I painted this.
VINCE: (With disbelief) Bullshit.
ELLE: (Angry) I am an artist, Vince, fuck you.
VINCE: You’ve been secretly painting? When – when did –
ELLE: Every time you go on a god-damned business trip, I paint.
VINCE: (Running a hand through his hair) Jesus. . .!

(The room is silent for a while with Vince and Elle contemplating their thoughts)
VINCE: (Pause) Okay. . .I have one more thing to say.
ELLE: What?
VINCE: See. . . I – I’m ashamed of my parents.
ELLE: What? Your parents are great. I love seeing them.
VINCE: I know, I know. But compared to yours. . .they’re so. . .ignorant.
ELLE: But they’re real. I hate how my parents are pretending to be something –
VINCE: I’ve tried hard to be like your family.
ELLE: Vince, really? I don’t –
VINCE: (Cutting her off) But I feel like a phony. I feel like I can never get rid of my past.
It’s kind of like I don’t know who I am anymore.
ELLE: (Stunned) Oh my God. . .
(Long pause, at a loss) This changes everything. . .
VINCE: Yeah. . .
You. . .you really have to be an artist.
ELLE: You finally admitted it – you just don’t want me to be an artist. . .
VINCE: And you think I’m a phony for despising my upbringing. . .
ELLE: But at least you had a real upbringing. It’s be who had a fake one. . .
VINCE AND ELLE: Stella, I –
VINCE: (To Elle) Look, we – we need to talk. . .
ELLE: Yeah.
VINCE: (Showing Stella to the door) Stella, thanks for coming over, you. . .I think you helped us.
(He opens the front door)
STELLA: (Still in shock) But I –
VINCE: You don’t need to say anything.
STELLA: Well, goodbye guys.
ELLE: Goodbye. . .thanks.
(Vince closes the front door).

Trust.

2011-11-29T11:02:00.006+11:00

* Based from the perspective of an older, protective 'sister' *
~~~
He'd loved her since forever.
She was cautious about falling in love.

He earned the privilege of nursing her heart.
She saw him as her only saviour.
~~~
He made promises and told her he loved her.
She blindly trusted him - ignoring the consequences.

But his promises were something he could no longer keep.
And like a fool, she continued to love him.
~~~
The vows that he made were soon broken in two.
She knew his promises were made in the heat of the moment.
He began to lie to her - and she believed him.

Fearing that questioning him would leave her alone.
~~~
He grew apart from her as he began to see her less.
She made no effort to return to his side.
So he decided to finally let her go.
And she was finally free.

* Image by Nuvolehtta at DeviantART.com *

Hope.

2011-10-20T19:50:00.003+11:00

* A message *
~~~
300 characters is not enough to express my love for you.
You are amazing, whoever you are, where-ever you are.
You're special to me.

Don't hide your problems because you think there are people worse off than you.
Because guess what? Your Life counts.
Don't forget that.
I love you.

In Every Car Crash. . .

2011-08-16T15:37:00.000+10:00

* Another fictional scene *

I had a strange thought the other day,
On a road trip to Santa Monica.
What if, at 100kph, I opened the car door and jumped out?
I wondered. . .
Would I survive the crash?
~~~
But then, I remember thinking something even stranger,
I didn't care if I were to survive or not.
So I went and pulled the handle. . .
But the door was safely locked.

~~~
Damn.

Signed, With Love.

2011-08-05T20:31:00.003+10:00

* Another completely fictional 'scene' *

~~~
I'm known as one of the 'popular' kids at school:
After all, I'm the captain of the football and basketball teams at my campus.
I'm what you'd call a 'jock'.
I go to all the parties, I get average grades and I have lots of 'friends' - but not one of them seem to understand the scars.
They're not birthmarks:
~~~
They're my father's signature.

Best Friend.

2011-07-29T21:18:00.002+10:00

* A completely fictional 'scene' *

I love my cat.

She always knows when I'm upset.
She can tell when I've been crying.
Every night she'll sit by my feet and watch over me while I sleep.
Although she can't talk, she brings a comforting silence.
And she'll stay with me in those dark hours when my family are screaming at each other.

I'm dreading the day my cat dies.
Because that will be the day I lose my best friend.

* Picture from Google Images *

Interlude.

2011-07-29T21:17:00.001+10:00

* A small something to get the 'creative juices' going *

Sometimes I often wonder:
Can you love?
Is it possible for you to do so?

* Picture from Google Images *

Voices

2011-06-08T22:48:00.002+10:00

* A short piece based on "Endings" by Garth Nix and a forum post *

~~~

I have two voices in my head.

~~~

One screams at me and tells me that I'm worthless:
But she cradles me in my darkest and most miserable hours.

~~~
~~~

The other is mostly silent but always lingering:
And in those dark hours, she'll whisper my worst fears.

~~~

Typically, they'll never agree:
Except for the fact that I'm not worth loving.
~~~

* Image by LuNar-doLLz (DeviantART) *

Fool (King of Nothing).

2011-06-03T21:05:00.012+10:00

* Inspired by various song titles *

~~~
So here we go again - it's another name and another time.
I'll be the one still standing on my own - left to pick up the shattered remains.

Conflicted internally, regaining self worth - I could never understand your exploding smile.

I won't let you know, because I'm merely a fool - I've only myself to blame.
~~~

Time will heal all wounds - the memory will linger like an unsightly scar.

I'll steady my broken crown, with fingers raking against the wall.

To forgive and forget for the sake of happiness - too tired to fight this fascination.

I'll be the one to punish myself - yet always fearing another fall.

~~~
I'll search for that familiar, healing presence as the walls will begin to crumble.

Wrapped up in loving 'arms' - they'll squeeze with protection behind a closed door.

For then, I am sheltered - mesmerized at the thought of them coming home.

Just one more letter for blinding happiness - unsent across the floor.

~~~
It's too bad that you're so beautiful - and yet you are also complicated.
We both know that in the end, I'll come back to you - you know I always do.

For I'm just a fool - a King of Nothing.

Ignorant to these promises made in the heat of the moment - to the vows that are broken in two.
~~~
* Image by Lucretiajetable from DeviantART *

The Island

2011-04-29T23:16:00.003+10:00

* A piece inspired by a movie based on insanity and a dream *

Don't speak - it'll only cause frustration.
There's only so much flesh you can claw away at.
Avoid running the risk of piercing porcelain skin with scarlet nails.
And I won't bleed for you.

Let's sit together and enjoy this heavy silence.
Feel its asphyxiating branches drape lovingly around our shoulders.
I'll watch the pain in your brooding posture.
While you'll search for the life that died in my eyes.

There'll be so much left unspoken - it'll be a game.
Which will linger like a disease, no matter how hard we scratch.
And yet, I wonder of those splinters wedged so deep in your mind.
You proclaim you're fine - but I know you lie.
There's only so much before you break - I know what makes you tick.

You give me a knowing look with hazy eyes.
Despite the memories - it's now just a matter of time.
With too much pride, you won't admit defeat.
Instead we'll watch it tear us both apart.

You know I can't leave you behind - escape with me.
And yet you hesitate to give me your hand.
Our suffering, our experiences - will it be all for nothing?
I can't forget you, nor the time.

* Image courtesy of DeviantART *

Found

2011-04-01T16:45:00.003+11:00

* Slightly inspired by Thea Astley *

If you have some time for me, then I'll tell you a little story.
A story about two people who changed each other's lives, dramatically.
It's not overly long - for it's a story still being written,
But make some time for me and I shall tell you.

Firstly, I want you to imagine two separate 'worlds' - on one world.
Two separate souls, two separate entities.
Imagine one soul to be on the path to discovery. The other - on a journey of learning and experience.
Now, as carefully as you can, I want you to imagine life, as it were, for these souls.
Satisfying, yet something clearly missing. A void - if you will, which lacked something sufficient.

I want you to imagine that these two souls are not aware of one another.
And thus, how could they possibly be aware of each other's existance?
After all, they have not encountered one another before. . .
That is, until now.

Now, I want you to imagine on one ordinary day, something unusual happening.
Something different - not part of a daily 'routine'.
Imagine these two souls found one another. Imagine them crossing paths.
And thus, never realising the full extent of their encounter having such a large impact on their lives in the future.

Let's fast forward time slightly.
Imagine hours upon hours of conversing - a means for further discovery and forgetting the horrors of reality.
Imagine this 'void' suddenly disappearing and being given a new means for living - another purpose.

To the external eye, it would seem like they're long lost friends. These souls know each other inside and out.
But their secret?
They haven't actually met.
Yet. . .

Man Enough

2011-02-19T07:47:00.002+11:00

* Thoughts on manipulation and abusive relationships - inspired by Billy Joel's "Matter of Trust" *

Did you feel like a man when you made her cry?
Oblivious to her trembling lips - to the tears that stung her eyes.
Not once could you apologise - ignoring her eyes of red,
And grinning like a cat:
"I just miss you" you'd said.
~~~
Did you feel like a man when you manipulated her trust?
Oblivious to her loyalty - suggesting she was filled with lust.
Not once could you apologise - ignoring her heart of dread,
And smiling like a fox:
"I just miss you" you'd said.
~~~
Did you feel like a man when you threw the chair?
Oblivious to where it landed - breaking her things without care.
Not once could you apologise - ignoring her when she pled,
And eyes shining like a beast:
"I just miss you" you'd said.
~~~
Did you feel like a man when you struck her face?
Oblivious to her pain - to her tragic fall from grace.
Not once could you apologise - ignoring her body, bruised and dead.
And fangs unsheathed like a monster:
"I just miss you" you'd said.
~~~
* Image by me *

In Your Shoes ~ #1

2011-01-03T21:08:00.012+11:00

* An attempt to write in the style of a long-distance friend *

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

People. . .
They don't know everything.
They can't assume what my life is like - it's not like they've lived it themselves.
When I tell them my thoughts, I'm only trying to make them understand something through my eyes.
I want them to appreciate and recognise me, like they would anyone else.
If they refuse to listen, then it proves that they don't want to understand me.
And nobody wants to ever feel like they're misunderstood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

People don't seem to get it these days.
It's like they don't understand that I don't want to do the things they're expecting me to do.
Not because I'm being 'rebellious' or 'disobedient', but because I don't respect them as a person.
It's like they don't understand why I don't respect them.
I don't respect them because they refuse to respect who I am and my lifestyle.
It seems that people are 'attacking' those who refuse to conform to the 'norms' of society.
I've never been in a fight before. I'm a pacifist: I defend those I love.
I like to help others and have people know who I am - and not just by association.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know I'm not perfect.
I raise my voice to prove a point, I tend to trust people too easily. . .
But I don't care.
I'm not going to change everything about myself - just for the sake of another person.
I'm just. . .
Me.
~~~~~~~~~~~

* Image by me *

Every Rose Has Its Thorn. . .

2010-11-27T21:56:00.004+11:00

* Based on Thea Astley's "Hunting The Wild Pineapple" *

If you were to ask me what is the difference in gossiping - or hearing stories for that matter - perhaps I could say that one is based on truth, while the other stems from an unreliable source. I will gladly correct those who are wrong. Ironically, one would expect such a quiet town would have quiet people. If you live here, silence is normal. The only thing that keeps us all sane is the constant clubbing blocks of rain that pelt the roofs over our heads. Tonight, however, is different as Tripp has dropped by in his usual way to thrust his latest coral trout under my nose. As I sit patting my 'little handicap' and enduring the unpleasant experience of perspiration trickling down the back of my neck, I produce him with some much-needed whiskey. Again, as the night thins out and the alcohol levels drop, I persuade him to unleash one of his stories that are prominently 'stacked' in his boot. Tripp once told me the story of Leo and Sadie and what used to be their little set up approximately fifty miles from here. With persuasion, he draws me another map.
Let me draw it for you.

There's always been a lot of sad chronicles that have been linked with Sadie ever since she was employed by Leo. The storm that had engulfed her shack, not to mention her pride as well, was the last straw. Just as its thunderous roars ricocheted off her shack, Leo's snide remarks soon ricocheted off her tender skin. Oh how demeaning it must of been to have been forced to surrender herself to the likes of such vile weather and that of a man such as Leo (then again, doesn't every rose have its thorn?)! He had found her starkers; and reluctantly gave her shelter while Sadie bore the face similar to that of a mutt who had disobeyed their owner during bath time. Sadie knew that she had lost her independence as a woman. She had become complacent - that was the reality of it. And it rubbed. And rubbed. And rubbed. Sadie never forgot her humiliating experience which seemed to never leave her thoughts. It empowered her mind like an infectious rash.

It wasn't until months later that Sadie would have the will to stand up against Leo and leave to return to her old life - before him; before what she had had to endure. She could no longer handle the emotional suffering that had been inflicted upon her. You could say that during her flight back to her hometown, there was a sense of regained independence and instantaneous direction; she was recapturing the woman she once was, no one could touch her.
If only it had been that simple to regain her old teaching position - isn't life a bitch sometimes? Sadie soon found herself in a desperate attempt to support herself. Thankfully, like all damsels in distress have a spontaneous rescue from a knight in shining armour, luck came her way as she bumped into Fabio Galipo one day - the young piano player whom Leo once tutored.

At first he approached Sadie like a little child - as if he were too scared for what he had to say; but after a moment, his expression changed - more curious; more intrigued.
"You don't look too well Miss Klein" he had said to her, purposely drawing out the 's' in 'Miss', "Is there something wrong?". His voice had been unheard by Sadie's ears until now. It was unbroken, yet bordering the edge of plummeting into the deepness of puberty; slightly mocking, yet somewhat sincere.
He sounds just like Leo, Sadie told herself. What if he had seen him recently? Would he tell Leo about her struggle? How would she know that Leo won't be after her? The hows of it had been the most outrageous reflection and Sadie cursed herself for thinking such thoughts. Galipo seemed to understand her struggle by simply looking at the two scruffy carrier bags that were dangling off her arms, their weight taking its toll on her hands.

"I'm in need of money, Galipo" Sadie casually remarked, yet with a tone of melancholy, "I need a job". She felt slightly embarrassed to have to confess to such a thing. What came next surprised her.
"If you want, I can help. I know a place where they could find you a job, that is, if you're willing". She felt flattered by the clarity of the dark eyes gazing simply into hers. Why would someone such as himself help someone such as her - someone who he barely knows? She contemplated whether or not to actually believe the boy, but yet he seemed to genuine. . .
"Where?" Sadie asked helplessly as her luggage began to give her sores on her hands.
"At the church - the papistry. My teach, er, well ex religious teacher could use with a helping hand, particularly a woman's touch. Although, it's not the best job in the world"
"Tell me"
"Cleaning"
"I'll take it" Sadie found her mouth uttering those words before she could actually think.

It was her job to go and seek Father Rassini of the church in order to acquire a position there. Galipo's helpfulness still lingered in her thoughts. Who said a so called 'smart-arse' can't have a decent heart? She pondered. Father Rassini had reluctantly accepted Sadie into the church (a bold move for a man of such category) and seemed to narrow his eyes at her when she had mentioned Galipo. She was then to begin work immediately and was familiarised with the various rooms - all of which looked the same except for one. A table stood exactly half-way along the room and on it rested a bowl in which four flowers floated equidistant. A bible was also lain beside the bowl. Sadie was told that it was important that this room be kept clean at all costs, due to the priests gathering in the vicinity for meetings.

There was a kind of humming silence as Sadie inspected the room before getting to work; a dustpan and brush in one hand and a cleaning cloth in another, which was slightly interrupted by the light chatter of rain on the church roof. For hours on end, she bent over backwards to clean what seemed like the never-ending mess that surrounded her. Who would have thought that churches could be so unclean? Sadie would often ask herself. After a few day's work, she was able to pinpoint every particle of dust with her newly developed eagle-eyed vision and it wasn't long after that until she was dubbed "Sadie the Cleaning Lady" by some of the boys in the papistry.
However, this never fazed her.
She was used to such remarks and to such a workload due to living in such a crummy environment that working back in the city seemed like a breeze. A disappointment was that she was still employed by a man who took on the role as an 'alpha male' - a man who saw women as "Tea makers of God" (except for the Christ's mother of course), that of which Sadie knew she would have to sort his attitude out herself. However, she felt it easier to gain certain advantages from the man of holiness for he was deemed to be more of a 'pushover' than Leo ("If I can use Father Rassini's words against him, then I'm in for a chance of equal opportunity").

"I'll have you know," she had said one morning after attempting to banter for a raise with him, "that women deserve just as much as the men do if they were allowed in this church. They should be given churchy jobs too. There's a whole bunch of successful women out there that men don't notice. They don't seem to realise that women are just as capable as carrying out tasks designated for males." Sadie folded her arms abruptly, letting her duster hang loosely in her hands, "Take me for example. I was forced to work hard labour for a slimeball, which any man could've done."

Father Rassini clasped his anointed hands together delicately; although it was obvious that he would have liked to give her a hard lecture or two about the way in which the church is formally run. "I understand the situation at hand, Miss Klein, but unfortunately we have no need for the church to be run by wom'"
"Besides," Sadie had purposely tossed aside what he was about to say like an unwanted toy, "You of all people should know what it is like to be a woman of these times. You have witnessed our suffering and unfair treatment. Take Canon Morrow's poor wife for example. . ."

The Father fell silent in disbelief. The woman could be a vixen when she wanted to. After a moment of wringing his hands together nervously, he spoke, "How on earth did you find out about that?". His words were formed through bated breath. The face in front of him bore a smug expression.
"I assume you are aware of the woman's harassment?" came Sadie's reply, ignoring his original question.
"Yes, yes. I understand"
"So then you would understand that sometimes women need to be praised and appreciated for their hard services". The man of holiness, although a little too dedicated to his work, was not an unintelligent man and immediately caught on to Sadie's ways.
"I see where this is going. . ."
"Just a little raise, Father, with perhaps more of a longer tea break. Surely my cleaning standard deserves that." She stopped for a moment. "Oh, but we wouldn't want the renowned Father Rassini to be seen as giving into a "tea maker of God" now would we?". Father Rassini began to speak, but something ruptured in the woman's posture that skittled his protest. Was it the lines forming on her face that told of suffering? Was it the fiery look in her eyes? As, such sweet schadenfreude. . .Sadie enjoyed watching him squirm uncomfortably.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Father Rassini eventually said, at a loss. His pleading eyes searched for an answer. He now knew what it was like to be the subordinate authority.
Sadie tickled her face with her duster in a self-mocking attempt to stifle her mirth.
"Every rose has its thorn. . ."

The Cat

2010-11-27T21:09:00.004+11:00

* Based on D.H Lawrence's "Three Novellas" *

“Oh blast–!”
The decrepit pitch fork fell to the floor with a loud clatter. “Oh bollocks! That’s done it”. Nicholas Rhodes wiped the sweat off his fair brow. “I will never understand how on earth you can pull this off”. The young man – or youth, for he would not be more than twenty-two, sat down on a bundle of hay and stared at his companion.
Nicholas was a delicate thing compared to Simon...“farm-work”, as he liked to call it, was not his forte; the sudden death of his old man essentially shattered any future arrangements. Ah! And if the strain wasn’t enough– the farmhouse was rundown. Furthermore, Nicholas resented his father’s terms to the inheritance: “marriage”.
“It’s easier than working with those new machines you’ve got” Simon said, running a dirty hand through his dark hair and picking up the abandoned pitch fork again. “You simply need to muscle up–that’s all. You’re not eating much again” There was pain in his voice. Both men were unchanged by the war having not volunteered to take part– with Nicholas being of ill-health and Simon’s pacifist beliefs. Simon Taylor was the ‘man about the house’ and the martyr, with Nicholas increasingly depending upon the new machinery on the farm. At times, Simon wondered if he was even needed on the farm, now that Nicholas had new equipment to tamper with.
“Why bother with such traditional methods–? This is a new age, Simon! These changes are going to make me rich. ” Simon often thought that Nicholas felt too superior to handle grubby farm work. The boy leapt off the hay and clasped his fine hands together, “I didn’t realise that money could be such a burden on my future plans. Ha-ha-ha!” Nicholas had an odd way of answering, as tone of his voice often echoed his anxiety and frustration with meeting the requirements of the inheritance. Simon’s eyes scanned the shadows under Nicholas’ eyes and immediately pitied him. Nicholas’ bright blue cat-like eyes fell to the floor momentarily–then met Simon’s, quickly, with an inquisitive manner, added more quietly: “And you?– What about you and your future?”
Simon steadied his chin on the handle of the pitch fork.
“It’s easy for me: I don’t think much about it.” He said simply, “Every morning I start a job. I live from day to day, you know, finding pleasure in the little things in life. When my job is done and I forget about it: simple.” Nicholas furrowed his brow as though he were confused. He pondered for a moment before arching his back gracefully as he stretched.
“Don’t you agree?” Simon asked with a lopsided smile.
Nicholas glanced sideways and sheepishly remarked: “I’ll trust you to finish off the hay piles...”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

That afternoon, Simon found himself stooping over the brilliant discarded leaves of the hazel tree. They lay around him like a fallen nimbus of glowing yellow under his feet. Their brilliance raked away into a neat pile. He turned to address the young voice that called him softly:
“Simon–!”
Simon lifted his head, mesmerized by the melodic, soft voice and stared at the figure approaching him. Charlotte Beetes, a young friend of the pair, trotted up to him, her short skirt wrapped around her slender legs; Simon’s heart began to thump uncontrollably.
1916 and 1917 were the years when the old spirit died forever in England–the war left its mark on her working class family. Charlotte’s father died from ghastly wounds and her mother resorted to working for a living: nursing wounded soldiers. Although they still had a roof over their heads, her mother now carried the burden of being the sole provider for her family. And yet, this rarely fazed Mrs Beetes. Charlotte’s mother was well suited to her role as a humanitarian. The war may have brought its tragedies, but it also gave Charlotte and her mother an opportunity for change. Charlotte had choices: no longer predetermined by societal expectations. Charlotte did her best to contribute to the family’s needs: determined to shine in a new society where women were known as independent decision-makers.

She paused a moment to catch her breath. “I haven’t seen you in a while– Not like you to do such menial work. Why the sudden change?” she asked, bundling her hair in a knot behind her and leaning on the fence that separated them.
“It’s the inheritance, you see–" Simon said vaguely.
“Ah! –Yes, I heard he was having complications–Do tell! What has become of him?” Charlotte’s emerald eyes lit up like a child’s: inquisitive with a touch of mischief. Simon sighed heavily – his shoulders slumped. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but he’s overworking himself. Time has passed and it’s running out. He’ll wear himself out if he doesn’t take it easy!”
“You don’t say!–So what else has he been doing?”“He has been too ‘busy’ making money” Simon mocked, raising his eyebrows. Disappointed, Charlotte pursed her lips together.
“I guess Nicholas is a bit obsessed with his ‘work’! Mind you, he’s always wanted to be rich. He is too impatient for traditional farm work.” She pictured Nicholas’ effeminate feline movements toying with machinery and shuddered.
“Well,” Simon began, lowering his voice just above a whisper, “He’s an ambitious lad– he’ll do anything. He’ll need to make a move soon to fulfil the terms of the legacy. He may even ask you to marry him.”
“Me–?” Charlotte asked, suddenly overwhelmed by the suggestion. Her heart began to beat frantically: had she even felt attracted towards Nicholas Rhodes? Oh–! She had never even considered marrying such a lad in the future: nothing had prompted her. She knew his money would provide stability, but was it enough? Should she marry Nicholas Rhodes? Could she be content with security and not with love? She felt her chest tighten. Did she have a choice? Oh! But how society would jeer if she should refuse him. Martyrdom was not in fashion. Charlotte closed her eyes.
It made her wonder– could she refuse him?

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

That night Charlotte dreamed of a slender black cat. His crisp blue eyes beckoned her to him. He appeared threatening. He did not move, but instead watched her, making her feel intimidated. His coat shimmered under a lamplight–He felt nearer than it looked. When she turned away from his pearly white grin, he stalked her, ready to pounce. No matter how fast Charlotte ran the cat always caught up with her. She felt trapped. Charlotte woke from the nightmare. It lingered in the back of her mind throughout the day.

When the first snowflake fell a month later, Charlotte had forgotten about the cat and Nicholas’ complications. She continued her visits to the two young men, occasionally being invited in for tea. She soon found herself feeling differently towards Simon. Her heart seemed to melt when in his presence. She became aware that her feelings had changed.
“That’s it–!” Nicholas cried one afternoon. Simon was cleaning the mud off his boots. He looked up half attentive.
“What?” he replied curiously.
“I’ve decided to marry Charlotte.” Nicholas paced around the room with his hands clasped behind his back. “She’s a friend– She’ll be glad of it. It’ll settle my problem, as well as hers. I’ve got the money. Yes–! Ha-ha! I’ve got it all planned out. Surely she has realised my tea invitations had a purpose my invitations”. Simon jumped slightly, startled by his assertiveness.
“You can’t be serious! Did you ask her–?” he uttered in disbelief, “Do you even love her?”
“Love? What is love when I can provide security?” Nicholas claimed.
“Can you live with someone you don’t love?” Simon pressed.
“Well–she’s pleasing to the eye. She’s a friend. Love may grow in time. She doesn’t have to love me: she will do her duty by me and that’s all that matters.” Nicholas exclaimed to himself arrogantly, biting his lip. His eyes glazed over as he pondered.
“Charlotte won’t settle for this: women tend to want more these days. What if she rejects you?” Simon curled his top lip.
Nicholas sat down in front of Simon, looking into his face. “Well, if she’s silly enough to turn me down, there’s always Alice Green from town.” He suddenly rose and began to pace uneasily around the room. A shadow cast on his fair brow as his hands slipped into his pockets. No, Nicholas did not love Charlotte, but he wanted the woman. He was fixated upon having her. He felt it was his destiny to have her, in order to keep the inheritance he rightfully earned. Deep within himself he felt a growl stirring. They were not going to take his inheritance away on this silly whim. She would do her duty and marry him. He was sure she would do it. He had his mind set on her. She would come to him. Of course she would.
But was it his decision alone?

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

That evening Simon saw Charlotte on her way back from town, her arms full of parcels. Trampling the withered leaves underneath his boots, he made his way over to her and took a parcel from underneath her arm.
“Have you heard? Nicholas has chosen his bride.” Simon said unemotionally.
“Really–? Who is it?” Charlotte asked, fidgeting with the remaining parcels. He bit his lip before answering.
“He wants to marry you” he said softly.
At that point, everything around Charlotte seemed to press on her. She was stunned into silence. Something was missing. Her thoughts were torn between the expectations of duty and a loveless marriage. After all, the youth was a man of means: he would provide benefits– security. Perhaps it was easier to accept him. On the other hand, a large part of her mind rejected the thought. She was not in love with Nicholas Rhodes.
“So he plans on proposing, does he?” was all Charlotte could bring herself to say. She felt herself lose her grip on the parcels.
“He plans to see you tomorrow.” Simon confirmed regretfully.
There was a long pause before Charlotte answered.
“We shall see.” She said, looking at Simon directly. He was surprised by her words.
At that moment, Simon looked into her face and stared hard, as if searching beyond her eyes. Charlotte’s heart began to beat frantically, yet she remained still–paralysed. She could not understand why she was unable to move. She tried to open her mouth to speak: no sound came out. It was then when she heard the deep, throbbing stroke of Simon’s heart thundering in her ears–signalling to her. She could hear it pounding upon her very soul. She could feel that they were together.
Their hearts spoke to each other: words were not necessary.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The snow seemed light the next morning, like traces of scattered clouds. Nicholas was the first to greet Charlotte when she arrived. He adjusted his shiny black gloves and gave her a wave. “Charlotte–! Good morning!” he called. Charlotte slowly made her way over to the pair, preferring to stand particularly close to Simon for comfort. Nicholas put his gloved hand up to her cheek, exploring her face.
“Your gloves...” Charlotte commented, stepping back: unnerved by the softness against her skin.
“Oh–! Do you like them? Oh!–Never mind the gloves. How are you? Let me look at you. Ah–! Yes! You look more wonderful than ever. Far more wonderful!” he exclaimed, capturing her face in both his hands, “We have so much to discuss. Can’t you guess?” Nicholas grinned like a Cheshire cat. Charlotte pursed her lips together and said nothing. “I think we should marry. I have no doubt you’ll accept.”
The sound of his words, and the calculated utterance in his voice made her heart shudder. She stiffened herself and drew away. She would have nothing to do with him or his inheritance. It was a moment before she spoke.
“You assume I’ll accept? How dare you?”. Those were the words Nicholas did not want to hear.
“What do you mean?”. Charlotte looked at Nicholas hard: his face was white.
“I do not love you Nicholas: your cold hearted proposition does not appeal to me. I have choices that are of greater value. Your money will not buy you happiness. Love cannot be bought. Women these days want more out of partnerships, rather than mere security.”
Simon entwined Charlotte’s hand in his own. She continued: “Besides, there is someone else. Simon and I are to be married. He values a relationship, not a contract.”
The pair began to leave hand-in-hand.
“There’s always someone else who would accept me: Alice Green!” Nicholas spat.
From behind, Charlotte could feel Nicholas’ anger penetrate the back of her shoulders. She gave him a look of self-satisfaction: she had retained her identity and broken the barriers of gender inequality. Suddenly, the apprehension seized Charlotte when he looked straight at her with his blue eyes and that bright, unseeing look. Her unpredictable dream-cat stared back at her. Charlotte quickly composed herself.
“He’ll be alright,” she said quietly, “Cats always land on their feet.”

* Image Source: www.tundafunda.com/393/?level=picture&id=3299 *

I Promise

2010-11-08T21:31:00.013+11:00

* Inspired by Joanna Murray-Smith's "Honour" *
[Contains mild course language]

SCENE 1:

[The stage in darkness. A young male's voice can be heard.]

NICHOLAS: [Sighing with a sense of disappointment] Oh. . .hi
[Pause. A young female's voice is now heard]
KATRINA: Hello. You seem upset. [Pause] Is everything okay?

[The stage lights up, but remains dim, suggesting night-time. Two teenagers sit on either end of the stage, back facing each other, with KATRINA sitting on a bed and NICHOLAS on a couch. Both stare at something in front of them, which is unknown to the audience]
NICHOLAS: You know me. It's always the same story. Nothing is ever okay. [Beat] Whatever, as long as you're having fun, why should it matter to anyone else? It's to benefit you, right?
KATRINA: Are you implying something?
NICHOLAS: Not at all.

[Beat]

KATRINA: I'm not following. I don't understand.
NICHOLAS: Oh, just about how I haven't even spoken to you in about a week or so. [Pause] Which in reality is not a good thing. The more we don't talk, the more we distance ourselves from each other. Before you know it, our future plans will be non-existant. You can kiss them goodbye.
KATRINA: Nick, I've only been gone for three days and when I come back, you're upset? I thought we left on a good note last time we spoke.
NICHOLAS: Yeah, but I know that when you get back into work and school, you won't even bother talking to me anymore. [Adding coldly and quietly] I know how you think now, as opposed to how you were before. There's nothing left.
KATRINA: You can't keep presuming the worst -
NICHOLAS: [Snapping] I can presume anything I want. I sure as hell have the right to.

KATRINA: [Defensively] Don't you think it's a bit unfair on my side? Presuming things about what I'm going to do?
NICHOLAS: You can do whatever the hell you want. You got rid of me so easily. So therefore, you have no problem with that.
KATRINA: [Sighing] We were fine before. . .and now THIS?
NICHOLAS: What do you expect? You want nothing to do with me and I'm still upset about that. It's not the same. [Pause, shifting down a gear] Whatever. Just like everyone else, you've grown tired of me constantly whining about my life. So whatever. Just leave me the hell alone.
KATRINA: Nicholas. . .
NICHOLAS: [Rising up a gear] I don't need to feel this. . .PRESSURE on me because I know I'm going to be casually talking to the person I used to love most in the world, and that she has no intention or desire of having feelings for me anymore. So whatever. [Pause] Go find some other guy to be with. Leave me the hell alone.
KATRINA: [Rising to NICHOLAS' tone] Why can't you see things from my point of view? I asked that you respect my decision in deciding not to be in a relationship at this point in time.
NICHOLAS: You don't ever see anything from MY point of view. So whatever, have fun being alone. [Getting angry and teary] You'll never, NEVER know what it feels like when I'm alone. It's a wonder why I even bother talking to you right now. You just don't get it.
[Beat]

KATRINA: I'm not perfect Nick.
NICHOLAS: [Laughing credulously] Oh, you're FAR from perfect. [Pause] You're flawed: the most flawed person I've ever met. You put EVERYTHING on me! You-you even did it when we WERE together. Why do you think I considered HER in the first place? Because WE were falling apart.
[Beat. KATRINA sits in silence for a moment, obviously hurt by his words]
KATRINA: [Cautiously] What do you want me to say?
NICHOLAS: I don't expect you to say anything. [Pause] Just go. . .
[Stage fades into darkness]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SCENE 2:
[The stage is brightly lit, showing NICHOLAS and KATRINA closer to each other, yet, their backs remain facing each other. Again, both stare something in front of them, which is unknown to the audience.]
KATRINA: [Biting her lip] I'm thinking.
NICHOLAS: It doesn't take 5 minutes to think.
[Beat]
KATRINA: It depends what you're thinking about.
[Beat]
NICHOLAS: [Rising to the challenge] Yeah I suppose. Like if you're thinking about if the rest of your life will be spent by yourself or with the one you once loved most in the world. [Shaking his head, obviously fed up] Whatever, I can't handle this happening EVERY time I talk to you.
[NICHOLAS stands up and storms off to the right of the stage, revealing a laptop in front of him]
KATRINA: [Quietly] I can't talk about this anymore Nick. . .

[As the stage goes dark, NICHOLAS can be heard]
NICHOLAS: Why is it. . .that the one person in the entire world that completely understands you, is the one person you can never be with? I love her much. I don't know how much longer I can stand without her. I can't even begin what I feel now, without her. [Pause] Without anyone. I keep promising myself that things will get better, but they don't.
[Beat] I just want to be with you, Katrina.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SCENE 3:
[The stage is brightly lit. KATRINA sits on her bed and studies some roses given to her. She fondles them nervously for a moment before placing them out of sight. NICHOLAS sits upright on the couch. Both have their backs facing each other. Both are on laptops.]
NICHOLAS: [Struggling for words] They're. . .kind of representative of how I feel towards you, I suppose.
KATRINA: I don't know what to say.
NICHOLAS: [Sadly and quietly] You never do, anymore.
[Beat]
KATRINA: Something happened Nick.
NICHOLAS: [Expecting the worst] What? [Nervous laugh] You fell in love with some other guy?
KATRINA: You could say that.
NICHOLAS: Explain.
[Beat]
KATRINA: He and I, are together now.
[Silence as NICHOLAS is stunned. He appears heartbroken for a moment. KATRINA sits nervously, staring at the laptop. NICHOLAS quickly readies himself and begins to furiously type]
NICHOLAS: Cool. Whatever. Good for you. [Pause, more ridiculing] You're a beautiful girl, Katrina. Why waste your time on someone like myself?
KATRINA: [Becoming annoyed] Oh don't start-
NICHOLAS: [Ignoring her comment] After all, I mean fuck all to you anymore.
KATRINA: [Beat shifting up a gear] Just because I'm with someone else, doesn't mean I've disregarded you. Do you think I'd be talking to you now if I didn't care about you?
NICHOLAS: [Ignoring her comment again] You know, I've never literally thought about killing myself before, but now I am seriously considering doing it.
KATRINA: [Incredulously] Because I'm with someone else?
NICHOLAS: Sure, yeah.
KATRINA: Don't talk like that. It's not fair-
NICHOLAS: [Aggressively] I can talk whichever way I bloody well like!
[Pause]
You think it's not fair? Hm? You really think it's not fair? You know what's not fair? My god-damned fucking life. It's never been fair! So screw you, okay?! I don't care about you anymore.
KATRINA: [Becoming angry] Don't you talk to me like that. It's because I'm seeing someone else, right? Is that all what this is about?
NICHOLAS: No, my life has been worse off already. . . but you just pushed me over my breaking point now.
KATRINA: Oh my god. . stop it. Do you hear yourself?
NICHOLAS: I have no intention of talking to you anymore. It ruins my entire mood when I talk to you. Seriously. . . Have you noticed that? Have you?
KATRINA: [Ridiculing] Oh, but you complain when I don't talk to you. I can't win either way.
NICHOLAS: I'm sorry I can never stop relating things to you, okay? But at some point you bloody well loved me over anything else. [Beat, shifting down a gear] And now. . .now you treat me as if nothing ever happened between us.
KATRINA: [Gently] That's not true.
NICHOLAS: It sickens me to the point of depression.
KATRINA: Nicholas, it's called moving on.
NICHOLAS: [On a roll] I can't trust anyone anymore. I'm just so alone. [Pause] I've been hurt so many times, and I act like I don't care. But. . .but it rots away inside of me each time. I'm afraid I'm going to turn into something I don't want to be.
[Beat.]
I'll never meet anyone like you ever again. . .
KATRINA: We've been great friends who have rubbed off on each other.
NICHOLAS: Bullshit. I'm not even half the person you are. I can't play this "Friend Game".
KATRINA: It's not a game Nick.
NICHOLAS: Did you ever think, that perhaps I would feel hurt, by you informing me of such events?
KATRINA: [Shooting back] Would you have rather I kept it to myself?
[NICHOLAS remains silent]

Exactly.
[Beat, NICHOLAS realises the hurtful truth]
NICHOLAS: [Shifting down a gear] I don't mean to yell at you, and I do apologise for calling you names. It's just, I don't know what to think anymore.
[Beat]
Katrina, can you promise me. . .one thing? Just one.
KATRINA: Anything.
NICHOLAS: No matter what, we'll be together in a few years?
KATRINA: I promise.
[Stage fades to darkness]

Confusion

2010-11-08T20:59:00.003+11:00

* Collated thoughts, not necessarily mine *

Tell me, if I'm supposed to trust you, then why do you deceive me?
Vicariously - Obviously you didn't realise I'd see.
I thought you were the light at the end of the tunnel,
Now - I'm not so sure.

If you claim to be the person who you really say you are,
Then why the change?

The wings have been tampered with and pulled for long enough,
The battle scars have not fully healed.
With so much unrest in an environment,
It becomes tempting to head to higher places.
Confusion is always near - A presence is either welcomed or ignored,
It appears appreciation does not exist until a much loved object is removed.

It's a time for work and a time for determination,

Slowly I'm finding reasons to quit.
You'd say to hold on, and now I hesitate,
After all. . .

Give me something to believe in.

*Photo by me *

Mrs Wiseman

2010-10-19T20:02:00.003+11:00

* Dedicated to a person who is inspirational and has watched me develop for a number of years *

Mrs Wiseman.

Mrs Wiseman is always more than meets the eye.
Renowned for her vast knowledge - knowing more than what is assumed to be known.
Not afraid to be critical, not afraid to get her hands dirty.
Always gazing out of a nearby window, simply to observe her surroundings.

Mrs Wiseman is never unproffessional: always smiling sweetly at those who do not deserve it.
Although bearing a sharp tongue, it is rarely used.
Be fair to Mrs Wiseman and she will be fair to you.
Or wait for the moment where the invisible claws become unsheathed.

Mrs Wiseman's eyes gleam whenever she suggests mischief.
Even more so, when her cat-like laugh enters the room.
Her ability to see right through people is astounding.
Thus becoming impossible to hide an emotion from her.

Mrs Wiseman is one to be admired: a poetic mastermind.
A soldier, for being able to handle the worst.
An artist, for fluent creativity.
And a symbol of madness.

So as Mrs Wiseman tips her hat to say farewell,
We know it is not forever.
I appreciate the memorable years she's given me,
And so I say
Thank you.

* Photo from iconvsicon.com *

Affirmation.

2010-10-03T08:39:00.007+11:00

* Inspired by thoughts *

I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side.
I believe we are destroying Mother Nature with every step we take.
I believe that different environments bring different mind-frames.

I believe in Karma.
I believe good things come to those who wait.
I believe you should try your best, but never push yourself too hard.
I believe you have only one life to live: use it wisely.
I believe in the importance of taking a step back from a hectic lifestyle and appreciating the 'little things'.
I believe stress is a poison, yet also a stimulant.
I believe forgiveness and trust must be earned and not given.

I believe no one is perfect.
I believe we cannot control or choose our sexuality.
I believe everyone is unique in their own way: no two souls are exactly alike.
I believe there is no 'end of the world' until hell freezes over.
I believe we pick ourselves up and move on after a fall.
I believe the most attractive features are the heart and soul.
I believe in the person, rather than a paraded image or mask.

I believe family is one of the most important things, yet people are still yet to realise it.
I believe people do not appreciate what they have until it is taken away from them.
I believe you cannot appreciate real love until you have been hurt before.
I believe drugs and alcohol do more damage to relationships than to the person themselves.
I believe if you truly love someone, you should show it.
I believe those we care for the most are also more likely to hurt us the most.
I believe there is always one person in our lives worth fighting for.
I believe you should not make people are priority if they are only going to make you an option.
I believe if you want a successful relationship, both people have to make the effort, not just one.
I believe in love surviving past death.

I believe in second chances, but no more.
I believe in being hurt because of the truth, rather than being content with a lie.
I believe you cannot shelter someone forever.
I believe there are times when we get too involved with other people's problems.
I believe the hardest words to say in the English language are "I'm sorry".

I believe it is easy to feel small in comparison to the grand universe.
I believe there is something greater beyond this Earth.
I believe there is more after death.
I believe there is always something more than meets the eye.

* Photo by me *

Reflection

2010-08-30T20:55:00.004+10:00

* A simple reflection *

Love: It will wait for you, but if there is doubt, it cannot wait forever.
Therefore, sometimes it is best to let the 'feeling' go,
In order to seek true love and contentment.
You can test love's strength, but cannot tamper with it.
By doing so, may cause severe and irreversable consequences.
Love is the feeling where everything just falls into place and fits like a puzzle piece.
It's the feeling of completion: finding that 'wholeness' by simply being in each other's arms.
It's the way of being yourself around each other without means of embarrassment.
You find that certain someone who alters your world completely.
So much, that not even the stars can stop you now. . .
Love isn't perfect - it will have its ups and downs.
In fact, everyone you love with hurt you in some way or form.
You just have to find those worth fighting for. . .
It's merely a matter of perseverance, picking yourself up after a fall and not giving up when times are rough.
After all, if there is true love, nothing can go wrong. They say lovers without doubt can make their bed on the edge of a blade.
Love. . .
No, it may not make sense, but it's the greatest and most powerful emotion in the world.

* Image from ninemsn *

Listen.

2010-08-29T09:45:00.006+10:00

* Inspired by the little things *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To the whispers of the swaying trees,
To the prick of a dew drop clinging to a leaf,
To the laugh of the crackling wall,
To the wail of the newborn bird,
To the pounding of two hearts entwined,
To the static of an untuned radio,
To the mumur of isolated voices,
To the twang of a string on a guitar,
To the dance of the plastic bag in the street,
To the whirling thoughts inside one's head,
To the cough of a worn-down car,
To the growl of distant thunder,
To the patter of falling rain,
To the licks of a cleaning cat,
To the faint hum of technology,
To the scratching of a pen against paper,
To the gossip of the bees,
To the roar of a beaming fire,
To the sigh when everything falls into place,
Just listen.

* Photo by me *

Smile

2010-08-05T07:56:00.003+10:00

* A little reminder inspired by a song *

Smile.
Big. BIGGER.
Yeah, now you look happy.
What's that?
You're sad?
Too bad.
Smile.

Who Are You? #3 ~ Be A Colour

2010-07-31T09:16:00.003+10:00

* A writing prompt from: http://teenwaves.blogspot.com *

1: Imagine being a colour and where you would like to be found
I am one of those colours that are not easily seen. Once experienced, I am not appreciated- but once gone and I am dearly missed. If you happen to see me, it is for a brief moment. You shall never be able to find me. Nor, will you ever be able to create me, as copies are not as dear as the original colour. You shall never see me in overwhelming environments. However,
Always try areas where everything is like a dream. . .

2: What kind of personality would your colour represent?
I represent the delicate ones: those which are fragile, yet still retain a sense of energetic liveliness. Those who have a shell, yet allow others to penetrate it for the greater good. I represent the shy and the alone, but also the carefree and whimsical souls. I represent the artistic and those who take pleasure in the 'simple' things in life. I represent the innocent child in everyone. Look close at me, and you will see that I am a mix of beauty and emptiness:
I am full, yet you can see right through me.

* Image Source: http://graceshomeplace.com *

The Workings of a Madman

2010-07-19T20:36:00.003+10:00

* An original piece of writing based on thoughts and dreams *

Day 1:
Last night I had the strangest dream. I dreamt of surreal possibilities and discovering more about the unknown. I was accepted by those I admire, like one does with a close friend. It was there, where I didn't have to worry about anything at all.
It was there where I felt truly at peace. I feel that the harsh claws of reality cannot sink itself into me.
That is. . .until I wake up.

The weather appears warm today.

Day 2:
I have come to the conclusion that I am not 100% - a part of me is missing. I feel as though the eyes are quickly losing their sparkle.
I dreamt of Him last night - and at first it was painful, reality caught up with me briefly, but later, I felt complete.
Of course, reality always wins. . .
I could feel reality tip his hat and smile evily, having dangled something I treasure the most right before my eyes, and then snatch it away from my grasp as I woke up.
I tried to distract myself from thoughts of Him, but in the end, my mind fails me. Everything always wanders back to Him. I feel as though I shall be the last thing on His mind, for I assume he'll be caught up in such a flurry.
I am not sure how I can cope - all I know is that I cannot go on like this. It's unnatural.

Again, the weather looks beautiful to a point where it saddens me. I miss experiencing it while staying within my four walls. There is too much to do. . .
Going to finish some writing today if I can find the motivation to. After all, I've got to look forward to something now, don't I?

Day 3:
Today has definitely been better than the last two. Escapes have provided me with some sense of sanity. I love how it nurses me - it wraps its loving arms around me. I feel numb towards reality, who mind you, sits behind my shoulder. . .lurking, while in the company of my escape.
I felt the eyes watch me from a distance for once. They were half disappointed, half curious. I look in the mirror and laugh at the person who stands there before me, confused. I never knew how much His distance could hurt me.
This is not how it is meant to be.

The sky is slowly changing its hue. I knew the brightness could not last long. . .

Day 4:
It seems my days collapse into the other, as I tend to relive yesterday's routine. I can't exert myself to altering this, for I feel too comfortable being blinded for hours on end. I have come to the conclusion that I am happier when with my escape - despite this being not real. Perhaps, I may cope.
The withered figure looks at me sadly from the reflection mirror, almost pleading, but remaining silent. A part of me dies inside. She needs me, like I need Him.

The weather is definitely colder now.

Day 5:
I have become caught up in this distraction, almost like a poison. My escape is too tempting, sometimes I want to delve into that world and never come back. However, reality still holds be back on a leash - I know it is for a reason.
I know I must be careful and let reality have a small bite to ensure I do not get too carried away. After all, there is still work to be done. By balancing the two, I know I will cope.

Windy weather rattles the shackles on my feet - loosening them.

Day 6:
My dreams have continued to keep me safe, yet, when I wake up, they tend to linger painfully behind - like a burn. However, I am finding the pain lessens with time. More so, I can feel the spark slowly returning on its own, thankfully. It's surprising considering they were wounded last night.
They were surrounding Him - I couldn't help but feel insignificant. I feared this would happen and he would possibly be unaware.
It's about time the eyes shone once again.

The shackles are broken thanks to the wind - the first few steps are taken.

Day 7:
Reality sent me a precious gift to which I clutched to with all my might. I guess I had finally stood his test of distance - and this was my reward. I felt him smile and gracefully glide off into the distance. His work had been done. My gift nursed me and clensed me of my previous troubles. Although only here for a while, She groomed me.
The figure stared back at me with approval and the eyes shone once more.

He is here, although to some extent a part of him is still missing. I dare not try to interfere - I don't want to be burnt again. I know He will be able to tend to the last traces of damage.
After all, He is the only one who made me whole.

*Image Source: http://actress.deviantart.com/art/Clock-7492812?q=boost%3Apopular+clock&qo=16 *

Who are you? #1 ~ The Secret You

2010-07-13T22:46:00.005+10:00

* Questions taken directly from: http://teenwaves.blogspot.com *
Creatively explain an answer to each of the following:

1. What famous person do other people tell you that you most resemble?
I have been told many times that I tend to resemble Jane Austen - most likely because of the curly hair. Another 'once-off' was I was told I looked somewhat like Kirsten Stewart, however, "...minus the ugly gap that's between her teeth".

2. What vegetable do you most resemble?
A potato. Not because I am absolutely obsessed with the vegetable, but rather, because a potato looks simple. . .yet you can make a thousand dishes with it. Mostly, potatoes come in the form of side dishes (like fries or chips), therefore you get to enjoy bits of it, but are never overwhelmed with the entire mass of it. There you have me: you have a 'taste' of various factors of my personality, but you never fully experience the whole thing. I'm known to still surprise those who know me well.

3. Which cartoon character do you resemble the most?

The first cartoon character that comes to mind is Yachiru Kusajishi, from the anime series "Bleach". In the series, Yachiru is depicted as a small, young girl with pink hair and a perpetual blush on her cheeks. She seems to be the youngest as well as the smallest among the captains and lieutenants in her 'Division'. Yachiru is child-like in most aspects, much like myself, as she is small, cheerful, energetic and carefree most of the time. She is often seen latched onto the back of her captain, Kenpachi Zaraki (whom I depict as my significant "other") and is somewhat territorial about this position. Yachiru also resents being criticised in any way.
Image source: http://bleach.wikia.com/wiki/Yachiru_Kusajishi

4. If your personality could be described as a season and a weather pattern, what would you choose?
If I had to choose a season, it would be spring: the flowers bloom brightly and dance whimsically in the breeze. Yet, people tend to forget how short this can last and don't treasure such moments. Eventually the flowers will fade away: They're forgotten when around, but once gone - dearly missed.

5. You can cast any actor now alive to play you in a film about your life. Who would you cast in the role?

When I first saw this, my immediate thought went to Johnny Depp - despite him being an older male actor. After all, he is such a flexible actor, I believe he could pull it off.
But in all seriousness, I would not know. I would prefer someone who looked very similiar to me.

6. Select lyrics from a song which best describes your mood right now.
"It's a perfect day for letting go, for setting fire to bridges, boats and other dreary worlds you know. Let's get happy. It's a perfect day for making out, to wake up with a smile without a doubt. To burst, grin, giggle, bliss, skip, jump, sing and shout - let's get happy. 'But it's much too late' you say, 'For doing this now. We should have done it then', well it just goes to show how wrong you can be, and how you really should know that it's never too late to get up and go" ~ The Cure - Doing The Unstuck

7. If you could be any age again for one week, what age would you be?
8. That particular number is important to me. Not because of any memories that instantly come to mind, but because 8 is a continuous number that does not end. There are no sharp points or edges on it. If I were 8 again, it would be fun to write my age over and over again. That, and I'd have even more of a reason to fancy "My Little Ponies" than I do now.

9. If you could wake up tomorrow in the body of someone else currently living, would you do so? Whom would you pick?

It would be a toss up between Robert Smith and Simon Le Bon. With Smith, I would be able to witness a lyrical genious at work and have a reason to have "poofy" hair. With Le Bon, not only would I be able to see another lyrical genious at work, but I'd spend my time swooning over the sound of my own singing.
Image Source: http://adssuck.blogspot.com

10. What dead person would you least want to be haunted by?
Charles Manson - his eyes. Enough said.

* Images do not belong to me *

The Mirror

2010-07-06T10:29:00.007+10:00

* An original piece of writing inspired by a song and a dream *

You're watching me constantly - I can feel it,
Your crystal eyes follow my silent movements across the carpeted floor.
I know that you stand there mocking me, for what I have become,
But yet I still remain drawn to your perfect, porcelain figure.

I often long to touch your untainted image, just to experience beauty once again,
And yet you do not run from me when I do so.
Infact, you wait for me, with that cryptic smile painted on your red lips,
Which never leaves your face, even when I turn away scarred and regretful.

I was supposed to be my love's light - but all I do is add to his shade,
I made him a promise to change when I get better - if I ever get better.
For it seems I've been sick forever - and you're well aware of this,
And still, you refuse to drink like a stubbon child.

My love, even though I know the difference between myself and my reflection,
Sometimes I cannot help but wonder:
Which of us do you really know?
Who was it that you fell in love with?

In the end, I know you'll continue to watch and tempt me,
Where each time the glass breaks, the shards will spray us both like falling snow.
The pieces will be too small to matter, yet big enough to pierce me,
And you shall stand here unhurt and watching me until one day, I breathe no more. . .

* Original image is not my own *
*Image Source: http://aliceindeadland.deviantart.com/art/In-the-Mirror-33230752?q=boost%3Apopular+the+mirror&qo=22 *

Prison Life

2010-06-09T20:19:00.003+10:00

* An original piece of writing from 2006 *

A loud room, full of chatter and laughter,
Soon becomes a silent hell hole.
Children that run around, full on sugar,
Soon evolve into cold, solid men.
One minute, everything seems like a dream,
But the next, life is a living nightmare.

In this room, families are united and have no worries,
Fathers watch their children with smiles on their faces.
A warm feeling buzzes about in the atmosphere,
Making the place feel like a safe environment.
However, this feeling does not last. . .

The fathers, although once smiling, they secretly cry inside,
For they will miss watching their children grow.
The families must eventually leave and the environment becomes unsafe,
Every man must live for himself.
The only protection these people have are four cold walls with the occasional robot guarding the room.

It seems almost impossible to have hope in their lives, unless family is there to support them.
To outsiders, they appear to have a carefree lifestyle and are protected against society.
Yet, something important is missing:
Freedom.

* Original Image is not mine *
* Image Source: http://connorka.deviantart.com/art/Jail-83849503?q=boost%3Apopular+jail&qo=2 *

Patience

2010-06-09T14:35:00.005+10:00

* A piece of edited writing from 2006 based on George Michael's "Patience" *

An old man walks along a crowded street, exploring the local markets, with his two grandchildren on either side of him. They had originally intended on spending the day at the local carnival, but unfortunately it was closed down due to maintenence. Music can be heard not that far in the distance and the children tug at their grandfather's arms, eager to find out exactly where it is coming from. It is not long until the three reach a store with a young salesman standing out the front. The man looks shrap in his freshly pressed, pinstripe suit and he reeks of aftershave. Next to him lays a cd player.

"Come on in ladies and gentleman! Bargain prices on everything thanks to our grand opening! Take a look at all we have!" the man calls enticing people as they walk past. The children hurry up to the man.
"Do you have toys?" they ask, their little eyes lighting up with excitement.
"We even have toys" the man smiles slyly, showing his pearly white teeth, "SPECIAL toys with lots of buttons". He turns to the old man, "What do you say Grandpa? Will you let these wonderful children enjoy the latest and greatest inventions?"

The old man stares through the freshly cleaned glass of the shop window and sighs. Inside the store consists mainly of the latest gadgets and technology - half of which the old man cannot seem to grasp. The old man shakes his head, bewildered by the man's enticement. Who on earth would want to lead children away from their innocence and introduce them into a technological world where people depend on devices for everyday living?

The old man turns to the salesman and in a loud and clear voice booms: "You want my family for your liberty!". The crowd around the stall hushes to a whisper while the children look up at their grandfather with confusion. The old man looks sadly at the salesman, and shifting down a gear he adds:
"I can't do that. . ."

From such influence, the crowd slowly begins to disappear. An interest is lost in the store and people start to realise the long term effects of technology on the younger generation. Shoppers put down the goods in their hands and turn to the salesman in disgust. The youth, being unable to to lose customers on an opening day, attempts a desperate scheme to maintain interest:
"Won't you people look at all we have? Don't you want it? Can't you see the things that you lack?"

Children in his arms, the old man turns his back.

* Original Image is not mine *
* Image Source: http://evilxelf.deviantart.com/art/A-Man-of-Reflection-48314233?q=boost%3Apopular+Old+man&qo=9 *

The Spirit

2010-06-09T14:16:00.003+10:00

* An original piece of writing from 2007 *

Breathe in the icy air as Winter starts to form,
A candle's flame entwines with a musky room.
And still you look at me in that way,
Even as my words flow through your spine.

Don't feel sorry for me, my dear, infact don't speak,
You shall be hushed until the wake of dawn.
And until then, let your conscience guide you,
And remove any doubts from your mind.

Let the heat be withdrawn from your body,
Dance freely in the moonlight sky.
And when it's over, you shall collapse next to me,
And you'll let my love guide you through.

I've never been a forceful man, you know,
Do not fear my touch - my kiss,
Be drawn to me like a moth to a flame.
Dance with me and feel the Winter march on,
And be released into the night sky.

For tonight is the night when our spirits bind within. . .

* Original image is not mine *
* Image Source: http://adunio.deviantart.com/art/Ice-95137581?q=boost%3Apopular+ice+spirit&qo=31 *

Fin.

2010-06-09T14:05:00.002+10:00

* An original piece of writing from 2007 based on a broken friendship *

I used to be able to laugh with you,
But now it seems I don't.
We could try and talk this over,
But deep inside I know you won't.

You were such a good friend to me,
Why you changed, no one did know.
Day by day, you got worse,
And my pain did start to show.

No one can trust you anymore,
You're full of secrets, tales and lies.
I find it harder to look at you,
And search beyond those haunting eyes.

I don't know you anymore,
You're not so kind deep inside.
So it seems all is lost,
And our memories are sad goodbyes.

I don't want to lose you forever you know,
Did our friendship really lack?
I guess I can't do anything now,
For you've already turned your back.

Come Undone

2010-06-08T20:34:00.005+10:00

* A piece of original writing from 2007, inspired by Duran Duran's "Come Undone" *

Lipstick is smudged on the mirror, with the stench of an overdose of perfume in the air. Mascara bottles have exploded, leaking its black blood onto the carpet. A pearl necklace, once neatly strung together, is now broken with its contents scattered across the room. Foundation and other makeup has become old and crusted in their containers.

A room, once filled with life. . .
A room, once filled with a young spirit who had dreams. . .
Is not practically haunted and dead.

The only living thing is the radio, releasing its sorrowful tune:

"Who do you need?
Who do you love?
When you Come Undone?"

* Lyrics by Duran Duran *
* Original Image is not mine *
* Image Source: http://advush.deviantart.com/art/makeup-56744642?q=boost%3Apopular+makeup&qo=30 *

The Eagle

2010-06-08T13:19:00.005+10:00

* A more whimsical poem, inspired by love *

I used to have an emerald snake with bright blue eyes,
The brightest eyes I'd ever seen.
I relied on my snake, for he was always there,
But he rarely had time for me.

On the occasion when he did, he'd show me the fruits of the world,
The tall and short of it, and those in between.
He'd coax me into his jungle, while I was unsure,
His advances assured me he was keen.

I soon became a fascination, a child's new plaything,
I was prodded and poked, pulled and squished.
My snake stated that it was part of the 'procedure',
Yet it was my freedom I dearly missed.

I was angered that my rights felt taken away,
And that my snake was allowed to roam free.
Yet my snake was cunning - he kept me on a leash,
He'd sweeten up a lie and send it to me.

"You're beautiful" he'd say - and of course I believed him,
But everyone and everything was beautiful in his eyes.
Such words lost their meaning - saying "I love you" became a chore,
His small 'adventures' came as no surprise.

It wasn't until one day, when the snake slid through my fingers,
He turned around and gave me a bite.
He swore it was a once off, that what he felt towards me was true,
Turning my back, I left right on sight.

On my journey out of the jungle, I noticed a figure hovering overhead,
A shackled eagle with scars on his toes.
From what I presumed was a gruesome battle,
But the real reason I did not know.

The eagle and I soon formed a unique bond,
And tended to each other's needs.
It was then that I realised I didn't need anything else,
With my eagle was where I wanted to be.

The snake saw this and in jealousy demanded a stop,
He claimed that he did deserve me.
But my eagle carried the snake to the highest mountain,
And commenced a secret battle - one I couldn't see.

Ever since my eagle has shown me undying devotion,
I've never been given reasons to doubt him.
What he tells me is true, his thoughts from the heart,
He's brightened my world that once was dim.

I still never know how to repay my dear eagle,
So I'll break your shackles and let you roam free.
And trust that in the end, once the day is done,
You'll always find your way back to me.

"You can stop my heart, and yet you're something that keeps it going. There's a string around my heart connected to you. The further you go, the tighter the string becomes. But the closer you come, the more free I become. I'm crazy about you now. I never thought it would come to this, but I love you. . ."

* Original Image is not mine *
* Image Source: http://windfalcon.deviantart.com/art/Thesis-Golden-Eagle-123940688?q=boost%3Apopular+Eagle&qo=177 *

Mad World

2010-06-07T08:55:00.003+10:00

"When people run in circles it's a very, very mad world. . ."
* Inspired by muddled thoughts *

The black cat sits upon the dusty windowsill,
Watching the chaotic world through big brown eyes.
While far away, the lone wolf howls out for recognition,
A search for identity among the faceless pack.

The clammy hand prods a small creation,
Finally releasing it, in the belief that damage has not been done.
The butterfly settles helplessly on a battered leaf,
Repairing her trampled wings.

The black cat wanders outside into the garden,
Hoping to make sense of the jungle in cramped spaces.
While the hand drums his boney fingers on a worm-ridden desk,
Observing his companion, yet his mind on the butterfly.

The wolf attempts to break free of the chains to his routine life,
Yet falls further into the hole of confinement.
While the butterfly makes the slow journey of recovery,
And prefers to merely observe the world around her.

The black cat admires the lonely rose in the rosebush,
Transfixed with its untold beauty, transfixed with its certain smell.
Yet further away. the only smell the wolf can sense is failure,
And thus, makes a vast attempt of regaining his composure.

It is not long until the rosebush pricks the black cat,
Who flees to heal his wounded paw.
While the hand trims the rose with extra care,
Attempting to remove any defective thorns.

On his journey, the wolf finds the tiny butterfly by chance,
He immediately fuses together a friendship with this new treasure.
While the butterly remains simply greatful,
For having found a stable and safe perch to sit on.

The hand scolds the black cat for interfering with his garden,
And keeps a close watch on his favourite rose bush.
The thought of the butterfly no longer lingers in his mind,
For he has found something of greater importance to tend to.

The black cat retreats back to the windowsill,
Continuing to watch the world through lazy eyes.
Yet the wolf and the butterfly, although both further away,
Prefer to play in the falling snow.

The hand quickly loses interest in the rosebush,
Failing to tend to its every need.
The curious black cat uses this chance to investigate the unguarded bush,
And ventures out into the world once more.

History repeats itself and the cat's paw is again sore,
Seeing this, the hand rubs his fingers with glee.
Yet the wolf and the butterfly now collect snowflakes.
Together, they are invulnerable to the cold, cruel world.

Further in time, the black cat still sits upon the windowsill,
He observes the scar left on his paw.
In the distance a small figure hovers helplessly towards him,
And with great difficulty, perches itself on the other side of the window.

The cat and the butterfly seek comfort in each other,
Both bear battle scars from the war with the world.
Both have once fallen, but have later risen again,
Much like the phoenix who rises from the ashes.

The hand remains at rest, preferring his own company,
While the wolf remains alone, still searching for identity.
In contrast the cat and the butterfly venture out to the garden,
In hope of finding beauty in such small things.

The cat still observes the mysterious rosebush,
Yet keeps a safe distance to avoid harm.
However the butterfly watches with worry,
Hoping the cat will learn from past experiences.

In the end, the hand crumples like a withered Autumn leaf,
And the wolf still ventures alone, trying to find himself.
The black cat plays whimsically and innocently around the garden,
While the butterfly waits for the last of the petals to fall. . .

* Original Image is not mine *
*Image Source: http://ictenbey.deviantart.com/art/MAD-WORLD-50993763?q=boost%3Apopular+mad+world&qo=9 *

The Caterpillar

2010-05-26T15:01:00.005+10:00

"Spread your wings on a warm summer's day and wave us all goodbye..."

* Inspired by the beauty in small things *

Dearest little caterpillar,
Tiptoe graciously across the battered leaf.

Oh, how small you are, little caterpillar,
Compared to the grand, cruel world.

People take advantage of you, little caterpillar,
They do not realise how unique you are.

It is only a matter of time, little caterpillar,
Until you blossom and shed light on the corrupted space.

Let your whimsical self guide the fallen,
And shed light on those with lost hope.

So go forth, little caterpillar,
And find beauty in negative spaces.

* Original Image is not mine. I merely cropped it. *
* Image source: http://browse.deviantart.com/qh?=&section=&q=caterpillar#/daw863 *

Changing Tides

2010-05-20T07:23:00.003+10:00

* Inspired by the play 'Honour' by Joanna Murray-Smith *
Note: Contains mild course language. Based on an original transcript.

[Darkness surrounds the room. A male voice can be heard]
CARL: Are you trying to eliminate me from your life? Do you want me to leave, forever? [Beat] I mean, yes, I know I hurt you Rachael and I know this is sudden. I'm probably the last person you'd ever want to talk to [Beat] I can't even imagine how upset you feel towards me - towards everything. Heh, I bet you think I'm just some cold, heartless asshole. [Pause] But it's not like I've just stopped thinking about you. I said I would always love you and I meant it. [Beat] It's just - Everything turned out differently to what he had originally planned. I mean this when I tell you: I never expected this to happen. [Beat] Yes I feel bad, but do I regret my decision? No, I do not. [He sighs] As much as I wanted to deny it at first, I AM in love with Louise. [Beat] So cut all ties with me if you like, do anything, because I guess I deserve it, right? But, regardless of what happens, I'll always love you.

[Room lights up. A young woman is sitting on a chair, gathering her thoughts. Her back is facing a door. She blinks a few times, returning to reality]

RACHAEL: Yes, you did hurt me Carl. [Pause] But I guess it was for the best, no? I think I learned a valuable lesson. Back then, I didn't know what I felt towards you. [Beat] But I guess what was done - was done. It's over now - that was the past. Now, our routine is back to sameness, or so I thought. [Beat] Do I regret my decision to take you back? Perhaps. Maybe I cling to the hope of going back to our old, daily routine. [Beat] Or perhaps, it's too late. Maybe it's just-

[The door flings open. In storms Carl, looking angry. He stands in front of Rachael]
CARL: Hey you. I am not very happy at ALL. [Pause] You can assume why, because I'm ridiculously tired of explaining my goddamned life story to you over and over again. [Beat] [Shifting down a gear] I don't know why I'm even here, or the purpose of you to me anymore
[Rachael remains unmoving with an unreadable face]
RACHAEL: Oh?
CARL: It sure doesn't feel like you are anyone to me anymore. To me, you feel like a complete stranger and I find it hard to even make myself believe that I once called you my Amor. [He begins to pace the room] You know I'd love to continue calling you such a name, but I'm running out of reasons to even bother. [Beat] [Quietly] You're not here for me at all anymore. You've become a selfish mess, fuelled for the desire of 'achieving academically' in life.
RACHAEL: [Passive and gentle] Deep down you've been dying to scream that at me [Pause] and deep down you know I'm right. I guess being wrapped up in this supposed 'selfishness' has protected me in a way. [Beat] The greater the distance between our voices, the more I feel at ease.
CARL: [Taken aback] What are you saying?
RACHAEL: [She stands up] I longed for sameness. I relished the predictability of my life. I thought that by giving this another chance would allow for the repetition of our lives before. [She glances momentarily at Carl] I guess I was wrong. Did I love you when we started anew? [Pause] Perhaps I longed to be loved. [Beat] I guess I was was wrong, thinking there was some hope of savouring what was left. You cannot recover something that died out long ago.
CARL: But-
[Silence. The truth is felt by both of them]
[At a loss] That's it? We have nothing at all? I guess - I guess that year was for nothing then. Everything was for nothing then, Rachael. This was all pointless from the start. [Beat] Well, I guess I'm not going to 'do' relationships anymore, because love always seems to just leave me left alone and hurt. Love doesn't mean anything to me anymore. It's just another word that can hurt me in the end. I knew this day was inevitable, but I never knew how much it would kill me inside. [He goes towards the door] Don't expect to hear from me any time soon, because since you don't seem to care anymore, I don't think I will either. Goodbye Rachael, I'm sorry I messed with your life. You'd probably have been better off had you not met me at all.
RACHAEL: [Smiling quietly to herself] I know I would have. . .
[End]

* Original image is not mine *
* Image source: http:// browse.deviantart.com/?qh=&section=&q=a+play#/d2ae2wr *

Untitled.

2010-05-01T09:50:00.006+10:00

* Inspired by S.Catalano's "Shuffle" poem *
Songs are in italics

"Music is escapism. . .it's entertainment" ~ Andy Taylor.

Find me here and hear me now - this is The Call.
Didn't you realise that It's My Life and not yours? It's not something you can toy with.
I refuse to be your plaything so this is it - I am free. I am better off Without You.
Because deep down I know that it will be alright in the end,
For When the Going gets Tough, the Tough gets Going.

The person you once knew wasn't really me. I've shed the false image you thought was real.
Even though you hate to believe it, in your eyes, I look like I just died in your arms tonight.
Little do you realise - Though I've died away in you, you've also died away in me.
Long ago that spark in my heart blew out, like a Candle in the Wind.

Some people are just not meant to know each other. I feel that with you.
You are not welcoming. I Ain't Got No Home in your arms.
You have no idea how much you make me want to Scream.
Oh, the thoughts I wish I could Shout out at you.

Please do not be mistaken, this is not a sudden Change of Heart.
For this is what you get, when you Come Undone.
I bask in the absence of your voice - no longer will it be ringing in my ear. I will Enjoy the Silence.
I have found a new love and together we are Unbreakable.
For Nothings Gonna Stop Us Now. . .

* Original idea does not belong to me. Credit goes to the original creator of the poem. I thank him very much for letting me use his idea for myself. *
* Original poem can be found here: http://stefanogamelover.deviantart.com/art/Shuffle-107415589 *
* Original Image does not belong to me *
*Image Source: http://ann-izzle.deviantart.com/art/Music-89270233 *

* Song Credits (In order of appearance): *
- Regina Spektor ~ The Call
- Harry Nilsson ~ Without You
- Billy Ocean ~ When the Going gets Tough, the Tough gets Going
- Cutting Crew ~ (I just) Died In Your Arms Tonight
- Elton John ~ Candle In The Wind
- Clarence 'Frogman' Henry ~ Ain't Got No Home
- Michael Jackson ft. Janet Jackson ~ Scream
- Tears For Fears ~ Shout
- Cyndi Lauper ~ Change of Hear.
- Duran Duran ~ Come Undone
- Depeche Mode ~ Enjoy the Silence
- Michael Jackson ~ Unbreakable
- Starship ~ Nothings Gonna Stop Us Now
* All songs were selected at random *

Let's Go To Bed. . .

2010-04-20T20:01:00.008+10:00

* Poem inspired by The Cure lyrics *

Let's go to bed.
We'll drown our sorrows with swollen lips.
Press your nicotine stained fingers against your tainted skin.
And with sunken eyes, dream of a better world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A crooked finger runs across a dusty window-sill.
Scrape off the dust - prick my skin on the edge of a splinter.

Little squashed fly.
You mean nothing to me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Little girl in the corner of the room.
She'll tease the flesh. Let her linger in your mind.
Whisper in my ear and tell me.
How do you really dare?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hide in the shadows if you will.
I'll watch you under loving arms.
You are merely a figment of my imagination.
You are not really there.

* Image Source: http://shudder-stock.deviantart.com/art/S-S-Dark-Bedroom-40979777 *

Rio

2010-04-14T17:04:00.005+10:00

* Inspired by Duran Duran's "Rio" and Patrick Nagel's artwork *

Rio was a strange and enchanted girl with jet black hair that danced wildly and free,
She was the most beautiful creature to ever set eyes upon.
One small smirk and my heart had been captured,
Stripped and bound - I bore everything for the love of this woman.

Rio loved to fantasize and constantly dreamt of better days,
For her eyes remained cloudy with a tinge of pale blue.
Yet her luscious lips remained a firey red that would contrast against her porcelain skin,
Which curled into a fine smirk whenever she sought to tease.

My world shattered like a Christmas bauble the day Rio slipped away from me,
Although she had disappeared, her shrieking laugh rang clearly in my ear.
For reality plucked me from my slumber and my dreams stole the only girl I loved,
And drowned her deep inside of me.

Although the memory of Rio is now hazey, the luscious lips remain a fiery hue,
And still, her cloudy eyes will watch me.
However, her expression remains unchanging as if mocking me,
And ever so slightly, her laugh still lingers in my ear. . .

* Original Image is my own drawing based on Patrick Nagel's artwork *

Goodbye

2010-04-10T10:10:00.003+10:00

* An original poem, based on a series of thoughts *

If I could delve into the crevices of your mind - believe me, I would,
Let me find out what exactly makes you tick.
If I could, I would - I would strip you bare to the bone,
Uncovering your darkest secrets, a true you - raw and naked.

If I could wash you away, like the wind does with the clouds, believe me I would,
I would forget your existance and the impact you've played on those around you.
I would erase all the memories, the good and the horrid,
However, my inquisitive nature keeps me holding on - but only for now.

If I could make you realise that your problems are brought on by yourself - believe me, I would,
I despise your dependence on people - the need to feel accepted by all.
I take no pity for a man who refuses to look after himself - the refusal to become independent,
Who realises he won't stay this way forever and fears the day he'll have to grow up.

And like a child, you are naive and open to all - you give into temptation so easily,
You live in false hope that this temptation will actually keep you complacent.
I wonder if in the long run, this trifle satisfies you deep down,
But it never does, you know that - and thus history repeats itself.

You realise that there is only so much a man can handle before he breaks,
Once broken, a man is never the same again.
I'll be waiting for that day and when it comes,
I shall be laughing then.

* Original image is my own. I have merely Photoshopped it. *

Dear Isabelle. . .

2010-04-01T21:29:00.005+11:00

* Inspired from a song by Gregory and the Hawk *

Dear Isabelle,

After a long and treacherous Summer, it is finally coming to an end. The unpredictable weather is going to cease. Although I somewhat despised the humid nights, I know that a part of me will miss that warm Summer breeze.
As you know, my life has always been a routine: wake up, go to work, come home to a 'dinner-for-one', then drift off into a lonely sleep. Things would change slightly when you visited me, but other than that, things would have stayed the same around here.
Until now.

I met a man not that long ago - it was definitely love at first sight. His dark, brooding eyes instantly gazed upon mine. Call it cliche, but we hit it off in the usual style: dinner and a movie. Isabelle, I don't think I've ever felt this way before, especially not after Darren. You know how long it has taken for me to get over him and you know how much I believed that love was an 'illusion'. This was all until I met Brad.

Yes, his name his Brad - a wild and carefree spirit. Unpredictable at times and often dominant in nature. He broke my shackles and taught me to love again. Isabelle, I think I have finally found "The One" that people talk about these days. Maybe "The One" really does exist.

Only time can tell.

~ ~ ~

Dear Isabelle,

Summer feels long gone and now the leaves are starting to slowly fade away and die - others are changing colours like chameleons. Sometimes I wonder if Brad is like a chameleon - changing his colours to blend into backgrounds. They say you learn something new every day.
Brad is an artist - a bloody good one too. I often find myself feeling jealous over his amazing skills for I cannot help but compare them to my own. He promises to teach me some tips to enhance my own work. I feel that by learning of his artistic instinct, this only brings us closer together.

Isabelle, after realising something new about Brad after a month, I realise I still have yet to learn more about him. I thought I had him all figured out, but I guess I was wrong. I wonder if he is "Arty Brad" one day, then a different Brad another day. After all, who knows what else is lurking within his mind. The sheer thought somewhat excites me - a chill that rattles my spine.
Then again. . .

Should I be concerned about whatever else that is yet to arise?

~ ~ ~

Dear Isabelle,

Autumn is definitely here. The trees are being stripped of their coats and stand naked against the cold breeze. You can tell a change is in the air - it's affecting all of us.
A change is starting to stir within me and I'm not sure if I like it or not. I am starting to feel different towards Brad. I am not sure if this is because he's decided to practically move in with me. He is not officially living with me, but he may as well be. He is here most of the time now.
Yeah, it's a bit of a jump, I know.
They say people act differently when they live with one another. It's like their 'true side' has been exposed. I think I can safely say that I have seen Brad's.

Isabelle, I know you would be giving me your usual lecture right now about taking things too fast. However this time, instead of rolling my eyes and simply saying "Yes Isabelle" continually, I would actually stop and listen.
I know you would be right.

Brad seems more aggressive these days and I'm not sure if that is because of his recent heavy workload. You see, his boss expects him to come up with this brilliant logo design for the company in a short time span. I guess it's taking its toll on our relationship.
Now, don't get me wrong Isabelle, we have our good moments. It's just that they don't last as much anymore - and it's only a matter of time before they've vanished completely. Did I really jump into this too fast?

Did I make a mistake?

~ ~ ~

Dear Isabelle,

Autumn is rapidly drawing to an end as Winter slowly wraps his loving arms around what is left of her - ready to drown Autumn in a midst of rain. My world has become filled with nothing but poems and paintings. They seem to be the only drive in my life now - the only thing that keeps me going.
Brad is changing as quickly as the weather. So much, it becomes tiresome to keep an eye on him. Sometimes, his aggressiveness is just unbearable, but yet I do nothing to remove myself from the situation. He is constantly calling me to him and his strong hands make it hard to shove him away.
I guess I don't have the energy I used to anymore.

Isabelle, what can I do? I feel as though my life is going nowhere. My job has become a hassle and I no longer take pride in anything I do - apart from art. I know if I sit here and do nothing, I will surely end up worse than I already am.
This is the last thing I need.

You yourself would tell me to be proactive - go out and do something to fix the problem. That's what I've always admired about you. You've always seemed to be able to work your way out of a situation by doing something.

Now it's my turn to figure a way out of this mess.

~ ~ ~

Dear Isabelle,

It's three o'clock in the morning and the Winter wind pounds itself against my window. The after taste of half a bottle of Chianti lingers in my swollen mouth. I sit here, in a drunken haze writing what will probably be my last letter for a while.
Across from me lays my beautiful companion. Her untainted, naked body glistening under the dim lamp light.

In the past, I've felt this way too many times before. The ground is hard and each time I fall down, it becomes harder to stand up again. It's time to take a stand.

I know how to solve the situation I am in - my mind has been made up. So Isabelle, do try to understand, as it is the only way to escape this nightmare - the pit keeps getting deeper and I'm not turning back. The time is now - I must leave before the sun rises.
Do not be concerned, I think this feels alright.

Say hello to Brad for me, will you?

* Original Image is not mine *
* Image Source: http://insignificant-other.deviantart.com/art/The-Letter-5977497 *

Falling Petals

2010-03-26T18:09:00.003+11:00

* An original poem inspired by roses *

The flowers - they are in full bloom,
Though beautiful now, I know well enough that they shall soon wilt and fall.
Such a quick and glorious end - one of which I cannot help but hope for,
For it is "the impermanence of things that makes them truly beautiful".

Although. . .I had heard this saying before,
Regardless of this, the falling petals hurt me to my soul.
I found myself praying that they would always stay in bloom,
Even though I knew it was impossible.

* Original image is my own *

The Little Things

2010-03-01T20:57:00.004+11:00

* An original poem, based on bonding with another person *

The little things always mattered to her,
The warmth of the embrace,

That comforting look in the eye.

It was the reassurance that everything was going to be alright in the end.

It was her bubbly presence that he enjoyed,

The way he lost his fingers in the forest of her hair.

His arms are the walls to her sanctuary,

The only place he knows she's safe in there.

* Original image is not mine *

* Image Source: http://wifflelevertofull.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/sunnyfield.jpg *

A Lesson to Learn

2010-02-06T09:08:00.003+11:00

* A more morbid piece, inspired by N.Sy's Drama script and the film "Moulin Rouge!" *

When you've endured so much heartbreak, it becomes harder to let someone in. . .
To trust them.
"I don't understand Charlotte, why don't you go out and make friends? Have fun! Live a life teenagers should these days."

Sometimes you spend weeks, even months avoiding the problem. . .
"I've heard she has no friends. She'll only sit by herself. It's like she doesn't care that she's alone."

Fearing that from deep inside, history will repeat itself.
"Come on Charlotte. You won't go out with anyone, you won't let me invite you over, heck, you won't let me take you out to a movie, even as just a friend! You're really missing out on the fun."

I guess it gets to a point where you blame everyone but yourself.
"You can't trust anyone at all, that's why I fly alone. I fend for myself. I live for me."

Everything in the world is wrong. . .
In your eyes.
"The world is a corrupt place. Love is an illusion. There is no hope. There is no God."

But as time slowly progresses, you learn something else. . .
"Oh my god, what has she done to herself?"

The problem isn't them. . .
"Charlotte?"

It's you.
"Charlotte!"

One of the greatest lessons you'll ever learn,
Is to love others, you have to love yourself in return.

* Original picture is not mine. I do not take credit for it. *
* Image Source: http://sweetiesblog.net/wp-content/uploads/blown+out+candle.JPG *

Thoughts From The Heart

2010-01-05T10:17:00.007+11:00

* A collection of phrases, or images that I write down to help stimulate some creative activity. These can often be used to describe made up 'scenes' or can be used as titles for creative writing pieces *
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1: Black bird kissed the clouds.
2: Smoke in a summer sky.
3: Rain on a moss garden.
4: The nervous smile.
5: The gorgeous strawberry kiss.
6: To enjoy the silence.
7: Crisp leaves of Autumn.
8: Pup in a cup.
9: Lipstick stained cigarettes. *
10: Stick a needle in the eye.
11: The warmth of an embrace.
12: Snow in summer.
13: Mountain ash.

* Provided by Nat Sy

* Original image is not mine *
* Image Source: http://m3ntalysan3.deviantart.com/art/black-and-white-butterfly-15205197 *

Words Like Violence

2009-12-08T14:10:00.007+11:00

* This current piece is inspired from a discussion about violence against women. If I were to make an add, it would adopt the following format *

10 weeks of hell
9 worried friends
8 overtime shifts
7 sleepless nights

6 heated arguments
5 lingering bruises

4 promises to change

3 drinks too many

2 orphaned children

1 murder trial

It's your choice.

* Original image is not mine, I merely Photoshopped it *
* Image Source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:White_Oak_Quercus_alba_Tree_Bark_3264px.jpg *

Gone, But Not Forgotten

2009-11-30T16:44:00.006+11:00

"The most important lessons you learn, are the ones you learn in your everyday life" ~ Zachary K. Craig

* Attempting a new presentation for a poem, based on personal events *

You said that it would be all over - a new start. Opportunities: you strived to ensure they made an appearance.
Yet you gave into temptation - cracked under pressure. Slipping down a slide - as if waiting for disaster.
The questions stump me: "Are you still the same? The same as you have always been? Is it you?"
Then again, I guess at one point in our lives, we are not who we have previously claimed to be.

People have always asked you: "When will you listen? When will you learn?" - With me, I see:
A true potential behind those sunken, shallow eyes, as if deserving another chance.
But what about us? Have you forgotten about the rest of the ones you love?

Didn't you think that these events could have such far-reaching effects?
Why you continue to face this alone - no one really knows.
Let us be your sanctuary - your haven - your shelter.

The ones who stop you from drowning - and yet,
The greater the distance between our voices
The more we have to watch you suffer.

You are no longer around.
Off facing the world alone.
A new challange per day.

You may have gone
But never are you
Forgotten.

* Quote was used and published with permission from a dear friend *
* Image Source: http://dailybiz.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/371_downward_spiral.jpg *

Thank You

2009-11-11T20:12:00.005+11:00

* A more whimiscal approach to writing, based on a special person *

For all the memories we've shared,

For all the times you've talked to me.

For such support and being the shoulder to cry on,

And seeing something that no one else sees.

For saving me from my insanity,

For holding me and drying my eyes.

For the compliments - making me feel worthwhile,

And for the laughter that pierced the skies.

For comforting me when I was down,

Everytime I thought I lacked.

You've never strayed from by my side,

You've never turned your back.

For all the inspiration,

And showing me I was strong.

For all the patience and forgiveness,

Particuarly when I was wrong.

But most importantly. . .

For always loving me,

And showing me what is true.

For being my wings when I could not fly,
I just wanted to say. . .

Thank You.

* Image Source: http://www.richardmargolis.com/portfolio/?spgmGal=Rochesters_Big_Trees *

Madness

2009-11-07T22:03:00.004+11:00

* An original poem, inspired by stress from exams *
------------------------------------------

This is madness.
Where the world turns from a place of living, to an endless black pit that swirls and drinks up the human mind.
Where thoughts gurgle and drown in an unknown abyss.
Where an individual feels isolated and alienated due to their distorted perceptions on reality.

This is madness.
Where the mind is merely a ticking bomb ready to explode at any second, spraying shards like falling snow.

Where senses are tampered with and teased.
Where the tongue tickles the flesh, only lingering for a moment, but always enough to leave a scar.

This is madness.
Where regrets outstay their welcome, delving into the crevices of the mind.

Where everything is expanded with exaggeration.
Where the heart is suffocated by the finest string.
And where madness tips its hat with a cheshire cat grin
And says
"This is madness"

* Original image is mine. I created it and Photoshopped it *

Haiku

2009-11-04T21:33:00.004+11:00

* Decided to take a new approach to poetry. This is my attempt at a Haiku *

Weeping, heaving heart
Stitches becoming unseamed

Wants needle and thread.

* Image Source: http://media.photobucket.com/image/stitched%20heart/babygirl-jaeda/heart.jpg *
* The original image does not belong to me *

Lolita

2009-10-27T21:40:00.005+11:00

* An original poem, inspired by a song *

Dearest little Lolita,
The water of life, the water of torrential lovers.
Known as Lo or Lola. . .
Although different, it's all the same to her.

Often called malicious,
My hot-tempered doll - wrapped up in shrink wrap.
Half cotton wool, the other half stainless steel.
Innocent as a lamb, yet with razor sharp edges.

Pure and untainted,
Yet corrupt and cruel.
When at night she dreams of wolves,
It's poor Lola who bleeds.

They say "Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets",
And when your tongue slips, you shriek your wild belly laugh.
As wild as a phenomenon - like a banshee's scream,
And you'll surrender yourself when you see them all.

With detrimental emerald eyes,
You'll pull on your stockings of a red disintegrated hue.
My femme fatale - Although a goddess to many,
Poor Lolita is merely my porcelain treasure.

Lo or Lolita, be it different or the same,
I'll cradle her like a Christmas bauble - as something fragile.
Because whatever Lola wants, Lola gets,
She's my dearest little Lolita. . .

* Original image is mine. I created and Photoshopped it *

The Tree

2009-10-08T21:41:00.012+11:00

* An original poem, inspired by trees *

Here we stand, as stiff as toys, yet as tall as any man,

Watching civilisation evolve and eventually fade away.
Here we stand weeping, often with a sigh,
Which rustles through our leaves like a silken windsong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We are stronger than mere man,
But snap our limbs and hear us scream.
For broken branches will take a while to replace,
A slow and painful process we despise.

And when the storms burn, flames peeling our skin, leaving us charcoaled and raw,

Do you hear us scream?
We'll grit our teeth, our feet trapped in the soil,
As we bear the pain and suffer in silence.

Here we stand, as stiff as toys, yet as tall as any man,
Watching civilisation evolve and eventually fade away.
Here we stand weeping, often with a sigh,

Watching humanity with a remorseful goodbye.

* Image Source: http://media.photobucket.com/image/spooky%20forest/SamheinWarlock/SpookyForest.jpg *

* The original image does not belong to me *

With love. . .

2009-09-19T11:48:00.009+10:00

* An original poem, inspired from a gift of roses *

You had assured me,
From your sickly sweet lips out poured sugar-coated lies.
Hard and crisp, like an Autumn breeze,
Yet soft and mellow, like bated breath.

You mentioned trust. How could I trust you?
When those emerald eyes were fixated on me.
Just as the asphyxiating terror scratched and wrapped its loving arms around me,
Ready to strangle its next victim.

Your severed patience. I knew not to displease you,
But yet my blood would boil.
A tainted mark stained such fragile skin,
Something that could not be undone.

I was signed and stamped, like a letter of documentation.
You had happily left your mark.
And sealing me with a lustrous kiss,
Your deed had finally been done.

* Image Source:http://www.giftstoindia24x7.com/ASP_Img/GTI0057.jpg *
* The original image does not belong to me, I merely Photoshopped it *

Prologue

2009-09-18T13:58:00.000+10:00

Imagine an ever changing society and give them ever changing views and values. Now, if you can, pinpoint an area in Melbourne and label it Narre Warren South. From that minority, take a family of three. Within that family, imagine a small, childlike girl with a unique perspective on society. Give her poofy, curly dark hair and dark blue, innocent eyes. On top of that, give her a child-like grin. Now, as carefully as you can, delve into her artistic world which consists of various concepts such as potatoes and Robert Smith. Give this girl a name. . .
Call her Claire.

Welcome to her world. . .