Most of the people I come across as I walk slowly towards my car reflect a blue glow in their faces as they walk past me in an artificially enhanced daze. No eye contact, they are engrossed in their multitude of devices and I think to myself how long it has been since I last heard the sound of my favourite pen scratching on paper.
When I think of writing, my ears fill with the synthetic imitation of a mechanical click as my fingers race across a keyboard.
I’m a ghost and technology is where I am trapped.
“Honey,” she said. “Tell me a story, talk to me of a time where we did not have to look over our shoulders as we hung our washing on the line.”
She lay her head back on the red and white striped towel which was partly buried in the sand. She licked her lips and tasted the salty sea and wriggled her shoulders, adjusting her comfort in anticipation of the story.
“That’s a hard thing to do, Pup,” he replied gazing up at the clouds through a brown tinted vision. The clouds were moving fast as if racing for a prize. They were merging fast into one, returning home and teasing at the possibility of a rainy evening.
“This world is scary, and you can never know what to expect. See, that hermit crab scuttling like a drunk Cuban over there?” He stretched his hands out and bent them to a clasp under his head. “He carries a shell on his back- to protect him from anything and ev-er-ree-thing!”
She giggled. She loved when he enunciated pointlessly, it showed his unfading enthusiasm.
“That crab, he’s been alive since dinosaurs- maybe even before. He’s always had to watch his back.”
“That same crab? Alive for thousands of years?” She giggled again.
“Oh pup,” he smirked. “Playing silly and coy only gets you so far.” He reached out a hand to stroke her golden hair as it lay untameable off the towel and in the sand.
He saw her face scrunch up in an expression of concern. She was worried, and thinking too much again.
He sighed. “Don’t worry pup,” he gently tugged her hair. “As long as you hang my washing out to dry, I will stare at you and admire your beauty. I will also be looking over your shoulder so you never have to. Deal?”
She took his hand and shook it gently as if a transaction had just occurred. “Deal, honey.”
My favourite boots
These boots have got a tale to tell
My mouth don’t know where to start
My mind races to the time
When a young guy broke my heart
These boots are wrinkled, worn with age
As I recall their whereabouts
The countless beds I’ve been welcomed in
The countless bars that threw me out
These boots ready for a fight
Masked my fragile self
Trampled over the top of the world
From my poverty to wealth
These boots leather like my gloves
Have aged just like my skin
Rejected all the harsh realities
And kept my fantasies in
These gloves are filled with creases
Wrinkled to look mean
They’ve done some dirty business
But have kept my hands well clean
These gloves and boots I stare at
As I clean my closet now
The only items left of my past
I can’t bear to throw them out
Can you see through my scars?
I’ve got twelve treacherous true tales to tell
The moon and the stars
The sun and the sky do not bid me well
A madman in my arms
I looked in his eyes and he dragged me to hell
I put up my guard
The ground cracked beneath me and downward I fell
Can you see through my scars?
My pain is a mirror, my pain is a crown
The shore is too far
I will tread to land, I will not drown
My blood thick like tar
The strongest hands will not hold me down
With you in my arms
My past lies empty, my future I’ve found
I found this challenge on a fellow blogger’s page and was inspired.
See the original challenge here
Bright lights blinded my sight
The road was uneven and rough
I could not see the shore in the horizon
This night was to be cold and tough
The blue waves are what I craved
I had to escape these city walls
Stunned by the headlights reflecting
My skin smooth and worn by my falls
The city is holding me captive
The ocean is too far away
Ah crap screw it, it’s useless
I’ll just google pictures of the bay
This one is for my Australians
I see the fear in your eyes, new one, your first time on the battlefield? I feel the smile manoeuvre my lips into an upwards sneer. The blood is pumping through my veins and it warms me like a mink blanket on a winter’s night. This is my favourite moment.
Young one I can see you, do not think my age has made me blind. My eyes may look past you but in my peripheral I can see into your soul. You look so fresh in your baby blue, ripe for the picking.
I will take you down, do not even try to get past me. I will rampage and crash against you, sending you flying. This is my life, this is my game, this is me. You may last the battle, and come out unscathed, oh but young one will you win the war?
We fight for ourselves, for our country and for each other. The grass is green, untouched, fresh, though it will not be drowned in our blood. This is only rugby after all.
I took this photo at an indiscriminate street in NY.
Today I am afraid
My heart crossed my mind and my mind crossed my heart
I am at an indiscriminate street in the journey of my life
Lame metaphors are the only way to describe how I am feeling
It seems to be just before dusk, or it could be just after dawn
I can see myself in every building playing a different character in this life of mine
This is not my city, but this city is my life
It peruses my soul and powers through my veins
Today I am afraid but my fear is overrated
I’ve learned a landscape from the ways of your life.You would have never heard my name, or have seen my face but I’ve learned much about you.
What we’ve seen, as the world looking in, is truly only a small miracle of all that you were, are and will always be. My father exposed me to your greatness as a little girl at a very young age.
You’ve taught me the most important lesson of all, to believe in myself.
“It’s lack of faith that makes people afraid of meeting challenges, and I believed in myself” – Muhammad Ali
Your inspirational ways and wisdom will be passed down for generations and I hope to continue learning from your examples. Your words ring true.
You would have never heard my name, or have seen my face but I’ve learned a lifetime from you.
Dedicated to The Greatest- Muhammad Ali
The sun does not set for me, nor does it rise, my only conception of night and day exists when I close my eyes, and when I open them.
Just kidding, I have to work each morning.
Today is the anniversary of realising that a year had gone by since the last time I thought of you. It makes me wonder if your eyes are still green.
What was your last anniversary? Comment below I’d love to know