Beautiful Divergence

He stood there, utterly afraid yet seemingly completely bold. Beneath the golden robe once lavished with phoenix feathers now weathered with ash, he hunched over the rails, as if that was the last thing holding him on this planet. Many passed him by, never stopping. Always in a hurry, never wondering where he needed to be.

I watched from a distance but unlike most and just like him, I too was hunched over- in the metaphorical state. My whole life I felt like I was walking the complete opposite direction to everyone else, in a league of my own, to the rhythm no one could hear. Why was he there? Who was this heavenly forsaken man?

As if the floor beneath me had given way I fell to my knees and grasped my ears! At first I thought it was a train, but somehow my eyes met his and magic happened! I heard what sounded like the gods and angels calling me. He had the smile of a saint and a face like the gods. Hair as white as snow and eyes that roared like the ocean. They were colours not from this world. To stare into them, meant you could feel his soul; his burden, his love, his loss. They were pure and kind but tainted with the pain of a thousand worlds before him. Those eyes had seen the unworldly. Why do I feel like those eyes had just chosen me? The last thing I remember before waking where the words “To be separate from the norm”.

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Well, Van Gogh, hear!!!

I can now understand why Vincent Van Gogh decided one ear was enough for the insidious, monotonous rubbish that our ears are enslaved to on a daily basis. We continue to be poisoned by the rules and riddles of society’s imperfectly beautiful lies. The silent whispers that echo like the haunting creaking of an old sorely forgotten but much loved house.

We are scared of the unknown. The “different” often pushing us to create an issue of some sort, because then of course if it is an “issue”- we can fix it, right? I have come to learn, well, when I say “come to learn” I actually mean to say “I bring forth light” on this subject. I am not unfamiliar to the taunting of bratty kids or superficial adults. Much like the age old guess of which came first, the chicken or the egg. Go figure, who’s taunts came first? You would be unnervingly surprised. Those who whisper, I hear you loud and clear, everyone can. You are but a broken pandemonium, on repeat like a record shunned from artistic brilliance! Stop searching my sagacious mind for answers to questions beyond your understanding. Not all riddles have yet been solved.

Don’t lend your ear to gossip, as my mother says. Hold your tongue. Don’t lose an ear for the sake of running a whispering campaign. Instead stand up for what is right, believe in what is different and Van Gogh hear the beauty around you!20170819_213841_wm

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Skeleton’s echo

With nothing but the heavy sound of rain pouring, rushing by in a hurry. As if even the rain had somewhere more important to be, anywhere but with her. She was naked. Not just in the physical sense but her mind had been brought to it’s core. Vulnerable, riddled with the skeletons of old ghosts. Who would understand? Who would save her? The wind too soon joined the proclamation of her thoughts, howling and echoing thumping with intensifying blows. At the same time realising she had a horrible headache. Where am I, how did I get here? Just then the lights arrived as she reached to cover her eyes and finding the source if her agony, bloodied hands and dirt filled nails. The fear that over came her was gut wrenching, trying to lift herself up and move, it was then reality set in- her limbs were shackled.

Fuck! How did I get here, who was lurking behind those lights. Her stomach began churning empty with dread and filled with fear. Run! Run! Her mind had awoken and the sudden urge to run was there, the burning desire that drove her had come back. She was a fighter, the scars had proven it’s point. Only this time the reality of entrapment had stopped her. Not the good kind, where friends share secrets and lovers make bonds. The kind of trap where your life depended on being free. She was numb, all over but her mind was sharp. What was happening, is this a dream? As the rain gently fell upon her skin, kissing her cheeks with each gentle drop. She began to wonder, Am I…dead? She stayed there, in the middle of the woods, her soul had finally found it’s peace. In death, maybe I will find my peace she thought. For surely this nightmare has got to end.

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The ghost of a Phoenix

Like seeing a ghost, there she was. Walking with only the dark night sky to keep her company. She had enough, that was it. Things had come to it’s bitter end. The kind of bitter you taste when first trying a lemon. The kind of acid that burns holes. Her walking had turned into a slow jog, intensifying with every memory, ever scar and every tortured thought. If anyone was to call her name, it would fall upon deaf ears. The person they knew had gone, she had been burnt to many times. The burden of generations had finally collapsed, as had she. For a moment, in the black hollow of the night watching beautiful magic happen, she suddenly rose like a phoenix from the ashes. Some have said they saw flames, others heard a piercing scream.

Truth is what seemed like chaos to outsiders looking in, was a beautiful storm. She had broken herself down in order to rearrange the pieces and rebuild herself. She was a masterpiece in progress waiting for the world to awe in all the magical beauty of something utterly original. She was, as she was…a crazy-beautiful piece of art. Her mind was made up. Surely, she had, had enough, right?

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Devil in wolfs clothing

He grabbed her by the throat and voilently shook her. Forcing her to the ground. “Stay here and don’t follow me”. The words ripped through her soul like a sword cutting through silk. The scream that escaped her was deafening, bone chilling. Like death had suddenly found a voice. Before she she could catch her breath, life as she once knew had forever changed. She no longer felt like the leader of a pack. She had inevitably become a lone wolf. Ever get that overwhelming sense of familiarity, as if the steps you’ve take had been taken before?
It was like dancing with the devil himself.  Twirling and spinning, shimmering like a star. She saw the fire, she felt the flames, but of course like a magpie swooping and soring he saw her glowing and stole her heart. She was doomed, for love had more meaning than just that of it’s definition. It was beyong Shakespeare and deeper than Romeo and Juliet theselves. This was something of magic, the dust that falls when stars explode to create the night sky. I guess some would even go as far as to call it, Fate. Beyond words but on a level only a connection could explain. She glanced and turned away, it burnt her soul to stare any longer. Like many whirlwind stories though some could argue this started off like any other night. Summer sweaty air filled with the smell of cigarettes, sweet whiskey and laughter that could fill a thousand rooms. What lay ahead, only the Gods could forsee.

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Shattered

She woke up early one morning feeling indifferent and heavy hearted. Realising that in the midst of saving someone and removing a threat, behind all the glory or success there is still  atleast one innocent by stander. Whos whole world just changed too. It made sense, this is why i fix within myself, she thought. Noone should be collatolal damange in the shadow of a monsters curse.

So, she sat there holding her knees to her chest and thinking to herself, has the world really circled back to this dark place? Everything was exactly the same yet completely different. What was once green had become red and up was now down. The familiarity of the unknown had become somewhat comforting because for the first time in a long time. The unknown had completely engulfed her soul and it was the only thing that made sense. Knowing that the unknown could be undone.

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Don’t take his Pride

I am all about women empowerment. The movement is real, we keeping it strong and I couldn’t be more honoured to be surrounded by such grace. BUT. Whoever said “Chivalry is dead” has some major daddy issues. I’m just going to have to stop the bus right there. There are plenty of strong, supportive, hardworking, loyal to the detriment of their core being, open the door for you, cuddles and kisses, breakfast in bed, I’ll look after OUR kids so you can have a break, nurses you when you are sick, holds you while you cry your pretty little eyes out, till death do us part MEN out there. I say MEN not BOYS. Don’t confuse the two. Boys play with blocks, men build foundations from blocks. We need to stop hate-bashing our great men. Maybe if, gee I don’t know, once in a while we gave them praise instead of putting them down, we would see them grow from our appreciation, support and encouragements. A young man only mimics the shadow of his father but embraces the words of his mother. Remember that.

Don’t take his pride.

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Your tongue, the sharpest weapon

Funny how in society these days words like, “honesty”, “loyalty”, “respect”, “peace” and “love”. When it suits them or to showcase a variety of well learned manners and oh so perfectly instilled moral. I’ll admit, I’m not perfect, if anything I am my own worst critic because I know my flaws, I know my truth and I know where my demons lay. Well before dinosaurs existed I realised my soul was to old for this world and I would always be out of place.
And, that’s OK👌

It’s so ironic, that the people who are the first to throw judgement are the ones who live in the biggest, tallest glass houses. When deep down, behind that fancy $1000 dollar suit and $70 lipstick and face painted on like a well paid clown, they throw around words like “not good enough, lazy, fat, ugly, stupid, fag, dyke, bible basher, terrorist, bad parent, nerd, loser, you should be ashamed, you don’t try hard enough”. In this century FAKE has become REAL. What you see on social media is the 50th attempt at the “perfect selfie”. I’m guilty of that too!!! Honestly, the list of the negative words we speak, think and inadvertently feel is endless. We have been fooled to believe that to get praise and approval, a certain persona is required. Don’t get me wrong, I am all for change and self-love in the right direction. Feeling sexy, you go girl/boy friend you do you. Feeling like being holistic and changing your diet to vegan, you shot that wheatgrass. Want to change your religion because you need to find more peace somewhere else, GO FOR IT!!!

Look, I had my kids at a fairly young age. Before them I had HUGE breasts and I swore by the sun the moon and all the stars in between that ONE DAY (haha) I would fix them. Well, 2 kids later I had them done. I loved them, still do, probably fix them again once I have saved up enough money and have 2 more kids. So judge me! Often though, I’ve found that if you don’t fit into that mold or “so trending right now” vibe people will take your “positive ” energy and turn your self love into self loathing. Now don’t quote me on this but in my humble opinion and oh so many years of life experiences I have come to learn that people tend to project alot of their own insecurities onto others. Human preservation. As a way to minimise their insecurities and amplify their need for acceptance. We all just want to be loved and accepted. Human nature.

Of course, I could rant on and this could come across sounding very posh and rather royal with bells, whistles and a great fake boobs to boot. All I am trying to say is the classic childhood rhyme “Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me”, works well in the naive mind of a infant child. These days anxiety, depression, suicide and hate starts to grow as early as 4, 5,6 years of age. Words do hurt, the can hurt and they obviously are hurting our world.

Think before you speak.

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To rude for the Prudes

All prudishness asides, anyone that can combine the words “hot, steamy with froth” and is not talking about an absolutely fucking delicious expresso macciato topped up is my kind of Author. Sex has become such a broad topic accross every genera. What to do, how to do it, where and when to do it and god forbid whom with. So, just to set the record straight there is no “right or wrong”. We are all so different in our wants and needs. Yes, a few of us might like our coffee the same way but just because the next person is into tea, does not mean they’re any less of a beverage connoissuer. We’ve turned sex into a “bad” word or “taboo action”, not to mention we have now also taken upon us to decide for others who they can and can’t be sexually active with. Hello? Do I tell you how to have your coffee?. Let’s bring freedom of choice back to its core, CHOICE! free the Penis and Vigina, THE HEART WANTS WHAT THE HEART WANTS😏

On that note, feeling abit raunchy and want mental stiumulation? Sylvia Day’s series “The Crossfire Novels” is tantalizing, sexually provocative but mentally charging and I’m only onto the 3rd chapter of her 3rd book “Entwined with you”. For anyone willing to put their laurels aside, sexy night gown on, glass of wine in hand and Sylvia Day’s hard and fast passionate book in the other, I would recommend her series. No partner needed FYI (for your information) for those seemingly lonely but oh so eager souls out there

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