The heart questions not why,
fragrances find the admirer,
laughter needs no humour,
being has a meaning beyond the self.
with eyes closed my vision finds clarity;
through gold embroidered silk gowns and shrouded souls.
love;i seek not to possess but to free my self from me.

not to far back in time the old men of the village curled up and died. some said that it was due to the curse blurted out by the witch while pissed on cheap vodka. the old boys tried to hook up with the witch for an orgy but they couldn't find their underpants and never turned up for their dinner date on time.this caused much agony and pain to the witch who already was over her credit limit and cranky from the bad service. while getting out she tripped on her hooked nose and cursed.
mine is a more precise and well deducted theory using a cheap Chinese calculator. i think after much consultation with the blind rat that ate the old boys underpants. i have come to the conclusion that it was a case of gas due to eating to much cheese.

as the market swelled with the holiday crowd coming in from all directions. the old farmer rolled into the market square in his run down pick up. the day looked promising and the mid day sun kind. what a beautiful day or so it seemed. as i sat across the road watching the market folks hustle, women bargain, children trouble the store keepers and young couples stealing glances in hope of a forbidden romance. my heart aching from a soured past and a glass of wine promising a grand future was all i had to offer to the magic that swelled from every conner of this confluence of life. how do we get to a place where we stop noticing the perfume that once captivated our being? my taste buds seemed to fail my enthusiasm almost like the like the women i loved.
so now as i sit crowded by my own past in the presences of hope and wonder, i realize that you can never buy time from the fading clock.

the tide swelled up to cover the horizon for a brief few seconds, only to come crawling along the shore to kiss her feet. she stood still as the wind made love to her hair and enveloped her body like a jealous lover. the evening had a magical sway as the crest of the moon peeked through the clouds of the setting sun. the birds flew east to longing nests and rested feathers. the brush strokes were gentle while the horizon seemed to burst into a hue a ecstatic purples and oranges. there stood maya, stone like and stern with an undying resilience that the ocean would return her lover to her arms.

As i see the days go by and wonder what I have to achieve in this vacant place. My eyes seem to deceive me or am I held hostage by my mind? The road seems parched by the anger of my own failures. Lost! I try to hold on to the sides of the ever-tilting surfaces. I feel my ego mocking me. Laughing a loud with a conglomerate of my own sub-conscious fears, which I have gathered on this wild chase In search of identity.



The lies and deceit is not of another's but the scars I have ridden my mind with of self inflicted sorrow. My heart does not dictate my actions, as the faint beat of hope lies silent in a mash of human flesh. The blood once an envious red of youth, now a pale colour on cheap hotel wall. Every step feels unmoved and pointless to my once fierce limbs. Shallow breathing makes it hard to fill the void within and light the temple of my resilience.



I trudge along dragging my shadows in the blazing heat of constant submission. Scared to confront the opposing order leaving behind my convictions like a shamed parent.I try to tune into my intuition, which blurts static frequencies form a distant place.

Ravaged and hungry I stand in an unending queue at the devils pawnshop awaiting the return of my soul.

As see the days go by and wonder what I have to achieve in this vacant place. My eyes seem to deceive me or am I held hostage by my mind? The road seems parched by the anger of my own failures. Lost! I try to hold on to the sides of the ever-tilting surfaces. I feel my ego mocking me. Laughing a loud with a conglomerate of my own sub-conscious fears, which I have gathered on this wild chase In search of identity.

The lies and deceit is not of another’s but the scars I have ridden my mind with of self inflicted sorrow. My heart does not dictate my actions, as the faint beat of hope lies silent in a mash of human flesh. The blood once an envious red of youth, now a pale colour on cheap hotel wall. Every step feels unmoved and pointless to my once fierce limbs. Shallow breathing makes it hard to fill the void within and light the temple of my resilience.

I trudge along dragging my shadows in the blazing heat of constant submission. Scared to confront the opposing order and leaving behind my convictions like a shamed parent. I try to tune into my intuition, which blurts static frequencies form a distant place.
Ravaged and hungry I stand in an unending queue at the devils pawnshop awaiting the return of my soul.

Men and women share great dynamics but unfortunately tampons do not figure on this list because men do not possess the powers of discharging emotions in repeated cycles (just when you thought the world had its share of super hero(in)s). Now, if you come to think of it maybe, this is that very reason why men don’t understand their better halves or so women would like to be consider themselves, but my uncle always believed that his left butt cheek stood a better chance than his wife (she made a killing from their potent energy to refuel there sagging equations with brilliant sex (without any kind of jelly or performance pills)?

Lets go back in time and figure out why such an amazing union created and ordained by the gods themselves often leaves one scrambling for answers? (Not to be mistaken for the writers union in Hollywood). The first known records of male/female bonding amongst humans would probably be traced back to the Neanderthals, who were know to be hunter-gatherers. Now this could probably be where men slipped up in creating the role-playing functions for women in societies, as we know them today. Only if men had the insight to involve women in their carnal outings that usually had a bit of old fashioned bludgeoning and stone throwing till the evening’s dinner could be dragged back to the pad. Instead we put up the macho act of “let me take care of it while you handle the little ones and do dishes”. Never leave a bunch of women sitting around doing nothing because they tell each other stuff ranging from size to performance to bank balances and the occasional make up trick (which can be quite deceiving for the vegan man wanting to smother his affection on his date which could end up with him having to lick animal fat (make-up) off her face and her to look like someone else at sunrise). Okay now before you ladies pull out your custom made Louis vuitton handguns to pump holes into my play station (every man’s pride and joy). Here’s my take, during these moments of thumb twiddling and idle banter sessions a woman would find her self comparing her life with that of another woman’s (men do the same but its not about life and its mostly on assumptions). She would soon discover that her man was incapable of providing her with adequate emotional, monetary and physical satisfaction which sometimes other women exaggerate in order to compensate for unkempt toe nails and down right bitchiness. The damage had already been done; it got her thinking (this is good if your going to invent an alternative to co2 producing fuels) but not really if it involves expectations arising from a desire to be one up on the kitty list. This leads her to expect her male counter part to possess the strength of superman (excluding the speed), a mind like woody Allen’s sans the kink to marry his adopted child, the stock options of bill gates even though it belongs to company called Microsoft, the charm of Cary Grant, an attitude like James Dean’s, the heart of a Buddhist monk, looks that vary from Brad Pit to George Clooney, tantric powers for continuous multiple orgasms and all this while carrying the shopping bags, opening the door, puling the chair and doing a head stand. Why women compete with each other is beyond me or any body who’s been to an end of season sale? I don’t see the need to set your expectations based on someone else’s description of haven because your idle life is as you create it to be. As for women, they will always an enigma to men (this could be a great when in pursuit to manifest a fantastic romance not if your waking up every day to a Hitchcock screenplay).


Now men (including me) should allow women the chance to participate in life as equals because when your busy doing you expect less and get busy creating the magic for a beautiful life.

Sometimes you have go through the grind; to realize the truth behind the state you are in or have surprisingly found yourself in. Then you realize there are no sudden happenings and that everything is meant to be the way it is. We often forget that the only time we have is now and not then or when. The people, events and situations are all meant to be experienced when they happen in real time not in flashbacks or fast-forward. I recently lost my father. I say lost, because I feel like I took some wrong turns on the highway to moulding our relationship. I could have done things differently like Maybe, be more aware of his feelings and less selfish of mine but now, the moment has passed and there is no returning back to the past. Only, if I am looking for self pity and free drinks from strangers at a bar.

Starring at a life less body and wishing you could wake them up, just to ask them how they feel or felt about their life and what you meant to them? It’s almost like trying to satisfy my own insecurities and feed the ego in one last desperate bid.
Just then you see the stillness breath a new meaning into your own space. That’s when you realize that the people in your life never really leave you or go to far from where you are. They just wait for you to realize and become apart of your experience. I am sure that the only way you make up for all the lost time is to be aware of the moment and start living life before it out lives you. All the time spent planning, contemplating, wanting, hoping should be converted into experiencing the joy of being alive. That way the sprite lives on forever because you are connected by the experience of being. Anyway, all that is physical is bound by time. Now, this way you have forever to celebrate the people who mean or meant a lot to you by living their values, sharing their knowledge and experiencing their joys.

Celebrate yours and another’s achievements, read, travel, love, dance, smile, laugh, sing, share, jump, be free and fearless this is the only way to stay alive (I am sure you have a couple of things you would like to add to the list).
The past has happened, the future is a series of probabilities and NOW is for the living.

Choose with wisdom and courage.