Friday, 30 January 2015

This one is dedicated to everyone that is struggling with drug/alcohol related issues, I know how it feels you are not alone and you never will be for as long as I and my future family live. Is it really all worth it when all you are doing is 'Pleasing The Devil'

When you drink, it’s the devil telling you to do so. When you swear, it’s the devil encouraging you to do so. When you curse, is it not the demon’s malevolence causing you do so? You may not know this, so I will speak of it, is he not the opponent of our Heavenly Father (our creator)? Was he not once the most cherished ‘till he not only refused to abide by the word of the most beneficent, but trampled all over his honour and aimed to revolve the Holy Spirit’s believers against him?

You do know that this is the same evil one causing you to hurt yourself willingly, right? Mothers are losing their most prised possessions everyday; they’re losing their children, all because of the power they allow these indescribable actions to acquire over their everyday lives. Millions of orphans locate their selves all over the world; they have lost their will to live and often think of putting an end to it all, most of them are no-longer among us (may they forever rest in peace). But you don't think of them when you are pleasing the demon of all demons do you? You end up tearing the lives of your loved ones apart. The words that escape your cage-like lips are not those of an angel. Does it not strike you when you hear your son or daughter wanting to escape into the pain of the outside world because they would rather get hurt themselves than to see their role model, the one who went through labour for them, the one who spent nine months with the weight of a child within her womb, the one who went through hours of excruciating pain to release a child into this cruel world pull herself apart little by little?

The control you lose when you are intoxicated could cost you your entire life. So think twice before you make the same mistake again, because that could very well be the last thing you do the last breath you take. Imagine it was; how would you face our creator come the day of judgement knowing the deceit you performed against him? Think twice.

Thursday, 29 January 2015

I only immune because the holy spirit is by my side, allowing the pain to hide. But even then, I am not completely 'Immune'

I am immune. I’m immune to the cold air heavily breathing on my flesh. Immunisation has infected me with a virus and this virus is stabbing the soul right out of me; but I feel nothing because I am immune. I’m immune to all pain. I’m immune to all sadness. I’m immune to all grief. I’m immune to all antagonism. I’m just infected. I will let you believe that, while I know the truth, lies on a different page, in a different book, in a different library belonging to my body; a library no-one can access but me.
The truth lies on a blistering page, a page that defines me. The author of the book? Me, myself and I.
In that book, on that page, my definition lies. The truth. I am an infection, a bomb, waiting to explode and I care too much... the truth. I am not infected. I am infecting. I infect with love. I infect with warmth. I am the virus.
To say I feel no pain is a lie, so it does not lie on my page, in my book, belonging to my library. It lies in the devils prison cell. I face pain of not experiencing the affection I was told I deserve by a heaven sent angel (or at least he was on in my eyes). I hurt when my nightmares spring to life. I die when those who don't know me begin to judge me by the colour of my unadorned and visible flesh. I tear apart when the rumours begin to vaguely emerge from the flood of darkness which fills only the most inconsiderate hearts.
Just like you I am human. I make mistakes. I am still learning. I have a heart. I have a brain.  A part of me is full of hate, but unlike you I refuse to let that part dominate. I love from my inner core. I accept the pain when it comes stampeding to my door. I allow you to punch, kick and beat me to the floor. I don't mind allowing you to spit at me, all because the bible says, ‘love your brother like I love thee’. On the Day of Judgment when we all bow before the Heavenly Father (our creator) and his holy son (our saviour) I will shed tears and ask him to forgive all of my brothers and sisters for all their sins... you are my brothers and sisters, not my enemies. Jesus taught us to love and never abhor, our holy saviour taught us to face life with an open never a closed door. I will forever follow in his footsteps.
And, that, is, the, truth.
That is the content of the page, concealed in the book, kept on a special bookcase, in the library belonging to my body; the page you will never read the page that whispers the command to allow you to cut me so deep and watch me bleed. That page is the reason I wake up smiling every morning and rest my head just the same every night. But they, the creator and the son are the reason I never learn to hate you, they are the reason I love thee with the very same affection they give me. 

Friday, 23 January 2015

I am not a free butterfly I am unable to spread my wings and fly but I am never forsaken for I am 'Taken'

Taken
when I say I am taken I mean it in my own way
I may not yet be taken by name
life may be taking me as a gamer behind a console playing a game
you may perceive me to be over-dramatic, strong but insane
I don't mind because it is not you taking my hand
you are not the lead singer in my band I am
on election day you will not be the one sanding at the stand
you will be sitting at home watching my speech on demand
taken
captured
imprisoned
a prisoner
captivated in his land
the land in his eyes
a lade of beauty like no other
he has me
by him I am taken
says without he’d be forsaken
if I said otherwise the truth would me mistaken
because the truth is...
by him heart has been taken.
My name is still my name
life is still the game that I play
pulling on their heart strings is the harmony of the music when the lights are out after day
I guess that is why I am taken
never left forsaken
by beauty and by love I will forever be taken

Saturday, 17 January 2015

Its been so long since I let the silence take the lead, its been even longer since I expressed myself and emotions through writing in the bitter-sweet 'Silence'

Who knew that the silence could be so deafening? I sure didn’t. Nothing could have prepared me for the earache I am now being caused by it. The deafening silence is rapidly killing swiftly and softly slitting my throat.

I am fighting a sickening civil war with the sound of silence settling into the room. Reliving our past, only to remember those life lessons I learnt from the piercing pain you gave me. The most expensive golden gifts are those that are priceless and the most priceless gifts are the ones given to you by life. I learnt that the hard way.


I learnt that by living life and releasing tears though my cries. 
The silence has proved itself to be more than just an enemy.

Monday, 5 January 2015

I know I haven't posted in a long time so I thought I would post up something special for you this one is called 'Broken Christmas'

I have always thought that if someone had begun to fall for me that I would know, even if we were a million miles apart, I would know, I would sense it; I’d feel it in my bones. Three days before Christmas I received a letter in the mail, as soon as the mail man had posted it through the diminutive rectangular hole that was carved and cut into my front door I awoke and fascinatingly staggered directly out of bed, it was outlandish because I usually enjoy twisting and turning in my divan, allowing the warmth of the soft duvet to embrace my almost unadorned flesh, but today I had no intention of enjoying such pleasure, it had felt as if I was not in control of my own two feet. Feeling as if I had been drinking gallons the night previous, trying to piece the puzzle back together to figure out if I had been drinking, if this was a hangover, the feet that had developed a mind of their own had lead me to my front door. That was when I saw it. My heart began to sink. My knees weakened. The handwriting, I could have sworn I had seen it somewhere before, my well-known ‘bad memory’ began to cloud my brain with flashbacks of the past; the life I led, the love I gave, the hurt I felt, the strength I gained, the hope I lost, the confidence I hadn’t, the moments I missed, the days when I longed to once again be kissed. It was becoming too much to soak up into my already saturated mind at five thirty a.m., being the time of day it had been I couldn’t even remember what the date was.

As I leaned in to pick it up, bending double, tears streaming down my face forming a waterfall. Finally with the golden envelope in my fragile hands, I noticed the ink used looked similar to that of the one in the pen I had been given five years ago to fill in my ex’s birthday card (of course I no-longer have that particular pen but I remembered the ink from that moment in time when everything seemed so sweet in my bitterly naive mind, because its colour was intriguing.) I made my way into the kitchen and turned on my kettle, I loved the sound of boiling water first thing in the morning; but not knowing the content of the letter just caused it to frustrate me further as I held it above the kettle so that the water vapor would cause the enclosed envelope to release the note that lay comfortably within. I watched as the covalent bonds of the glue that sealed it shut began to break. Once it had fully opened I gently battered the not out of the envelope much like little kids batter their presents trying to get through to the object(s) inside the wrapping paper. The only difference is I am not a kid and Christmas has not yet blossomed its unready flower into this world. I picked up my glasses which I had left on the counter the night previous and put them on. The letter read…



Dearest,
Romeo and Juliet were not in love, they were obsessed with one another. Love takes time to develop, and ‘love’ at first sight isn’t love, it is merely lust and nothing more, but could be less than even that. To love someone comes naturally, like a baby adapting to its mother at first sight. But to fall in love is different.
The letter Friar Lawrence wrote to Romeo was nothing other than the words of Juliet when she declared her feelings for him in so many words, the letter she wrote stated:
when you were here
I smiled without smiling
I laughed without laughing
my eyes spoke without my mouth opening
all because you were there to understand
to my island you became the land
now you’re gone
nothing is the same
My heart doesn’t skip a beat at the sound of her voice calling my name
never has, never will
because the truth is I love you still
I fear I may be too late in telling you
I shouldn’t have waited for so long
you’re gone
smiling no longer feels like smiling
when you were here sleeping wasn’t something I wanted to do
I would lay there just thinking of you
but now without you here life is just a drag
here killing me now is the pain
the pain of knowing I played and lost out on our little love game
maybe I shouldn’t have played a round in your game of win or lose
I just wish without hiding that I could freely be with you.

This letter he never received.

I am not writing you the letter Romeo wanted to send to Juliet but never got the chance to. I understand you may not know who I am right now and that’s okay but I just want you to know you can always depend on me to be the shoulder you can lean on, the poet to the heart break and the love to mend big heart. I’ll be the one who will be with you for life if you just give me the chance to. It took me a long time to build up enough confidence to be able to tell you and even now it’s not to your face but at least you will know that you are loved. I love you.

Signed x
I froze. I was stuck in the moment trying to figure out who x was. It couldn’t have been my ex; his handwriting was awful it looked like the writing of a three year old at the age twenty-seven not to mention that after the breakup he moved out of the country and into Turkey, I haven’t heard from him in almost four years.

That aside I still needed to write my letter to Santa and post it off. So I bought out my quill pen and a piece of paper I had smeared coffee all over the night previous to make it look old, and began to pour my heart out.

Dear Santa,
They tell me to stop believing lies, they say your existence is a lie, so this Christmas, I have a question. Well… a question and a request. I hope its okay with you. I’d like to know, what is the truth behind a lie?
I have always thought that the definition of the truth is built up on lies, but then what is a lie?
I have always perceived that the truth is only lies you have forever been denying to be and believed instead of distrust.
So therefore, the truth is only lies which we choose to forever deny; the truth is everything we choose to believe instead of doubt.
To them this doesn’t seem to be normal, they have a different definition. What is it with their obsession with normality?
They don’t even know what normal is?
So this Christmas please answer the question that is stabbing the life out of my every day, Santa,
‘What is the truth behind a lie?’
I also thought there is something you might be interested in knowing before I make my one and only Christmas wish for this year…
I received a letter signed x; I think I have found someone
I don’t quite know who it is but I have a feeling that when I finally find out who he is, he will make my heart skip beats on the go,
He has already changed my perception of life altogether.
My one and only desire this Christmas is for ‘x’ to continue being blessed so he may forever lead a blissful life and find ease in overcoming life’s challenges
Thanks Santa xx
       Tina

I enclosed the letter in a silver envelope and inserted a black bow onto the right corner of the envelope (where a stamp is usually inserted). All that was left for was to get dressed and mail it off.  My hair was put up in a ponytail before I applied not only my MAC volume mascara but also my Dior lip liner, and cherry red lipstick filled in the gap. I wore a pair of Zara sunglasses to compliment my look which consisted of my white skin tight top, red skinny jeans, a black channel clutch and my glossy white heals. As soon as I was perked up, I grabbed both letters and was out of the Victorian house faster that a Ferrari on full speed.

The mail box was less than a fifteen minute walk away, so I got there fairly quick, kissed the envelope leaving a lip print on the back and posted it off. With a sigh releasing an ‘amen’ once again I was on the move.

Work was next on the list.

Now at the tube station, I knew I was going to make an early arrival at the Crown Court, I had a case to fight today and with the extra boost I received this morning I’ve no doubt that I will win this case, my client shall get justice, he is innocent. Oh did I forget to mention I am a lawyer specialising in criminal and co-operative law for the English Crown Court.

The tube station is empty just like I knew it would be at this time of day, not many people are out at six a.m. but for this particular client I am willing to make such sacrifices because I have a gut feeling, I know he is innocent.

My train had arrived promptly and was reasonably filled which was much to my surprise. I decided to pull out the letter and read it over once more just to ensure that the early morning drowsiness hadn’t caused me to imagine its striking content. As I read it over I could imagine his voice in the back of my mind speaking to me, whoever x may be  I was so deep in thought I very nearly missed my stop, but was able to snap out of it just in time.

I was kicked by a sudden warmth to my heart as I set foot off of the train. By the time I had arrived at The English Crown Court it occurred to me that x could very well be Aaron Simon Williams, my client. The way he always seems to stare at me with such calm in his glimpse. Could it be him?

Eight thirty five on the dot, the court room began to fill up like a bath tub underneath a running tap; by eight fifty the court room was full and the barrister had announced the motion to the jury. My confidence began to fade as I thought to myself… what if Aaron wrote the letter? I cannot afford let him down, but he is my client I need to keep a professional relationship between the two of us. He is quite dashing though. If I even think of saying yes to any of his questions it could cost my job. But Aaron-

‘Miss Malone you may take the stand’ the judge’s words allowed me to get a grip of myself and battle Aaron’s case like I have never battled before.

‘Ladies and gental men,
Aaron is a victim of circumstance his race is constantly portrayed negatively by the media. The time has come to change that. You can change that. They have been trapped in society’s prison cell for way to long. Even songbirds deserve their freedom; the only problem with this songbird doesn’t emerge for within his being but from those around him, his voice has been silenced by society, that changes today I am giving him his voice back because his motive stands strong he is innocent…’
Two hours later we were told that the case had been dropped in our favor. My heart felt like flying. Aaron came to thank me for winning the case, he used no words but his voice was heard through the connection his lips made with mine.
We had gone our separate ways home because we lived in the opposite ends of town, once at my front door I received a phone call. ‘Miss Malone speaking how can I help?’
Wailing cries roared though the phone ‘Aaron is dead. He lost his life in a car accident forty minutes after leaving the court. Thank you for clearing his name he has died an innocent man.’
It sounded like his mum was on the other side, whoever it was, was torn apart much like I had become. She told his funeral was to take place on Christmas day and it would be much appreciated if I was to attend, because he spoke of me only in a kind manner in his living days and he would say that I was the sort of woman he wanted to spend his life with.
My Christmas was broken.
 My heart was shattered.
I was dismayed,
 I hadn’t even received the chance to confirm my feelings for him though letters nor words.
When the 25th of December had arrived, the sound of letters creeping through my letter box awoke me from my slumber at five thirty a.m.
 I sat on the edge of my bed side, shoulders slouched, my eyes became rubies and they were producing diamonds endlessly. My head began to ache from weeping like a widow for so long.
The phone rang…
I answered with shaking hands and hope that it would have been a mistake. It was Adrian on the other side of the phone, my boss, my broken voice was losing its strength but I could just about utter the words ‘Miss Malone speaking how can I help?’ before I could speak no longer and once again broke down in tears.
‘Good morning Miss Malone, I am sorry for your loss’ a synaptic tone caressed my ear lobe but I knew that this heartless man didn’t call in to empathize, he had something else on his mind, I was becoming frustrated and my voice began to pull itself together, it was evident in my voice that I was not in the mood,’ it’s not your fault thank you is there anything else you need?’
As suspected Adrian continued ‘ well… actually there is one other thing, Cassandra is unable to attend her assigned case today due to her being hospitalized is it possible for you to fill in, the family need someone to fight their case and you are my strongest employee.
I hung up.
Got dressed in my mid black dress matching colored gloves and heels, made my way into the cab and was at the funeral in time for the burying party to lower the body into the rectangular shape dug into the ground. The shape reminded me of my letter box. I knew now that my letterbox would be a constant reminder of this day.

I could faintly hear the priest though he was standing practically beside me ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust…’

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