Offer

Make an offer impossible to refuse

Then perhaps this fever can be diffused

Head feeling heavy even though the thoughts are empty and filled with unrealistic possibilities 

Make an offer impossible to refuse

Be the remedy as you once were

Erase everything and start afresh 

Lost in language with so much love never be able to express

Every word uttered feels like too much has been confessed

Too much revealed in the desperate aim to share and express oneself, but at the same time conceal, in fear of the past, and protection is key 

Make me an offer impossible to refuse

Not since you has there been anyone else worthy of an embrace

Take a risk and board a plane to take the heart to your temporary domain where you remain

A tired heart and a weak soul, filled with things destined to be eternally unknown

Make an offer impossible to refuse

The memories of you won’t fade away, ten years could have past and there you will remain 

So tired but unable to sleep, staying up to the late hours until the mind decides to call it a day

But even in the dreams you continue to play

Wish I could tell you to go far away, but weakness rules and commands forever

With the only desire to see and be with you once more

Though it is impossible and probably beyond reasonableness 

Make an offer impossible to refuse

Then maybe then this fever will finally be defused.

Under

Under suspicion

Under the weight of ambition

Under the motivation and desire for it to come into fruition 

Under the majesty of expectation and acknowledgement unfulfilled 

Under the burden of limited time, so much to kill for that momentary thrill

Under apprehension and nervous suspicion, eye lids growing heavy by hopes and expectations of dreams unseen, unfulfilled, yet waiting to cause thrills

Under the spell of twinkling amber and hazel, ready for demise and appraisal, less than three hours till the sun rises to electrify and mystify, disbelief and fears pour for the ones we care for and adore,  keeping the slumbers at bay, making it for another tired and sleepless conclusion to a week of confusion.

Under pressure and need of expression, the latest fancy of a meaningless devotion, constant negotiations and indicision, all in the wake of detail and precision. 

Under the moonless sky set alight by street lights from cities far beyond the naked eye, a compromise to be set before the eventual regret sets in

Under the weight of a descending anchor cast far out in the sea of thoughts, constantly feeling the need to conjure up some report to change the mood or pave the way for new feelings to resurface from where they were kept at bay

Under the dismay and heavy price set to pay as the clock ticks off the minutes faster and faster in a percular way.

Under and going all the way, until the cure is achieved and the fears kept at bay, isolation and apprehension kept away, before something else crops up to lead us astray. 

Darkness becomes the light

The darkness becomes the light

In his presence white becomes black

The colors fade into a tangle

Too complicated to unravel

From the ceiling so much to show and little to be revealing

There is little point in concealing when the feelings are so on display

Yellow and light street lights flicker in disarray

Upside down and all with a cheerful frown

The darkness becomes the light

At least when he is around, for now

Circling around, each corner and angle the same yet different in a nonsensical way

Each path taken is lined with uncertainty and foreboding

Confidence is slowly dissolving in the heated winds of the day

The sun has taken its’ leave for the day, a night of magic awaits to erupt

And lead responsibilities astray

As the darkness becomes the light

Immersed in a world far too comfortable to ever abandon

Eternal darkness brings peace in miniature pieces, a puzzle to be solved in a bit

Unable to go to bed with it unresolved

 

Even when the sun rises to beckon the dawning of a new day

The darkness becomes the light

Unless he goes away

Out of nowhere he appeared in an unexpected sphere

And now he motivates and creates, peace and harmony in the midst of his chaos and disarray

A glorious figure of pure fascination, and all one can do is marvel at his creation

Darkness becomes the light

Unless he goes away

“Kindly don’t” they say,  for there is plenty of material to make him stay

Come what may, the darkness becomes the light either way

A dragon heart filled with fire and ire

In his command or under his spell, it is as powerful as a lion’s roar

Wait for it – the rising calm before the adoring storm

Darkness becomes the light

And still the question lingers

Does one want to be him or be with him

What a sin either answer would bring in, and yet it would be worth it in the end, for all else would be deadly dull and void of all amusement and fun

Darkness becomes the light

Around and around the path goes, three hundred and sixty degrees with each and every turn unknown.

A dragon heart filled with fire and ire

In his command or under his spell, it is as powerful as a lion’s roar – to powerful to ignore, as the in coming storm draws in with the rising sun, all for the sake of a little bit of fun

Darkness become the light

At least, when he is around, for now.

 

~End

 

A thousand nights

Voice like thunder and piercing eyes as sharp and bright as lightening, eloquent and enticing with all the elements to invite. 
Tread with caution, a warning or simply a notion, in the world of mudane and distain, where is the harm in diverting way from the norm, whilst making sure never to be lead astray.

A thousand nights go by, and time continues to remain on our side, taking much pride in reclaiming what has been denied.

Turn the ignition and commence on this mission, whether through the sunrise or sunset, impatience holds firm in their grasp, a majestic little farse.

A thousand nights go on by, assignments are due in soon, yet the mind is engrossed by the storm that is you, all dark clouds and metaphors with mysterious methods leaving many breathless with curious.

Alas, the deadlines are approaching with feriousity, all part of the monopoly. A thousand nights go by, written words are lost and familiarity becomes a thing of the past, dominating and dicatating, all the while antisipating.

A thousand nights and still I wonder if the longing will change, amber eyes dedicated on these distractions, awaiting for the time the confessions commense.

A thousand nights, the storm that was you rages on, with a voice like thunder and eyes electric and bright. The thief of time and commitments divine, all for that one shared purpose of staying in life.

A thousand nights and still not complete, discovered the secret to make this phase complete. The incident obsolete and rise to the occasion, bowing to the masters of defeat.

There goes with the tilting of the hat, an acknowledgement that it is time to retire, and leave behind those distractions in the fire. 

 thousand nights have gone by, deadlines reached and examinations passed, now at last is the time to sleep and surrender to the dreams where you reside and make everything complete.

Late was the hour

Late was the hour 

But still it felt like there was more time to be devoured

Maybe it’s the flow of the pearly white moon sat far far away surrounded by a cluster of stars that leads thoughts astray and keeps the need to sleep at bay

Late was the hour

Sitting by the bed instead of climbing into it instead, still so much to be said to nobody in particular, ideas and ambitions are here though so have no fear, best write them down before they disappear

Late was the hour

It’s almost three, yet the heart and mind are playing a game to decide the best method of being in command

Late was the hour

If only time could be froze and saviored, the smallest of requests and the harmless of favours – if only to succeed in what would make this existence partially complete, then there would be no need for a tomorrow with the same late night thoughts constantly on repeat, keeping from a peaceful sleep.

Late was the hour…

Beckoned

Beckoned by the drums and ringing of a bell

Hard to rebel when a heart and soul are compelled

The clouds gathered silently and the temperature dropped to embrace winter’s touch, out of the blue without a warning or a sound

Beckoned by the drums and the ringing of the bell

Running through a crowd, concealing all that is beyond repair

The stars extinguished, making it hard to distinguish the path ahead, head heavy and filled with too much to comprehend

The streets grow quiet and not a single soul can be seen or heard, as if all had abandoned to a realm unknown 

Beckoned by the drums and the ringing of a bell

Eyes filled with the need to sleep long before made it back home, cannot even bring myself to check the phone

Falling into paradise is the term used when looking into your eyes, like a surprise, unexpected but carefully perfected

Beckoned by the drums and the ringing of a bell

How much time is left of the day to sell, always on the edge of wanting to rebel, shadows lingering in dark corners away from the bright light shining to signal home 

The fear is gone, the feelings evaporated as eye lids grew heavy, willing the day to end and have mercy

Beckoned by the drums and the ringing of a bell

The purpose is clear no matter which path our heart may want to steer, the mind dominates and creates the reality and safety of what is meant to be

Beckoned as always by the drums and the ringing of a bell, one, two, three…

Take my hand

Dressed in black with a hint of gold

Eyes sparkling with stories and wonderous adventures waiting patiently to be told

Take my hand as you would say

Let the wind and fresh ocean air eliminate all concerns to evaporate into the atmosphere

All is well as long as you are here

Take my hand

Walk together on the seafront, watching the waves carve a path through the sand and stones, in and out with a calming melody

Take my hand, embrace spring, a quintessential prelude to summer’s symphony

Take my hand, wishes at each others command, even when uncertainty and silence was all around, your​ presence grew evermore profound

Take my hand, walk and talk till the sunsets, and as the night like the tide began coming in, a fire was lit and warmth would engulf where we sat, drinks were on stand by as was food, whatever looked good and caught the eyes 

Take my hand, dance around and around to the command of a guitar’s sound, jump in the air, breath in the night and embrace the moment while it’s there, a rare opportunity to embrace liberty without a care.

Take my hand as the party starts to tire and only the glowing embers of the fire remain, soon the sun will rise and bring us to our feet

Take my hand, as you would say, and sing a song by the ocean and let our daydreams lead the way, keep the thinking for nighttime

Take my hand and enjoy whatever temporary peace may be found…

Set the past free

Standing with the sand beneath the feet, only gravity and stubbornness keeping me on an level platform, even though when it comes to you there is never any equality

Always a figure of fascination and mystery, lingering there day and night, hidden in the shadows but never out of sight

Are you a ghost or a memory of everything what should have been meant to be

Set the past free 

Starring far out to sea, the clouds are no where to be seen and all is calm and serene on the surface at least, the one place far from your embrace

Inspiring and motivating whilst at the same time distracting and leading thoughts astray 

The figure of a perfect escape, the merest whisper of your deep voice was enough to reduce all focus to ashes and dust, ambitions left to rust, leaving only a silent plea

Set the past free

Release from these memories and be as you once were, before it all began and lead reality into an absurd tangle

The impossibilities are all there, without a word or care, you use to stop and stare, silence reigned supreme in your kingdom, leaving a lasting impression, a figure of unappreciated perfection 

And yet still you won’t set the past free

Imprisoned by stubbornness of the mind, that has confined to keeping your presence as a remedy but never a cure

Nothing less and nothing more, never dare mention the words worship and adore

Would you kindly leave if I said please, or offered one final embrace, in the wake of this disgrace

Congratulations belong to you, an iced heart that lingers within, cannot withstand the force of your presence and command

And yet still you won’t set the past free

If all that was ever wanted was some effort in proving that it was worth something to be

Standing here as the sea closes in on the beach, willing myself to practice what was preached

To what degree will you go to win this metaphorical war, in my solitude you have won

Though you are no longer here, and never will be, still you refuse to set the past free

Or was it all up to me in reality

There is no fairytale or any violins playing a melody to signal your arrival

As though you were the only one meant for a souls’ survival, in some fantastical revival

Unable to set the past free

Yet there you linger cloaked in mystery, and liberty becomes a thing of history

Set the past free

And let life be as it was meant to be

Window

Looking out the window from the highest floor in the building,

Nighttime lights setting the rain soaked street a gleaming, little puddles are sparking as the reflective light bounces off the in a calming white hue.

Watching the cars and people going on by, keen to stay out of the rain and get dry

It cannot be helped if the sky has decided to have a good cry.

The window makes a good distraction from the indecision ruling heart and head, keeping everything at bay, like it went for a vacation instead.

Fingers tapping on the half filled mug of tea, the aroma and steam adds a calming fuel to an overworked brain, nobody ever said this would be such an energy drain.

Indecision has got some skilful precision in how it dominates and rules, making us distracted to the point we feel like fools.

Looking out of the window, sitting crossed legged on the floor, a blanket as the cushion for my seat, it’s all silent and discrete, minus the traffic outside, a thing that is my city’s pride.

The indecision carries on, ticking away in the mind, flip a coin or pick a card, the options are there, it should not been that hard.

The reflection through the window, gets the curiousity going again, to go with the heart, and let the brain take it easy for a change, but it’s the brain that protects us from our hearts getting in trouble when reason goes out of the window.

In the ways there are only two, and even that seems like too much to handle when it comes to the solution, the answer to question that won’t go away, spending so much time leading the mind astray. 

The raindrops on the window continue to trickle down, reflecting the city lights as they go, at least they know the set direction of their flow.

Heart ruling the brain, and brain ruling the heart, if only someone could take this decision and let the responsibility depart.

All this indecision and the need for clarity mixed with precision.

Yet here I will sit, contemplating which path to take, watching the world go by through the rain soaked window in a temporary bid to escape. 

Throne. (part two of the Mini moments poem)

Walking around the streets to the rhythm of the traffic as the cars go by faster than time itself

Weather getting warmer, fashions becoming more liberal, soon it will be time for skirts and shirts.

But keep the umbrellas on standby just in case the sky changes it’s mind and decides to cry

Each and everyday silently wondering why as if there has to be a reason for everything that occurs 

Like there is some sort of answer to be preferred to make these thoughts seem less absurd 

Perhaps it’s cabin fever stirring desires to a escape, the ultimate break far from the familiar and old. 

Walking around the same streets day after day, the wind is blowing the cherry blossoms 

Stroon along the sidewalk, scattering them around like old memories of the year before 

Spectals glinting in the summer sun, get all dressed up just to see if you would smile 

That was enough at the time, even for the shortest while 

Practicing new languages with you for brief moments at a time, or else bring you a reminder of home

Just to hear you talk about the place where every seat was your throne 

How you reminded me of a time far away when I would run down the street in a foreign land, listening to a difficult language in awe at the new sounds, where every seat felt like a throne, and opera was always playing on the radio or car stereos.

Flashbacks to those mini moments I once knew when time was limitless and worries were non-existent, minus the fear of getting a spot of dirt on my shoes or if there was a tear in my dress

Playing football with that boy as he spoke a language I never knew, but now realise it is divine 

Back to the present and I walk down the streets in a different land, where no sound is profound or set to astound

The merest hint or sign to reveal and remind of the place where every seat was like a throne, a place possible to call home.

Walking down the streets with you in mind now, only to realise it was nothing in reality, just those feelings playing tricks – reminding me of mini moments of a childhood I dismissed 

Now I learn the language I ignored, only to end up full of worship and adoration for a nation

What were you but just a reminder, of a time far more sublime

Reminders are everywhere as I surround myself in them without a care, though it took a tradgey to make me see just how much those times meant to me.

 Walking down the streets, daydreaming what I secretly wanted it to be, with so many months past, yet there you are occupying my mind, even though you left long ago

Hopefully to return to the place where every seat was your throne 

As for me it is here where I will stay, temporarily I hope, until the time comes I too can find a proper place to call home, where every seat can also be my throne, though I already know the nation, a childhood cannot be recreated, but at least the chance is there to try

Because the reminders still linger on and continuously call me to go find the right seat that will feel like a throne in a place I can finally call home. 

~End