Damned

the enchantress sits guarding her domain. travellers walk in and out, at ease, oblivious to her quiet vigilance.

Delirium

Victoria Park, Guido Fawkes. Fucked. Firecrackers, burning stars, anarchists, celebrate. East London, curious night, beautiful ladies, linguini, confusion, blurry, flurry, fury, wind, cold, mittens, holding hands, the anarchist was tried and then he killed himself. Blitz. Hope. Fight. Win. Lose. hope some more. No more suprises please. I’ve got a tiny smile hidden away for you. Just come back home to me.

Acquiesce

an excerpt:

Im drowning in tumultuous waves of happiness and despair. It ebbs and flows, teasing me, pleasing me, allowing the damp grains of sand to run through my toes, but I fall through the slippery grains, its quicksand, and I am swept away into the dark ocean, filled with dark secrets and an enticing desire for death. I want it all to be a part of my play. I don’t want to watch it burn down slowly, as I become infirm and allow the bi polar plague take over in my dying days. I need to save myself and save everyone around me.

I know I’m about to do something wrong. I am about to covet my neighbours husband. Sweet Marie. She has no idea how her husband looks at me with quiet fascination. Sometimes I change without shutting my blinds. I know he stares from his bedroom, straight into mine. Small queens streets lets us all share our deepest secrets through the sexy glow of a quiet lamp. Sometimes I stand there and let him devour the contours of my breasts. My beautiful brown breasts. I light a cigarette, open the window and let the chilly air caress my body as he stands speechlessly staring.

this is what i like to do

a meaningful moment with a tiny thing who has no idea how much power she holds over me. the scented monsoon winds brush by us and the skies grey as we sit in front of the bungalow, chatting. i love tea gardens..

A Journey

I glance around nervously, noticing how beautiful everyone looks. The music is loud, the beat shaking every tissue of my body. Voiceless chatter fills up every corner of the bar, stifling my sense of security. Everyone seems to be enrapt in serious conversation or flirtatious banter until I saunter into the room, friendless. All eyes turn my way. Through the smoke they look me up and down. The women are judgmental. Harsh. They think I look cheap and skanky. Hostile looks sear through my skin making me feel naked. The men undress me with their eyes. My knees feel shaky. I shouldn’t have come. I turn around to flee this cage….and then all of a sudden….

my left shoulder jerks up.

And then my right.

Its almost as though, OH NO!

My left knee.

How embarrassing!

My entire body is twisting into weird positions.

Suddenly, I can feel my head lean backwards in slow motion, inhaling,

And before I can stop myself, I belt out

‘LETS DO THE TWIST!!!’

I cant stop shaking my whole body to Chubby Checker! Im on the dance floor, all by myself, everyone watching me…but I just love this one song tooo much! One by one, people start hopping onto the wooden floor, giving me a shy nod and so I wave back as my body convulses to the beat, and then I realize, I can push all of these worrisome voices out of my head,

and

just BE!!!

(for 'Journeys'!!!)

Malika

Flaming soul she had it bad. Fiery eyes, sweetly sarcastic, she could burn you with one word, one touch, one look. Pouty lips, shiny hair clips, her superfluity was always overlooked as girlish meticulousness. Click of the tongue, swaying hair, she knew her sensual details could drive even the most stoic man insane. She didn’t need a reason to seduce, her shallow slight would always reduce. Intelligent and terse, she had the harsh shield of sarcastic eloquence on her side. Girl on fire was on a rampage for revenge. Burnt and bitter, she was alone, and hated the world because they knew it. She couldn’t even order from the cheap Chinese shack around the corner because the delivery man felt the comfort of familiarity to voice his opinion about her sad state of solitude. Every time he would click his tongue she wanted to gauge his eyes out with the insulting wooden chopstick that seemingly dared to enjoy partnership in the face of her misery. She felt that everyone and everything had lost all sense of propriety. It was like one of those seventies porn movies when even the robots could enjoy carnal pleasures, while here she sat, alone, alien and in the spotlight.

A new tune?

hi!!! eeee first post!!!! not sure what to write, so I'll leave you with a quote from Rushdie's Ground Beneath Her Feet. In case you're not a U2 fan, you should know, its also an incredibly sexy song.

'Why do we care about singers? Wherin lies the power of songs? Maybe it derives from the sheer strangeness of there being singing in the world. The notes, the scale, the chord; melodies, harmonies, arragements; symphonies, ragas, chinese operas, jazz, the blues: that such things should exist, that we shoulve have discovered the magical intervals and distances that yeild the poor cluster of notes, all within the span of a human hand, from which we can build our cathedrals of sound, is as alchemical a mystery as mathemtics, or wine, or love. Maybe the birds taught us. Maybe not. Maybe we are just creatues in search of exaltation. We dont have much of it. Our lives are not what we deserve; they are, let us agree, in many painful ways deficient. Song turns them into something else. Song shows us a world that is worthy of our yearning, it shows us our selves as they might be, if we were worthy of the world.Five mysteries hold he keys to the unseen: the act of love, and the birth of a baby, and the contemplation of great art, and being in the presence of death or disaster, and hearing the human voice liften in song. these are the occasions when the bolts of the universe fly open and we are given a glimpse of what is hidden; an eff of the ineffable.'