Friday, 18 August 2017

WRONG THOUGHTS.


PRESTON:


I'm tired of crying so I sit down and write....It's 2am in the morning and the world just seems right...This dark corner in my room is warm, hotter than the cold outside...

Today I'm feeding my thoughts with memories...And the wrong choices I made...I don't really regret being a poet or having a cold heart either....

Most of you cry about heart breaks and stories of poet... Your story gave me a heart ache.... But do you really know how it feels to love and fail.... To choose and not be chosen....I really want to curse someone today....

The crickety sounds of the night insects... Form a deep combination with my sad heart beat to make a song.... I listen carefully cleanly to the magical sensation.... The clouds at night are so touchy....

Silence my other friend visits when it is time... They all told me to love... But no one told me what to love.... I love my self with the ego of a bully and a self-esteem of a wrestler.... Feel like a pipe wrench.... Strongly put to over turn tight nuts.... I write a song for my heart....

My head?? Is momentously detached from reasoning.... I got tired of seeing same people... Is like I'm a cartoon character in a boring drawing book...That's why they fear me maybe because the alphabets in my name... Betrayed me....


I swear I'll stop lying to myself one day... But it's still 2am and my heart like my stomach and head it is empty.... Trying to fill this hollow space.... Find the satisfaction that only comes like ecstasy.... Once every night....


©Heart_Surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

GILBERTO EXPOSES HIS WOMAN



PRESTON:


Gilberto finally exposes  his woman to the public.
He had been hiding her security purpose...

Unconfirmed reports of her radical disappearance sporadically  buzzed through social media before calls were made to his fiancee who at the time couldn't  pick her phone to confirm the allegations. Assumption was that, he  had earlier learnt of her demise, that she wasn't strong enough to bare the news. He grew wearily weak, that even her phone became brittle for touch.

Days went by, he held pieces of the minced meat at sight. They were supple; soft, mixed with blood and crushed bones. He was numb and couldn't feel anything yet he  wondered how was it that I got cold? How was it that a body so treasured, features so succinct, could become no more in a split of seconds before you even realize that you're gone. That you've left everything behind.

The first thing they did was to send condolence messages to his social media pages. REST IN PEACE. Those who never knew Her saw her pictures, they would ask, such a young soul. What happened? Those who knew her, told of who she was.   Who she never became.
says;
'"How was it that I could become a victim of my own actions? That I heeded for help in the forests of solitude as I spoke in soliloquies, where could I have gone wrong to desert a world that I held in contempt?", this is the last statement her from him.

"Yet her face punched through my cavity, it made me want to breathe again, but how could I do so if my flesh got minced?  I wasn't just dead but dead inside. How could it be that I gave up on everything I ever knew; the good music; jazz as we danced and sipped coffee; good books, my fiancée, wealth and pride," he said

They never asked what came of him. Instead they were caught up in the realms of their own griefs.

 "My fiancée lost hope  possibly have done to drive me so fast without brakes that I got crashed? That whence I told her she meant my world, did I not have thoughts of leaving so soon? Uncontrollably she "whined"  not with loathe but of feelings
And I was broken. I became a master of my own descriptions. And tales could be told generation after generation of a writer who lived by the pen and died by the pen. A writer who crushed his bones and laid bare his flesh collated with blood on paper. That his pieces bled as they tore bitterness limbs by limbs. That sadness and hues of melancholic rythm came gushing from darkest of pits onto him; he held them and castrated them. Only at the time that he needed just one person to hold his world whence it shredded to pieces he couldn't find one. Till he gave up and left behind a vacuum. This piece bares his last pieces." he declared...

and that my frens, is how Gilberto  finally decided to  expose his woman to the public.


.

Monday, 7 August 2017

NEATH THY MOUNTAINS

PRESTON:


There are those mountains.
Tall, huge mountains,
With pumis rocks underlying their surface,
Steep slopes,
Thawing winds and thick humidity,
Fog, mists brew,
Volcanoes overly extinct.


There are those mountains,
Beneath lies a hill,
Small scrubs and few plants,
Monkeys and wild fruits,
Down the slope;
Mass wasting of debris,
Pebbles settles gently.

There are those mountains,
Stream of water, fresh flows beneath,
Trees, forests clusters within,
Snakes innocently creep,
Birds chirping in the atmosphere,
We made home here,
Neatly fenced with umbrella trees.


There are those mountains,
From the road you can set a stare,
A house desolately stand erect,
An old woman slowly gathers wood,
Cocks, hens, in their pens,
Dogs in their kennels,
Car packed on the road,
Home at last I am,
Neath the mountain hills.

©Heart_Surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Sunday, 6 August 2017

BURY ALL.

PRESTON :



Shaggy hair, cup of coffee, a book and dreams.... You didn't hope to find Superman in me.... The days you said I was everything..The days you wished I was nothing...All I did was sit down on my bedroom floor and my wounds nursing.... I didn't have the chest to shout at you... Neither the power to return your blows.... But deep inside me it was your name I was cursing....It broke me... When you wanted fish and rice when you just left enough for greens and maize meal.....

What did I do wrong... For you to hate me.... What line did I cross at just 5... To make me what you did.... They told me you are gone now.... Accept and move on.... I will forgive you for battering my mother.... I will forgive you for scolding me.... And even chopping her legs off....You were the man of the house right??

I will not blame your actions... You staggered and lost your job... A breadwinner who lost the bread....A father figure who wasn't so fatherly....A man who wasn't so manly....A dream chaser who fed on nightmares... They told me to write your eulogy... They said I was the first born daughter...I've lived with you for 15years I should know slot about my father.... My heart sank.... Mind frooze eyes popped... Hate rage and whims of vengeance escalated.... I wrote two words.... Only two words.... "Not his"....

I swear father... I took me all I had... Everything I had.... To write that.... As I wrote I saw you naked body.... Moving in forbidden ways along my body.... I saw my legs fly apart as you pushed them mercilessly as if I wasn't your blood.... I saw the devil tearing my growing flower, disassembling the flowery petals.... One after the other... I saw red flaming eyes that commanded my clothes off.....I saw a father who took away my innocence.....

At your burial ceremony.... They gave me gift and said all the sorries they could.... I too hated most of their hypocritical faces.... Most of them knew this.... I didn't send flowers to your grave... I wrote just 2 poems... All that you did... And all I wanted you to do.... They said forgive him...


I forgave you Father... But I will never forgive you for snatching my innocence....And when courage comes... I'll burn your graveyard.... Shaggy hair, short skirts and a nerdy eye lens.... I let you rest in pieces.....


©Hurt_surgeon2017

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Saturday, 5 August 2017

THE DEPART

PRESTON :

Whence the train is about to depart you realize the value of thy existence of your other half. You wish you had more time to spend. Even the good moments ain't just enough. You wish there was no train. No terminal. Just a highway of streets laced with lights for the two of you to walk along holding hands. You wish that there's more to life that you could've done. To make up for the moments you weren't around. You curse yourself for ever being preoccupied. For ever not being there to know. To quench their thirst. To talk. To confront. To provide solution. What did you do to show love?


Time beacons as distance elongates. You thought you were indestructible yet you became addicted. You now watch as your drug sail through the ocean tides. Waves by waves slowly drifting. You just lost her when you just had her. Maybe you could've done things different. Refrain entirely from it. Or be mature and act the adult, not a whining little boy. The promise of tomorrow seem too elusive from your grip. You don't know what to feel.

You remember the conversations. The laughter. The rush. The touch. The look in your eyes when nothing made sense but you did. You wanna turn back time, but this is fate. If time could stand still, you'll still let her know that you love her.

You remember those little times she told you it hurt to miss you. You didn't quite understand. But now you do. It hurts to watch the train leave whence there's nothing you can do. A phone call doesn't help. Texts doesn't do much. For you've been here before, you know how it goes. So you sob on your bed, figuring what text to send.  Your friends asks you what's wrong. "A fly has peed in my eyes", you say. There's a train about to depart with your other half, it tores you a part.


A thing about passenger's is that, whence you alight, you are forgotten. Right now there's a train departing. You are obliged to be on it. You sit staring outside the window. Bidding goodbye as my figure diminishes into thin air. I on the outside looking in, been trying to race. The train races fast.

I hope that time race faster than memories to ever forget about me. For one day, we'll be whole again.

©Hurt_Surgeon

beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Friday, 4 August 2017

AN AFTER TASTE.

PRESTON:



Something tells me you read my last letter.... Why? I saw the envelope carelessly thrown in your dust bin.. it hurts to still see you are ignoring my efforts... But I won't cry anymore.... I was a victim of a cursed period...I'm not crying.. I'm not cursing your absence.. I'm happy you got my message....

You left an after taste...A hollow space..All my friends and perceived companion hate you... They hate your name and existence. But love I cannot hate you like they do.. no one really knows this more than we do ourselves....

How's is your new lover. But why again did you leave the one you left me for??.Why are you still liking my pics and snaps on social media... Why do you want to make me think that you thinking about me.. love I know the truth..

The past never really leaves us.. I saw you posted our favorite clip...And the snap when we were together... I'm in love with moments nowadays.... How long do you want to go in circles.....

Someone asked me babe....How much love do I have for you..... Love I have no love....I even warn them not to fall in love with me....I don't possess a heart.. I'm stone cold.... Whizzing and oozing regret, vengeance and pain...

Say hello to Jonny...Let him know I'm not yet a human being..... I love you... That's why I wrote you all the letters....Love I sing along all our old time songs....And always remember the phrase "show me a star that doesn't twinkle and I will show you darkness during the day"


©Hurt_surgeon
beblogpreston.blogspot.com 

Tuesday, 1 August 2017

NOW YOU SEE NOW YOU DON'T.


PRESTON:


I didn't reply your texts... What made you think I would pick your call...The pain shifted love... I don't hate you... Things have changed ever since you left.... Smiles?? Not just bouts of laughter.... Someone truly heard you pray.... You got what you wanted.... I'm happy with out you....

Lonely yes... I didn't write as many poems... I didn't want them to know I missed you..... I started finding other hobbies... Enjoying every drop of rain as it hugs the ground... Enjoying the high sky and the thousands of stars.... Enjoying every bit of nature... Morning sun and the evening sunset....

I lost hope in humanity.... People are dangerous love.... They are cons, canning, fakists, just when you think you got it... Is when they leave....I cried... I wrote in every poem that... I shed tears.... I smiled at the window.... Enjoyed the days winds and breezes....

I'm still alone.... But cautious and very learned.... Please stop texting me... Stop calling I will not talk to you... I hate you... If I had a chance I would burry you.... You see my eyes are flaming....They burn with desire.... You have what you want love... Let me be....

Im pleased with your absence.... I enjoy... My own company.... I haven't replied your text... I hope you understand I will not answer your calls


©Hurt_Surgeon2017


beblogpreston.blogspot.com

NOT A DREAM.



PRESTON:



Forgiveable sins... Let me just slit your throat..Let me count the droplets of blood oozing from from you.... Let me bend your bones into miniature curves that depict our human souls... Let me pain with blues and black... Shades of gray and white touches...

Let me look into your eyes... Let me cause the hypnosis...Make you slay and slaughter your kin... Destroy your brother cause he is named after your mother... Let me Rub your smile away... Hold on don't cry I'm not done yet.....

I am a God...And gods don't feel remorse...We don't cry or laugh...We don't smile or love... So we don't hate or regret... I'll forgive you I promise... That's the lie you live with... Fighting the fight on behalf of your father!

My father fought so will I? Now come closer... Let me cock mg weapon and point it on your face now... I want to see you shiver... Piss your clothing... Suffer distress... Warning beeps of your heart because it's just about to collapse....Now you understand.... I'm deprived of feeling... But I'm filled with despise... I can't look at your faces twice....

Now a brotherly talk... Why kill a son because of the sins of the father...OK let me now slit your wrist... Let's sit down and watch you fade away... Slowly as life escapes you.... Lets talk and laugh....Let's celebrate your death...No let me celebrate your death.... We lack that logic....

Now open your eyes... This is not a dream!

©Hurt_Surgeon2017


beblogpreston.blogspot.com

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