Category: writing

Tarella

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Alone with thoughts of the wolves, the forest and the way her body bent and bowed last night as he moved to the beat of a silent drum, she thinks of primitive sexual delights.

Tarella is swept into his world with such force that Matthew finds it hard to understand what the day will bring.

It was just a look at the club. There was not meant to be a connection, yet it happened, and now he is hooked.

Being with her flesh, bending their bodies together, biting her flesh, the way she pressed her thighs together in anticipation of what she called “the second coming“, and the beating of her Viking heart all cast a spell that they cannot break.

Still thinking of her, he is roused from daydreaming dark pleasures to a knock on the door. He thinks, “Who could be here tonight? I wonder if it’s Tarella? I wonder if my very thoughts willed her here?“

Unable to think clearly, Matthew pads to the door with a carefree lightness and opens the door to find the wild and beautiful Tarella. “What is it about her teeth that are different?” he wonders.

“”Hello. I wasn’t expecting you. would you like me to cook something?“

“You have to ask me to come in, Matthew…, you know it’s only polite to do so…“.

Matthew falters, then denies his gut is on point, “Please come in, Tarella…“.

She steps across the threshold, and they kiss. “I was wrong to think anything was wrong. She is so beautiful and so lovely, yet there’s this feeling…“.

A sudden pain grips him tight as his mind screams, “It’s only her teeth in my neck! She wants me. Wait, what the fuck?“

He breaks free from her bloodied lips to run for the cleaver, but her grip is crushing the life from his body. She sinks her teeth into his neck again, and life falls from him as the world goes cold and foggy.

In the darkness, he emerges cold and wired. He struggles to think, “It was a terrible dream. So close, yet I’m alive, yet…“.

Tarella smiles her sweet smile and says, “Hello, my love…now you’re just like me…“.

Matthew’s cold heart fails to beat. He whispers, “What have you done?“

“You’re a vampire now, you idiot! Get over it, and come play with me…“.

The Colours

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There’s a way with the clouds today. As night approaches, the sky paints with the hues of grey, white, blues and pinks.

Anna never gets used to the sky colours, for those colours make her feel old and new things, dark and light things.

The sea is out over the cliffs. Tonight it’s still, which is an odd feeling. Although cool, there’s this mist hovering. “How peculiar”, Anna thinks, “It’s probably nothing.“

Walking into the house sends a strange chill down her spine. Something’s changed, but not for the better. The light doesn’t help.

Anna mutters in reassurance to only herself, “I’m not scared. It’s nothing. No one can hurt me now. Not now…“

The rattling begins soft, then gets louder. It’s as if the house has taken on a life of its own.

Anna screams inwardly, for the words no longer escape her lips. Terror grips her heart and then crushes her lungs.

Struggling through, she sees three ladies standing before her in a 1920’s dress. Their faces sneer and laugh as they pull her forward. The rattling starts again, they laugh at her, the rattling comes in louder waves, they smash her head against the wall and the rattling echoes.

Anna asks, “Where am I now?“

In unison, the ladies playfully answer, “You’re with us now whether you like it or not.“

Two Ghosts

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You sit at that mahogany desk you love
diligently researching paranormal things.

You look for an answer to what isn’t clear;
sadness is cruel to your burning heart.

You miss me; I know this very, very well,
I miss you and hold on in this place still.

You held me in the last moments of life,
I remember all your words and actions.

You feel my touch, but I do alarm you so
I whisper in your ear, “Be my lungs, love.”

You look pained and move so violently
I cannot catch you as you fall from me.

You left those papers to be with me today
I’m sorry, yet it had to be this way, my love.

You see me now, but there is much horror;
I felt that way too, yet this horror will pass
you say, “It was always you here close.”

I say with conviction, “Yes. Always close.”

You look at me, and I look at you, and we see
we see the love we have for each other.

Lost at 3 am

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Your face comes to my sight
I study the beauty of you
Your face takes me into the light
I take note of your face
Your face shifts before my eyes
I slip into another place
Your ghost pulls me into the abyss
I see, then become whole again
You helped me find our light and love
I get lost at 3 am in words of you
You want me to write the story of us
I will write about when you were the Pharaoh
and
I was your gold and bronzed queen of the Nile

Death in the Snow

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In the snow, the seat is bare, except for you and a few tidy possessions.

You’ve been down this road before: broken and broke.

There’s nothing like poverty to make you feel like you’ve made the wrong choices. Yet, you are liberated now: free on this bench in the snow.

You think, “How beautiful the snow is as it falls. If I had a poet’s heart, and I was more familiar with words, I would articulate this scene with more purpose and beauty, but I cannot convey this; this is a photograph or a painting…“

You sit still in the snow, and you don’t notice the gun against your head until the jolt ends the falling snow for you.

Your last moments were broke and broken, beautiful and sad, as you thought of the falling snow.

What beauty in your death. Death on the bench in the snow as you sat full of a fading glow until the light turns to darkness.

Now you get the chance to do it all differently.

Lioness from Eden

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Never one to believe in anything,
you adopt an elitist attitude towards those who hold opinions that are not your own.

A lady finds you to be her one and only,
for you and her connected many lives ago.

Now you’re arguing insistently, without
fully appreciating what her lips and mind are explaining.

She feels a pang of hurt as you tear layers of her arguments away without thinking of the consequences.

Not one to see your folly, you shovel the dirt from an increasingly large hole.

Seeing a chance, she pounces upon your weak argument like a Lioness from Eden.

Now you can see her, and your elitist bullshit begins to falter and fall away.

She catches you with her teeth, and you flail about like a rabbit not long for death; you both find deep love in two pairs of eyes.

Australien Sun

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My childhood home for a time in Mareeba.

Sometimes, when she sits on the step, she thinks about places and how they connect us to memories, as does music and scent.

Her mind drifts back to the cool water of Nelson Bay and the pretty lighthouse on the hill; Connected to her sister deep in thought.

Thoughts of grey days with coffee on every corner, a European feel, and a charm only Melbourne emits; Connected to her childhood home.

Thinking about younger days with a hammer for macadamia nuts and corkscrews for coconut eyes in Mareeba; Connected to her origins.

The memories play behind her eyes as she looks at the red dirt full of cracks under the Australien sun.

The Kyle

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The hills of green are visible far and wide, although, down here forever is blind.

The sky is shy today, as he decides that we all need a decent dose of grey without rain.

Winds flow through the castle which once housed our family and our loving hearts.

The sky knows what my heart feels, but he’s always been good at knowing my heart.

I travelled far and wide to try and escape the pain sitting heavily upon my heart as I miss you, yet I cannot keep going forever.

The sky tells the rain to hold off, and the rain orders the sky not to interfere; the sky and the rain grumble like a married couple in love.

Walking along the Kyle, I know the time is near; how wonderful it will be, after over one hundred years of your moods, you and I will meet again.

As the rain begins to fall, it seems the rain won the argument; perhaps I will win with you too.

Tangled in Treason

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You were always the kid pushing boundaries. At school, some said you were the “it” kid.

You started to change at fifteen; eccentric cool turned into conservative stoicism.

You receded into yourself, and I could not get in, although I tried; now you look through me, or not directly at me.

Where did you go?

I’ve asked myself this question so many times; each answer appears insufficient to me.

Then, we saw your face on the news one hot December morning; you got Tangled in Treason.

You had a beard, wore your hair long, and your eyes looked haunted.
Where did Matthew go?

You lost your uniqueness and that spark; you receded inside and then became something new.

Why did Matthew do that?

You had a vest strapped to your chest as you entered a town square. The explosion sent you to forever, or I know not where.

What will become of Matthew?

You killed yourself and a whole town square for them; cannon fodder for a lost cause.

Now, as the rain falls upon my face, I cry for you and your lost soul; it wasn’t worth all of that to die at fifteenth.

I see such a waste of humanity, and I remember so much horror when I think of you today.

The Grumpy One

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Listless and upset.

You sit clutching the remote control as if pressing the buttons will make things better.

He sits over there, horny and haggard from listening to your grumpy taunts.

You’re upset with yourself more than anyone else, but you take it out on him.

He wonders when you’ll come to realise those pork sausages are the culprit.

You’re plagued by atrabilious feelings, which only heightens your cloudy thinking.

He does something out of character and gives you a Stomach Ezzy with water.

You’re so shocked you drink it, even though you’d like to cry into the glass.

He sits by you and waits with his eyes closed, for he feels the shit inside of you.

You feel rotten and put the glass and the remote down, then paw his legs and feet.

He smiles and opens his eyes to say, “I see your mood’s improving little cat“.

You want to take the piss, but think better of it. All you can say is, “I’m sorry“.

He says, “Pretty one, that is enough…“