Tag: creative writing

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 coming storm

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It’s been too long for you and me, but we cannot touch each other for the sun is too hot, and our skin is too dry.

The humidity creeps higher and higher, yet there’s no relief in this hell. Nature wants her way.

I would tell you about my day, then you could do the same, yet we’re too spent to move.

Then the buzz begins. We are electric and wired to what’s coming from the atmosphere.

Birds in the sky fly away or chat madly in the trees; there are so many parrots, sparrows, and a few cockatoos and rosellas.

The cat meows nervously and begins purring loudly, rubbing against us, hoping for a lap or pats.

Outside, the wind picks up, the trees blow about, and the madness sets into our minds.

We’re wired and starting to feel increasingly weird when the lightning crashes.

Then the rain begins to pour hard. We start to smell the rain, and we feel the change.

Laying about listening to the rain, we begin to touch one another. Our skin is so wet now.

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…“

20 then 40

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In the beginning, the world spun out of control. You longed for stability from abuse and normality.

A course through others’ mental health hells would see you stand at 20 on the precipice of your destiny; the choices you made were harder than you imagined, yet you were determined to win this one.

As 40 creeps closer, you look to the future with bright eyes and wise lips.

Note to Myself

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Sunsets are beautiful, so see them more often; You’ll only get to see sunsets for a lifetime, which is never enough time.

Don’t be afraid of the light, for dark and light are one. You are darkness and light, so embrace both with balance.

Be generous and kind even if they think you’re weak. Kindness is your gift, and your light shines brighter for it.

Don’t be materialistic, for you will die without material possessions. Instead, live life with purpose, travel and make human memories.

Be courageous and always be yourself. If someone thinks you’re a coward, that doesn’t mean you are.

The Alps

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They stand hand in hand taking in the beauty of the Alps.

Reflective and oddly calm, she says, “Up here, the world is crisp and clean. You and I can talk without the madness of society getting in the way… Don’t you love the way the snow sits upon the mountains, yet the sun still shines, and it isn’t too cold?“

He pauses for a few moments to breathe in the crisp air, “It’s beautiful for an Autumn day… the light, it’s welcomed here and not despised… I could live in this country…“

She looks at him and smiles, so he adds, “The sun feels different in Australia compared to Switzerland… Perhaps it is weaker?“

She squeezes his hand, and he kisses her forehead. She adds, “Yes… it feels fainter… let’s stay a little longer.“