Truths

There are some elements of lie in every truth, if ever truths are spoken. How do you tell a truth from a lie, actions speak louder but then there is Hollywood. Oh well

Here is a truth. I cant lie when asked a question.

Its like the intonation of the sentence is a trigger to my brain to totally do away with the “they arent supposed to know that ” filter. The end result is i have true pieces of me left stuck in someone’s memory as a not so seriously ment tirade to a not so seriously asked question, then the same person has the gall to say i hold so much of me inside.

If the universe ever decides to map my life my joys my pains my labored struggles in this mass of heaving earth , i hope it places a star on ever smile i caused, a sun on every love i bore, a leaf, for every pain i caused and wind on every truth i told. I hope, though i bare my soul to so many un deserving nitwits with the desperate need to meet, connect to something real, because surely surely there has to be someone deserving of this awesomeness, that i shall not pass on to my next life with al these truths in solitary confinement.

Daily prompt solitary

Release

I seek to avenge all these tiny cuts in my soul that bleed out my hopes and dreams in short spurts of foaming memory every time i have to think of all i havent achieved or all ‘they’  have achieved  and the possibility of living my life drifting from work day to work day making another rich or happy or better or being  nothing more than i am a body behind a desk infront of a computer 

I want to walk on a silver shore and feel the warm  sand between my toes or chase beautiful sunsets with my yatch or seek treasures long lost at sea i mean maybe i could be a pirate and never set foot on land again where all my expectations and everyone else’s is left buried  in  a shallow grave as my last heritage to my sea born daughters a reason to find their way back home 

Daily post:- bury

Queenin’ on my scars

See here,  

Recently i started this journey that scared the heck out of me. 

I am living alone.  In my own house. Paying my own rent. 

And i looove it๐Ÿ˜€๐Ÿ˜€๐Ÿ˜€

Am i still scared yes. Out of my mind.  

But our GOOD GOD just calmed my fear,  there i was standing  at the edge of the cliff my eyes closed,  my knees trembling, palms sweaty,  and He being as hilarious as He is,   just pushed me.  He made it so that it was impossible for me to stand there,  and keep thinking about how far the fall is how sharp the rocks  look at my feet,  how comfortable i was at the edge,  just standing there,  contemplating,  never really planning on jumping. 

I realize now,  how silly i was being,  claiming to love the Father yet scared of being His child,  truly,  in all senses of the word, thinking HE is like human beings who you  cant trust with keeping your cat company for a day,  let alone with your life. 

But am learning everyday. It is like i discover all these good and wonderful things about me that i didnt even know i am or i had .  I am learning patience,  and trust. And best of all Love for me,  my mistakes and my scars. 

Am queenin’ on my scars๐Ÿ˜Š

Paper cuts

I have these little numb sores on my soul that only hurt when i remember,  or fixate so much on the hurt that once was,  or try to peel back the layers and see underneath the pain trying to find some sort of carthasis on penning my thoughts here or mostly when am scrolling down my timeline and a happy photo of you makes me sad because really?  How can you  be so ok with not having me there. 

I swear to myself that i have forgotten,  in all honesty i have forgotten thoughts of you dont haunt my day,  shadows of your laugh dont stalk my nights i am totally  ok with us not talking,  or you not calling or whatever, i am fine really,  and not in that way that i say fine yet mean i want to murder every single pain and humiliation you  ever caused me,  am still stuck here in wondering why i let you warm my heart which beats in frozen paces how could i walk right into what was obviously  going nowhere . 

How did you leave paper cuts on me and i didnt even see me bleeding

Daily post paper

make me

make me more patient Lord, let me take it a day at a time,

make me stronger, let not the wicked ways of men sway me,

let your arms surround me and your peace engulf me.
let not my anger consume or pride lead me,
make me a woman after your own heart

make me grateful lord, let me not desire anothers portion,

anothers health, or wealth or life,

teach me to be the best version of me, theย  best person you want me to be

word prints for daily prompt portion

kalmatuz iv- the beginning

the village is right in the middle of the  valley, a quaint place dotted with several smoking huts made of bamboo branches, mud and wild flowers the hut are so much a part of the forest birds nest on top of them creating a symphony of color and sound as the monkeys go about their lives.

blue monkey and father walk behind queen. she,glides through the air, her feet not touching the ground, her fur a blinding white, but every monkey villager stands up taller when she passes. her radiance spreading trough all of them, infusing them with strength and peace. blue monkey is awed by her mother,

” i will be that someday” she whisper, the prospect thrills and scares her at the same time. father stands tall beside her, his black goat skin draging behind him as if a cape. queen turns around and smiles at them,

” where is my errant son, he knows we have to..”

silver monkey jumps from a tree, smiling,

“am here mother..”

‘that’s queen to you boy..” father says sternly

“come on father..

the  explosion is loud and sudden, throwing the monkeys a few feet off the ground before sucking them back in an un relentlessness gravitational pull. the whole village screams in pain as their fur ins burnt and limbs are broken. a series of more blasts  erupt around the village in coordinated rhythm forcing the monkeys to retreat screaming into the mountains, the fire is hot and fierce a blood thirsty master, pulling all into his unquenchable thirst.

“oh mother helps us, help us!”

the queen rises up from the smoke and dirt and fire, an avenging angel of light, she spreads her arms wide and the fire comes to her, all of it flowing to her chest, the villagers all glance up at her, at their queen, their mother their savior. all knowing what comes next and no one able to stop her.

she takes all the fire inside her, all the pain, and suffering, restoring broken bones, turning back time  as if nothing happened. finally she fades as the smoke would have.

“mooootthheerr…” screams blue monkey

*************************************************************

fifteen miles south  in Aragans lair

he leans weakly on his walking stick, his war council all looking at him expectantly. he feels the breath fill him making him stringer as soon the the queen breaths her last. he stands up straighter

“we attack in the morrow”

Nemesis

See how her feet leave prints on the sand,  how her lipstick leaves an imprint of her lips on a wine glass,  how when she dips her hands in paint she can make impressions of her fingers,  how she has an imprint of your lips on every surface of her skin they touched,  how if she concentrates hard enough, she can feel the warmth of your skin,  the lingering musk of you so close,  so close..

You should know then,  what marks,  impression  you leave behind, how she has mastered your breathing patterns,  how she knows when  you are angry or tired or loved,  how she knows what every scowl  means,  every grunt every smile.

How she wishes she could heal you,  even though she knows she cant.

Daily prompt: impression  

Kalmatuz III- blue monkey dines with her father

Father stands staring outside at the trees. 

“He failed us!” He bellows from his spot at the window,  back arched proudly, head turned away from blue monkey who was kneeling behind  him. If she could lift her head she would see the white tears that were  leaving a scar on his rugged face,  or the way his chest heaved in sorrow,  another son lost,  another battle lost.  He was tired of the meaningless loss of his children,  his sons,  arrows in his quiver thrown at nothing. His last son was only twelve harvest  moons old.  He couldnt risk him. He wouldn’t  risk him.

“Father,…” The words of comfort chocked her,  her icy anger still  a lump in her  throat.

“Send me..” She whispered

“No!?!..” Father turned around angrily,  the dark sheep skin he wore almost falling off his shoulders,  he limped,  towards his first daughter,  towering above her,  fist drawn back as if to strike her.  But he stayed his hand and brought it down gently instead ,  touching her head.  She whimpers in surprise.

“You cannot go, “he tries so hard to control the anger in his  voice., “i will not let those bastards,  mock me anymore,  i will not send my daughter into battle,  you are to stay here and rule and birth a daughter who will rule after you.”

Blue monkey rises angrily,  and steps back a screech dying in her throat at the sight of father’s  tears.

“He was my brother,”  she whispers, “he was my  baby brother i raised him and gave him his first arrow,  i taught him to hunt and i will avenge him..”