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


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, the  best person you want me to be

word prints for daily prompt portion

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..”

LA LA LA land

Here goes my unadulterated  opinion of the greatest musical in the history of all musicals.

Love is a farce,  and all that you think love should be,  it isn’t.  Love is patient,  love is kind love is slowly loosing your mind,  love is death.  Because without death there can’t be love.

Love is open windows on rainy nights to let the thunder in,  love is pillow fights and burnt food and broken music records.  Love is all your beliefs brought  low because  beliefs never become reality.

Love is a musical you loved that didn’t end how you expected.

Word prints for Daily prompt: -farce

Kalmatuz II- silver monkey dies


“Noooo,!” Screams the blue monkey running on all fours towards the prone figure of the silver monkey.  She stops besides the body and takes his head on her hands,  daring him to breathe,  begging him to move.  Silver monkey opens his glazed over eyes and stares  at her,  she is crying wildly her screams echoing through the valley and bouncing back to her.  Silver monkey closes his eyes  the blood from his wound turning black as soon as it hits the ground,  the black spreading  all around them as if an ulcer,killing all the green from the grass.  Kalamatuz abhors murder. Any innocent blood dropped on the valley turns toxic,  killing everything on site. 

Blue monkey drops silver monkeys head and shuffles back,  moving away from the toxic blood,  her screams still loud and painful as if wrenched  from her very soul. She beats her chest and roars,  pulls the fur from her arms and head and dances around the silver monkey,  now thumping her chest now swinging on her fore arms. She keeps up this ritual for a while until all the life essence drains from silver monkey and the place where he once lay is nothing but charred earth and a lonely spear.

She drops next to the burnt earth,  exhausted,  her tears spent. She lies down staring at the spot where her brother once lay,  and with every breath she took,  her pain crystallized into anger then icy revenge,  she lay there until her heart froze over in her chest.

“I must go to father..” She whispered 


There is this valley in the middle of a forest right before you get to the ocean,  its  called kalmatuz. The place is ancient, the rivers running in it cool and clear,  the trees and foliage a deep green. A green so deep you see black and rivers so clear the sky is reflected in them. 

The valley is woken every day by a symphony of twitters from birds of all shapes and colors,and baby pumas run around the trees playing with each others tails.  The sun’s rays filtered  through the leaves creating a feeling of descending halleluhya. Butterflies flutter from petal to petal spreading love and color and a mood of tranquility. &;The world here is silent  as if someone put the TV on mute.

The silver monkey stares from its perch  on the branch,  one long arm wrapped around the branch on top of his head the other one hanging low,  with its tail.  It stares straight  ahead seemingly at nothing at first,  until the leaves part in rapid succesion and he ducks swinging on the branch he was seated on and dropping to a lower branch,  the long brown spear with a glinting head he missed connects with the next tree with a loud thump.  He screeches in anger or challenge and swings from branch to branch running from spears that seems to come out of nowhere and in all directions,  he takes one on his thigh and he yanks breaks it midair,  keeping the head in his skin to reduce the bleeding. The forest  turns into a cacophony  of noise large birds flying out of their roosts as the silver monkey grabs on the branches,  he moves with purpose with a strength  and fragility borne of practice,  the next spear hits him right on his back and comes through the front propeling him through the last tree and he remains suspended in air for a few moments,  blood pouring down his back and a keenining gurgling  scream dying on his lips and he falls down to the clearing,.. 

I love, I dance

What do you see when you look at me? Forget my eyes or the color of my skin or my tiny nose, what so you see? Do you see this facade that I have created or can you see a bit more? Can you see my soul reflected in the depth of my eyes, can you see my scars, can you see my tears?can you see my pride, my strength, or are you like the rest, satisfied with the superficial. What do you see, what can you see? Do my secret smiles entice you? Do you wonder when you look at me why I am as I am, or do you see the stubborn woman that everyone else sees,.

How can you not question the a thousand galaxies in my head how can you see me clothe and jewelry and hair and be satisfied, how could you not want to know about my dreams and what keeps me up, about what makes me cry because I assure you its preety much everything. Why can’t you ask, about my roots? Arent you even in the least bit curious?

I love and I dance and I sing, whether in the shower or the streets or in my head, I laugh and I cry and I care to the depths of the ocean and the width of infinite galaxies am more than the labels you peg on me, daughter, girlfriend, sister, workmate, friend, I learn, and I hurt and I hurt other people am human and angel and broken but not too much because despite your perception of me I still love and I still dance.