TELESCOPES

It's a sunny but chilly afternoon by the lake. Everything is blurry so I pose by the dock and grab my telescopes to look into you. I mimic a surgeon and my stare is like an incision to your soul.

You lie on the hammock, gracefully like you're sitting on the brink of the crescent moon. Afraid that any clumsy movement might tip of the world to the underlying secrets to your soul.

Your small hands, dwindle into the light and soak in the summer rays. I magnify the telescope but the closer I zoom in, the craftier the illusion. 

Heavenly is the word I love to think of, when I see your brown marble eyes, sparkle and gaze into the world. Looking into them is like a sensational drowning experience. 

I marvel at how gently you rock the hammock, sort of like your calm approach to the world. The patterns of your movement captivate me, make me want to dig deeper, implore your soul and devour your otherworldly thoughts.

The butterflies around you in a synchronized harmony glorifying your presence with the multitude of colors on their wings. They vibrate in awe as if also heeding to the fact that the view on my lenses is a rare constellation.

By this moment, both my lenses and I crave a clearer resolution but for now, we enjoy the perspective of the telescope.

PLAY THE FOOL!

"Play the fool!My job as a poet is to play the fool!"

I find that very liberating because I think that most of us, really want to offer the world something of quality: a product, a new perspective, a solution, an escape, a safe space, persuasion, healing.

The point is, this should be something that the world will consider "good" or "important" and I think that this kind of thinking is really the enemy. The truth is, its not up-to us whether what we do is any good and if History has taught us anything, its that the world is an extremely unreliable critic. To understand why we have to play the fool, why we must create, why we must express, why we must do everything we love regardless,we have to ask ourselves; does human creativity matter?

Does human creativity matter?

Well, most people don't spend their time thinking about poetry, right? They have a life to live and they're not concerned with Shakespeare's poems or anybody else's poems for that matter...until...they lose a loved one, they attend a funeral, they lose their pet, somebody breaks their heart; they don't love them anymore or they lose their job and all over a sudden.. they become desperate of making sense out of this life and they wonder if anyone has ever experienced that or felt that bad before and how they came out of that cloud of unfortune.

Or...

The inverse happens, something good: They get a new pet, they buy a house, they score a great job or they meet someone and their heart explodes, they start to love them so much they can't even see straight; they are dizzy and they wonder if someone out there has also felt that way before. "What is happening?", they wonder!

That's when when art stops seeming like a luxury and actually becomes a form of sustenance because it is necessary, they need it. For validation, for company, for introspection, for clarity, for healing.

Creativity is vital because, in singing our song, in telling our stories, in inviting each other to listen and allowing one another to be heard, we're starting a dialogue and when we do that, healing happens and we come out of our little corners and we start seeing how connected we all are, and suddenly its not so lonely anymore. We start to realize we all want to give our lives to our passion (we'd rather suffer for the things we love), we discover that we are all struggling to be brave, we all trying to understand and process pain, we are trying to find ourselves and it is only when we express our experiences, that we can help others and in turn, this sense of fulfillment gives back to us.

I believe we are here on this starring space to help one another. Our experiences are really not as unique as we thought, we actually have so much in common with each other and understanding that helps us to find solace in playing the fool!

The truth about playing the fool...

The thing that worries me sometimes about creativity is most people perceive it as just nice, something warm or pleasant. The truth is, it is not: it's vulnerable (it may spring from both ends of the spectrum of pain and happiness). What limits our vulnerability the most is not drinking from the pool of habit. The pool of habit is so huge and that is what makes kids beautifully creative: they don't have any habits and they don't care if they're good enough; they're not building a sandcastle and going, "I think I'm gonna be a really good sandcastle builder on the set of Game of Thrones!" They just throw themselves at whatever project you put in front of them: dancing, painting, building something. Every opportunity they have, they try to impress upon us their individuality. They know too well that playing the fool is vital!

The fool that plays, expresses themselves...

When we start to witness each other's common humanity, we start to assert it and when we do that good things really happen. So if you want to help your community, if you want to help your family and friends, you have to start expressing yourself and to express yourself you have to know yourself. It's actually super easy, you just need to give yourself to your passion. Something you feel called to do. Something we love and if we get close to what we love, who we really are is revealed to us and it expands from there. Deep down we know this: the time in our lives is so short and how and when we spend it should be by doing what's important to us.

The reality is when we pursue our interests, there is no path until we walk it. So don't just read the book you should read, read the book you want to read and don't just listen to the music you like, take time to listen to something new or talk to someone that you would not usually talk to. I guarantee you, if you do this you will feel foolish but that's the point isn't it? For us to experience new things, to go after who and what we love, we have to be willing to play the fool!

I am a poet who will always play the fool, every opportunity I have, i will impress upon my individuality, because human creativity is nature manifest in us.

THE PRODIGAL WRITER RETURNS?

I long ago abandoned myself to a blind lust for written word. You see, literature is my sandbox.In it I play, build my forts and castles, spend glorious time.
However, it is the world outside the box that gives me trouble.I have adapted tamely though not conventionally, to this visible world so that I can retreat without much inconvenience into my inner world of books.
Transmuting this sandy metaphor,if literature is my sandbox, then the real world is my hourglass- an hour glass that drains grain by grain. Literature gives me life and life kills me.
That brings me to the ultimate question just how elastic is literature in its quest to give life?
''Why does one begin to write?''
''... because she feels misunderstood I guess, because it never comes out clearly enough when she tries to speak..because she wants to rephrase the world, to take it in and give it back again differently, so that everything is used and nothing is lost..., because its something to do to pass the time until she is strong enough to experience the things she writes about.''
I haven't always been crazy about my somber moods -those that drive me to the welt, my pen.After all, the despair of the blank page: It is so full.
However, what streamlines me to manifest my art is something even bigger than myself. The idea that there can be beauty in the pain I recreate and each time the ink spills, I hope that I can make something beautiful grow from every piece of dirt that has been thrown at me. I may not be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen but my love could be. Most importantly, my soul poured out could be the empathy you need to gain another perspective.
Tune in as I so I cheerfully return to my abandoned sandbox, to gain some laughs, dish out others, and to entertain your imagination.😎 Miss me? Buckle up!

Yours blogfully,

the prodigal writer.

UNSPOKEN

Scott,
His love spoke to her heart like a mime to a mute.As rare and as pure as a lily isolated from a pond to a fountain of crystal waters.

His eyes sparked a sly smile. It was as if he saw her essence, explored her soul and implored into her spirit all at once and each time she looked at him, she saw love.

Each awkward glare took a second but felt like a sensual century of passionate gestures and after they were done having a drowning experience they would go back to acting like what they felt was somehow untrue.
It was a love so secret that not even they knew about yet it so desperately yearned to introduce itself.

Even so they loved keeping that unspoken secret. The kind of secret you would keep yet still knowing how much you wanted to commit to a lifetime of raising and caring for a stray blind cat or rather pirate pet together and save every bag of bones they encountered for it.

And all they felt when they had to leave each other was this weird sensation that everyone had when they were a kid and at a friend's house and their mum came to get them before they were ready.

Even so, she wasn't ready to love him because she couldn't love him in the dark  and so it was time to say goodbye to the unspoken.

Love for the ages. Specifically ages 18-81.

Cupid, that chubby cherub love dispenser, is dead. But before he died, he appointed me his apprentice in love. 

I loved Cupid, and that was precisely why I killed him. I strangled him. Then I shot him 17 times with his heart-shaped arrows.

Then I burned his body while I roasted and toasted marshmallows and toasted to the good times he brought to the world.

Then I took his ashes and mixed them in cake batter and literally consumed him.

Mark it down: I have officially taken over as the foremost authority on love.

I can't fly around like he could, but I have other endearing qualities. I can’t think of any at the moment, but I must have some. (less)
 
Grand dudes and dudettes!! Now that I have your attention ,this is a brutal announcement that these chronicles shall be revived as soon as i'm done executing cupid's estate.

I don't understand how such a tiny creature can own these much love hearts.

Stay tuned for THEE ULTIMATE CHAPTER 4 OF THE SILHOUETTES SERIES ON 11/8/2016..THIS THURSDAY. I wrote these next few chapters near the lake,so expect a watery love tale.

yours blogfully,
Nim.Cupid

SILHOUETTES CHAPTER 3: THE DANCE OF THE DYNASTY: 3B

The arena of the ball was packed with pure optimism and as one arrived, they immediately embarked in conducting what the theme instructed: Good ties.The lights were incredibly patterned around the building in a rainbow format luring and inviting all the guests that evening and as per schedule the coupled members of wall street family business stepped up to the center of the gallantly shinning floor.It was time for the first ballroom dance.
Scott seemed rather excited about everything going on around him and immediately he saw the fright on Abigail's face, he quickly responded to her mood."Hey,shake those stars from your hair pretty moon-child,it's time to dance with the noonday-sun,"he said smiling and grabbing her hand.
"Great,right,that makes me feel a whole lot better,"she answered in mockery.
"Please,lets dance!" he grabbed her hand and started towards the middle of the room,but she tugged him back,"Scott,I..I don't know this dance." Her serious yet warm eyes startled at him.He wanted to kiss her again so she averted his gaze.
"It doesn't matter, I can show you." He trailed his finger down her skin where her dress folded open on top.
"Trust me,it'll be romantic." He grimaced.
"Gyrating besides strangers on a packed dance floor is far from romantic," she added.
"You've never gyrated with me though," He pointed out raising his eyebrows.
This time,she followed her empty smiling through her eyes.He was right to keep his promise on showing her, but God she hated the dance!A blow to the cheek one minute and discussing a romantic getaway the next wasn't exactly her forte.It was the one step forward, two steps back waltz.She wanted to scream at the thought of having to go through this for one more hour.
Scott noticed her ever jolly mood was fading off,so he decided to take her to the next room and meet minds with her as they shared a glass of champagne.
"I know you want this night to end so bad, but this glass of champagne marks the beginning of your best night ever.'' he said to cheer her up.
"And why is that?'' she asked still puzzled.
"Because I'm going to try hard to make you love me Abigail Robinson.''he answered winking at her with his impeccable Adonis smile.
''This bastard was in a self-help program?For what? Square-jawed, cleft-chin sufferers? Handsome anonymous?"she thought.
"Well in that case , Mr.Daimler,I suggest you play your best card wisely." she answered receiving the glass of champagne he had poured for her which in the event of the handing over, spilled onto her silk dress.
"So much for wisdom!'' she said in an almost displeased tone.She expeditiously stood up in an attempt to clean her silk dress and he joined her with a white cloth in cleaning up the stain.
In the midst of it all,he locked eyes with him," What's the matter,disappointed? he paused, "Well if I can hardly lick champagne off your dazzling personality, I might as well wipe it off your dress." He smirked.
"Goodness!Of all the times to sound charming Scott!"she impulsively rebuked him smiling through her eyes. "I'm sorry Abby,I couldn't resist a little flirting,just a little." He said, hoping his words had finally got to her.
She was a little impressed by his active persuasion but she wouldn't let him busk in glory.'' Ha! So this is it huh?..'the best card'? Dashing, I must say" she commented in a sarcastic tone hoping to make him squirm.
"Not at all,not even half of it, would you do me the honors of sharing this dance with me so that I make it up to you?" he asked reaching out for her little feminine hand wrapped up in silver.
"Sorry, i think I've gone way over my comfort zone according to my dance graph this evening," she replied reluctantly , dodging his hand as she pretended to stare at the imaginary graphical representation that she held.
''Come on beautiful!I'll let you in on more of the best card move and its existence.I promise it won't stain your dress again." he pleaded as he chuckled.
''SCOTT'S honor?'' she asked backing up his chuckle.
He put his hand across his macho chest bursting into laughter,"You know it gorgeous, 'SCOTT'S HONOR'."
"Well,in that case,don't disappoint me Daimler.Wait,what if you try to kill me? Or worse: to kiss me?" she asked.
"You never know what's coming your way until you try it Miss.Robinson.So come on, don't leave me hanging," he pleaded.
She chuckled adding."I have a feeling this is gonna be worse than the time I table-danced in the diner in High School."
At this point, all her words sounded like background music, their utter lyrics landing on on his ears melodiously.He cut her short, silencing her with his finger on her full lips and slipped his arm around her waist and gathering her close to his body in an attempt to give her a Que and finally easing her into a slow waltz.
"So what's your story Mr.Daimler,what were you doing 8 states away from home for the past year?''She asked as they embraced the waltz progressively.
"Well if you must know Miss.Robinson, I went to the Himalayas.
"What on earth were you doing in the Himalayas?"
"Um,trying to climb an excessively elusive mountain."
"You're a mountaineer!'' Her eyes were brilliant in excitement.
"Well an amateur one.What about you,what's yours?"
"Ha!well,my major vice is my non-emotionally tuned nature and sarcasm with a side of caffeine addiction.And also, I continue to live with a butler who refuses to feed my dog.On my father's funeral, he forgot to put water in his dish,"she said breaking into a squeaky laughter." I guess someone as weird as Charlie( not me ) would assume that the fact we named it after a drink it would be eternally quenched.
He stared at her in amazement and asked rhetorically, "Are you always this funny and weird?",
"Wanna know what I think?" he asked.
"Sure, go ahead and pretend to know me," she answered.
"You are the perfect balance of nature and charm, at the same time fascinating and inaccessible,distant because of your demonstrated flawlessness, and possessing such strength of character that you are dismaying and at the same time utterly attractive in an enticing and forbidden way.'' he concluded as he twirled her around and he flipped her over,"
" You forgot one charming philosopher,NOT INTERESTED."
"If you really don't have any feelings Miss.Robinson, why are you blushing and fixing your hair?''
" Because i haven't powered my nose all night, this is me applying the law of substitution Mr. Daimler." she answered in an almost perfect defense.
The bitter truth was, she was experiencing a panic attack and mind block all at the same time.Here she was, staring at potential romantically inclined 'danger' from one of the people who she would run the family business with.There was no doubt that she was deeply drawn to him.However, this puzzled her,was puzzled,feelings had always been confusing for her because they couldn't be translated into logic.
Just then, a tall slender gentleman with Harry Potter spectacles, Tyler Blake, walked into in the room and with bubbly look on his face. He was happy to see them, his favorite childhood friends and also soon-to-be partners to be in their reign of Wall street.They embraced him in delight breaking the silence with pearls of laughter after engaging in small-talk with each one of them, Blake asked Abigail if he could kindly have a word with Scott. They stepped into the drizzly atmosphere, which seemed as if it was about to be sentenced to a downpour in a few seconds and shifted into a serious conversation. with a man in a black car which had just stopped by.
As she wore her coat getting ready to leave,she happened to eavesdrop their conversation not intentionally but because the man in the car caught her attention by rolling up the window and she immediately paid attention and recognized a peculiar detail on it that looked rather familiar.
"Did you get the chip?" Blake questioned the man in the car.
"No, i didn't", he answered in a hoarse Russian accent.He must be an old man, she thought.
"Don't worry,I have another plan,"'Scott reassured the both of them, as he turned and gave Abigail a flirty smile.She smiled back.
If there's something  her father taught her is that there's something wrong with smiley people they're either selling something or not very bright.
After a few minutes Scott came back in ready to walk Abigail out, he said to her,''I'm sorry I don't mean to ran over our little parade but something came up and I have to leave soon."
"Sure,don't worry about it." she answered.
"Shall I walk you out Miss.Robinson?"he as he pecked the back of her hand.
"Why not?" she replied sounding a little disappointed and leading the way.
He stopped her at the doorstep and said to her "I'm sorry sweet cheeks, I really did want to talk to you more about your retarded butler," His free hand went to her face and cupped her cheek.
Something tightened pleasantly in her belly."Just talk,huh?" she breathed.
He nodded, but used their clasped hands to pull her closer to him.She raised her head and met his eyes, a storm of blue and green.She smirked.
"That's a shame.'' She muttered walking away.
Scott watched her as she entered her car and drove off blending into the pitch-darkness behind the ball building.It was at that very moment, that it occurred to him that something about her perception of him had shifted balance.

Author:Peris Ngugi

|CCHEEKY*DIARIES|

SILHOUETTES CHAPTER 3:THE DANCE OF THE DYNASTY: 3A

"As all families do,got used to life after death and it was still fine and things settled back into their traditional rhythms .Season after season and that much as they had always been.And we got used to Whisky being happy again and then we had to get used to him being a dad(not a very safe one at that). For the first time in a long while,I think I'm happy again.Well, not entirely but somewhat on the path.Scott's back from his long unexpected journey and we started hanging out again.Well at least until the end of summer when he was sent off to a self-help programme by his parents.Even though it seems like things are looking out, I still have those dark days when I lock my room and lark in anger. It frightens Charlie too but until I figure out how to push them to the end of tunnel, my bursting heart must find vent at my pen." She concluded her diary.

Abigail was now older than her father when he was her age.Wait, that's not right.That's not her father at all ,that's just some stranger hanging around in her memory.Nonetheless, she was older and due to her many emotional battles,a late bloomer.But anyone who bloomed at all was very lucky if you asked me. There was a certain stubbornness about her that could never bear to be frightened at the will of others.Her courage always rose at every attempt to intimidate her.Which is why her rule as chair of the Family business would be a remarkable site.The footprints she would leave behind in her reign as leader would be those that the paths of wall street had never known.

She waited upstairs in her room in her black silk dress for Scott Daimler, the gentleman who would accompany her to the annual Klingon ball.
"Remind me why this is necessary again Charlie?" Abigail muttered in a completely bored complaining tone.
 "Hmph," he breathed heavily before answering this question for the tenth time this week, "This night is of utmost importance because tradition dictates that the dances are meant to strengthen the ties between the families of Wall street and serves as an initiative of handing over of titles of authority to their heirs. Each family has its own and the Robinson's representative is, I'm afraid is you Mademoiselle Abigail."He concluded.
"Plus,Mr.Daimler is really looking forward to spending time with you this evening."he said smiling sheepishly.
"Argh!Heavens Charlie,smack that grin off your face.How is it that you manage to make things seem worse than they are every time you 'cheer me up'?"she beckoned.
"You're welcome Miss.'I-can't-wait-to-spend-time-with-him' .he answered sadistically just to watch her squirm.
"Chaaaarrlieee!" She complained further , hitting his arm.
"Ouch!In any case, he is the one that should be worried because of your horrible dance skills."Charlie spoke in consolation.
"What are you talking about?They're almost perfect!"she said in a clueless tone,
"Yeah! 'Perfect'..Wait until he cha-chas you off the floor; Even your dog that thinks you're perfect will read the Times for that story!"He said in an almost excited tone.
"Hey, I know that you like him and that he kissed you once and you predictably freaked out but keep an eye-open for Mr.Daimler.He always has a hidden agenda behind that charm." He uttered in a concerned tone.
"You're delusional Charlie.Wait, how do you even know that happened?''she began to question him.
"I empty the bin in your room deary, yeah, the one where you throw the pieces of paper you cut off from your diary."he said.
"Aaaaaand?"she asked waiting for a better answer.
"This particular piece of paper was in red, I like red,the rest of the mischievous activity is predictable" he answered adjusting his bow tie.
Just then, the pealing of the doorbell deafened their ears and Charlie rushed to receive it.It was their expected guest.
"Good evening Mr.Daimler,Miss.Robinson will be with you shortly."Charlie muttered in a welcoming tone.
Abigail had began coming down the spiral stairs and as she had her moment,Scott's mind had wandered into a journey of defining his amazement of the glory of her beauty. Scott received her at the end of the spiral,stretching out his hand he said,"You look dashing Abby".
She could tell he had a lot more to say but her being her,she cut him short with a quick thank
you and they set off for the ball after bidding Charlie goodbye.
"Record her if she makes fun of me!'' Charlie shouted as he waved.
They grow up so fast he thought basking in the glory of his good guardianship skills.

Author:Peris Ngugi

|CHEEKY*DIARIES|