The Winner Takes It All

Written from the perspective of a late twenty-something man...

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From Magpie Tales picture prompt #42.

Once in my lifetime it meant everything to compete,
Against everyone, to win every prize.
I would fight for teams with violent intent,
Eyes firmly fixed on the goals that I set.
Surrounded myself with superficial friends,
Celebrating success and revelling in victory.
It never occurred to me back then,
That the glory of the schoolyard could fade.
I sit, in my lonely room, searching for meaning,
Staring at the rusted cup before me.
Remembering the days when it mean so much more.

There was a time when everyone knew my name,
Stopped in the corridors and celebrated my fame.
An ego stroke here, an ego stroke there,
My perfect existence, blissfully happy.
A pained sigh escapes my lips.
The reality of life just didn't shape up,
To the life full of warmth and significance before.
Now the streets are filled with stone faces,
Staring back without care for who I am.
No connection to speak of, no respect,
As to them I am just another face in the crowd.

But I stop.  And pause for a second.
Knowing that my heart doesn't fully believe these words.
I crave to be loved, to be a hero again,
Wistfully looking for what used to be.
But maybe this feeling that haunts me now,
Is really a sign of something much warmer.
That after these times of sadness alone,
This perpetual bachelor is ready for a wife.
For building a nest, ready for the day,
When I can nurture a brood, guide them.
Show them a path to a beautiful life,
And be a hero again.

♥ A Connection Like Never Before ♥

Like a perfect angel, standing before me,

He breathes softly and sweetly.

From his soul, intensity emanates,

Gravity of attraction that could move the stars.

A silent moment,

Where the unfathomable becomes possible.

Swirling mass of perfect emotion,

Breathtakingly silent.

Light and dark,

It consumes each second we withstand it.

Overwhelming connections shoot across the sky,

Burning brighter than a thousand suns.

This moment.  Controlling the seas of distant lands.

Washes over us.

Together.

Submitted to One Shot Wednesday – Wk 21

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A Flash from the Heavens (One Shot Wednesday)

Bang of the drums, roll in the clouds,

Lightning assembles a mighty big crowd,

Rhythmic rumbles.  Rhythmic rumbles.

Building.  Trembling.  Roaring.

Crescendoing crash in the sky.

Flashing white light, tears to the ground,

Rips out a tree from nature's pure Earth.

Bright.... FLASH.

Then dark.

Submitted to One Shot Wednesday – Wk 20

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The Ticking Clock in the Dusty Room

Inspired by the photo prompt at Magpie Tales

Lying in a hollow room, the musty smell of years gone by creeps over the pealing walls.  Dust, layered deep into the floor curls like a fires plume with each breath.  Ever inch of this place oozes a sense of death, except for the calm, rhythmic ticking of the old grandfather clock.

Muted, wooded thuds as it beats the drums to the gates of hell, or whatever this place might be.  Reaching upwards, the blood starts pounding in his head, incredible pain, almost overwhelming him.  Flickering vision, eyes as though they might burst from his head.  Desperately fighting the swelling sickness, he tries again to reach for the chair.

The rough, silken dusted surface tries to escape from his weak fingers, but he manages to hold on.  The whole room swimming as though is were a virtual reality booth.  Through the dust caked on his face he tastes dampness, instinctively recoiling - his hand returns a terrible shade of red.

Memories fuzzy, like a lost little fly, floating from flower to dinner to why.  An evening of laughter at a beautiful old theatre... was that tonight?  Or a millennia ago?  "Dong!"  His nonsensical thoughts interrupted by chimes, of the familiar friend in the corner of the room.  Nestled within stacks of yellowed papers.

He hauls his trembling frame on to the chair, surveying the bleak, desolate room.  Evidence lying in the carpeted mist, two footsteps in... dragging something heavy.  A terrified giggle escapes.  Involuntarily breaking the grandfather's rhythm, the hypnotic trace momentarily silent..

Then all of sudden, shimmering light floods the room, blinding his bleary eyes and with the bright dust cloud explosion.  Aghast, he looks at the shadow, a familiar shape outlining the door.  Him.  Again.  "Why?" A mumble was all he could muster.  "Why did you have to do this?"

The laughter was so familiar, so purely evil yet so much his own.  "You know why.  You were weak.  So much potential and you failed to seize it!"  The shadow approached his slumped body, barely able to remain on the chair.  The dark, leather jacket that he wore filled his lungs with a scent he knew so well.

It was futile, to fight against him.  It only made him stronger, a victory battle was what he truly craved.  Tracing the letters out in the thick dusty table in front of him, he looked at the shadow and caught his breath. "Go ahead." he sighed, heavy in his heart.

The shadow looked at him without emotion, without anger, pain or remorse.  Sensing something he had never noticed before, not ever having the need to care to look for it.  It had taken this weak, dirty figure in front of him, with the familiar face and familiar hands, reaching out to him now in his hour of need to realise.

The shadow slowly lowered his arms.  Scooping the battered body of the other in them and bracing to take the strain, chair breathing a sigh of relief.  Looking down, he relinquished as he carried out the poor soul, "I see you at last.  I see who you are.  We are one.  Connected.  The same... I'm... Sorry".

Symbolic Escape (a magpie-inspired tale)

Inspired by the photo prompt at Magpie Tales

Treasured memories, of a thousand generations past,
Echo deeply from the spirit of her charm.
Cold stone against skin, a reminder of each soul lost,
But living on as the wisdom in her heart.

She reaches forward, cutting through the cold air,
This sullen place with its cold, bare walls,
Runs her fingers over each groove,
Tracing the metal textures, imagining.

Before this moment, this day, this nightmare,
Who had wore this memory piece?
Left it lying on the cool stone floor,
Of this prison that they have trapped her in.

Perhaps a gypsy as she travelled the forests,
Wearing this trophy around her olive-skinned neck.
Rich ruby hair tied off her worn face by a scarf,
As she held a tiny, crying child in her arms.

She breathes the touch of cool, wet moss,
Seems only too fresh, only to real,
Toes dangling in gurgling streams,
The rhythm of spring beating its bright song.

Perhaps a princess from a tropical paradise,
With flowing brown hair and a bee-stung pout,
Carefree and playful, he laughter like birdsong,
As she wandered through the palace gardens.

How she aches to see the flowers,
Swaying heads in the fresh, cool breeze,
Brushing hair across her spirited face,
As summer breathes its perfect song.

Perhaps a warrior woman, from ancient lands,
Riding her horse across the barren plains,
Her loyal army following eagerly,
Sharpening bloodied blades ready for a fight.

Deep pangs of her sorrow weep for this life,
Where she might climb aboard her horse and ride,
Freely seek those who imprisoned her here,
As autumn's gales rages on and on.

Such intrigue, such promise,
The anonymity driving her imagination,
The corners of the Earth wrapped around her,
A world to explore beyond these four, bleak walls.

Yet deep in her heart the fantasies serve,
Only to quell her desperate fear,
The terror of darkness for infinite time,
That clouds her head like a winter storm.

A Speech I've Longed to Give...

There's a speech that I dream of giving.
I know exactly who I need to give it to,
And I know their reaction would be cold,
But I still dream of giving it.
A chance to be open, honest, about who I am.
I have keep quiet all these things that I should have spoken,
Set up layer upon layer of protective shields,
And when they've failed then I've used words and emotions
All to protect this secret I hold.
Yet I've surprised myself in my victory,
Embracing it has made me stronger,
Able to use the negative elements for good in my life
Found the better version of me that was always there, hiding.
I wish I could explain the journey here,
The bumps in the road that they witness.
Without explanation, there were few rational responses for my actions,
For tears, spite, paranoia and pain.
But when they are induced by a cure,
That would ultimately make me a whole person again,
Then, you might have been more inclined to forgive.
The mistake was mine, the fear complete,
The fear of showing what might have been a weakness.
Yet it is the very thing that has driven me to achieve what I have,
It is the quality that will continue to drive me throughout my life.
For all the demons that I've done battle with,
The reward of control over my own potential is liberating,
Intoxicating,
Inspiring.
I just wish that I had been more open along the way.
Social taboos would accept a tragedy,
A death, loss, a world falling apart.
Yet when that tragedy is the product of the chemicals in your mind,
There is so little in the way of sympathy towards it.
In the same way I feared acceptance,
I know that others feared understanding.
People warn you off being open,
As it will leave you vulnerable in your work, your life.
Vulnerable to a misguided witch hunt,
Where the terrors of others surface as hatred.
It shouldn't be this way.  This fear of honesty.
And in embracing who I am I have confronted my fears.
I will stand, and I will throw myself to the lions
As I know the defence of truth is more than words,
It is who you are, and who you become.
I will be strong.
And I will achieve.
In which case, there's nothing wrong with being me.

x x

Flowing moments between us

We say these words amidst a sea of madness.

A chaotic, twisted mess of beauty,

Wonderful moments of utter insanity,

Curled around our slippered toes.

We drift along in a pool of crazy,

Wrapped around gentle mists of dreams,

And reach for the stars.

The Product of a Troubled Mind

The blackness creeps like trickling oil,

Across my face and into my soul.

Painful memories, flooding in,

Taking control of the fragile balance,

Tipping emotions towards the flood.

Streetlights through ice, © Nichola Jahn 2010

Such power, such monumental power,

Controls all that I can be.

I search for a moment of clarity,

Dreaming of days gone past,

Days when the blackness couldn't get in.

Seeking desperately to find the door

So I may close it tightly from the dark,

Become myself once more.

I look to the skies as though the answer is there

But reality bites back with the truth,

These demons that haunt my every being

Are a creation of my own.

Weapons are like nothing before,

Delving deep into subconscious prisons,

Mapping reactions, parent, adult, child,

Finding the moments that turn the tables,

Generating an arsenal against the beasts.

Fighting to survive against the darkness,

Fighting to keep on trying.

Victory barely a thought as the battle wages on,

Using up reserves just to continue,

But nothing the product of a troubled mind,

Should be allowed to win.

And with that thought I am inspired to go on.

x

The Living City

City at Night, © Nichola Jahn 2010

City streets,
Bathed in the husky glow of shimmering lights.
Echoing of a billion footsteps before mine,
As I pass through this historic place.
Silence overwhelming in somewhere so grand,
Seeped in historic moments,
A million miles from here, yet right on this spot.
Transported, my soul reaches out to ghostly memories,
Not mine to have,
Yet so real to experience.
A whispering wind catches my gaze,
As dark shadows,
Dance in the background,
With ritual precision.
Sadness emanates from the sobbing walls,
Silent sorrow at moments past.
Tactile memories as my hand run over cold stone,
Jagged where the years have taken their toll.
Each missing piece a notch in time,
Waiting to tell it's story.
Such faded grandeur,
Like an elegant old woman watching with grace,
Overseeing each soul that passes by,
Protecting them with her own strength.
Somewhere so beautiful,
Peace flooding forward from its very presence.
The lessons it gives both significant and loved,
The wise old storyteller,
Designed to inspire.

We Alone Can Change The World

Societal blackness creeps into our hearts,
Disillusioned by fractures in our reality perceived.
Dark dreary days drag on like a chore,
Sinking feeling of blame.
We give power to fools who can't see our world,
For the beautiful place its potential could be.
Short-term decisions drive the lives of us all,
Why can't we see it before it's too late?
We hide from the truth, watch countries fall,
Drive black thoughts out in a bid to keep sane.
Like a newborn flower reaching for the sky,
Our life-blood is trampled.
To break the cycle the options are but one,
A tough thing to ask in a passive world.
Look into your hearts and see what is needed,
Look into your hearts and take charge of our world.
Thoughts cycle through glimpses of highs and lows,
Of impossible tasks if done alone.
But joining together in making it known,
Our knowledge outweighs the lies they spin.
We must take a stand and make it known,

Tolerance has got us nowhere.

Retribution comes in it's sweetest form.

When we alone can change the world.

Restless Nights of Darkened Dreams

Philosophising about the dreams
That haunt my sleep each waking night
I halt my hunt to rationalise...
How these demons reach my soul?
Enveloped in my subconscious layers,
Aching hearts and weeping eyes,
Defence impossible.
My whimpering being,
Musters all that I have within,
Strength of character, charm, and wit,
To forge new images of brighter worlds,
Vicious battles rage riots in my thought chains,
Weapons of words, bitten off like bones,
Aghast the loss seems close to being,
But something stirs with increasing force.
A hero image takes the helm,
Wards out the ghosts and freezes my hell.
Gentle calm awash my face,
Rhythmic breathing once again.
Gone are the beasts that haunted dreams,
Instead?  Flowers, swaying in the breeze.

x

A World Without Masks...

The world passes by blindly

Never knowing its true potential.
The blind lead the lame
Across the torrential floods.
We never stop to see.
To look.
To truly absorb.
Information.
Total empowerment,
It becomes our crutch.
Lies!  Shiny wrapping makes them only so sweet.

We wish it would embrace the moments of truth,

Yet it feels like no one else can hear them.

Relying only on the shortened words,

Twisted by personal perspective,

A thousand different agendas,

And nothing to speak of that matters.

Each day, in this sea of sorrow,

Look for the ship on the horizon,

Leading you to the place where you might see,

The reality of worlds falling apart

Wrapped up in the words that surround us.

Yearning to take them there.

Show them the beauty in truth and light,

The wonder of understanding.

Our world is there for the taking,

Conquer the demons.

Understand our path, 

Our purpose.

Breathe.

And succeed.

The Sky Tonight

Burning balls of shimmering fire,

Light the sky with their immense spheres of glorious intensity.

Sparkling trails of comets' tails,

Artificial moments with the wonder of nature's own design.

A peaceful moment briefly disrupted,

With a wondrous intensity that captivates the crowd.

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I love fireworks!