Categories
Uncategorized

s.t.e.v.e speaks

TO LIVE: THE FEELING THAT POSSIBLITY CAN COME TRUE

The hardest thing about being alive is knowledge that you must continue with the endeavour of life. Life is not something you can brush off like flint or self-absorbed poetry. Life is a commitment.  I feel this is why so many get upset about death. They feel that they were promised something- they feel as if they should have a say over death – but this is not true.
Death owes you nothing.
To live is to be in active movement and process of becoming. I am committed to my growth and the changing of M.E but this is not easy.

S.T.E.V.E

M.E: Movement Explores
Categories
Uncategorized

Dreams are for the few

The moment she spoke to him, he left the room. He would not listen. He could not listen. What would he listen to? Her furious nature needed care and patience and he wished for speed. Wishes were often like this, spells and false magic men had deceived the masses into believing that dreams came true in moments of understanding when in reality, they came through the imagination of change. Change sat at the edge of understanding and thus the walk over was steadily and frequently avoided.

He turned his back. Beauty faced his shoulders in the perpendicular nature of seeing your own back in the mirror, he stared knowingly, imagining where his wings would go and contemplating the depths of the sky. He wanted quick answers; he wanted light bursting from the shadow, when he was the shadow bursting into light. She followed him to the starting point, the place where all decisions were made and waited- her voice locked into the movement of his response. Her exquisite venom burning beneath his feet, urging him to open his mouth, to close his eyes and spread his back in the perpendicular parallel of flight he wanted.  When he did, he would know that wishes were not for the light-hearted.

Categories
Stories Uncategorized

Is it finished?

He was confused. He was trying to pay attention, to what was running beyond him, skipping between him and threading itself into each corner he could not reach. Nothing would satisfy him. Perhaps, the love was almost out and there was nothing he could do. How could love fit into sand, how could civilisation count on him, love was bigger than sand and could not be held but he was, searching, pleading for more time.  

The Gods were cruel, how could they give such a task to him, a man that spent his life wishing for what he had lost. A man that spent his life trying to be what he assumed he should be and thus had no care to be the person he needed to be. Need, he hated the word. He needed nothing but he wanted the world. The Gods knew this, and placed him in a space where his understanding of ‘world’ would be tested and he would be asked- Is it finished? The Gods were not cruel and they did not enjoy having to test and deliberate with beings that felt themselves lost in the expanding inquisitive quintessential spec of the universe that they found themselves in but time was running out. They had spent and spilt themselves in every direction but up. His civilisation had used everything given to them, and had tried to for more. Yes they had managed to go to the stars, but somehow they tied their vision to the mechanics of sight rather than the opening of it.  Without time, love would find new spaces to belong and fester growth. Without time, this man would have lost what he did not know h

Categories
Uncategorized

The place beyond Visiting

I wanted to go somewhere, I had never been. I wanted to explore beyond- what I could recognise. I wanted to share in something bigger than me. I assumed that the majority of persons wanted that.

My lecturers later told me, that this could not be true, as the liberal free minded person was not the ‘common man’ I met in the market but rather the person beyond my life- the person who had someone go to the market for them.

This dilemma stayed with me. How could we incite change, if the majority of persons were the problem?

Chaos. The answer was chaos.

You may wonder what chaos would solve, the answer is nothing, chaos will simply permit chaos but after the many organised and liberal free-minded persons had killed my children, raped my wives and husbands, slaughtered my father- buried my mother and noosed my beliefs, along with my  ‘common man’ – I assumed that chaos could be the answer to my problem.

I wanted to go somewhere I had never been and I have never visited the space after liberal free man.  

Categories
Uncategorized

Cloud’s a Monster.

This is a moment in Cloud’s mind.

Day 1.

I find discipline hard. I find it so hard, I refuse to learn how to spell it.

Day 2

I want you to understand me. So I will make myself something you can understand.

Day 2.47

This is spell check, making me more intelligible or at least more grammatically correct. I assume that to be more grammatically correct is to have more structure.

Day 2.9987

I don’t like discipline very much but I am benefitting from it. It is teaching me how to be better.

Day 3

Beauty

Expecting

Teachings

Todays  

Explore

Realties

I am all about better, for myself and for others, so I feel I should have discipline.

Day 4

Discipline

/ˈdɪsɪplɪn/

noun

1.

The practice of training people to obey rules or a code of behaviour, using punishment to correct disobedience.

2.

verb

Train (someone) to obey rules or a code of behaviour, using punishment to correct disobedience.

(Google)

Day 4.8634

They have such a limiting understanding of discipline. They think that it must include punishment. I wonder why it does not simply include…….

Day 4.8639

Training? I wonder what else you train? I wonder how you train, yourself to be free?

Day 5

I wonder if you use (………..) and mix it together with care and reflection, what would happen?

I wonder if they even know about (………..)

That is so strange.

Day 6.540

I feel I am getting better at discipline. Auto correct is presuming that I am trying to spell discipline. Is that me improving or the computer?

Day 7

A monster reflects in space.

I am also allowing myself the space, to be a mixture of things.

So sometimes, it looks like I am not very disciplined but I am very disciplined. Is that contradictory?

Sometimes, I feel like I get lost in time and space because I am so many things.

Then I remember, that I am not opposing things- I am just many things. Moving at different shades and different speeds. 

I am a combination of many things and that is why I am a monster. Some things are good- some things are bad but all of the time, and I mean all of the time, I am trying.

Also I don’t believe in good or bad.

I believe in this and that.

There are many bad things in this world but I feel that, if you can be a combination of things and you let yourself feel without opposition. Without creating a category, you may be contradictory, but it does not mean that you are opposing. I wonder if the swirl imagines it has an opposite?

I am letting myself grow in monstrous ways because I am a monster.

Today.

Thus to be disciplined, is to allow myself to be a beautiful mixture of all the things that I want to be. The reality is as sincere as the dream and thus I allow myself to be what I wish to become as well as what I am now. Without opposition, that may be contradictory but I do not hold the contradiction as opposite.

Opposite

Opposite adjective (DIFFERENT)

  1. Completely different.

(Oxford) 

Tomorrow’s Reality at Dawn .

I don’t think you can discipline people to be better. You can condition them. You can make them assume your world- by teaching them the rules of ‘the world’. You can discipline them into obeying. You can give them definitions and examples that make them follow. But that is boring. It requires no imagination, or a very presuming one.

Too have an assuming imagination must feel like auto correct. A disciplined imagination is strange.

Today

I know their secret.

They don’t know how to be better. They are scared.

Now.

I sound like the ocean hitting the storm on a quiet day on Jupiter and it feels great.

I wonder if this diary entry means anything to anyone but I know it means everything to me.     

Categories
Poetry

Three words

You built a cage,

A safe.

A collection of broken pieces

I desired to seek.

    I treasured,

A pleasure.

That was never intended,

     for thee.

You amused,  

.

A fantasy.  

.

       Seeps into a vivid dream

A sickness,

     only you could remedy.

.

I want to please.

.

    I lay down,

     Take me.

.

    Your love bleeds.

            I hold the hardness like smoke in my lungs.

.

    Your past excrements are secrets,

    Tightly wrapped. 

.

 A dancing hollowness,

 Configures, my wings

     Beyond the cage

I helped you make.

In exhalation

I play,

   With the memory you used to take

.

      Our love,

               the bitter taste of chains and frames

.

No lock,

    No key,

Simply the possibility, you were the one;

  I would need. 

.

How foolish I was to believe,

   You were anything but a hollow beak,

            I had to feed.

Photography by ndidi iroh

Categories
Poetry

A Fruitful Disease

For L.

.

I melt.

Forming,

 A motion that is as fluid as it cellular

Tender in moments of exterior fractures,

Density spirals create collisions till arrival.

.

I abide to a form that hold no disguise

I disintegrate. Inside.

Losing self,

Moulds break.

.

Held to entail my frail wells

I become apt in my softness

I become bold.

As notions dissolve

I unfold,

Dispersing to erupt a ceremonious love

That blooms once I understand the complexity of my youth.

Reality is sincere.

Creating fantasies of cosmic parallelity.

I disperse.

.

A figment of possibility,

Is my sanctity

I change to see

That I am as malleable as my beliefs.

As truthful as what cannot be seen.

.

Peculiar feelings are conceived,

When my form is like the sea.

Changing with every gush, of the breeze,

Every tide, a root within me.

.

What is true?

What exists between the old and the new?

A thread .

A souring kiss grounds me to exist.

.

.

Remembering that like chocolate,

I can be as bitter as I am sweet

This is the memory of what it is to be,

A form like me.