Monday, March 7, 2016

Written For Spoken #4: A Legend of a Smile

I saw her.

On the insides of my eyelids where she resides on her throne of brightness; she’s a sun in a dark room, and i sat there charging in her radiance like a Kryptonian. Every ray, a soft stroke telling me it’s ok to love again. 

Her skin is velvet. Silk strands merged with my fingers. As i held her hand, her gaze tore through my fallen generations and handpicked me to award this smile to. It’s magic, but it’s fire... keeps you warm, especially when you rub your hands over her, or MARSHMELLOWS, You could fry marshmallows on her soul.

Every time i looked at her, my being shook, like opening a new book where the first few lines got you hooked. The silent alarm, telling Neo to wake up. 

The way her face lit up; the sparkle in her eye like a torch on a Tamagochi. Her cheeks running away from each other, kept together by that cute nose, eyes collapsing in an explosion of happiness. 

Was that a giggle or is Olympus falling? Is she a goddess come to grant me a laugh so fluffy I’m gonna die? 

The sound echoes into my eternity and brightens my futures. A beautiful horizon in my soul’s wilderness. A smile unrehearsed and filterless. Bliss, begging for a kiss. A divine sexuality oozing from her lips, so out of reach, it's the recipe of myth. Legend. 
But right in front of me, offering absolution. 

A spectacle shaped and polished by humour and intellect. An open mind as ancient as Egyptian. Queen. Her ancestors are proud. 

This, mixed with the way lights hit her face at these angles. acute. reflections. complexion, golden bronze with chips of chocolate. i say lights because from within i see her glow as well. like..i wonder if i switched these lights off..

it's a galaxy, this smile, and when I wake up, i wanna be an astronaut

~Ziz

Friday, May 16, 2014

Emergency. A series by Cereus

What you are about to see is a series of close up portraits of girls, drawn with the idea of having them emerge or disappear into the page. Some were digitally reworked. The logo sports a butterfly resting on barbed wire which is spun to make an infinity symbol. I know, its all fucked up. Posted under my Artist alias, Cereus. enjoy and follow the link below for more of my work on Behance.

 
"Where do we go from here?" 



 "Somewhat Innocent"



"Immortal"


 
 "Homage"


 
"Kitara"


 
Shani fan art

Thanks for checking thisout. more to come soon.

follow more of my work on Behance at: www.behance.net/Cereus

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Written For Spoken #3: Defeated Victor by Glen



"
'Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat.'
-       ~Sun Tzu

I once knew a woman of admirable values. Her beauty so deep, it resonates from the inside out.  She was beautiful down to her soul, the kind of beauty lasts forever, or so I thought.

You could spot her in a crowd of thousands, for her beauty is unique. But over time she has been swallowed by the crowd and I can barely recognize her. When I see her face now, I see a stranger clad in anger, disguised in sorrow and bitterness and I can’t make out who she is.

She looks at me with anger and regret, her gaze burning straight through me as if she intentionally wants to pierce my soul with her stare of a thousand daggers. I can’t even look in her eyes as the tinted windows of her soul bear no resemblance to the warmth I once knew as my sanctuary.

I remember when things were simple and loving each other was like air, easy in, easy out.

Now we wage a silent war as we collect our arsenal, guns at the ready. I gather my troops, an army of “I wish things were different”.
Her defenses are up, she retaliates with “FUCK YOU I HATE YOU, I WISH WE NEVER DID

For so long I stood firm against her wrath but now I buckle at her hatred as I cower in submission for she has broken down the man I once was. I faced her in countless battles but alas no more. I do not fear her, nor what remains in her rifle of misery and despair.

I will battle no more for I did not seek a beautiful adversary, I sought to find a confidante, a woman, a real woman. A woman who is truthful and honest in her speech. A woman who shares my beliefs, a wise woman, smart, one that gives good advice. Her female intuition should be strong. She must not be ruled by emotion rather by truth.

I thought she was that woman, but instead she became my greatest foe and I bear the scars of unrequited love.

I will battle no more. I will lick my wounds and retreat. We have been counterparts for too long and she knows all my moves. Checkmate.

She used me as a muse to paint a portrait of an AWOL soldier, undeserving of honor, my love, her art of war.

This is not a battle cry, this is not a final “HOORAH” before I gather strength for 1 final round. This is not us, and this is not me.

There are no spoils of war, just the ruins and debris of my heart scattered across the floor.  You have his heart and mine, and none of the pain.

Where there is no struggle, there can never be freedom. It has been a long and arduous road. Nobody said it would be easy and it hasn’t been. I’ll never forgot her, and I don’t want to. She is now no more than a lesson learned. I’m finally free.

Call me."

~Glen

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Written for Spoken #2: See You In Heaven by Raandjua

"Like a rose in full bloom, life's thorns and flowers prickle and pierce the veins to my heart

My tear glands have dried up like a once delicate flower in the Namib Dessert on a cold cold winter night
 

Mya's white pearls intertwined between my fingers remind me of our time together and how we used to make each other smile
 

Summer rain-red robots-screeching tires...the ear-piercing sound of ambulance sirens in the dark of the night, came as if, from the mouth of the angel of death
 

Summer rain-red robots-screeching tires…and just like that, the love of my life was gone
 

Fallen autumn pebbles on the sidewalk awaken visions of blood-drenched leaves
 

Memories of song and dance are ever-present realities, in a reality, devoid of life
 

Those mourning lost loved ones and lost love are the subjects of my envy
Tears run down their cheeks and I reach over to wipe them away, as I pray, that their tears, never run away
 

For once they do, then they too will one day be standing here, before you, enveloped by regret and anguish at the words that remain unsaid
 

Three little words are all it takes.
 

Each word on its own is an empty vessel, but as a trio they have the power to un-break and heal the most broken of hearts and move mountains twice the size of Kilimanjaro.
 

Here I Am.
 

Unmoving, unmoved, numb...as the vowels begin to form on my lips, I welcome the sight of the onrushing bus…as I slowly mouth the words: "I love you"

Like the petals upon a dying rose I know the end is near
 

She may have never received an invite, but she can never accuse me of not having been a gracious host
 

My soul is your home. Your home is my soul.
 

The act of being alive is but a continuation of breaths
 

That which intercepts the breaths is living
 

I do not remember when last a meaningful event intercepted these breaths-DO YOU?
 

Few ever consider it, even less follow through
 

Most look down upon those who do it and never care to just ask "WHY?"
 

Sure, it may not be the perfect solution.
 

But, who cares about perfection?
 

Perfection, is an illusion that will remain unfulfilled many a tomorrow.
 

Fuck perfection.
 

What I need TODAY, what I need NOW, is not the perfect solution.
 

All I need is a means to an end.
 

Here I Stand.
 

Unmoving, unmoved, numb...as the vowels begin to form on my lips I welcome the sight of the onrushing bus and I whisper softly, slowly, quietly: Till We Meet Again, Goodbye"

~Raandjua "Ra"

WTF #6477968: I Can Only Hope



Sitting here.

I am trying my utmost to get my brain to refrain from letting your image infatuate it so. I am monitoring my breathing patterns in hopes that my heart slows down, so that it might forget to beat for you. I am trying to do impossible things to take my life back. I am failing successfully. I will hope that you miss me too though. I hope you miss me with all your senses.

When you go about your day, and happen to come across a photograph, or you read my name somewhere. I can only hope that your eyes lock. I pray that your mind presses play and displays our movie of memories in such high definition; it robs you of your breath. I wish the molecules in your tears would race each other, causing a stampede in your ducts, ready to erupt and soak whatever it is you were looking at.

I can only hope that when you hear a song we both like, your ears fuzz. Shiver even. I so wish your body aches for mine so bad that you would squeeze your pillows so hard, you were eventually hugging yourself. You should let out an involuntary gasp when you hear my name mentioned, and it should echo all day, rhythmically pounding against your eardrums until you feel the need to scream it. Like you screamed it.

Should someone manage to touch you like I touched you or if some other lips have been kissing you where I've kissed, I can only hope that your skin feels the intruder and reports the act of treason. Or your mouth should forget its place and scream my name. Like you screamed it. I pray your torso reenacts the pleasures I made you feel. The laughter in a tickle. The adrenaline in being picked up. My teeth on your neck. My hands on your back. 

Beer, Coffee, Cigarettes and Popcorn. Our favorite things. I can only hope that when taste them now, you become so beside yourself that you would give me skyf or attempt to explain some wild theory, peering at me over the rim a glass four times the size of your hands. I wish that when you realize I’m not there, your eyebrows sink down to your eyes as the kraken inside you is released. You should break stuff. You should love the sound of shattering glass.

I can hope that you get to smell me sometimes. Maybe on that T shirt or that jacket you still have. Or you could go nuts with the tester of the cologne I wore. I can only hope that you would ignore the strange way people stare, when you’re standing there with your wrist stuck to your nose. I can hope that, your fingers tire and cramp up from making fists with my shirt buried in your hands. You would inhale more than you should, just so you can be a little breathless.

Sitting here; this is what I mean when I say I miss you. I can only hope you mean the same when you say it back.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Written for Spoken #1: Things by Cereus



I was going to audition this piece for this April Spoken Word, but since I'm out of town chasing paper, I thought I'd treat y'all regardless. It's called "Things". Enjoy.

"Things I’d have to give up



I’d really just have to sit here.


Honestly, I’d just have to stare out the window, or even at anything in this room. Anything besides my skin. Actually, you have touched basically all of me so even my body leaves my mind wandering endlessly, tirelessly toward the thought of you. With nothing but slideshows of memories we have made together. Memories I’d have to give up for there to be any sort of clean slate on my train of thoughts.


My family would have to go. Which, would be terrible, but if they stick around I’d have to survive many counts of their favorite question. ”How are things with you and what’s-her-name?” 


Off course they know your name, so even now I’m sparing your feelings.


All my bad habits. They were not so bad when we were destroying ourselves together. And you’ve been bugging me to quit smoking weed for the longest time, so if I do quit now, you would still win. You cannot be the reason for anything if I would have to erase you from my mind.


Movies, books, music, art, etc. The way our minds had identical reactions to beautiful pieces of art across countless platforms, always amazed me. Tailor made. One of us the body, the other the suit. One the canvas, the other the paint. God the painter, the singer, the director and the writer. Music especially had an uncanny talent for unlocking chambers that we meant to stay imprisoned forever. But since this parting of ways, that has become my new addiction. I have come to enjoy the ache, blood cells deliberately denying orders from above.  


Days. Nights...


Breathing. I remember how we would lay next each other and sync the rhythmic rise and fall of our chests. How we would hold onto each other by the wrists and “meditate” until our pulses would resonate. Stare down contests and thumb wars. Silly things like career, education, nutrition (food and liquor), sex, cuddling and kissing. Everything would have to go. There is nothing left in this world without your omnificent influence.


The thing is; you let me see beneath your beautiful, only to expose an earthquake which you claim was caused by me allowing you to express yourself. A labyrinth crafted by your amazing train of dirty thoughts which so excellently coincides with mine. And our trains would inevitably crash in the middle. Leaving a crash site so bizarre I am perplexed by the fact that it hasn’t been written of before. For it formed the shape of a heart. Our heart. A heart now broken. “Our egos fed on each other and died over weight.” 


And so. If I really wanted to start over, I’d really just have to sit here. Alone. Outside. On the ground. Dead."

~Cereus


Friday, February 21, 2014

Five

Its not what you think. Its worse.
though, I'm not sure if it still hurts.
I might have moved on to the next verse
or I might still find you in one of four chambers

linger.

But its not what you think. in fact, ignore this.
knowing you, you wont.
you will read, and you will know, and you will ponder,
and you will confront me and you will be pissed.

and i will tell you that its not what you think,
and you will stare with those huge brown buttons
and you believe that i am lying, and the truth?
well, if you can swim, you'll find it at the bottom.

but its dark down there, and i fear for your survival.
you shouldnt have to think this hard.
i will tell you this, i needed to mourn you, needed back
my heart.
seemingly you wouldnt let go, so i took five.

not five hearts, because thats sick, and bordering evil.
not five pills neither. i mean.
so just stop those silly thoughts.
lets just say that it took five of them to intervene.

to even get me out of my room ekse.
and now this void, this, this opague thing between us.

...

what did you think was gonna happen?!

but ja.

as you were.

XD