Bass thumping

Reverberates my heart;

Dancing

In sweat,

Arms raised high.

The crowd surrounds,

Bouncing.

And I see her.

So wild hair,

Sweat covered vest,

Her bouncing breasts.

Beat

Beat

Bounce.

I catch my breath.

She smiles.

Music changes

She changes

And sashays

Closer and closer.

Beat.

Beat.

Bounce.

Next to me

Pressed by the beat

We dance.

Her arms on my shoulders

Easing me closer.

We sway.

We move.

We kiss.

The world changes

Beat.

Beat.

Bounce.

Will it ever be the same again?

I sat down to write this challenge (write something sexy) listening to an old dance compilation album. ( I was a little cheesed off, as I had written something mildly sexy yesterday and posted it, without seeing this challenge.)

I had no idea really, until Phat Planet by Leftfield started playing… It showed me the scene.

Oddly as I got to the part where I say the music changes, my music actually changed to a slower, sexy song… oddly that was also by Leftfield (Original). It’s weird, as I’m not a big Leftfield fan or anything, but these two songs were perfect. If you play Phat Planet as you read this you will see what I saw.

I pinched the final line from “Original”,

1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDkmaNfBOtU

2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SILVQpqmH7U

The land surrounding,

Slightly white and

Deep and crisp,

Uneven.

No more snowdrifts

Changing landscapes

Fewer folk believing.

But somewhere there’s a sparkle, still

In tinsel covered baubles

Children’s eyes

Reflecting joy

In gloves and hats with bobbles.

This Christmas time

Is not the same

As any other past one.

But still, you must enjoy its peace

For it may be your last one.

Unknown is infinitely familiar

Unlimited, in permeating our lives

Shadows cast in the light of the known, overlooked in its omnipresence.

New life, yet to unfold.

Dark death, a story untold.

Unspecified time, between our beginning and end.

Infinite possibilities, of the time we will spend.

Undetermined lives, until we decide our fate.

Undiscovered alternatives, to the reality we create.

Forgotten pasts, of history lost.

Indefinite futures, roads twisted and crossed.

Anonymous gods, who we give a name.

Nameless people, living a fateful game.

Frontiers to discover.

Secrets to uncover.

Foreign to you is familiar to me.

Mysterious minds, colouring what we see.

Unidentified creatures, living outside our sight

Unexplained phenomena that elude the light.

Faceless strangers, writing across time and space.

Alien worlds, in their imaginary place.

Known is an instant of one reality.

Unknown, stretches beyond infinity.

Crisp

Is calmness

In the still evening air.

Frosty mornings

Whitening windscreens

Of freezing cars

And birds and beasts

Scrabbling outback

Grateful for the nuts

Scattered .

And the still evening air

Misting light

From street lamps.

Fallen leaves lie

Before barefaced trees,

Crisp or damp,

Golden brown or mushy black,

As the thin moon sheds watery light

On a pale black sky

Days of weak wispy sunlight

Forcing rays from distant embers

Of a summer sun,

Barely warm

But bright enough to raise a smile,

As the cold gasps in your throat

And condensation follows words from your mouth

Like a trailing puff of smoke

From an old steam train

As winter dawns

With rain, sometimes

And sun as soft as snow

The hats and scarves of children playing

And the sparkling of the stars

In an empty sky

Say peace to all mankind.

And those that miss all this

And destroy the peace

Will never see the light

When summer comes.

Inspiration is something that cuts through your heart. It changes your state of mind, sadness to happiness. You smile just thinking of it. It ignites a spark that:- takes tiredness away, enhances creativity ( Ideas dwell my mind and I write).

For something to inspire me, I need to believe in it. I believe in the innocence of plants and animals.

AN OLD TREE

We had an old tree in front of our house. They called it dead, but, I have had faith that it can grow green anytime soon.

The tree is artistically beautiful, the intricate cut of its branches. Its tiny, dark wooden fingers. It stood there with open arms, like a naked man, giving envy to Michelangelo's David.

Summer afternoons filled its branches with birds, even though there were no leaves on it. It hosts many plants growing at its feet.

People in the neighbourhood wanted it gone. They had many superstitions regarding the presence of a dead object close to them. Some even thought that the tree can fall at any time and damage their car or property.

For decades, it provided shade to birds, cars, people...

But, who cares, now that it seems dead. Ungrateful load on earth.

I fought with them on several occasions. I was reprimanded by my parents for not behaving appropriately. People even said that I had lost my mind.

Whenever I looked at the tree, I felt calm and serene.

What I could see in it, they couldn't see, pure inspiration.

Puddled on my dream’s glass lens

Pools of mystic condensate

Seven suns of witness when 

Time will cease in mankind’s fate:

Sunlight waned to dusk in day

White, waxing moon, shadows’ eclipse

Darkness covered Earth with gray

For every man grew envious

Crowned atop a thrown of azure

Sun’s kingdom spread endlessly 

Cloudless, skies shared not his treasure

For every man was ruled by greed

Lapis lakes of crimson red  

Molten lava cracked Earth’s crust 

Tidal waves, impassioned, bled  

For every man burned in his lust

Eve’ eclipsed in Sun’s embrace 

Burning, boiled the white-hot bath 

Fire covered moonlight’s face 

For every man seethed in his wrath  

Sun grew great; its zenith reached 

As moonlight humbled ocean tides 

Eye’s wide shut; Sun’s hubris peaked

For every man was blind to pride 

Falling on Horizon’s shore 

Moved by nothing, Dawn lay lost

Sun was gone forevermore

For every man did not as sloths 

Onyx seas lacked ocean’s blue

Caught in nets of cumulus 

East to west, no sun in view

For every man drowned, glutinous

****

photo credit: Mike Woodwart

water like a mirror reflects faces of the dead

in the play of light and shade I melt

time has stopped in the flight to eternity

bodies sail in the cycle of birth and death

river accepts everything

it takes the memory of things

in tranquil breath of reality

I float on the other side

I can fly higher and higher

passing the limits

born from a drop of creation

in the last gasp of life I pass

Love is spending five hours messaging somebody who you can't be with

But not thinking any time has passed

And thinking you still have time for a shower and breakfast before you go to that meeting you missed

Three hours ago.

It is being outside of time

Every time you meet

And aching to kiss them without going further.

Unless they want to,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=raNGeq3_DtM

I planted a FOR SALE sign at the back of my throat. But what it really advertises is how the corner of my mouth and my arteries like to give away my secrets for free. It’s like trying to have an estate sale at a free clinic. It’s like I’m selling an unwanted teen-pregnancy disguised as a love letter with no postage. Like the word rape disguised as the condom failing. Hunger pangs dressed up in “I just ate”. An addict addicted to addicts claiming they just enjoy the coffee at the meetings. My tongue is a trick and a rat. Snitches get stitches. But fuck sewing her shut. Waste of thread. I’ll let her bleed out. Bite down to silence the screams. Maybe next time I won’t have to gag her.

Do I believe in Karma?

Short answer: No

Or, at least, I don’t believe in following it as a guiding principle for morality.

Like every religious concept, I respect it and will not presume to know with any certainty if it is real or not.

But if one uses it as a guiding principle for life, it can lead to dark places.

It can justify inaction: I don’t need to do anything, karma will even it all out in the end.

Or lack of sympathy: If something terrible happened to that person, group or race, they must have done something in the past to deserve it.

Imagine this response to slavery: (indifferent shrug), “Karma’s a bitch.”

The concept of karma has the potential for the same pitfalls as the belief in divine intervention and justice in the Abrahamic religions: Indifference and apathy.

There is too much potential for misinterpretation and usurping of religious concepts for me to follow any one of them as guiding principles for life.