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This is a poem I wrote with Canadian poet Nelli Agbulos over the course of several Twitter posts. A reading of the poem can be found at the following link:

Striped socks my feet wish I was wearing – it’s cold.
Tight stretch jeans, blue in colour, match my frozen thighs;
how can it be winter in the summer?
Uncertain as always, weather is strange and I shiver as my jacket cuddles me.
His scarf (borrowed, not to be returned) tickles my chin and I cough. Throat hurts, and all I want is wonton soup.
A shiver travels along my spine. Not from the cold, but from his scent. Oh, how I remember thee on cold nights.
Lemon tea, temporarily, cures my discomfort. Wild waters before me swish and swoosh.
My head feels groggy and dizziness becomes me. I am tired and sleep beckons me to dream away my symptoms.

The moon is a lone pearl in the sky.
I wake. I sleep. I wake again. I count not sheep, but stars as they glitter in the skies outside my window.
Mama used to say, “The stars shine as a reminder from loved ones that they are with us,”
and father used to say “the stars are the eyes of God, who is everywhere at once and never will He abandon us.”
But what omnipresent being lets his children go to war with each other?
Ironically, the same all powerful being who allows us the opportunity to live life and love one another.
I wonder if the sky is His blanket,
the moon His pillow, and the sun His mattress.
More than a million night lights surround Him,
as they do you, me and everyone else. For we are His masterpiece, and this world is our majesty.

I miss my lemon tea, but then I realize the cup is empty.
I fill it up half way and contemplate how, like the cup, my life is never entirely fulfilled.
The parking light’s glow reflects the moon, and I think about heading home, my feet are cold.
But then I stop, and I think; your house isn’t too far from here – and I sure could use the company.
Hitch-hiking it is then, four miles onward.
The distance is much and the road is untraveled but I will be happy to cross it.
TONIGHT’S GOAL(S): Into your arms, scent-engulfed, and a night of sweet dreams. Cookies – a wonderful welcome!
(BTW Will only accept chocolate chip) But what of the sleeping arrangements? There’s only one bed & an aging sofa?
The floor shall be our humble abode – fort making and storytelling will keep us awake
for hours on end; this is what dreams are made of & once complete, we shall compete to see whose fort is stronger.
I’ll tempt you with smores then knock your fort over!
I play for keeps; I play to win and now I shall claim my prize!

The crumbs from our smores are edible fairy dust.
We devour them and lick our chops with dreams gliding idly through the air.
Candlelight’s soft glow creates shadows on the wall
and we watch as those shadows do battle to see who will command our attention, but they needn’t bother.
Tell me a bedtime story, please,
and so you do. Your words are so sweet and they glide me to sleep and I lay my head back in your arms.

Hope you enjoyed the read guys! On a side note, I am always happy to collaborate with other poets out there, so if you’re interested, give me a shout in the comments section. Wishing you a great day!

I Feel A Little Cold

Groaning, wailing, crying;
clouds are cringing
as the cold air blows through.
I dare not say a word
as the wind, like icicles,
stabs me again and again,
my body incidentally
shielding yours from the
ominous weather patterns
planning to deface me.
Ironically, I am there not by
choice, despite my feelings
as I adjust my mask. My
mask is the birthday suit
I was born with, but it hides
perfectly the emotions
threatening to be revealed in
the semi-tornado wind.
‘Fancy that’ you say, ‘a
tornado in Melbourne’ and I
subtly nod my head, hopeful
that this distraction will keep
you from noticing the truth.
The truth that we would be
better as lovers than as the
masquerade I have
orchestrated due to my
intense fear of committal.
But as the wind blows
and your hair billows in
the gusting breeze, it ain’t
just my mask that is being
beaten away, but my fears
and anxieties too. In that
one moment I put my arm
around you, protecting you
deliberately this time from
the freezing cold. Perhaps this
will prove to you my feelings,
without my need to verbally
convey the truth. If not,
the kiss I place on your lips
will certainly do the
talking for me. So here’s me
thanking God for bad weather,
for it brings people together
and makes love so much
easier to convey.

Unlike Alice

I am not known for being quite garrulous, nor am I known for being shy,
for my soul is a puzzle that fits comfortably inside of I.
Is there a question you want to ask me? Is there an answer to a question you want to know?
I’ve many a question for you my dear, and without further ado I shall ask away. So,
I ask thee; is there an honourable reason; is there a specific plan in place
by God, or someone else, as to why I find myself looking at your beautiful face?
Destiny is underwhelming and overrated and fate never once comes true,
at least that is what I thought once upon a time, until the day I first found you.
I can’t acknowledge the moment, but I remember you were beautiful, for you have remained the same;
you have the beauty of a princess, and like all the angels in Heaven, you have an amazing name.
I constantly think about the day we met with an endless sense of wonder,
and when I do so the Heavens open up in a breath of heavy thunder,
lightning and rain, then the gorgeous sun comes out, bigger than ever before, and dries it all
away. Afterwards, the ground violently shakes, and without warning I begin to fall
through the cracks, and as I go falling towards the world below, I look to where I came from above,
and as sudden as I fell, I am saved – for I’m in the embrace of my one and only true love.


I have been waiting all my life to find you, and I could wait until the end of time
before both judge and jury send me to be executed for my heinous crime
of loving thee. Before we met, I had given up on relationships, I had given up on love,
I was better off alone. I had given up on friendship and on my God in paradise above;
former girlfriends did not wish me to be their paramour, nor could they ever care.
All my friends betrayed me, and as for God, He couldn’t answer any of my prayers,
but from the moment you looked into my eyes I simply knew,
I had found the love of my life, finally, I had found you.
Every fantasy and wish of mine was yours to grant at your command,
and you gave me everything I dreamt of, you gladly gave me your hand
to forever hold. Whenever I’m around you, my heart beats faster and a shudder runs up my spine,
and I know that I am eternally yours, the way our destiny would have it, just as you are mine,
and we shall traverse the great wide world; we shall find our fantastical dreams; we shall live our lives together.
Our bond is not just physical; it doesn’t matter if we’re apart, cuz my feelings shall last forever.
It don’t matter if or how you leave, I’ll wait for you; by the road; by the airport; by the docks,
cuz you are the only one I will ever truly love, you are my one and only XBOX.

Always and Forever

Beginning Notes:
There are many poems written every day. This particular poem is about many different themes; this particular poem is about pain; sadness; loss; heartbreak; sorrow; the exploration of life; the human spirit; the strength of the human heart. But most of all, this is a poem about love; more importantly; falling in, being in and enjoying love. This poem is dedicated to and is about a woman, but not just any woman; this poem is about a woman that no man could ever possibly forget. Not always will this poem make sense, and at times it may even be contradictory, repetitious and obtuse, but always, always, will it be forever true. The human heart is an ocean of many, many different stories, and I would like to share with you, dear reader, one now. I do hope you enjoy this romantic tale as you ride upon the waves of this verse.

The Poem:
I just managed, I believe from a miracle, to successfully take back my health.
I’m so happy, I’m so heartfelt, I’m so hung over – I really just can’t help myself;
I need to confess something that has been weighing on my mind, there’s something I need to tell
someone, and it goes something like this; I could kiss you for hours on end when the rain fell,
I could hug you in the middle of a storm; I could keep you warm in the dark of the night,
I could look upon your beauty for centuries, I could stroke your skin come morning light.
I could take a photo of your flawlessness and hold onto it forever,
I could fight for you and die for you if it meant we could just be together;
I could serenade you with empowered words of love by day and cook you dinner when the moon arises.
I could grace you with everything, and even after a hundred years still astonish you with surprises.
I could board an aeroplane today and be with you tomorrow just to give you a kiss,
and confess, that never have I tasted anything as sweet as your crimson lips, young Miss.

You know that feeling – when you have lost love, and then you find it again in the heart of another oh so rapidly?
That feeling – that intense, obnoxious, amazingly fantastical, intense feeling is what has overpowered me.
I was lying down in the centre of the empty suburban street one night – love had officially hung up on me,
when I suddenly received a call – and upon answering, guess who spoke – a woman of unbelievable beauty!
She was older than I, and with the exception of two amazing times I had never fallen for an older person,
but I tell you, struck down, by lighting I was, for I could not, and still cannot, quit thinking about this beautiful woman.
Maybe I ain’t as strong as I would hope, after all, I ain’t built from metal and other strong stuff.
I try to get close to you, young lady, but every time I do so it ain’t nearly close enough,
for I cannot let you go. I look up at the clear dark night, and I can see the moon,
and I know you can see her too, and I hope the two of us can be together soon
for when either of us look up at the great sky from where we are, whether it be day or night it is always the same. If that’s the case, then we both must be on the planet Earth,
and so it would be just so easy, wouldn’t it, for us to meet somewhere? You can set the location, I really don’t care where; be it Washington, London, Tokyo or Perth.

In the end, unlovable is but one word that can describe a fallen soul,
and it is a word that can describe me for instead of a heart, I’ve a hole,
for pain is the unrelenting punishment that is forced upon me as a result of being alive,
and I have come to realise that sooner or later the pain will win out and I will not survive.
Perhaps that’s for the better. Maybe when I’m dead and gone nobody will grieve, and nobody will cry,
and maybe there will be many a happy person on the planet Earth on the day that I do die.
Perhaps every acquaintance I’ve ever met will feel a sense of joy running up and down their spine
which will alert them to the arguably obvious fact that the death they felt was indeed mine.
In the eyes of some certain people I may be a hideous, unpopular, unlovable creature,
and perhaps if I be honest I may say that I might not be blessed with a single attractive feature,
and like I said before, maybe death be good, for there is honestly without a knowable doubt nothing left,
for my heart is broken and barely operating and I remain barely human and utterly bereft.

As a man myself, I can speak from experience; once you fall out of love, you always set your sights on the one woman you cannot acquire.
In your eyes, I want to be seen as a man with an actual heartbeat and a possibility for romance rather than a feared pariah.
I am not asking you to fall in love with me at first sight, but I am asking for a single chance;
not to experience a fairytale, but to have a stereotypical legitimate romance
which is quintessential to the soul. Human beings in general are social creatures, I know this for a fact,
which is why, even after so much pain and bludgeoning, my heart and soul have remained totally intact
as to have a relationship once more. Perhaps this time it will be forever, perhaps this time it will be with you,
and I hope that in the very near and hopefully possible future you might be able to feel the same way too,
for I have been in love before, and I am aware of this just as I am aware of my constant heartbeat,
and whenever I see you I have this powerful feeling which begins in my chest before it consumes me from my head to my feet.
I can understand if this sounds absurd, but I have no intention of ever hiding the truth in regards to love, and my feelings I will not deny,
and to be with you, I will do anything that you ask; I will plead; I will beg; I will write; I will draw; I will with pleasure live; and I will gladly die.

It all began with a blog on the social media platform known only as WordPress.
Never in all my years did I believe the content that I had developed could impress
the eyes of a beautiful woman to come looking over all that I had done,
and in that specific moment my heart, you, young lady, had officially won
and so, in regards to your own meticulous work, I became a loyal, unflinching follower,
one of oh so many it would seem. It was not long after I was transformed into a lover
of your face; of your smooth features; of your sacred flesh. My eyes, they lit up like a great menagerie of fire-
flies transcending across the sky in the darkness of the night as I looked upon the woman I now desire
with an untold passion that burns more brightly than the sun, creeping across the horizon in the wee hours of the morning,
and just like that, my heart cried out for something impossible; it cried out for something more as a new love affair was dawning
upon the path that is my life. I knew then just as I know now that these feelings are never going to leave.
I assure you, you can trust me and my many words; all you need do is look into my eyes and believe.

Love is love I say, and so do many others, and love is but hard to find;
love is the one thing that is always without question on my heart, soul and mind
when I think of you. What name could have hath been given to a woman of such brilliance, a woman who in a million years I could not forget?
What emotions could be conjured by the heart of a romantic? However we are just friends for the moment, I swear, nothing has happened yet.
Love is always and forever the one intended endeavour, it is the only necessary task
to gain, and when someone finally discovers their one and only, people poke them with questions and ask
‘are you having fun yet?’ and the answer always is ‘yeah, yeah’.
People always warn me about love, they say ‘buyer beware’,
but I can take care of myself, really, I can take care of my own,
is it too much to ask for some love, I am tired of being all alone
and I would do absolutely anything to succeed in this fruitful desire
and prove how I’m capable of being your man, of being your merciful messiah.

Cupid visited me in my dreams last night; she didn’t look the way I had thought
she might as she instructed me that there was something that I absolutely ought
to do with my life, which included; settling down, finding a good job and acquiring a partner;
a girlfriend, an individual who was more than excellent to be my one significant other.
When I awoke this morning I could not possibly fathom if the plan had been set in motion,
all I knew was that if my heart was anything it was a terrifically wide, deep blue ocean
that is willing and able to belong to something good, like a passionate relationship, someone new,
like a young woman beyond anything upon this planet we call Earth, and I know that woman is you.
I realise I have not done what was supposed to be initially orchestrated,
for it is something different entirely that I have undoubtedly promulgated,
for Cupid had intended for me to have a grand relationship with an Australian,
and instead I wish to have be romantically involved with a certain Arizonian.

There was a time when angels would walketh the Earth, and still they do as depicted by the image of this gorgeous American
from Phoenix Arizona, who has undeniably captured the loving heart, mind and eyes of this Australian citizen,
for my soul will be but forever forfeit if my soul will be not always yours,
and I would do anything to hold you, to kiss you and to do other things and more,
for the word ‘gorgeous’ is but a word, and it barely scratches the surface of your physicality,
and I don’t think a word hath been invented to articulate what you will forever mean to me.
There was a time once when I was unsure what you were to me, but no longer do I have to make my heart choose,
for I want you in my heart,  there’s nothing left to say, for I could never just have you as a plausible muse.
To hide this huge secret of mine, I could provide to you a suitable pseudonym rather than to call you by your actual name,
for such does not matter to me because regardless of your identity, masquerade or not, I would personally still feel the same.
I am at a crossroads; I hope my words don’t seem too expensive ma’am, and I hope they don’t sound too cheap,
because your intricately stunning and elegant beauty, it runs so intoxicatingly deep.

My heart is a dictionary on everything in regards to passion,
for my heart is as wide and free as the never ending, open ocean,
and I can promise there is nothing I am not aware of, there is not a thing that I do lack,
and all you need to do is say the word and I’ll gladly follow you, my darling, to Hell and back,
cuz you are an exotic paradise I have never had the opportunity to explore,
and the loving dream I had last night of being with you, I long to have right down to the very core
of my beating heart. Within the dream last night, I was lost within one helluva escapade;
I had in the process of seeing you lost both my mind and my head from where they had once laid
atop my neck. Upon waking I was happy; I wanted to return, and I’ll say again, I will follow you to the ends of this Earth,
because of everything that I have ever seen and have experienced, of everything that I am aware of, you are undeniably worth
it. All that is required from you, my dear, is that you call my name, and upon doing so, I’ll gladly be there,
be it any place on the atlas, any time of the year, or absolutely, unequivocally anywhere.

I have known you for only a couple months, but a couple months are all I will ever need
to quench my undeniable thirst for loving romance, to bring a stopper to all my greed
for a heart to be connected romantically only to mine for the rest of time,
and to enjoy the kind of love found in a fairytale or in a nursery rhyme.
I could follow you without question to the ends of this Earth
for your words, like treasure, have an unquantifiable worth,
and your photos that you choose to share and upload to your blog frequently make me smile.
If I had the digits for the All Night Radio Love Line their number I would dial
and I’d ask them to play the song ‘I knew I loved you’ by Savage Garden
for you to hear, cuz my beating heart you have without permission taken,
for I was powerless against you with your words of wisdom and your looks of beauty.
Miss; would you ever consider going out on a date with a guy the likes of me?

I listen to the living world around me; to its traffic; to its cities; to its nature; to its ambience,
as I gaze into the affectionately passionate eyes of unequivocal, virginal innocence
that can be described as a sweetness of extraordinary prowess that cannot be tamed,
which belongs to the truest of all true beauties, that cannot ever on paper be named.
If I had a flower for every time I had thought of you, then I do suppose all the flower’s in the world I would need to pluck,
and if you blow a man a kiss from your crimson lips,  I hope only for his sake, he’d better know to immediately duck,
because if your looks can captivate anyone, then imagine what just one kiss could do,
for there is nobody else in this world who I know to be quite as ravishing as you,
for I have seen your life written in photos, drawings and literature within the pages of your great blog,
and it always breaks through the walls around my heart, the brain barriers and the many immense layers of fog
that exists within my mind. Your words are always warm and inviting, and your photo’s are exceptionally great,
and I don’t know if I ever did believe in angels in Heaven, but after looking upon your face, I certainly without a doubt believe in fate.

I have never met you, and I probably never will,
but even with this said, my feelings, they grow stronger still.
I’d ask if we might have dinner, if it wasn’t an issue,
see, the one thing in all the world I want, is spelt ‘y’, ‘o’, ‘u’;
but dinner is not ever going to be option for there’s an ocean in the way,
we won’t be having dinner tomorrow, we won’t be having dinner any other day.
I’ll admit, perhaps I’m totally crazy, I realise that I’m a fool,
for I know I’m probably not that popular and I know I ain’t that cool,
but even with these many words writ and read, I want with you something special; an unbelievably amazing romance
that could sweep you off your feet, and I’d say ‘screw it’ to anything that stood in my way for I’d give everything for a chance
to kiss your oh so unfathomably gorgeous crimson lips on a starry moonlit night;
I know I’m not awesome, but perhaps I can prove that I’m the one; that I’m your Mr. Right.

 ‘Kiss me darling’ I would say to you, ‘touch me’, ‘let me know I’m real;
you are all I truly want, and all that I long to do is feel
your beating heart’, for you are all I ever seem to care
about, and to have you, I call upon the winged prayer
of a Heavenly angel, and I call on Jesus Christ himself
to give unto me the power and to provide to me the wealth
to offer you a marvellous life filled with all you will ever truly need,
and to have you, I’ll face off with the volcano’s edge and I will burn and bleed,
for I must admit, I am through with this façade, this fabrication if you will, and no false truth will ever make do,
than to have the single most gorgeous woman on all the Earth in my arms today, to forever and always have you,
because I do not dare wish to be relegated to a forgotten bitter memory in your eventual past or visualised as just another Facebook friend,
but at the same time I am morbidly terrified that by making any sudden moves, whatever I already have with you may come to an unforeseeable end.

Have I spoken out of just term? Have I been impolite and said too much?
Sometimes I can be like that, being a soporific romantic and such,
but do not ever think my words aren’t real, don’t ever think they are not true;
do not think for but one second that I do not have strong feelings for you.
For I write this piece filled with many rhymes and stanzas for you and only you,
and perhaps I should not confess to this, but I haven’t said all that I want to,
for there’s unfortunately still much weighing upon my heart and still there’s much weighing on my chest;
I must say all that needs to be said, else I promise I will never again be able to rest,
and although there’s but a couple sentences left, due to their content, I wish to say them to you in person.
I wish that the opportunity I seek indeed had the possibility of coming to fruition,
for certain words are better spoken rather than scrawled across the page from several hundred miles away;
and what I wish to express begins and ends with this promise my lady, ‘I will love you every day.’

I feel you are level headed, or is that fear that I be feeling whenever I passionately think of such rare beauty,
who I fear may take one look at the stanzas past and present and may begin to loathe, and perhaps even be frightened of me.
On that note, just remember, I’m a Scorpio, and like any good scorpion I might be aggressive but I will love you forever;
we don’t have to passionately kiss; we don’t have to lovingly hug; we don’t have to romantically touch; we don’t have to be together
because my feelings will never change. I remember everyone I have loved, and I still love them with all my heart and my soul,
and you, young lady, needn’t ever be jealous or scared, because you are the one piece that I require to be heart and whole,
for I really truly love you, more than you could ever fathom, believe or even know;
my only wish is that there was a way to let my uncontrollably strong feelings show.
I do not mean on a piece of paper, or over the internet; I am way past that;
I want to stand beside you and temporarily remove from you your broad brimmed straw hat,
so I could have direct access to your face, and touch your skin with my fingertips,
and just when I believe things couldn’t be any better I’d gently kiss your lips.

If I were to suddenly find myself at the end of my life’s journey on the hour of my death,
the last words I want to say that linger upon my rich, rose coloured lips as I take my last breath
would be your name, before you bestow upon me with your crimson lips an amazing kiss of life,
that immediately removes from me and my existence inevitable impending strife
as to allow me the gift of living just a little longer to look upon your beauty some more.
I can assure you, although I don’t know how, you are the love of my life that I have been searching for,
but for now, I will hide my feelings where they cannot be seen or found, and I will simply pretend,
that I am not infatuated with you, no, I’ll make myself look like another blogger friend
until the day I am given the opportunity to tear down this unshakable masquerade,
and in my heart on this blessed occasion will be held a terrifically romanticised parade
unlike any other, that will put every romanticised event of the heart held before it to immeasurable shame.
I only wish, that if this were a love story, as I wish it were, that at the end, like a fairytale, your gorgeous heart I could claim.

You, my lady, are like gravity; you are like the wind; you are like the air
I breathe. I can never see you, but I know deep down that you are always there,
and if you were to concentrate, you would feel me too; that gentle warmth running across your shoulder –
that is me holding onto you, soothing you, pleasuring you, as the nights grow a little colder, 
for you look upon the same moon as I, and your face is illuminated by the exact same sun,
and just like I know that these words I write are one hundred percent whole and true, I know you are the one
for me. But perhaps you have been hurt, and if such be true, I do apologise, but what you hypothetically had with a last partner was not love,
so I beg of you, blame it only on the man who was a fool to ever harm such fair beauty, but blame it not on the Heavens in the sky above
for the horrific pain that your little heart should not have had, but was forced to endure
every waking minute, for true love is all you’ll ever need-true love’s the only cure
to your pain. Now, I realise I don’t know you as well as I should – in fact I probably don’t know much at all really, but I do know one thing to be true;
young lady, I really, truly, undoubtedly, unfathomably, passionately have the strongest of all strong feelings for your heart, because ma’am, I love you.

I cannot imagine that you were ever born on Earth, so I guess you must be a member of fairer Heaven,
for I am but a shipwreck stranded at sea, and you are my lighthouse guiding me home; my precious blonde haired beacon.
I fear I have been without a certain someone, a certain paramour, for far too long now, and in doing so perhaps my words are sounding desperate,
and this in turn may be why I have decidedly fallen for the woman whose beauty is so astronomical that she deserves the certificate
for been the most beautiful woman in all the known universe, and on the night that you do win, so would be a time for the most expensive wine
to be drunk in cause of this epic celebration, for never was there a woman so elegant, so luscious, so amazing or so divine.
I wish that I, like Peter Pan could fly up towards the Heavens, and that you young lady, could be my Wendy, or perhaps a Tinkerbell,
for never would there be a better story than the one about how I feel for you, never would there be a story I would want to tell
more so than this, for I cannot help but want you, even if I initially only wished to have myself a gorgeous muse,
because out of the three billion something women in all the world around us, you are the one I would always happily choose
to be forever mine. My only wish is that you quit writing; no more journaling; no more poetry; no more prose,
for you writing is so seductive; second thoughts, please keep writing, for I could not live without your words I do suppose.

I wonder if there could ever be a time when you could look back and remember who I was.
Maybe I would have meant something to you deep inside, maybe not too. I only ask because
you’re gorgeous, you really are; never in all my years have I had the pleasure of having a fairer face reflected in  my hazel pupils,
and when I think of you my heart beats faster, I find it hard to breathe, and certain parts of my body become harder, including my nipples.
Moreover I do believe I know the identities of a couple other men who have fallen in love with you;
there is a boy in a hat, a man whose name starts with a ‘D’ and a few others who have remained anonymous too.
Now, hypothetically, if you were to choose to have a romance fuelled relationship with one of us (I know you won’t, but sill, if you were)
please, I implore you to take my advice when I say; choose any man that you wish, for that is your prerogative, just don’t choose this young sir.
I do not say such words with confidence, nor do I say them with ease, but with a heartbreakingly weak sigh,
for I believe these men could offer you more, and maybe have more love in their hearts, and with that thought, goodbye.
If there’s one thing I want you to realise, it’s that I love you, this I need you to know,
because it is said by many a man that when you love someone you have to let them go.

I wonder if the someone I am writing about here is reading these words right now.
My powers of prediction are less than adequate, but I wish this were true somehow.
‘Neither of us have met’ you might state, before asking ‘how can you fall for someone who lives on the other side of the world?’
and I would graciously reply in response ‘you are intelligent, you are so gifted, you are cute and you are a girl;
that’s all I’m looking for, that I’m certain of, that’s what I know,
so, please don’t leave me be, please, young lady, do not let me go.’
I wish there was zero chance of you leaving me behind and quite the opposite of you staying where you are, but I know that’s just reckless, blind, hope,
masquerading as the impeccable ability that which I have ignorantly and egotistically created that can help me cope.
I agree; my feelings may be a lot of things – delusional, deranged, insane perhaps – but they need no explanation,
for in all the world; in all its beauty; in all its contents; in all its uniqueness, you are my wanted destination,
for I feel that I need you the way I need to breathe; the way I need to drink; the way I need to eat and I am certain that all of you reading this can relate when I admit how I have a constant dire need for oxygen,
just as I have a dire need for you. As for your identity, here’s a clue; your name begins with the third letter of the alphabet, or perhaps the tenth; other than that, I ain’t admitting to anything without a reason.

You can’t make someone love you; it’s an unfortunate fact I’ve found, but someone can make you love them with but a twitch of their eye,
or perhaps a smile, a light hearted giggle or an intelligent quote, and then you know without them, your heart and soul will die.
Upon finding you, I will love to run my hand through your exotic hair and stare into your utterly ravishing blue eyes,
that are as clear, flawless and amazing as the Heavens that hang above me, and the never ending cloud free cerulean skies
and even though the truth might always times infinity be that we are a couple hundred thousand miles apart,
the distance, it don’t really matter, for there is nothing ever between us because you are always in my heart.
I’d run a thousand miles just to hear you say my real name, for you know I’m not a ‘Derek’, no, I’m a ‘Nicholas’,
and even though my words may seem oddly strange, I can forever assure you that my feeling’s ain’t ridiculous.
Now, I know I’m not the only man who feels such feelings; there are many men who crave you, and they number in the millions,
and every single one of them is vying for your gorgeous beating heart, your flawless love and your undying affection.
However, I will want them to know, that I am a ravenous wolf, hungry for passionate love, and without you my dear, I will eventually starve,
and I am so greedy and conniving that I do not wish to share you;  I want you alive and whole and I irrefutably refuse to go halves.

Many a man on this Earth will dream of something, and my dream is to be with you. I will be but yours, all you hath do is say the word and you can have your way with me and do with me what you will.
Like a plastic figurine, you can contort my frame into a menagerie of odd shapes; you can twist and turn me in and out, and if it shall be your command you could harm, injure or even kill
me, for as long as I am with you, any moment will be but beautiful, for we both shall be side by side,
and nothing could make me feel more alive; nothing could be more magical; nothing could provide me with such pride
and happiness as I am girt by your love, and you with mine forevermore in a moment truly more marvellous than anything imagined
by anyone with a creative heart, soul and mind, because I do not believe such would  be pure happenstance; I believe we are but destined
to be together. However, proven am I, a romantic already, and I fear my heart be but contaminated with such failed logic,
but even with such written words placed upon this blank page, I know deep within myself that to be with you tonight would absolutely do the trick.
But could you ever truly lower yourself to be with someone of lower standing, aptitude and grace,
who would gladly come after you with all that he has, but if the tables were reversed, you would not give chase,
because you are you and I am me and I tremble with real fear at the general idea that the angel Cupid did not want for me to feel emotions that were ever quite so powerful, quite so delusional, or quite so wild,
but just know – if you ever want to love a man who you can rely upon to never fall out of love with you (unless Tara Mokhtari falls for me which is highly unlikely), just call the name of this lover, just call for Derek Childs.

Ma’am, I am no Roman Payne; I ain’t no Brad Pitt, and I am no Ryan Gosling,
and by the conclusion of this day, I will not be the man you shall be kissing.
Like all the other many men infatuated with you, we be but early foot soldiers in the war for your love,
for never was there a more beautiful woman in all existence than the one who hath fallen from Heaven above.
Like a falling star, you bring about many a positive feeling, a sense of hope and longing and all round good fortune,
and I take my one and only opportune chance to make the wish I dream to be mine beneath the light of the crescent moon,
in the hope that one day perhaps I could be an object of desire, longing and affection in your handsome heart,
and if good luck be bestowed upon me, forever shall a love affair be kindled and never shall we be apart,
because I do  believe that a dream depicting you would be beyond delightful, but a life with you would be oh so much better,
because I cannot imagine anything more fascinating than spending time with the young woman I want to be with forever,
because you truly are, as far as I can honestly tell, without a single flaw you inhuman Godlike seductress. I do not just think such thoughts, I know them for a fact, because you are physically, mentally and spiritually beautiful, and have a beautiful soul and smile as well, and I find myself wondering, would you too be a beautiful kisser?
I would very much appreciate the opportunity to taste the flavour of your kiss and discover the truth of this for myself, but I definitely doubt that anyone as amazing as you could be anything but fabulous in this regard, for there has not ever been a woman who captivated me so the likes of Lady Ginger.

I may have to warn you now before you acquire the wrong impression, I have always been attracted to women who were a little older,
and the intense feelings I have for you dear heart linger on inside me like an immovable object; an incredibly ignoramus boulder,
for you have captured my love heart effortlessly and now with all your talent, you perform like an eccentric ballerina upon its centre stage,
and at day’s end I’m certain of love and I realise I don’t care about the differences, just as I know it would be impolite to ask your age,
just like it would be deviously nefarious of I to ask about your religion; your culture; your background,
besides, none of this affects nor concerns me because true love and beauty I have inevitably, finally found,
but in any case, I do not give a darn about the multitude of differences that separate us so, and all I really care
about is you, always and forever unto the end of time, I will love thee; the woman with the radiance of a solar flare
and I need not stress again how deeply I feel for you, cuz I’ve stressed it numerously over the course of this truthfully honest piece.
I probably have no need articulating your beauty as I already have and my feelings are obviously not going to cease,
and now, I add, this mild mannered man, this dubious author, this aspiring poet, will ask that you please,
consider granting me the chance, and allow me to be your lover, your fighter, your heart’s romantic disease.

I swear to you, I will not ever go quietly into that good night
and I will not ever give up without putting up a tremendous fight
until I have confessed to you all that is weighing so heavily upon my body, heart and mind,
regardless of whether you feel my words are redundant for within them the truth you shall always find.
However, I will admit to you now, I don’t know how to articulate my feelings, I don’t know what to say,
all I know is that you are beautiful; you are incredibly sweet; you are attractive with a capital ‘A’
and a gargantuan explanation point at the end, and I know that what I am feeling is love, I am absolutely sure,
and I am unequivocally certain that in all the world, no one else could ever have such strong feelings or ever love you more,
even though you speak of already being in love. If this be true, then my heart is weighed with much sorrow as I confess that your lover, he is a very lucky guy,
and I hope he realises this, for many a man would agree that it would be so easy to make the decision to do anything, even if that meant to die
to be where he’s standing now – with you; the single most gorgeous woman in all the world, both physically, spiritually and every other way imaginable. I do not say these words lightly; I speak only from the heart and my heart does not dare develop wild illusions nor ever communicate with a forked tongue.
Even if you do not accept me, and I am certain that you won’t and I understand why, I will have you know; a millennia from now someone may read this verse, and in these words they will read of you; your beauty; your intellect; your graciousness; your skills; for in this verse you are, forever and always alive – and young.

End Notes:
The conclusion; the epilogue if you will; the final piece of the puzzle must always be as elegant as the story that came before it as to allow the reader to feel complete. I haven’t the words to succeed in this endeavour, so allow me to simply write; if you have a certain someone that does not know how you feel for them – be sure to tell them you are in love tonight.
Thank you for reading these words dear reader.

Zen and Peace

SYNOPSIS: A poem about the hope for peace and Zen in a world that has been fractured overtime due to excessive hate and violence. Some of the themes raised in this piece may be controversial to some readers.

Take me to the place where the great golden sun never sets,
where the evil men do to each other we can forget.
Take me to the place where glitter always hangs in the air,
where those who are capable of emotion always care.
Take me to the place where roses are always red; where flower’s always bloom;
where same sex has been legalised, and a man can marry his fellow groom.
Take me to the place where religion is not mandatory,
where people, rather than their Gods, receive all of the glory.

From the evils of the world, I wish to have immunity
and to see the world for what it is; a place of rare beauty,
for I wish to live in a world of love, rather than a world filled with hate;
it is the other side of the coin I know, but why must it be our fate?
I petition that we bring an end to all of the world’s evil,
and that we open our hearts to God, rather than to the Devil,
and that finally each of us can experience Heaven on Earth,
which is what all of us have been seeking from the moment of our birth.

Take me to the place where God does not forgive the sins of evil men,
where people may love whomever they choose and ladies can love women.
Take me to the place where angels do not sit back and watch countries burn,
where teachers truly teach and captivate, and young students truly learn.
Take me to the place where the injured do not feel pain,
where those who are dead or dying never die in vain.
Take me to the place where the grass is never greener, it’s the same on either side,
where respect is mutually accepted and people are not overcome by pride.

Please, do not frown upon my ambitious peace loving dreams,
I beg of you, do not frown upon these words that I scream;
at the top of my lungs I cry out through all the years
and those who support me, do so with relentless cheers,
for those who follow my path to peace believe me to be in the right,
I have fortunately stumbled blindly into the adoring light
and now the dark can no longer have a hold over me
for I have discovered the road to true peace, finally.

Take me to the place where those suffering from hunger never starve,
where all the goods and necessities are divided into halves.
Take me to the place where people are fuelled not by rage but honor,
where everyone has a friend beside them and is not a loner.
Take me to the place where everyone is free to voice their opinion,
where there is always an answer given to every single question.
Take me to the place where marriage is built up on sacred vowels,
where people are but people rather than animals run fowl.

‘You are either with me, or you are against me,
you’re either on my side, or you’re my enemy’;
I was once taught this. I don’t know if I believed it, I don’t know if I still do;
I don’t know who taught it to me, or if I ever felt such a thing to be true,
but why does everything have to be so black and white?
It feels so wrong, when it is supposed to feel so right
but that is just the price, of not seeing things in shades of grey;
inevitably you live in the darkest of all the days.

Take me to the place which is a better, more beautiful world,
where there are equal rights for everyone, not just guys, but girls.
Take me to the place where governments act out of love for their followers,
where there is no need for war; no need for violence; no need for warriors.
Take me to the place where everyone can finally feel accepted,
where everyone can lay their heads back and feel so calm and contented.
Take me to the place where the true lover never leaves;
where everyone can find love – this I wish to believe.


SYNOPSIS: A masked vigilante traverses a futuristic monarchical society looking to avenge the murder of the woman he cherished. 

Who I am is not important. What I intend to do however is. For years I have watched the tyranny and grotesque malice tear this once proud city apart. But no longer will I stand back and watch this city sink into infinite decrepitude. This change within me began six years ago when I lost somebody truly important to me, now I intend to change the system and right the wrongs. Tonight, I am going to kill someone.

The masked individual walked through the dark streets of Saint-tropolis, each one crowded with individuals eager to sell goods to ensure they had supper that night. The mask covering his face was dull white, black goggles shielding his eyes from view. His outfit was a luxurious suit and tie, while his feet moved silently through the night in the ball room dancing shoes he wore.
The masked individual cut down an alleyway to avoid the police who were searching for atheists. Ever since the revolutionary revolt by the Clergy, the entire planet had been under the immense control of the church. During its first year of office, the Clergy hunted down and murdered over seventy-five million atheists. Any still remaining converted to a religion to ensure their survival. It didn’t matter what religion one preached, as long as it was in existence and involved a higher masculine being having full control over everyone and everything, the church didn’t seem to mind. That is why the masked man had to avoid the officers; he was an atheist, quite possibly the only atheist in the entire world. That made him the single most dangerous threat to the Clergy.
The Clergy had primarily used fear to get into power and they were not afraid to use it to ensure the total respect of the community. If one such religion became too powerful they simply cut it down in size, ensuring equilibrium amongst the people. Those however who found that the murdering of civilians on a daily basis was not the most acceptable method of control stood up against such tyrannical methodology. Such people were almost all but extinct now, the masked individual being one of the last to survive.
He continued to weave in and out of alleyways, before finally reaching the Loud Oyster, one of the most famous taverns in the entire city. He strolled into the dimly lit building with its dark green walls; tables erected on either side of him as he walked past the bar and over to a dark corner where his informant was waiting.
Although the masked figure did not trust Snake Eyes, he had no choice but to use him, he was after all the best snitch in the city. Around his eyes were the tattooed decorations of snake scales, lime green in colour, hence the name, the rest of his person filthy with dirt and grunge. The masked individual sat opposite him, instantly taking a photo out from his breast pocket and shoving it into Snake Eyes’ face.
The image was of an incredibly beautiful young woman. She had rosy red hair and luminescent blue eyes. Her complexion glittered under the light of the photographic flash, her face illuminated under a perfectly constructed smile; her teeth white and straight; her lips moist and warm. What could be seen of the top half of her dress was a white cloven fabric with numerous frills around the neck and seams on the side, her hand perched just under her chin. There was an aurora of innocence about her, something that was extremely rare within this city.
‘Where is she?’ asked the masked man in a deep voice.
‘I don’t know, I swear’ replied Snake Eyes timidly.
‘Cut the crap’ grunted the masked man. ‘You know as well as I that I could have killed you the moment I stepped in here and been gone before your body hit the floor. The only reason you’re alive is because I believe you can help me. The moment I feel you can no longer provide me with the details I require you will become obsolete. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Snake Eyes nodded fearfully.
‘Good’ responded the masked man. ‘Now let’s try that again, where is she?’
‘I already told you I don’t know!’ cried Snake Eyes. ‘I’m telling you the truth!’
‘Then how about another question and you’d better have me an answer for this’ said the masked man dangerously. ‘Where’s Black?’
‘I don’t know who you are talking about’ said Snake Eyes.
Almost everyone knew who Black was, it was the location of such a man that was the most difficult to discern. Two years ago Black created a brand new religion, a cult really, one that was rather fond of the dark arts, including dark rituals, demonic possession and sacrificial offerings. The Clergy had originally accepted such an ideology, believing it would not be welcomed by the people with such a passion; but they were wrong. His followers had doubled, if not quadrupled in the first few months alone and now even the government was beginning to feel the weight of his presence, something that most religious leaders did not quite enjoy. But Black however did not seem to mind. He however, did have the unfair advantage of being invisible. He had no documentation to prove he even existed; no place of residence; no base of operations. He was a ghost and everybody knew it. That was no doubt one of the most terrifying things about the man; he could come and go as he pleased and take anything and everything that he wished and there was no one that could stop him, or so he thought.
‘I despise liars’ commented the masked man. ‘In a religious world, you do realise that a lie is one of the most heinous sins one can implement? Killing you now would be considered a favor in the eyes of your Lord and Savior.’
‘How about this for a lie!’ shouted Snake Eyes. ‘The girl is dead! You hear me, dead! She was sacrificed to the Gods of whom Black prayed and they bestowed their gifts upon him, turning him into a far more dangerous and wicked being than anyone could have ever imagined.’
‘Liar!’ thundered the masked individual, grabbing Snake Eyes around the throat, beginning to choke the very life out of him before noticing Snake Eyes looking over his left shoulder.
Turning around, the masked man noticed numerous police officers standing behind him, before having a fist thrown into his face. An infinite black was suddenly bestowed upon him, just as he felt hands beginning to go for his mask.
He threw his hands up into the air to prevent them from touching his face, but was suddenly kicked in the jaw, the pain travelling throughout his entire body. He lay motionless on the ground for a second as a bright white light swallowed him whole, before fading to black once more, the sound of mocking laughter being the last thing he ever heard.

Six years later

The masked man awoke the way he had every morning for the past six years; inside a jail cell, his limbs chained to the walls. The interior was comprised entirely out of brick, resembling that of a castle, the type that appeared in the black and white films the clergy used to showcase back when he was on the outside.
Shortly after he had been arrested his captors had attempted to remove his mask and put an identity to his face. However, upon discovering that it had been surgically crafted to his skin they had given up. They didn’t exactly care anyway; they had after all caught the terrorist and made the streets safer. One less atheist on the street made the clergy sleep better at night. Such may seem almost borderline ignorant, but if the Clergy could close their eyes and get a good night’s rest, then the compensation they supplied to their municipals became considerably satisfying.
However, today was different than others, the metallic cell door that appeared to have rusted terribly over time swinging open, two officers removing the chains that had been bound to the masked man’s person for so long. He was quickly led up a cobbled staircase that was made up of the same brick that his cell was to the top most section of the facility.
The masked individual found himself in a brightly lit room overlooking the entire city. There was a great round window on the other side of the white walled room which gave one a perfect view of the amazing metallic-looking civilisation below. A metallic desk was positioned in the centre of the room which had been bolted to the brick floor, many scientific tubes and beverages cooking across the table top, pink and green liquids visible within the vials and glasses.
Standing before him behind the metallic desk was Commander Vurtura, the officer in charge of the city. He wore a luxurious black suit with red cuffs down the side, stirring a cup of tea he held in his grasp. His face was considerably well padded and his eyes were a black in colour as though there was not a shroud of emotion behind them. His hair was gelled back in a thick ointment that made his hair shine under the light, a smug look upon his face that just made the masked man want to punch his lights out.
‘For how long were you out terrorising the streets of my fair city?’ questioned the Commander, looking directly at the masked man, his yellow hair shining under the rising sun.
‘I don’t think that such terminology is in fact an accurate way to judge my activities’ stated the masked man. ‘I was attempting to free those who deserved saving from the tyranny of the governmental body. The people should be given a right to choose whether they worship a God or not, not have that choice made for them under the threat of exile or public execution. However, if one is too stupid to see that, then such a person is not deserving of my time and can be left in the hell that they made.’ The masked man shook his head before growling under his breath. ‘On top of that I don’t like riddles, so how about you get to the part where you tell me why the hell I am out of my cell or go put me back in it.’
‘Very well’ stated the Commander, placing his tea onto the table. ‘Straight to business, I like that in a man. How old was the young woman you failed to save?’
‘If she were still alive she would be celebrating her twenty-seventh birthday next week’ commented the masked man sadly. ‘Why?’
‘I thought you may enjoy extracting your vengeance on the man who stole her life’ said the Commander. ‘The terrorist codenamed Black has resurfaced. We fear he intends to strike a significant blow to our regime and we believe you would be the perfect man for the job.’
‘Are you saying you would just let me go?’ questioned the masked individual. ‘That does not seem anything like you at all Commander.’
‘Nobody is forcing a gun to you here, Mask’ said Vurtura dangerously, disliking the man’s tone. ‘Is that what I should call you, Mask? Does that at all seem appropriate? After all, a man without a face is a man without an identity. And a man without an identity simply does not exist. And if you do not exist, then you haven’t got yourself a name.’
‘That was beautiful’ said Mask. ‘Did you spend your entire morning rehearsing that just for me? I must say I am flattered.’
‘Do you not remember who it is you are talking too?’ thundered Vurtura. ‘Guards, please remind this scumbag who it is that I am!’
‘Yes sir’ said both the men holding Mask in place before both hitting him across the back of the legs with great metallic clubs that they gladly detached from their belts.
‘Now, let us try that again’ said Vurtura. ‘Do you wish to take the opportunity I am handing to you? This is of course a silver platter opportunity, not some run of the mill concoction.’
‘Where do I find him?’ questioned the masked man.
‘In truth we have no idea where he’ll be’ stated the Commander. ‘We always assumed you were considerably street smart. I’m sure a man such as yourself will have no problem in finding his location. Now, if you’d just follow Morrison, my police chief, he’ll escort you down to the nurse’s station where we can prep you for the assignment.’
Upon concluding his sentence, a rather wide individual made his way over to the masked man, before escorting him from the room. Morrison, as already noted was rather wide all over. His face was wide, his belly was wide and so too were his arms, his legs and his feet, the shoes on such gargantuan feet looking to have been specially made. He wore a dark blue suit with a metallic club strewn across his shoulder, a smug, pretentiously egotistical look tattooed upon his face. He had beady black eyes that darted around in a paranoid manner, a large hooked nose that looked to have been broken many times before and greasy hair that was beginning to become rather absent atop of his head, the hair that was located on the left side of his head being brushed over the top to make it seem as though he still retained a proud head of hair. There were after all no bald leaders within the city and it would look rather strange if he were the odd one out.
A few minutes later Mask found himself on the ground floor of the facility, the entire sector covered in grunge, the pipes above leaking fluids onto the floor. Morrison stayed outside as an officer escorted the masked man into a brightly lit operating theatre, a young woman in a white nurse’s outfit standing before him. Her skin was almost a dark green in colour, presumably from spending too much time in this dungeon of a place and was moreover heavily blotched as though from having a terrible case of acne when she was younger. If she did not have enough character with these two rather powerful visual impressions, she also spoke in a heavy Romanian accent.
‘You must be my patient’ beamed the nurse, sounding the way a vampire would in one of those ancient Hollywood classics. ‘If you’ll just lie back onto the table we can get started on inserting the tracking device into your skull. Standard operating procedure I’m afraid.’
‘Nobody mentioned anything about tracking devices’ grunted the masked individual.
Under a second later the officer who had been standing guard was thrown out through the doors into the hallway; police Chief Morrison unfastening the pistol attached to his hip, hurrying into the operating theatre to see what the commotion was about, before a fist was shoved into his throat. He collapsed to the ground, his hands to his neck whilst his breathing came out in numerous wild gasping sounds.
‘But wait!’ cried the nurse, ‘you are yet to receive your tracking implant!’
‘I don’t need one’ said the masked individual with a nod. ‘Now, please excuse me for I have an escape to promulgate.’ He made his way down the corridor as quickly as he could, his footsteps not making but a sound as he moved back up the way he had come, just as the sirens began to ring through the entire compound.
‘Alert, alert’ cried the voice of the nurse over the emergency frequency. ‘Prisoner escape in progress. I repeat prisoner escape in progress. Masked man attempting to flee underground laboratory! Security teams report in immediately!’
A couple of minutes later Mask hid in-between two red heating conduits that were located on the left side of the wall as a group of security officers hurried past him, each with rifles cradled under their arms. He sighed to himself upon the realisation he had not being detected before walking back out again.
‘I can’t believe this is happening!’ cried a voice that Mask knew only too well as Vurtura began to make his way around the corner with a security guard walking beside him as escort.
In a flash, Mask threw out his fist and knocked the escort out, his body falling limply to the floor, assault rifle collapsing by his side.
‘Ah, Commander’ said Mask in a dry voice as he looked up at the man who had kept him prisoner for the past six years.
‘I can have men down here in three minutes!’ said the Commander with a flicker of worry on his face.
‘You’ll be dead in three minutes so the security teams will have nothing left to protect’ said Mask, smiling to himself, unbeknownst to the commander who could not see his face.
‘I was going to let you out’ said Vurtura. ‘Is that not compensation enough?’
‘Oh, you mean the tracking device in my brain?’ laughed Mask. ‘Yeah, real great, top bloke you are. I’ll be sure to take that under advisement’ he concluded before punching the commander in the face. With that, he dragged the clothes off from the guard on the floor and proceeded to place them upon his person, before hiding the now relatively naked body of the escort in-between the heating conduits.
Mask then stepped out and continued to make his way out the way he had come, just as a security team came running towards him. ‘Help the Commander!’ he cried. ‘I’m going after the masked vigilante’ he said, the guards moving in the direction of Vurtura as the masked individual made his way towards the nearest exit.

During his time in prison, the masked individual had never forgotten any region of the city, which is what made it so easy to rediscover the residence of Snake Eyes. He remembered the snitch was housed on the thirty- second floor of an atrocious apartment block that stood at the far corner of the city like a discarded piece of rubbish.
Taking the elevator up to the intended floor, the masked man stepped off onto the landing and moved down the red coloured wooden hallway in search of Snake Eyes’ apartment, picking the lock soundlessly upon locating the correct room and creeping inside.
A fireplace rich with flame illuminated the dingy apartment as the masked vigilante crept across the wooden floorboards and into the bedroom of Snake Eyes, whose apartment was kept in the same manner as himself; in squalor.
His bedroom had the same red walls, with one exception. Just like Commander Vurtura had a large round window overlooking the city, so too did Snake Eyes. His however did not seem to have been cleaned by the same individual as the one who had being assigned to the one in the Commander’s office, and judging by the look of the place the maid had been fired long ago.
The masked man reached down and ripped the terrorised Snake Eyes out of bed, the red sheets falling away below him as he was dragged to his feet by the scruff of his neck.
‘You’re supposed to be in prison!’ cried Snake Eyes.
‘Oh, I know’ smiled Mask. ‘But they let me out for good behavior’ he continued, before grabbing Snake Eyes by the collar and pinning him against the great circular window that was suspended above his bed. Now, with a proper opportunity to look upon the design of the window in question, Mask began to make out other additional encryptions that were placed around the side of the window. Staring intently at them, Mask came to the conclusion that they were Christian images, each of which was in the shape of an angel that held either a trombone or a crossbow, with fluffy white wings attached to their backs that kept them suspended in mid air.
‘How sweet’ grunted Mask. ‘You came prepared. Angels placed above you during your time of death. Now why did I not think of that before my arrival? I after all had six long years in prison to think all about this one moment and I forgot to think of that one detail.’
‘Please!’ cried Snake Eyes in a pleading tone. ‘Please, I beg of you, don’t kill me. I am not worth killing am I?’
‘What is with the Christian images?’ continued the masked individual. ‘I thought you were a Muslim?’
‘Oh, I am sweet masked man, I am!’ cried Snake Eyes, Mask only tightening his hands around Snake Eyes’ throat even tighter still.
‘I don’t think you know what you are’ growled Mask, ‘how can one trust somebody who does not even know who or what they are.’
‘Believe me when I say, you can trust me!’ cried Snake Eyes.
‘And all of this red’ proceeded the masked man, looking around his surroundings. ‘Reminds me a lot of what blood used to look like.’
‘Believe me when I tell you that blood has not changed much in the six years that you have been away’ said Snake Eyes. ‘It still looks very much the same to me.’
‘You would know wouldn’t you?’ growled Mask. ‘You spilt enough of it yourself.’
‘No, no I didn’t!’ wailed Snake Eyes. ‘No I didn’t!’
‘Not in person you didn’t’ said Mask.
‘Not ever!’ screamed Snake Eyes.
‘Liar!’ roared the masked man. ‘The smell of your slanderous lies is almost as repulsive as the smell of your rancid flesh. All of those lives you destroyed by ratting them out to the police, giving away the information on every single atheist you could find. Just to ensure that they did not find the one you were trying to hide all this time! You are accountable for all of these lives, every last one of them!’
‘I protected your identity to ensure you would not be found’ pleaded Snake Eyes. ‘When they found you six years ago, that was just sheer coincidence!’
Mask remembered the mocking laughter he had heard as he blacked out six years ago, knowing full well that coincidence was not one of the things that happened that day. ‘You and I both know that we are not talking about me here! We are talking about you! You are the atheist who you have hidden away for so long!’
‘Okay!’ cried Snake Eyes. ‘Okay!’ he screamed once more at what appeared to be the top of his lungs.
‘Scream all you want’ said Mask. ‘Not a soul will ever hear you. Nobody is going to put their neck out for somebody who goes around stabbing others in the back for pure entertainment.’
‘Please!’ shouted Snake Eyes. ‘I beg of you not to kill me. You aren’t though, right?’ he asked with a weak grin.
Mask did not bother to answer his question, but rather decided to ask one of his own. ‘Where can I find Black?’ he asked dangerously.
‘I don’t know’ cried Snake Eyes in a frightened squeak.
‘Let’s not play this game again’ cried the masked man, punching Snake Eyes in the stomach, before repeating the procedure. ‘I know you have his location. It’s just a question of whether you tell me now, or after I cut you into a thousand different pieces.’
‘I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you!’ cried Snake Eyes. ‘He’s giving a speech tomorrow night at the old North Plaza. There will be a great rally there. It shall be pretty hard to miss.’
The masked man let Snake Eyes fall to the floor. ‘Do you still keep that sniper rifle of yours in that safe behind this hideous picture?’ he asked, standing in front of a grotesquely over weight woman trapped inside a painting. Snake Eyes nodded, the masked man throwing the painting to the floor, entering the code he had recited into the safe which instantly swung open, the man dragging out a briefcase before beginning to leave.
He stopped suddenly, placing the briefcase on the ground, grunting ‘and one more thing.’
He hurried back to Snake Eyes, throwing him against the glass window once more. ‘Remember six years ago when I told you one day you would become obsolete?’ Snakes Eyes nodded fearfully. ‘That day is now’ said the masked man, picking Snake Eyes up and throwing him through the window, the snitch screaming as he fell to the street below.

One night later the masked man found himself in yet another ravaged apartment block, on one of the top most floors with a perfect view of the adjacent building. Removing the sniper rifle components from the briefcase and beginning to piece them together, he attached the silencer to the breach before placing a pen to a piece of paper and writing a note that explained his actions.
As he did so he heard the cheers of those outside, picking up the rifle and making his way to the window.  He pulled back the blinds before looking through the scope at the stand that had been erected in front of a rundown building. Numerous white pillars were posted around the front that looked to be the only things holding the aging concrete monster up. A symbol was inscribed into the centre of the roof of the building, one which had been used since the initiation of the Clergy as the ruling parliament. 
Suddenly, Black made his way out onto the stage, holding out his hands to embrace the crowd. He was dressed in a black uniform, a white trilby perched atop his head; his face, as always when he was seen out in public being shielded from view. To the crowd he may have looked like a saviour, but to the masked individual he looked nothing short of a monster.
He watched Black take the podium, clearing his throat, the chanting of the crowd dying down, the masked man depressing the trigger as this occurred, one single bullet being launched from the rifle which spun in mid air, descending towards Black. Upon connecting with the flesh that was Black’s face, it completely pulverised the entire head of the creature the masked vigilante had dreamed of killing for six years now. He sat back inside the apartment as the body of Black fell limply to the ground outside, blood spurting uncontrollably out from the wound as cries of protest and howls of pain dominated the surrounding area.
Taking a deep breath the masked man laid his head against the wall behind him, a look of contempt hidden away under all of the fabric that shielded his face from view. ‘That was for you Charlotte’ he said. ‘That was for you.’

Lion Heart

SYNOPSIS: A young man attempts to come to terms with the fact that the woman of his dreams is arranged to be married by her parents to another man.

Gregory Wiseman lay in a hospital bed in the recovery ward, his face covered in a multitude of scars and abrasions from intensive trauma. He had light brown coloured hair and dark brown eyes. His cheeks were normally a dull red in colour, but today were particularly bright from the abrasions he had received. Tubes ran out from his nose and an additional tube ran from his vein to a drip, his heart and pulse rate being lower than optimal as he slowly breathed in and out. His eyes were closed whilst in the unconscious state he was in, his body completely motionless as he lay with his head propped up against a pillow. How did he manage to get into such a critical state? The answer for this remained in his past…

Gregory had always had feelings for Lisa. To him she was both mentally and physically beautiful. She had dark, curly hair and big round eyes that were brown in colour. She had a radiant glow to her skin and her smile was to die for. Not only this, but she was incredibly intellectual in many different subjects.
So when he asked her if she wanted to begin seeing him socially it just seemed like the natural thing to do and when she agreed to have a relationship with him he was over joyed.
The reaction Augustus, Lisa’s father had however was quite the opposite. Augustus had jet black hair that was shoulder length in appearance, a few gray hairs beginning to appear. His eyes were a cold, black in colour and his nose was rather large upon his aging, yellow coloured face. His mouth was often open in a snarl and he spoke with a strong accent that made him often appear twice as angry.
‘How dare you go against your family like this!’ he roared when he managed to extract the news from his daughter. ‘Lisa, you are my only daughter and I love you, which is why I expect the best for you. Having a relationship with this Anglo is not the answer. That is why we orchestrated for you to be engaged to Mathieu. You do remember him don’t you? He is one of us, Lisa. That is how we preserve our culture, by marrying into families of our same heritage, not by desecrating our family name and completely and barbarically humiliating us by having a relationship with some ocker. Your mother and I did not immigrate to this country for you to marry some Australian prick. We came for the opportunities it would hold for you. Now you are better than this Anglo. Which is why in two weeks time you shall be united with Mathieu and the two of you can start your lives together.’
Lisa had tried to protest against this and had even attempted to get her mother, Maria’s help, but neither attempts to change her father’s mind succeeded. Her mother too felt it was the best thing Lisa could do, although she of course did not wish to anger her husband and take the side of the one person who could embarrass them by bringing home a person who was not of their culture.
Maria herself had jet black hair like her husband which was always tied back in a bun as to ensure it made its way straight down the very centre of her back. She had large, jet black eyes that seemed to not properly belong to the rest of her person, whilst great red lips were placed upon her face that too seemed to exceed the size that was meant for her.
When Lisa had to reluctantly renege on the date Gregory had offered her he was considerably shocked and badly hurt by this sudden change of heart. He attempted to ask her about this immediate change, but Lisa decided not to tell him the truth, believing he would not be able to properly understand nor comprehend.
Two weeks later, just like her father had promised, Mathieu arrived. He was a tall muscular man that seemed to have an interior train of thought, i.e. he only ever thought of himself. He had dark brown eyes and hair that was always drenched in bodily fluid and had a rather tanned body. He walked around wearing a muscle top and a rumor was that back home he walked around with a bare chest. He had large ears that did not properly seem to suit him, making him look as though he was about ready to take off and fly away at a moment’s notice. His stomach too seemed inappropriately large, making it seem as though he was the kind of man who really enjoyed his beer. There was also the rumor that he had been married several times before, the women who had managed to break the relationship off with him never supplying satisfactory reasons as to why they wanted to be rid of him. They just wanted the relationship to end. Although a man who had been divorced numerous times was seen as a disgraced individual, he was still worth marrying into.
When Lisa turned twenty two she thought she was old. Mathieu however was forty six, leaving Lisa feeling incredibly young by comparison. What put Lisa off most about the man she was expected to marry was not just his physical appearance nor his age, but the lack of English he knew. It was true that she was fluent in both her native tongue as well as in the English dialect, but her English skills far exceeded the knowledge she knew of her own native language.  She did of course bring up this dispute with her father who simply waved it away as he managed the wedding arrangements with Mathieu, who would become an Australian citizen immediately after the marriage had been initiated.
Mathieu himself felt offended at his future wife’s slanderous comments towards his ability to speak English, instantly saying in a heavy Greek accent ‘I can to speak your English! Sea shells sea shells by the sea shore! How much wood could a wood chopper chop if a wood chopper could chop wood?’ He seemed remarkably pleased with himself. Lisa however, was not.
Her opinions appeared however to be invalid though and from then on she was forced to escort her future husband around the environment to get him to know the region.
Gregory occasionally noticed them traversing the city and eventually decided to go to Lisa’s house to find out exactly what was going on. Upon knocking on the door she answered, seeming almost relieved to have a distraction from what was currently occurring in her life, her face having a distinct sadness to it.
‘It took me years to sum up the courage to express to you my feelings’ admitted Gregory, holding a bouquet of flowers out to her. ‘The least you can do is explain to me why you can’t be with me.’
‘I am sorry Gregory’ she said, ‘but I am currently with someone else.’
‘Really?’ he probed. ‘Perhaps you could have told me this before agreeing to go out with me.’
‘I wasn’t engaged then as I am now’ said Lisa, looking as though she didn’t wish to express her current marital status out loud.
‘You’re engaged?’ asked Gregory bewildered. ‘And here I was hoping I might still have a chance to spend the rest of my life with you.’
‘I’m sorry’ said Lisa sadly. ‘You’re really sweet, but I’m afraid we just can’t be together.’
With that, the door closed in Gregory’s face as he began to make his way back towards the side walk, before stopping suddenly and spinning around. ‘Lisa Tsarios!’ he cried at the top of his lungs. ‘I am in love with you and from now until the day I die I will continue to be! And before that moment does indeed transpire, I will marry you and cherish you forever!’
He made his way back whence he came after saying this, a plan already in motion inside his mind.
Whilst inside the house, it was not only Lisa who had heard what Gregory had cried.
‘Who was that idiot?’ spluttered Augustus angrily. ‘Doesn’t that Anglo prick have anyone else he could annoy at this time of day? Doesn’t he know we have a wedding to prepare?’
‘If he comes round here again I’ll kill him!’ cried Mathieu in a Neanderthal-like tone.
Lisa however didn’t hear any of this. She was far too busy being swept away by the comment that Gregory had just made to her whilst she lay in her bed, smiling at the idea of being married to him.
Over the next month Gregory began to show to Lisa exactly how he felt. On numerous mornings flowers were deposited at her door which her father chucked out post haste, the remnants of them often found in the trash receptacle. These she dusted off before applying them in a glass of water and suspending them in her room.
Love letters and romanticised poems were placed inside her mail box, both her father and Mathieu ripping these into smithereens. Mathieu often read them beforehand though, which simply made him even madder. On a couple of occasions however he quite liked the verses and read them to Lisa, attempting to pass them off as his own to make his future wife feel more comfortable with the idea of marrying him. However, she could always see through his lies, knowing full well who had written them, finding the prose to be quite beautiful.
One university morning a broadcast was made, specifying for those who had burnt the phrase ‘I love Lisa Tsarios’ into the front lawn to come forth, Lisa giggling upon hearing this announcement which no one ever admitted to.
During a class PowerPoint presentation which students found incredibly boring, Lisa suddenly became attracted to the fourteenth slide which the two students giving the presentation swore they had never inserted. The words on the slide specified ‘I love Lisa Tsarios 4 life’, the class finding this to be the most amusing part about the assignment. The students giving the presentation managed to obtain eighty five per cent of the expected mark for their project.
Later that same week, Lisa was making her way back to her car and discovered a note attached under one of the windscreen wipers which indicated for her to make her way to the park.
Upon arriving, Lisa found a picnic site had been erected, Gregory making his way out from behind her and presenting her with a bouquet of flowers which she took with a dazzling smile. Together they sat down to eat the food that Gregory had prepared, just as Mathieu happened to drive past. He had only recently begun to learn how to drive in Australia and often did so with a huge smile on his face, believing that such a talent was the most amazing thing he had ever accomplished. ‘You see, I am Australian enough already?’ he could be often heard saying as he drove past the houses in the neighborhood. 
On this one occasion however, no such words were to come from his lips. He instantly stopped the car and stormed over to Lisa, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her away.
‘How dare you humiliate me like this!’ he roared, his English becoming only slightly better. ‘I see the only way to stop this absurd behaviour is to stop it at the source.’ With that, he proceeded to hit Gregory who fell flat to the ground, blood rolling down his face as Mathieu continued to brutalise him, smiling as he did so.
‘Stop!’ cried Lisa, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘Mathieu, I won’t marry you!’
At these words Mathieu stopped and stood to his feet, Gregory lying motionless on the ground beside him.
‘I love him more than I could ever love you!’ shouted Lisa, throwing the engagement ring she had been forced to wear over the past month directly at Mathieu who reluctantly left after kicking Gregory’s motionless body once more.
Lisa proceeded to call the ambulance service, riding in the emergency vehicle with Gregory as he was taken into the emergency ward to access the overall damage which had been done to his person.
Lisa waited outside to hear the news, her mother and father later arriving. ‘Mathieu was just arrested!’ exploded Augustus. ‘I think you had better explain yourself young lady!’ he cried, slapping his daughter across the face.
‘And so he should have been!’ retaliated Lisa. ‘He could have killed Gregory!’
‘Again with the bloody Anglo!’ growled Augustus. ‘Who cares about this damn Australian bastard! He deserved all that he received for meddling in our affairs. If he does die he will die a hero to the people of Greece, because from here on no Anglo will ever meddle in our affairs from fear of what will happen to them. Besides, Mathieu won’t be charged. He was released under the condition that he would never return to Australia. Do you know what you have done? You have ruined the chance you had with Mathieu. He would have been good for you, but no, you had to humiliate us!’
‘Gregory loves me!’ shouted Lisa. ‘I know you don’t want him to, but love has no cultural background like we do. It makes the decisions at its own volition. It has no laws; no boundaries. It does what it will and it has no adversary strong enough to bring it to its knees.’
‘Then love is a fool and deserves the same fate as that bastard in there!’ shouted Augustus, indicating at the emergency ward. ‘If you choose him over your own family do not expect to come back to us. From now on you are no longer our daughter and I am no longer your father.’ With that both of Lisa’s parents left as she stood in the empty corridor of the hospital.
Not long afterwards Gregory was released into the recovering ward, Lisa sitting by his side, waiting for him to awake, just as one of his fingers moved, his eyes beginning to open as he awoke to see Lisa’s smiling face.
‘What happened?’ he asked, a pained expression making its way across his features.
‘Rest now’ smiled Lisa, kissing his forehead before rubbing it with her gentle fingers. ‘We will talk again later.’

And so they did.