Slavery, decapitated.

trapped
under the torn and dirty nails
of immortal’s hand –
splinters dig deep,
tear long gashes
into the blinded’s bloody eye
while pus and tears
make a paste
on soot-stained bodies.

when squirming
and crawling
isn’t sufficient,
it is time
to wake
the warrior within.

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Dear Time,

i know you don’t really exist and humankind only invented you because we feel the need to measure everything, but since you have been brought to existence, i would ask one thing of you…

please be more merciful.

how can it be that you always seem to happen to go by so fast when i need you to take it slow? and – of course – when i feel like you could go by more quickly, you enjoy to linger and dawdle, make me feel every second… sometimes even painfully so.
is this your revenge for us handing you the responsibility to keep the whole world in line?
i don’t really know…

maybe if we sat down together, we could work out some kind of agreement… because, really… sometimes you’re a handful.

sincerely,
a captive

Food for the Soul

i got lost in Jack London’s The Call of the Wild again… usually i don’t like quoting others on here – i try to avoid it as much as i can… but this, ah, it’s just too beautiful.

i can never ever get enough of this passage… thank you, Mr. London.
i want to bathe in those words… maybe some of you will understand.

Night came on, and a full moon rose high over the trees lighting the land till it lay bathed in ghostly day. And the strain of the primitive remained alive and active. Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fire and roof were his yet he retained his wildness and wiliness. And from the depths of the forest, a call still sounded.

Dear Uneasy Feeling,

you must like it in the comfortable cave of my stomach.

today, you’re like an unwanted guest… no matter how much i try to bore you, stare at my wristwatch and tell you i don’t have time for this, you won’t go away.
yes, you know i’m a polite person and i don’t like to yell… but let me tell you, i am really close to yelling at YOU.

so, consider this your last polite warning. if you’re not gone soon, i’m going to get the broom.

sincerely,
the annoyed landlady

If we only remembered!

if this sentence was imprinted on the inside of our eyelids in neon letters, maybe we’d finally be able to calm ourselves in times of fear.
i wish it could be done, there is nothing worse than being so scared that you’re not able to think straight. i wish i could remember… whenever i enter that place.

_______________________________
photo credits: sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net