Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Beyond Fatigue

Tired woman are sleeping

Body heavy mind light, sleeping anytime but not at night. Beyond the fatigue my body goes, no sleep will make it go, hard to move feel so low, where is my get up and go. When will this melee pass? I don’t know it’s becoming a farce laying here waiting for it to go

Beyond fatigue lives a place full of nothing. A place where the mind rests and colours stream in but timeless like on the edge of sleep but heavy in the limbs and longer to wait. I must try to move, to generate some energy to fire me up. It won’t come in bundles, just enough for me to stumble, to move around and lay down with this sensation washing down my body slowing me to a trundle.

A good night’s sleep won’t see it off as I nod off with half-finished mugs of tea and coffee relics of an afternoon nap why won’t my energy come back.

 

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Space 

In the outer depths of space no one can see your face as you race to get back to the place you call home. 

In the glow of tomorrow no one knows where you will go. Can any one hear you scream as you sit facing a dead screen.

Something is pulling you through the air your in space and nothing is there pulled further and further into nowhere. Siting shaking strapped in your chair on your way to somewhere outhere. Craft spinning like a ball running down a bowling hall . 

Planets pass and fade to stars your now past Jupiter and Mars. Hurtling towards the stars. Lost in space we have gone to far. Asteroid burning from afar no one knows just where you are. 

The radio is long since dead just you and your thoughts running through your head. Arms like concrete legs like led. Ground control think you have long been dead. You don’t know what lays ahead. What ever it it is it will never be said . This science discovery will never be read. 

No place to run no laser gun, no fun. Just waiting for death to come. Racing towards the sun. Hotter and hotter the capsule gets, temperature rising  you start to sweat. Close my eyes and think of the moon hoping this nightmare will end soon. 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

My Brew

Hand grips the wooden handle. Other angles the glass under the brass spout in anticipation of the nectar that will flow out.

Arm pulls down to release the brew then lifts to pull a new. The froth Wells up as it hits the bottom of the glass and then through its self will pass. White frothy head forms on top of this fermented hop, sitting on dark brown like the king with a crown.

The glass stands on the bar contents settling ready for my lips to pass. The first sip strong but smooth my dry throat it will soon sooth. More I drink it’s so smooth, wipe the froth from my lips I don’t care if it goes on my hips.

Down the edge of the glass the head sticks slowly sliding to meet the brew. Then the glass is tipped he bottom is see through, its time to order another brew or two.

The pump delivers more liquid to the glass and is exchanged once again for brass. This pint is real class savour each mouth full don’t let the taste pass, slowly the brown king with its crown goes down.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Apache

apacheA big wind fills the sky dropping out of the storms eye, dust cloud to shroud, ready to deploy its lethal crowd. Down goes the ramp to start the decamp, thirty men fresh out of camp. Out they go to and froe; left and right into the night covering the arcs in case of a fire fight.

Heads down and up goes the storm, big wind lifts to the skies, clouds of dust, sting the eyes. Night goggles down its green all around, now they can see the role of the ground. Up on their feet, they start to move out, talking in sign, no need to shout.

Then comes the crack of enemy fire, a large explosion from a trip wire. Everyone’s down returning fire, movement up ahead, five hundred men wanting to fill them with led. Grenades and rockets crash to the ground bullets are seen whizzing around. The enemy is to big they have brought to few men for this gig. The order is given to give ground, back they start running, boots and hearts pound.

Every man running into the night trying to avoid capture they know their plight. Into ditches left and right, zero sights for the impending fire fight. The radio operator gets on the wire asking headquarters to send some hell fire. One by one the bodies fall then comes the deadliest sound of all. Click, click the ammunition is spent and in the enemy hardly a dent. More and more the enemies might, hammers at the men on the run in the night.

Up goes the order to stand and fight they know this would be their last night. Fix bayonets prepare to charge eyes wide open the battle is large. Next comes the order to engage the enemy, 30 angry men with fire in their belly, charge. One by one they are cut down, the last man falls as he reaches the crown of the hill, to the noise of the apache ready to kill.

The apache strafes with all its might, hellfire missiles light up the night, Hundreds of soldiers run with fright but no one is safe from Satan’s might. It comes in for another pass sweeping the grass left to right. Then the ground becomes still, off goes the apache back over the hill, back to base with news of their kill. Graves are dug and bodies tagged and put in the ground small wooden crosses lay all around this killing ground.

 

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Vertigo 

That sensation of falling sends you sprawling, head spinning cold sweat, floor met. Staggering , bouncing off the walls, walking down the hall. Shut your eyes hoping it subsides.

Sit up quick before you are sick, call out grab me quick I’m falling. Fullness in the ears this could last for years.

Empty shell living hell, no aura, no taste, no smell just the dizzy spells. I’ve felt like this on a night out but it was alcohol before.

Now, I’m sober liable to keel over. Then nausea and sick, ears not feeling so thick. Hearing damaged further ravaged. Oh how I wish the room would not turn, my stomach churns and with my lack of hearing I discern.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Subclass 

Media tells us you sit around all day on your ass lambasted cos you are a subclass. No real value no real worth why were you put on this earth. You don’t work you are seen as a jerk no right to live to be, to survive seen as a skive why are you alive. 

You did not choose to be in that chair, fate put you there, people stop and stare glad they are not there. Why should they care they have not been there. They think they know the pain, think it’s all a game and you are lame. Society would sooner embrace fame while for the subclass nothing will change. Seen as not normal you must change cos you don’t fit our stereotype cos we listened to all the hype. 

No one gives you a  chance for your life to enhance and  let you be the best you can,but please remember you are more than an empty can, you are a fellow man. So while they sit in their ivory tower, trying to exsert their power. They should think about how they would manage if they had sustained this physical and mental damage.

You are tough and never complain when it’s rough even when your body has had enough. Yet you get up every day, no prospect of any pay, medicines swallowed all day just to keep the pain at bay. It’s all just another day, you wish it wasn’t this way but it will never go away. So don’t judge or  throw people  away as you could be them one day. 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Paradise 

There is a cold wind blowing across the sand as we walk hand in hand, bare foot on cold sand. It’s been some time since we have been on land. The chill outweighs the thrill as we hear the trill of the birds. Not talking just walking on this paradise island, a canopy of Green on the edge of the sand. 

We look for food which seems to allude. We head to the forest to see what we can forage oh what I would give for a bowl of porridge. We find berries and mango a small picnic for me and you. Fire wood and shelter next as branches are striped and flexed. Palms for the floor we even managed a makeshift door. 

We settle down by the fire stripped to our underwear while we dry our attire on sticks in front of the crackling fire. We soon fall asleep, but up we leap when we hear the creep of a litter of critter from in the woods, deep. 

Then in the morning the sun is out and the sea glitters as waves trickle home to the shore. We head down the beach and into the boat to start our journey again. Pulling hard on the oars sweat drips from our pores in the heat of the rising sun.

All alone in a boat in this blue tranquil ocean afloat  to nowhere, just being there. Sand in our hair without a care we don’t know when we will hit there, wherever there is. But for now you, me, sun, sea and a boat drifting afloat is where we are. No house, no job , no car just us in a boat to see how far.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized

Nirvana

buddha-against-sunsetWhy was I put upon this earth? Should I be a noble man or a serf? What will I have done when I leave this earth? Will I have loved or caused mayhem and myrrh? Perhaps I will be rich and famous or be found in a ditch. Maybe, I will marry a princess who turns into a bitch.

When I die will I go up high or down below will I lie, when my end is nigh. I don’t know why but I don’t cry but I will know when the time is right, when I reach my Nirvana, my state of enlightenment. Why we are here will become clear and we will have nothing to fear.

Re incarnation, the afterlife, will we be free from trouble and strife or will we suffer this endless pain, reliving and paying again and again. All I can do is leave of myself a memory of me to keep on the shelf. Not a picture or ornament made of delft but a real part of myself. Apart that has given love and care a part of me that will always be there. See, I believe my nirvana is almost there, I was put here because I care.

Why was I put upon this earth? Should I be a noble man or a serf? What will I have done when I leave this earth? Will I have loved or caused mayhem and myrrh? Perhaps I will be rich and famous or be found in a ditch. Maybe, I will marry a princess who turns into a bitch.

When I die will I go up high or down below will I lie, when my end is nigh. I don’t know why but I don’t cry but I will know when the time is right, when I reach my Nirvana, my state of enlightenment. Why we are here will become clear and we will have nothing to fear.

Re incarnation, the afterlife, will we be free from trouble and strife or will we suffer this endless pain, reliving and paying again and again. All I can do is leave of myself a memory of me to keep on the shelf. Not a picture or ornament made of delft but a real part of myself. Apart that has given love and care a part of me that will always be there. See, I believe my nirvana is almost there, I was put here because I care.

 

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

This World

shutterstock-Love-HateIn the cold dawn of light, in this world full of hate and spite where no one knows who is wrong and who is right. In this world of fantasy and flight where everyone is on a ladder trying to reach a great height where all the world comes into sight and little children no longer fly their kites.

In this world of death and destruction where image is more important than love, where we can find no doves. In this world where is the love, where is the living being, in this world that is all seeing.

Where do you and I fit in? where can we make a din or will it be committing a sin just because we are not in. Leave your hate and don’t rate you never know your fate. Love thy neighbours and beyond. There is no magic wand just love and hate that collide. Love is what we should try.

In the cold dawn of light, in this world full of hate and spite where no one knows who is wrong and who is right. In this world of fantasy and flight where everyone is on a ladder trying to reach a great height where all the world comes into sight and little children no longer fly their kites.

In this world of death and destruction where image is more important than love, where we can find no doves. In this world where is the love, where is the living being, in this world that is all seeing.

Where do you and I fit in? where can we make a din or will it be committing a sin just because we are not in. Leave your hate and don’t rate you never know your fate. Love thy neighbours and beyond. There is no magic wand just love and hate that collide. Love is what we should try.

Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

The Comment

comment

Every time I hear that comment it rips into my heart and every time you say it again it tears my soul apart. I am not good at many things in total or in part, I’ve tried it all from chemistry to art. But all the time you undermine and cut into my mind.

I thought when I left school I had left it all behind, but the world sees I’m fat and that’s how I’m defined: my love; my humour; my kindness and my pain all these things are part of me to which you are blind. I’m not asking you to be nice and kind, I just want you to stop cutting into my mind.

Let me leave the pain behind, of my past I don’t want to be reminded yet you bring back my raw memories with every word and obscenity. You seem to know just where to throw those words of hate and spite, that decimate my being and make me all uptight.

You won’t stand in front of me in case I start to fight, with thirty years of hurt in side waiting to take flight. One little warning to you one day it just might