flash fiction – Page 6 – Rhythm of the Ink

Jun 22, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds anxiety, Blog, Blogger, bullying, flash fiction, love, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

The Spy that Loved Me

Follow me down to the wire where I am, what I do, you always enquire, of your checking I tire, trapped in the circle like a funeral Pyre. I wish you would go and let me be free instead you are constantly monitoring me. I once let my emotions run free but never thought you would bring me to my knees.

The shouting and scowling and balling us out, safe in the knowledge we won’t walk out, and if we do you will protest your love and claim you will meet him above. All I ask for is to be loved. To be trusted to stay true, can’t you see I only loved you? now I’m not sure whether that’s even true. I want to be free to just be me, it’s not about who I’m going to see it’s all about you stifling me.

So, pull up your anger and soften your voice, come here and love me it’s really your choice, listen to my heart and hear my voice before you leave me with no choice. I’m not scared of being alone of having my freedom in my own home. Of thinking and feeling and being whole once again not having to play these stupid games.

Jun 22, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds anxiety, Blogger, death, doubt, flash fiction, love, Mental Health, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Your Arms

Where did that love go? where was the connection, devoid of affection? all that’s left is reflection. No arms around me when I needed you most, when I couldn’t ask for your hug, you never saw the need, all alone just me. Feeling helpless and rejected needed to be connected.

Too much to bare, I sit and stare in the chair tablets and alcohol, life on the edge, no one to Pull me back from the impending black. You hid upstairs hoping it would soon end, all I needed was a friend their arms to lend, to be held tight through the night. On the phone to someone unknown, kind Samaritan hold my hand, tell me who I really am.

Wedge driven in our lives, I’m not sure why I’m alive. Yet another day to strive to give it my all, treated as a fool, used like a tool. Feeling unloved, uncared for, sick of this war, no one to look out for me, just a wreckage feeling so lonely, a rusting frame driven insane but still in the game. Suicide had nowhere to hide, I could have tried but once the tears had dried I knew I could not escape this lonely place, as looking after you all, I had to face guilt about what would be if you had all lost me. I don’t like this responsibility; the scar won’t heal with any amount of poetry. All I wanted was very simple and easy yes all I wanted was your arms around me. Saying that I am OK as me, arms that could set me free, to help me just be.

Jun 22, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, underground

Entry to your Heart

Where is the entrance to your heart one way in one way out and I don’t know where to start, let alone till death us do part? Chat to you, walk in the park, wine and dine you, the dating lark, but deep within you hold it all in, tucked away in its warm safe cabin. Not daring to venture out, it can’t take another clout. Any explorer you ignore keeping secrets and strangers apart.

Tired of questions of robbers of heart, borrow your feelings and depart leaving them scattered all over your heart. Silence is your wall you build high so it won’t fall, crashing down like tears of a clown vulnerable and broken, used, yet another token.

Smash and grab, or knock on the entrance for ever and a day, thick barricade keeps me at bay, nothing to say, it’s safer that way; leaving the hurt locked away, hoping someday it may decay taking the anger and dismay. The exit is open for explorers to run away, exit from your heart before we even start. Tell me darling what is the key to unlock the door for you and me, so your true colours in a rain bow we see, sharing the pot of gold just between you and me.

Jun 20, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Heatwave

Cool breeze ruffles the tops of the trees swaying leaves with ease, cooling breath on my naked top chilling my sweat from my slumber so hot. Heat mist hanging above the ground hazing everything around, promising heat and sun to come, warming up as the day runs. Sun reflects off Chrome and glass overhead the hot orb passes, subdued light through sunglasses.

Radiant heat beats down from the sky Polaroids coving the eyes. Sweating body burning red, wet hair from the heat on your head, heatwave like a day in the med. Water bottled, ice cold touch, gulped down in desperation, never enough.

Finding shade to pause and rest, wringing the wet out of my vest, wispy chill upon my chest. Shadow moves with the progress of the day, finding another cool spot to stay, Oasis from the rays of the day, dappled shade of mottled facade where flickering sun comes to play. After the high pressure at the middle of the day, intense heat starts to fade away, red fiery sun setting on the edge of sight explosion of orange leads into the night. Leaving a dull glow waiting for the moon to show, warmth remains in small vanes, evening chill permeates window panes.

Jun 20, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Revenge

Revenge is sweet and means you are not beat, turning up the heat your aggressor to meet. Yet is your enemy really there, are you really aware? Do you know who the aggressor is or are you just acting while in a tiz.

Forgiving them is the hardest thing, blaming is an easier game. Lashing out at any one who is about because your angry and can’t shout, is not the way to go about. Your fear is misplaced you act like your aggressor, lashing out at anyone who gets in your way, come what may.

When you sit in your cell locked away, this is the small price you must pay, think of the victims who live with this every single day. When humanity is stretched at the edge and it begins to fray, just walk away and come back another day.

Jun 19, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, death, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Fakes

You do these evil deeds in the name of religion, not one which I know of, one that says that you should kill and maim innocent people who you don’t even know. The one that inside, hatred it grows, that’s right the one that no one else knows.

You Give it a name and it’s the will of your god you claim, yet your actions bring it shame. Whatever the scripture that you follow says, peace is always the way, help your fellow man, it’s all part of the big plan. So, you must be a fake to cause misery for your god’s sake.

Satan, chief spirit of evil, adversary of god, has evil in him but even he is not that grim. So, for all our sakes recognize your god is fake, and this life is opaque. Fellow man this world serves all different gods but they do not kill at will to be a martyr. Satan must have touched you and told you he is true, conning you in the form of god which he hopes you will pursue.

Jun 19, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, death, flash fiction, lost, love, poem, Poetry, political, short story, Uncategorized

Aftermath

No homes, no aid from a government decayed, food and clothes and shelter a community has paid, where was the establishment to come to their aid, to put lives back together, they lost everything they made. Ten pounds per person, the insult worsens, where is the money donated by other human persons?

A room for the night warm and safe, is that too much to ask; when if you miss a holiday flight, hotels abound; four hundred people with nowhere to live, the irony is profound. The scandal of abandonment, leave them to rot, community cohesion has decided not. Government officials make their excuses home they go to a warm bed and behave like recluses, there are no reasonable excuses.

Subclass comes to the for rocking the country to its core, too big a gap between rich and poor, all because you draw the short straw. Victorian values heaped on the poor. This should not be happening not even in war what do we pay or taxes for. Kill all the subclass make them weak, don’t give them houses they desperately seek. Rich man’s world turned upside down by a blaze in a block on the other side of town.

Jun 17, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds anxiety, Blog, Blogger, death, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Past Midnight

Past midnight when noises are impolite and horror and doom loom in every sight. Past midnight when some are waiting for their plight, many will give up the long fight. Past midnight the darkest sight room lit atmospheric hit. Rolling clouds and tightening shrouds, owls and foxes shout aloud.

Shivers run down your spine, checking around to see what you can find, hoping you get back home just fine. Past midnight, the haunting time, when memories and thoughts combine, helping to pass the time. Clock flicks around in blurred glow, watching midnight come and go. Past the witching hour when ghosts and devils scour and the new darkness devours, lying awake listening to cracks and bumps until the small hours.

Heart races, imagined faces, mysterious places, longing to make it to morning, you try to stop yawning wishing the day was dawning. The shadows shrink and slowly nighttime sinks and devils and ghosts are a distant memory, to which you play host. Relief at the sun, night thief, darkness retracting its teeth to leave the joy of a new day to dance and jump and play. But, you know the darkness is all but finished and has only temporarily diminished, for tonight the darkness will return and in your mind, you will burn

Jun 16, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Celestial Strobe

Full moon against the black sky nature telling us lies, no wolves cry, just a bright moon against Black sky. Rippling shadows across the orb, light in the clouds to absorb, celestial strobe, large lobe glows in the night. Visions of light and sensory masters, fragile moon hanging so bright without the hindrance of street lights.

Orb of wonder shining in sun’s slumber, black velvet backdrop, secrets not unlocked. Cratered moon come visit again soon, shine your light on the canvas of night until you sleep in broad daylight, crouching down out of sight turning out your precious light.

Oh, precious moon have you taken flight, now you hang out of sight, will you be back to beam your light. Will you come to cast shadows of night, running across the sky showing your nocturnal flight. Light up the dark glow like a spark to eat through the black on your long night hack.

Stars a twinkle in your mighty presence, specks of light candle bright, floating at death defying height. Through the cloud and thick night sky, their lights with yours they vie, like the sky is starting to cry, daring us to see what we can spy, picture framed by the night sky.

Published in the first edition of Hidden Constellation August 2017

Jun 15, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

UFO

Bright lights in the sky, wondering why, strange globes in the night travel at speed at a height. They are not a plane or helicopter, silent glow slows to a potter, then up and down like a yoyo they go, where they are from we don’t know.

They come in peace to explore our planet, landing on sea sand or granite, governments stay tight lipped, not letting the truth slip. Is it a space ship or just a balloon, they are scared that they will spread doom? Scorch marks on the ground, all around, never say what they have found, is it real or a sinister deal? Government project that may become real.

Orbs in the night hanging like a kite, they are not from this planet but then they might. What will they learn about us, do they discern, up in the sky, making sharp turns, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Why do they come here? I wish I knew why, maybe, it’s the government hoping no one will pry, as they engineer a super craft and start to test fly?