writing – Page 5 – Rhythm of the Ink

Jul 2, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, flash fiction, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Lonely Bird

Lonely bird on the top of the tree tell me please what do you see. Is it the sky that catches your eye with fluffy white clouds floating by? Is it me watching you wondering what you will do, can you see me looking at you? Do you see the tree below bark all gnarled and base all hollow or is it another bird you see, maybe an owl or a swallow?

Tell me lonely bird up above, what is the thing you most love? Is it your chicks all nestled snuggle in the nest while you go to find food and feed them before you rest? Is it being free on the wing sawing above surveying everything? Do you like to sit all day wondering when to fly away until you reach another place on another day?

Finally, lonely bird, to think it’s absurd that all day long you are seldom heard yet you chirp all day but never utter a word. Oh, little lonely bird, can you teach me of your world? Let me see what it’s like to fly, king of everything that I spy, on the wing way up high.

Jun 29, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, bullying, death, flash fiction, love, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Retribution

Insecure angry man, controller, punisher chastiser. Head worker action skiver. Putting you down, you can’t do right, shouting out of spite, bruises and broken bones, checking of mobile phones. Telling you what to wear, who you can go with, what time and where. If your late back you will get a whack.

Push you to the floor hand shut in the door, why do you take anymore? Backed in a corner cowering low on the floor waiting for the next blow. The pain shoots through your stomach, fear coursing through your veins, as you double up waiting for more violence to rain, hoping your life doesn’t drain.

Excuses and lies, shades cover bruised eyes, he has come back to apologise giving a flash of puppy dog eyes. Talk and talk he even cries crocodile tears to a lay your fears. Back again you let him come, you still love this son of a gun. All is calm sweetness and like, then he changes, controlling once again, you let it go as you don’t want the strain, deep down you know what will happen again.

Blue lights come to take you away, string to the end now he must pay. He’s dead on the floor inside the door, battering and bruising he can do it no more. For your trouble, you fall foul of the law, for killing a man who treated you worse than a whore, can’t they see it’s not murder it’s settling the score.

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 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 18, 2017 Markey Mark Symmonds Blog, Blogger, doubt, love, poem, Poetry, short story, Uncategorized

Do I ?

Do I live in your heart or is it just a resting place, just at the start? Do I flow through your body as a life force weaving its certain course, showing no remorse? Do I beat in time with you and in your body, meet? Do you breathe me in, taste me just like gin, bath in me till I’m in every hollow, in me do you wallow?

Do I flicker in your head before you go to sleep in bed, thoughts that stay with you moving through your body free falling like lead? Do I slide under your skin coating your body with a layer so thin? Do I sit within your ear silently, do you hear me and do you see me through those eyes, through those salty tears stored up through the years?

Do I come to you at night when your fears come out to play, or will you choose to face them alone and push me out the way? Will, I be in your soul when you face the hardest days and will that soul let me roll around in your haze, bringing peace and harmony when you are in a daze? Will you take all of me, not just what you see, and spread me around yourself like a suit of armour made to protect your health? When the day is long and life is but a bore will you call my name, asking of me for more?

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