Grey

She sat on the mahogany stool in front of the 18th century oak dresser. From the mirror, big, comely, dark brown eyes stared back with a piercing gaze that went straight through her – they knew everything. Her unrested mind. An almost feeble body, barely able to contain the restless soul within. The eyes that stared, judging and ruthless, despite the silent stillness of the bedroom, was still somehow able to call her – weak.

But no. No one is allowed to call her that. I am a blessing to those lucky enough to encounter me, she affirmed. Anyone who should question it should burn in hell. She always felt bad for thinking this ruthlessly, but it wasn’t because she was benevolent, but because the thought of erring towards the darkness even in the slightest, would undermine her ‘greatness’. Only a filthy buzzard would ever commit such an act. Her alternative to the latter, however, was instead some twisted form of altruism, where it only appeared as such, from the outside. She would never leave someone stranded. No, she wouldn’t think twice about helping someone in need, and some may even praise her for it. But truly, only she knew: that even when she was someone’s saving Grace, she did it because she had to, not because she wanted to. 

In fact, she was so particular about how she was perceived that she spared no expense into her physical appearance, so much so, that farding to the nth degree was just a regular part of her daily routine, and one she could never part with. As meticulous as the process was, it was never a chore for her and quite contrarily it was instead very cathartic – it was such an easy way for her to hide what was underneath.

Away she went. She applied the primer and colour corrector. I get to choose who I am today. Concealer and then a bit more. Nothing shall disappoint me. Blush because colour was attractive to regular folk. How could they run from this? Highlighter to illuminate her deceptively guile face. They’ll see. 

Her brown eyes were opalescent in the sunlight, but the sclera of her left eye, was blemished by a sunspot, and both eyes were bloodshot from sizeable sleep debt. Ugh, maybe this will distract them. She skillfully applied eyeshadow, eyeliner and mascara along thick voluminous lashes, fluttering confidently with every blink. They would be noticable from across the room.

Now, she was ready for her favourite part, nearly overpowering her work with the reddest lipstick she could find. Red didn’t mean love or luck for her. Her interest was in the power it brought. Fire, blood, murder. Though she would never actually take a life, it amused her to think that she could make people either, love or tremble before her.

She blotted her crimson red lips and stood up. She lifted the magenta flacon near her collar bone and spritzed it once on each side, then once more behind her neck – she wanted her smell to linger as she walked past you. And dangerously so, an unbeknownst passerby would not complain of its wafts -which to her, was an aftereffect of the kind of power she craved.

Seemingly, there was indeed a degree of pettiness that had a grasp on her. Why was she like this? Was it because the past was a little too cruel? Something forced her to change. She once had it all, and almost lost everything in the abyss. She made it back out, but at what cost? Either way, she still felt a subtle but relentless sense of indignation and it was enough for her to toss and turn at night. Enough for her to care a little too much about how she looked. For her to feel like burning the world down. To detest whoever wrote her story, because they unfortunately tainted all the good parts, by getting one bit wrong.

Kevin-K

The introspective thoughts of a Snail

Argh! It’s cold outside, I just got here and I can’t seem to move anymore. I paused for a break, and now I’m starting to prefer the comfort of the ground that I reside. The crevice; the cement that bound these two bricks together, it seems to fit my foot perfectly. A foot that has appeared to travel far; a foot that is now starting to hurt. I did my best to inch forward, I did my best not to stop. The sun rose and it set, whilst the weather cycled through many of its seasons. All of it; all that I see, it all just zooms by. I’ve started to learn that there are just some things that transcend my sovereignty; one whose residency is the shell that I carry. Is it my life’s purpose to somehow make the most of this minuscule fragment of space? Do I have jurisdiction of anything beyond it?

I’ve been itching to find the answer, and though I try with every essence of my body I may never truly know, because that is the cruel fate of reality. I am bound by this horrid thing that I call home. I can’t live without it, but at the same time, I can’t go anywhere with it. So, although it feels like I’ve been travelling forever, every time I look back I am reminded, that I haven’t gone very far, because I see that I am indeed in the same place as I was yesterday. I am well aware of this fact; yet it is a pill I can’t seem to swallow, simply because I have memories that put me to a halt. I’ve seen time fly by, the weather change and I know that I have been travelling for far longer than yesterday. Surely, all my efforts have amounted to something…right? To get here, I have had to travel for my whole life- but was it all worth it? I see that having this option is both a blessing and a curse; an option too idealistic to execute but also too reckless to abort. Why should I travel any further? Is it that bad to stop? Should I live or just die here? I guess I’d better decide before carrying on any further; excuse me whilst I figure it out from inside.

I apologise if I seem dismissive -I’m just naturally introverted.

Kevin-K

Melancholy

Sometimes we get lost in thought. It can happen when we are on a long drive home from work or taking a walk somewhere. On the rare occasion when we get some time to ourselves and have a moment to breathe, our minds can wander. Sometimes it leads you to think about what your plan is for the week. Other times it might lock onto where you are and what is happening around you. But there are special times where it likes to look back -way back. In this rare occasion when it does, you can get a perfect view of how your life has manifested. It is in times like these, where we can experience melancholy.

To be melancholy to is to be in a VIP seat at a viewing, of the movie of your life. There is nobody else in the room but yourself. Here you get to look back at your life and think about what you were feeling at each moment, without experiencing the same emotions. You might look back at a rage-fuelled argument you had with a loved one, and say to yourself ‘gosh I was so hot-headed’. Or you might remember that devastating breakup with your soulmate and see yourself in anguish, yet feel none of the pain. You see, when you are melancholic, you can freely appreciate everything that has happened, because you’ve now moved on. To be melancholic is to be at a place, which is the furthest you’ve ever been. Now, so far ahead that you can look back and enjoy both the good and the bad.

There were times when you thought your life was over. There were times when you thought you’d never forgive yourself for your own mistakes. There were times when you were happy and times when you were sad. But now, they’re all just part of a beautiful collection of memories. When you are sitting in that chair, wondering about how time flew by, you may cry a little on the inside. It all might bring a tear to your eye, but that’s not to be alarmed. You’re not actually sad, but instead are somewhat grateful to see how things have changed. You finally appreciate how far you’ve had to come, to get to where you are now. There is definitely no going back in life, but it’s sometimes nice to see things retrospectively. Because what you might find is beauty in life’s best and worst moments, yet it’s something only you, will ever truly understand.

Kevin K.

Happenings in Hanoi

The voices of numerous other humanitarian delegates from across the globe, filled, and poured out of the Vietnamese restaurant. We sat together and listened some more to each other’s stories. What seemed normal in each speaker’s lives was uncannily intriguing to everyone else. We each made a point to take in as much as we could, because though it was unsaid, we all knew that it was nearly time to say goodbye. As a fellow delegate portrayed their story to the rest of the people situated around her, I watched as her words created ripples in their minds. Questions were raised: What did you learn? What motivates you? How did you find this week? I listened along attentively, and wound up thinking to myself, how did I find it?

This week whizzed by. It was a learning journey, one where we learnt of humanitarian focused leadership. We were all beat by the hectic schedule yet so enlightened by the exposure to the real world problems. We visited the locals in Hanoi, connected with them, and had a feel of a life more impoverished than our own.

Upon reflection, I can say with certainty that I was driven to lend a hand. Yet here I was asking myself the same thing over and over. How do I become someone who can make this world a better place? It was a question flung around the room of each conference we went to, and it was a question that left us begging for more answers. Answers which I would find at the dinner table, later tonight.

It’s a surreal feeling, being plucked out of your humble routine life, and plunged into a completely new world, with new people, all just as inspired as you are. Even when they are right there, in front of your face as they were now, it’s still hard to fathom everything that is going on.

I took a deep breath and looked up at the banana-leaf ceiling. My gaze locked onto one of the overhanging paper lanterns. I felt each and every one of their flickering lights, as they bobbed rhythmically with the hot Hanoi breezes. Each lantern was dimly lit, with an expiring light. It seemed whimsical, but when I let my eyes readjust to see beyond that single lantern, I noticed that together they had an astonishing breadth that spanned across the entire restaurant. Even though it was night-time, it didn’t seem dark at all.

I shifted my gaze back down to meet the eyes of the friends around me. They were still engaged in genial discourse about their last night here. It’s bittersweet we all agreed, we’d all only just met, yet we were about to be separated by the currents of our own lives. I felt a rift form in the pit of my stomach as I thought about it. Then, I noticed their dimly lit faces under the Vietnamese paper lanterns, the many smiles gleaming under the flickering light. It struck me profoundly, that these people were the burning candles. I knew then and there, that although we will be separated soon, together, we can still light up the world from afar.

Kevin-K

Time to fly

There are moments in our lives when we are forced to step up to the plate. There is a myriad of factors which may have forced us into these circumstances and much more that could impede us. There’s a lot you can’t change and few whom you can blame. Yet there appears to be nobody else that could make a difference, but yourself. So you may find yourself battling hardship, not because you want to, but because there simply is no other option. 

Naturally, you will culminate a drive that is so powerful that it compels you to overcome any predicament you encounter along your path. The path is perilous and knocks your down more times than you can count. However, unexpectedly but without a doubt, you’ll eventually enter into a marvellous new world. This world is yours. You’ve made it. Everything this place has to offer is yours. These are the fruits of your labour. Satisfaction beyond any pain you’ve endured. The dividends paid from your diligence and passion. 

Remember that, you are this person. The one who would rather die, fighting, than sit still and do nothing at all.

Kevin-K

Yearning

You’re on vacation. Basking in the warm Puerto Rican sun, bareback on the white sand, you slowly sip on your piña colada. The sweet fragrant pineapple juice adds a tang to the cool liquid, that soothes your nearly drying throat and leaves you savoring that delicious coconut aftertaste. You smile. You want to relish this moment. It’s been awhile since you’ve had some time to yourself -sometime to think. Here everything’s perfect. The enthralling radiance of the sun against the clear blue cloudless backdrop. The calming cadence of the crashing waves. It all feels so surreal. You want more of this, an everlasting inventory of fond memories, containing moments such as this one.

But there it is again. Just when you thought you’ve escaped it. Something dawns on you. The sand turns cold and grainy. The sun isn’t so warm -and that piña colada, just tastes like supermarket juice.  You contemplate about the countless events, the experiences you’ve had. You start stringing things together, weaving a precarious web of your life that falls apart because of doubt and dissatisfaction. You try desperately to make sense of it all. You tell yourself that life is okay; but you don’t  even believe yourself, because deep down you know better.

Stop!  You force your train of thought to a screeching halt. You try to focus on the beauty of this heedless afternoon, on the seaside. You grab handfuls of sand, which stick to your sweaty palms as you lay with limbs sprawled out, somehow hoping that it might distract you. The fine sand underneath you,  cushions your slightly quivering self. You remind yourself of all that’s around you. Yet still, here you are, back at it again, brooding from behind your sunglasses. You cycle through your thoughts, continuously, desperately searching for some sliver of the alacrity that was once there before, but to no avail.  It takes all your effort just to breathe, because you notice that, even with a firm grip, hanging onto hope  just feels like catching water with your bare hands.

***

 

She lifted her head off from the table. She woke to the piles of paperwork and the ringing telephones, only added to her throbbing headache. She checked her calendar, and glanced at the photo of Puerto Rico in front of her, pinned to her cubicle. Her eyes felt heavy and she suddenly became dizzy. With hands clasped against her now wrinkled face, she let the tears roll out. The years between then and now were, to her, somewhat of a blur. While the phones were still ringing and the paperwork stacking up higher and higher, she sat in silence. One that was louder than ever.

The only fond memory she had, was of her time at that beach. Yet she knew it wasn’t everlasting, because even that, seemed so painfully far away.

Kevin-K

Chasing the Horizon

 

My best friend, he was.

I never fully understood what he was thinking,

But I knew when he needed me; together

we tended to rudders & sails, when ship was sinking

 

We left our footprints in the pearls of sand,

We loved the beach, 

Running and dancing into the crashing waves.

Chasing  after the horizon that’s always out of reach.

 

I’d wait patiently every morning,

He’d greet me with zeal.

I’d help him through his mourning,

but now I am – and it’s unbelievably real. 

 

So I’ll sit and wait, 

In this dead sand and cold air.

Because I know he’ll come back,

and when he does, – I’ll be there. 

Kevin-K

.

 

 

 

 

 

Adam Winters (P.2)

The Scholar's Tabloid

Part 2.

“A new paige”

---

Adam abruptly grabbed her arm and pulled her close, to a whispers length. Under his breath he muttered, “Who are you?”. He felt a shiver run up his spine and diffuse into his cheeks. For some reason he could figure her out; she was so enigmatic and he found that off-putting.

He looked over his shoulder, not just to check if there were any observers, but in an attempt to appease his erratic thoughts. He couldn’t help but think she was just another one of them.

The woman noticed Adams unease.

“Please, stay calm.” the lady said, smiling.

Though her words meant otherwise, Adam still felt a lump deep in his throat.

“I apologize.”, he said pretending to check his Rolex, before finishing the rest of his drink. ” -but I’ve got to go”.

Driven by his intuition,  Adam stood up, pulled out a couple creased bills and left them on…

View original post 165 more words

A Good Way To End the Night

They say the night is darkest before the dawn,

and it was the cover of this darkness,we needed.

We etched closer to the line that was drawn,

 we knew it would hurt, but still we worked and we proceeded.

Knees buckling, palms sweating, arms shaking

we stood our ground and waited.

At the first sound of movement, ground’s quaking,

we embraced for what was fated.

I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat

the butterflies mounted, throwing me off-track.

But I couldn’t drown, I needed to stay afloat,

Everyone’s here, there’s absolutely no turning back.

In the next few moments, I will make my mark

I’ve lived for years, but in a few seconds of fight

I’ll begin the greatest journey one can ever embark.

My time here might’ve been short, but now in this plight,

I shall conquer, and that’s the only way I will end the night. 

 

Just another day

Click. Another person. It was the beginning of David’s shift. Five minutes had passed, which to him, felt like an eternity. Click. An old lady hobbled past. She wore a fragrance that reeked of frangipanis. He hated frangipanis. They reminded him of his nagging aunt. Click. A suited businessman entered. Hair greased up and stiff with pomade. Freshly shaven, well-groomed and with a charming smile, or at least it would have been to charming to the rest of us. But no, not to David, the suit and tie reeked of the success that always seem to be out of reach for him. Not only that, it served as a reminder that he hated his job. Click.  The manager of the gallery walked in. David straightened his posture and forced a smile. He courteously greeted her and she replied with a slight nod. She looked at him through her sunglasses and smiled, before entering her office around the corner. David watched her leaving from behind, the usual dark stockings, business attire and long auburn hair which bounced around with each step she took. Nothing new. David glanced at the clock on the wall. Two minutes had passed. This was going to be a long day.

He looked up and noticed Alayah walk in. She was slightly taller than him. Dressed casually in denim skinny jeans and a loosely fitted beige sweater.Her dark hair, complimented her smooth ebony skin and was tied up into a roughly tied pony tail. David had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life. As Alayah entered the art gallery, she smiled, revealing a set of perfectly aligned gleaming white teeth.

“Hi, my name is Alayah. I was hoping you could give me a tour.”

“Hi I’m David” he replied,  eyes fixed in her direction and nearly lost for words.

Alayah noticed the count on the tracker. “So, only 3 people this morning? Slow day is it?”, she said cheerfully, with a slight chuckle.

“Yeah”, David replied, heart still racing.

“How long do you normally stand here for?”, Alayah asked.

David had a brief moment to himself. He thought about the three coffee breaks his boss takes during the day. What time it was when the old lady left yesterday?. What was everyday like? He quickly realised that he didn’t even remember. He was always on cruise control. When did his mind have become so numb? He’d been participating in a passionless pursuit. What was he even doing here?

It was then that David felt a sudden surge of energy. He felt angry with himself and there was something uncanny about Alayah which sparked this rush of emotion. Still, he felt positive that he was about to do was best decision he’d made in years.

“Coffee?”, David requested with an unconvincing smile. His palms were now sweaty.

Alayah momentarily expressionless face was quickly replaced by a smile, “Sure, I love coffee.”

David eyes gleamed, feeling rejuvenated.

Click.

Kevin-K

 

Cancer

It goes unnoticed, at least for a little while

but when it takes shape, it takes away your smile.

That part of you, that evil chose to defile

your heart sinks,  making you want to run for miles.

 

The sickening thoughts invite themselves in.

You try to hide, but you know you can’t win

and when its time, you take it on the chin

you muster all the strength you have within.

 

You start with your dearest,

friends, family and those nearest

their presence makes you feel blessed,

with them it’s slightly harder to feel depressed.

 

They tell you what you need to hear

when it’s dark and things aren’t very clear.

When you feel fine, they rally and cheer,

because of them there’s one less thing to fear.

 

However you cannot help but hate

the thing that brought you to this state.

It hurts like hell and all you can do is wait,

It’s damaged you and you can’t even retaliate.

 

It makes you angry and bitter with rage

Why now, why here, why at such a young age?

There’s no longer time, just the next stage

You’re like a battle beaten tiger, stuck in a cage.

 

But what’s that? There it is again.

Slivers of serenity amongst all this pain

Flashes of happiness, memories inside your brain

Then its gone, those high spirits abstain.

 

Now you’re even more upset

Infuriated that your needs are not met

Time is short and all you’ve done is wept

You question yourself without breaking a sweat.

 

You find meaning in this plight.

You gather more and more in the night,

the reasons why you want to stand and fight.

Passion is your weapon, courage becomes your might.

 

There are still things you haven’t done.

Things you’ve neglected, whilst you were having fun.

There’s unfulfilled promises to that someone

someone you care enough for, to give it a final run.

 

In your struggles you find your drive,

remnants of what it feels like to be alive.

It’s honest, real and uncontrived,

but what you’ve done is much more than a strive.

 

You don’t realise at first but the others hid,

secretly watching in awe, without batting an eyelid.

You’re like a blooming flower that grew amid,

the war-torn soil, where nothing else did.

 

You’re efforts are motivating.

You’re spirit is intoxicating.

It’s looks like you’re levitating,

-even though it’s clear that you’re deteriorating.

 

You hear the silent doorbell ring and you know,

that he’s waiting outside and it’s time for you to go.

You’re glad but slightly sad and it shows.

But when you leave you go with the flow,

you choose not to look back, because you know,

that soon you’ll be gone and even so,

you’ll live on from above, in the hearts of those below. 

 

Kevin-K

 

I knew

I sat on the big rock. Thoughts come and go.

Sound of birds, green grass. How long does it take to grow?

The sun was yellow now it’s orange, why’s that so?

I’ll ask mother, perhaps she’d know.

 

Mother’s kind, big, warm and strong.

She’s smart and never wrong.

Wherever I go, she comes along.

She says together is where we belong.

 

She said if I listened I would one day know

Where the birds flew and how the grasses grow

She said I have to work hard wherever I go,

because where I need to be, can’t be seen from below.

 

I didn’t understand but I did as she said,

I finished my work before I went to bed.

I didn’t listen to the rest, I only read.

I didn’t waste time I had learnt instead.

 

I am grown up now, strong like a knight.

I now know why the sun is orange, just before night.

I knew it, I knew you were right. 

But right now, I just wish we could both reunite.

 

 

Kevin-K

The Busker

He knew he had to go. There were two things on his mind. The first, that he had no idea where he was headed. The second, he was short on time. He had his guitar, which he wore on his back and a bottle of water. The times he felt lost, were also the times he wanted to play a song.

Protected by the shade of a nearby tree, he sat down along the sidewalk. He opened the guitar case and propped the guitar on his knee. It’s grooves were home there. He took a deep breath and started playing. The people passing by all took some time, to at least glance in his direction. Most were hypnotized by the sounds, his moving fingers made. However he chose not to notice. His eyes were closed, completely lost in the melodies resonating from the metallic strings. He’s a well seasoned guitarist and the muscle memory in his wrist orchestrating the coordinated movement of his callused fingers, proved it.

The twang of falling coins, did little to hinder his entranced state. The sounds of the guitar had now taken him to another place, somewhere beyond the urban setting. In fact it took him somewhere nobody else had ever been before.  It took him into his past. He thought of the things he did, the things he shouldn’t have done. Those he loved and those he didn’t. The things he’d gained and the things he’d lost. He wondered what it’d be like if things were different, if life could have been better. He knew he’d never know for sure.

Sitting, eyes closed, plucking and strumming his guitar. He still had no idea where he was headed. He was still short on time. Alot of things have happened for him to get here. He didn’t ask for it and wasn’t he sure if he wanted it. But time was of the essence, his story was unique, that’s why this moment was so special and that’s what he told the amassing crowd, in the tunes of his song.

Kevin-K

A vignette

 

Adam Winters (P.2)

 

Part 2.

“A new paige”

---

 

Adam abruptly grabbed her arm and pulled her close, to a whispers length. Under his breath he muttered, “Who are you?”. He felt a shiver run up his spine and diffuse into his cheeks. To him, she was so enigmatic and he found that off-putting.

He looked over his shoulder, not just to check if there were any observers, but in an attempt to appease his erratic thoughts. He couldn’t help but think she was just another one of them.

The woman noticed Adams unease.

“Please, stay calm.” the lady said, smiling.

Though her words meant otherwise, Adam still felt a lump deep in his throat.

“I apologize.”, he said pretending to check his Rolex, before finishing the rest of his drink. ” -but I’ve got to go”.

Driven by his intuition,  Adam stood up, pulled out a couple creased bills and left them on the bench top. He needed to leave, something wasn’t right.

However, the lady was quick to react.

“Wait! Don’t you want to know more about Genevieve?”, she blurted out.

Adam paused. Genevieve. A name he could barely remember, but a face he could never forget.

The lady took a sip of  whiskey. It’s bitterness was comforting.

Meanwhile, Adam however, could barely move. Genevieve. The name was still reverberating inside his mind.

“What do you know about Genevieve? “, Adam managed to mutter, despite being momentarily lost for words.

She slowly opened her snake-skin purse. She pulled out a card and gently placed it in front of Adam.

“I can help you find her. I’ll meet you at dawn.”, she remarked. She quickly finished her double whiskey, then up and left.

Before Adam could regain his composure, she was gone at the sound of the swinging wooden doors its overhanging chimes.

The card. He looked down, at its inscription.

‘Paige. Member of the Red Club’.

 

---

 

*****

---

 

Kevin-K

---

---

Link to part 1: https://scholarstabloid.wordpress.com/2016/04/03/adam-winters-part-1/

On The Wayside

Wake up to the sound of dawn,

lost in the chaos, stifling devoirs,
the others can’t hear, so deaf and done.
But you can, you’re the only one.

Like animals, battling. They gnaw and claw.
Swinging, arms flailing, stomachs are wailing,
but you’re hungry, for something more.

Outside in slow traffic, sickening smog; so dank,
dark, drab and cold, they want to stay inside, so they lied,
but not you, you’ve no reason to hide.

Instead: light, bright, sunny and full of life.
Each step, brief, eager, puppy-like,
going, further and further, you walk,
where the others only begin to talk.

Home, winter-warm, restless refuge,
they return, worn, torn, exhausted and forlorn.
But you’re still going; giving up is forsworn.

Hysterical, honest, hungry, hairy is hope.
You see, hear, say, hold and feel it, time and time,
but they don’t.

Uprooted, uplifted, readily rejuvenated, rising like the sun, burning till it’s done, they won’t say it, but you needn’t a reminder,
since in your toil, you’ve already won.

Undangerous desires, passionately patient, you are,
lightning in a bottle,
rare and bouncing, around inside,

you’ve not wasted life, when you live, embracing the wayside.

 

Kevin-K

Leap

As I ceaselessly strolled into an awfully familiar tech store and was greeted by an eccentric salesman almost a year ago, my outlook on life changed forever. This man was evidence of true happiness…

Source: Leap

The meeting place

There it was, the same bench from before. With the help of his mahogany walking stick he slowly edged towards it. The  familiar pains in his knees slightly eased when he sat down; with back slightly arched, walking stick in both hands, resting on his thighs. A passing breeze, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass, renewed old memories.

The majestic oak, which stood beyond the concrete path, looked as if it hadn’t aged a single day. Its branches still extended incredibly far, with many, angled towards the ground. He remembered the times he used to sit beside it, blanketed by its shade, basking in its magnificence. Though the memory was fond, it left him feeling dejected, remembering that this was a very long time ago.

He glanced to his right, noticing the curly-white haired lady, walking slowly but unassisted on the pathway. Golly, she looks as fit as a fiddle, he thought to himself as she veered towards him. Her nude stockings were contrasted by a warm vibrant floral dress. She wore single pearl earrings, that perfectly matched the color of her hair. The clack of her black leather shoes grew louder and louder, but stopped as she turned to sit down. She looked at him and smiled, revealing a set of clean dentures. “How are you?”

“Good”, he replied, surprised by his inability to come up with a better response. He was drawn in by her blue eyes that gleamed in their now wrinkled sockets.

“Do you remember that oak tree?”, she asked, still smiling as her eyes slowly traced the branches of the oak.

“Indeed I do. It’s as beautiful as ever.” he replied genially.

She forced a laugh, that lasted a couple seconds before letting silence overcome them.

He opened his mouth to talk, but then paused momentarily. “Tell me, did things ever get better?” he asked, without turning to look at her.

“You mean life?”, she replied, pretending she didn’t know better.

He nodded, with a face emotionless and calm.

“Well I can’t say it ever did.”, she remarked, suddenly finding it hard to keep a smile. “How about yourself?”

She watched as he abruptly  broke into a grin. He shyly shook his head as he looked up at the clouds drifting across the blue sky. “Yep, life definitely sucked without you.”

They looked at each other, feeling the rift from the lost decades, slowly close. They laughed, somewhat amused by the predicament they were both in. It suddenly became easier to stare into each others eyes.

They sat there, conversing on the bench, glad they were reunited. Their smiles were wide with laughter, but they couldn’t resist wishing it had all happened differently.

It was cruel, but they were now too old to care.

Kevin-K

A vignette.

 

 

Friendship in adulthood

It’s a love-hate relationship. It’s a symbiotic one that, ironically, sucks the life out of you —yet you can’t stop. You can’t escape it; life without friends is not a life worth living. You can try going at it alone, but you’ll find it’s a baneful path that leads to a barren place. Friendship benefits us in many more ways than we can appreciate, by not only supplementing our faults, but augmenting the reality that we experience.

The human condition can’t be cured, but can be treated with the means of companionship. Frustration can be eased with a simple talk. The heavy  loads of torment and sadness can be shared. Happiness can be bolstered by the presence of another. When they say, a true friend is one that “sticks it out through the thick and thin”, that is what they are talking about. They’re referring to the someone who’s there when you need it. This is a trait we seek in friends, yet out of the plethora of individuals that can fulfill this requirement, why do we still pick and choose? Can’t it be anyone? The answer is no. It’s because we are naturally selfish, and there are many other factors that need to be considered. We not only need a friend that works, but one that works well with us, in the reality we perceive. Thereby, a sustaining friendship must be beneficial, or at least mutual, leaving the parasites to be expunged.

Why is it that, only when we meet someone with similar interests, mindsets and goals, do we feel an instant urge to be acquainted with them? “We have so much in common.”, “They just get me.”, are common responses, which are unfruitful attempts to decipher this phenomenon. See, the answer is much deeper than that.

It isn’t the fact that we need someone to understand us, there are better ways; blogging, such as this perhaps, could draw in more concurring perspectives. Rather, we simply aren’t choosing someone solely because they understand us, but because someone that possesses synonymous traits with us, will be less of a headache. The idea is then raised, that we choose friends not only for the fact they might ‘get us’, but because they provide us with comfort, they are consoling and are something to keep us from dying of boredom, but all without hampering our daily routines. The reality lies in the fact that we need a friend that fulfills all of these categories, because we need them to help us along our journey; we want them to help us get the most out of life and thus, we search for the ones that don’t hinder us.

Do you notice that, the less strain a friend puts on you  (though not at the expense of rapport), the more fun they seem to be? It is the same friend that gives you space so you can chase your aspirations. The one that patiently waits in the dark, waiting for a phone call, only picking up when it’s you on the other line. That is your best friend, and your deduction for the justification of such selfless behavior is simply, “They really do understand me. They are great.”. Differentiating a good friend from a bad friend in this frame, doesn’t make much sense does it? It’s an ignorant delusion. Instead, the more rational thinker, would see that friends, though we care much for them, are there to benefit us, as we are to them. So when the latter ceases, you can watch wistfully as the relationship ignites into flames.

It’s for same reasons that people fall out; how you might find yourself seeing less and less of your best friend. You could try to elucidate by telling yourself: “they’re just not the same as before”, and you’ll probably be correct. But if not, it is because you, yourself, have become a different person.

Even at the pinnacle of friendships, one where you believed you found a companion you couldn’t live without, could unexpectedly crumble; where simply spending time with each other becomes an  afterthought. It sounds daunting, but it happens to the best of us, and is ubiquitous, especially as you grow up and veer towards different directions in life. It’s the cold hard truth and I hate it.

However, what is even more infuriating, is knowing this piece of information. Making friends now becomes intolerably painful. The more fun, exhilarating, interesting, and caring they are, the more it hurts becoming acquainted. Because you know, deep down inside, you’re both only getting older, nothing stays the same and companionship does in fact come at a cost or if not, with an untimely expiration date. You can either choose to cut your losses and grow without them, or stay and grow bitter as you watch your friendship slowly diminish.

It’s a sad thought. But even so, it’s not an ultimatum. There’s a third option. Albeit an absurdly optimistic one, it might just do the trick. It’s one that involves incessant dedication. Dire outcomes can change with input on your end. It’s hard, but you can persist and opt to go against the flow of the river, for that special someone and that could make all the difference. Go the extra mile and hold on to that dear friend.

Indefinitely, you’ll be the reason an excellent acquaintanceship manifests into life-long companionship. The other party doesn’t even need to do anything, in fact they don’t even need to know. Your efforts will work covertly, making the results unannounced and unsuperficial —and you’ll be okay with that.

Remember you aren’t doing this for recognition. You are doing this, not only because you care, but because you’re sick and tired of feeling the aching pain of drifting apart. You are in it for the long haul. Life does indeed go on, but you don’t have to go at it alone.

Kevin-K

The train to nowhere

I paid for my ticket, and watched it come out of the machine. My legs felt heavy as I climbed down the stairs. I was tired, but it wasn’t from the lack of sleep.

The train arrived. I waited for the hoards of people departing, to pass before I boarded the carriage. The closing doors muffled the sounds of the station guards whistle. I sat down, but without today’s paper. The news seemed  uninteresting. It didn’t matter. Not since you left.

I watched the passing buildings; a blur of intoxicating infrastructure; but you loved it. I looked away, distracted by the throbbing in my cranium.

The ache starts in my head, but radiated through my entire body. My mind doesn’t let me sleep. All I could think about is you.

Wishing is pointless. But when it always feels like it’s raining, it might be the only thing I have left.

I can’t remember the sound of your voice, but I still remember the yelling, your fury when I forgot to water that little herb garden of yours. I never understood why you loved it so much, but I wish you were here, still trying to teach me a lesson.

Sitting here on the train, as I’m trying to leave, I find I still can’t escape your memory.

I rested my head on the glass window. Its cold surface was soothing. I looked up to see my reflection. If only it was you, staring back. Your hazel eyes, and light brown hair, flowing over your slightly freckled cheeks. My throat felt dry, just thinking about it.

I know, that I can’t run. I can’t hide. This train won’t save me. But even so, it’s the only way I’ll keep moving forward. It was hard getting up today, but I somehow managed to do it anyway. I won’t falter, I know you’d expect better from me. That’s what I keep telling myself. This train of thought started making me feel nauseous so I looked around, trying to distract myself. There were many other passengers, yet somehow I still felt alone.

 I listened to the rhythmic clacking sounds of the train-wheels on the rails, which momentarily caught my attention; but there I was again. Back to square one, feeling the surging ache which made it difficult to breathe. The shallow breaths that slowly made me light-headed. Pins and needles at my finger tips, reminding me that I was ill. As scary as it seems, I’ve gotten used to it. It’s happened before, though it never ends,

 because I’m still in love with the fleeting memory you, and I don’t know how to stop.

Kevin-K

A vignette.

New leaf

Your insides are churning

Living but not learning

Pepertually grasping at air

Yearning for, what isn’t really there.

 

the excitement is contrived,

gone before you even arrive.

Feelings of discontent arise,

you search for something, anything, up in the skies.

 

Stuck; moving, but going nowhere,

Not seeing change is difficult to bare,

but still you search, for reasons difficult to discern.

Forgetting the good, is in what you needn’t earn.

When satisfaction runs dry,

happiness can start to die.

Save yourself, drink from another well

One whose magic is beyond a mere spell.

The wise expunge the thoughts of a gadfly

Believing, is all they need to get by.

They don’t get stuck in the loop,

they know, desperation attacks in a single swoop.

 

So look, but not before you change the lens.

Focus not on a world of chaos, or its woes.

What’s curious is hidden inside,

dusty and covered,

but definitely alive.

Kevin-K

 

 

 

Adam Winters (Part 1)

Part 1: An unfortuitous encounter

****

---

 

He ran his fingertips, circling the edge of the empty glass. His gazed was lowered, lost in thought as he eyed the wooden bench-top. The bartender knew him well enough to know he needed another, as he briskly refilled the whiskey glass. Adam took a sip. Somehow he still found himself cringing at the bitterness. Still, he wanted more. He yearned for that brief moment of warmth. The sensation of liquor trickling down the back of his throat, giving a flicker of life in his cold insides. Like striking a flint-stone in heavy rain.

It was late. The bar was empty, apart from himself and the bartender. Adam was tired but he knew he couldn’t sleep, even if he tried. In the previous nights, he’s found himself rolling in bed, only to be abruptly woken up, sweaty and shaking. As if what he saw when he closed his eyes, was simply too much to bare. He hated himself, for reasons he could not discern. All he knew was whatever it was, had let demons run amok inside him.

The sun didn’t rise as high as it used to. The air was dank. Walking was a chore. He only ate because he had to. He only drank to lull himself to sleep  —only to wake up and find himself doing it all over again.

There seemed to be no clairvoyance. He had given up looking for answers. He was a prisoner of his own mind. He remained glued to the wooden stool. Sitting, musing about nothing.

Then she walked in.

White gloves that stopped at mid forearm. A white top with Brigitte Bardot inspired lace trim; fashionably complemented by a striking black skirt and large floppy hat, which hid the top half of her face. From behind her shades, she glanced in Adam’s direction and prepensely sat on the stool beside him.

“I’ll have what he’s having”, she said tactfully.

Adam remained impartial. His slumped posture did not falter. Glass in his hand, he continued, discounting her attempts to start a conversation.

She didn’t relent. She took off her sunglasses and whispered genially in his ear. “I know where she is.”, she said, sneering.

Adam finally looked up.

 

Kevin-K

Before The Setting Sun

 

Join in on the Indian miner’s siesta

don’t wait for the afterglow of the setting sun.

Hear the rustles of leaves in breezes;

take it all in, while there’s still some light.

Before it gets dark, and the good is consumed by the night.

All we have is each other and that’s important to remember.

 

What seems harsh is the truth of brutal reality,

and we’ll do our best to ignore it.

But  there’ll be days when we’re cornered,

by mistake, hate and despair, where

We might not get another chance at the cool autumn air.

Evil is the temptation, and desertion is the ultimatum.

 

So darling, if we’re near, we can chisel at fear.

The hounds of the night can’t smell what’s so pure.

Eyes shut but don’t let down your guard.

Old-time camaraderie brings fortitude in our reflections.

Might us skirmish by ardour, with semblance for protection,

— so we’ll be ready for when, the sun sets.

 

Kevin-K

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beethoven’s Barn

Beethoven’s overtures, resonated against the timber walls of the barn. The sounds of the complex compositions engaged Abe on a visceral level. It was sensory. He wondered why there were parts of Beethoven’s pieces that made him cry.

Maybe it was the circumstances in which it was written. Perhaps his inspirations were augmented by deaths phantasm. He pictured Beethoven, blind and deaf, scribbling furiously while death stood at his doorstep, clipping his nails. Lighting the midnight oil, till there was nothing left to burn. Did Beethoven write for us or himself? In his own dejection, were we, the audience, the cushion for his safe landing into oblivion? What were his intentions?

The cadence of Abe’s thoughts matched the highs and lows Beethoven’s 5th symphony in C. Swift changes in tempo make his heart stop and start. Abe stood up from the wooden stool. Moments of meandering by the violins led his mind astray. His eyes welled up. The bales of hay glowed amber. He peered out the window. The clouds didn’t drift but seemed to sail with the verset. Abe understood,  the magic  -right before his eyes. Beethoven’ music makes the ordinary, unbearably beautiful. Minutia becomes the magnificent.

It was now clear to Abe, that Beethoven’s intentions were to transcend appreciation for the fragility of life. The latter is short and just like the orchestral piece, it was only a matter of time before it ends.

Abe left the barn rhapsodic. Undoubtedly charmed by the sonata.

 

Kevin-K

“Nobody said it was easy”

You set yourself to aspire towards a goal but you have lost hope or have decided to give up because it takes too long and is difficult to achieve. You have experienced multiple adversities in your life and begin avoiding certain things because you know you don’t have to deal with it anymore, which is easier for your life. Your heart is arduously set on a dream job you’ve always longed for, but your mind dismisses the thought of even trying because it isn’t easy. Your dreams and goals never come true despite your relentless efforts and you begin to contemplate it’s worth. You immerse yourself in negative thoughts and refuse to pick yourself up again because it’s easy to do so. You find the easiest choice possible, simply because it’s easy. You solely give up altogether because obviously it’s simpler that way.

Life can be hard, but nobody said it was easy. How convenient would it be if everyone could wish for anything in their lives. If life was easy then everyone would be doing the same thing. However, there would be no meaning to life if everything we encounter in life was unchallenging or trouble-free.

Life revolves around a nest of human resilience, courage, belief, humility and strength. Despite any difficulties, when you refuse to give up, it shines upon your undying strength to keep going. As you pick yourself up to try again, it shows your resilience and that you are brave enough to face any minor set backs. When you keep aspiring towards your dreams and goals, it doesn’t show the world how easy it is to achieve it. Instead it displays your unwavering ray of belief and highlights that perseverance is the key to achieving anything in life. Akin to the lotus flower, it’s origins lay in the soil and mud, but continues to reach towards the sunlight amidst the pellucid blue sky, standing tall and thrives in the environment it calls ‘life.’

Life is not easy, but we can certainly make it easier and worthwhile by building the strength and mentality to persevere and keep striving towards our aspirations.

-Cowlord

Life

Hi there, it’s me again.
I just wanted give thanks,
Despite all you’ve given is pain.
Stare, but I’m just being frank.

In one way or another,
disappointment is assigned.
You were given to me by my mother,
and now we’re stuck in a bind.

Still, I know, that if I hold on
for just a little while longer,
that it’ll weigh a tonne,
-but only then will we ever get stronger.

Let’s not resent,
Our time is short.
Let’s enioy the present.
Remember, together…
-that’s how we’ve fought.

Through and through,
it’ll end. But before it all;
Let me ask you:
What is it you have install?

Kevin-K

“To live without hope, is to cease to live” -Fyodor Dostoyevsky

For those battling the unrelenting waves of the ocean, in seeking asylum in new lands. Freedom fighters participating passionately in wars, sparked by conflicting religious views. To these people, and much of mankind, outlooks on opportunities, peace, or for a better place, is their most prized possession- and it’s almost unbearable to have their hopes denied.

There is stigma attached to hope; its falsified counterpart. When hope deludes us from reality. The latter is most threatening as much as it is ruthless. It makes us feel betrayed. Friedrich Nietzsche reputed, “Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.”. Hence, there are those who refuse to revel in it. But without hope, are you really living?

Hope perpetuates growth -even in the harshest of landscapes. It is essential to life. Imagine a life without hope. Defeat will conquer the loser. We’ll believe that things will only get worse. Learnt helplessness will stagnate our world. Life would go by, we would only absorb its negativity, and let it crush us. Death would be our only savior.

The power of hope is one that shouldn’t be underestimated. In good times, optimism evokes more positive aspects of the future. In bad times, it consoles us and gives us a helping hand. The thought of potential justice, success, rescue is something worth fighting for.

If we haven’t yet committed suicide, it would signify that there are a still things to live for -and hope will always give us a reason to stay alive. Because of said reasons, hope is a virtue. However, there are cynics that question its position as a virtue, because it rarely pays off. That stance is understandable, but carries a perspective is one-dimensional and therefore is inaccurate. See, hope’s power is intrinsic.

Hope is allied to imagination, aspiration, growth, courage; transforming us to positive characters.  We mature underneath. Thus, you might find more about a person, if you look at their hopes, than counting their achievements. For, the best of us doesn’t lie in what we’ve accomplished, but what we hope to be.

-Kevin K.

“Last laughs”

It was so sudden, so
unprecedented. The pain,
came but it didn’t go.
Thoughts: listless and plain.

Energy leaking, like there’s
a puncture in my chest.
Let the demons prepare,
celebrations of my distress.

Why did you do this to me?
No note, just a crushing weight.
one, that makes me, weak at the knee.
Smother, constrict. Asphyxiate.

It did cross my mind. Join you?
Was it hard? Should I do it alone?
Ha, you’re smiling at me, is this true?

I guess I’m lucky, 
I’m still laughing, when; you didn’t get to.

– Midnight Supper.

5 tips to improve your writing

“When asked, ‘how to write’, I invariably answer ‘one word at a time.'” -Stephen King. To be able to write an engaging piece of writing, doesn’t take much. Some may find it disheartening and unnerving, when comparing one’s own writing with that of a skilled author. They might ask, “How can I write something as amazing as this?”. There’s no funny business to this question; the answer is to simply start writing.

1. Start writing
Easily the most common and toughest problem all writers face, is getting started. It is easy to fall into the trap of over researching a topic before you begin, or daydream about what you should write. However none of these strategies can give you more clarity than putting words to paper (or computer). Go beyond your doubts, and write. Don’t think about it, just write. Let the words flow, you can fix any mistakes afterwards. By doing this you’ll have extracted myriads of ideas you had floating around in your mind.

2. Developing your writing:
It’s near impossible, to fully imitate another author, no matter how simple their writing method is. Everyone has a unique style. So keep in mind, what you write doesn’t necessarily have to be palatable to every other individual out there, however, it’s a good idea to write something that you personally like yourself. Stick to what interests you. This will bolster the connection you have with your writing and motivate you to improve on it. Your style might transform overtime, but that’s just a sign that you’re evolving as an author.

3. Proof reading
Don’t take anything you’ve written for granted. Even a small article, including this one, can be improved upon or altered to suit your liking. Without proof reading, you’ll overlook the flaws or peeves, and won’t be able to make the respective adjustments. Also, this step is a reward in itself. The more you proof read your work, the more perfect, in your eyes, it becomes. It’s alluring. Think of it like polishing a shoe.

4.Routine
Like many great pieces of writing, many require insurmountable amounts of commitment and time. Such written works cannot be done in one sitting. That’s where routines come in, and its importance can’t be downplayed. The most successful writers, novelists, authors all have had to form good writing habits. But it’s not the act of writing that is difficult per se, but getting started that’s the issue. However, there’s a method you can employ. Try to trick yourself into writing: assign a seemingly easy goal of writing 20 words every night. It will be easy to write these 20 words, because its such a small count, however its enough to get you in to the ‘zone’. You might see 20 words turn into 300 or even thousands.

5. Be Happy
The greatest novelists didn’t write for money, fame or making new friends. Although these might have had some sort of influence, ultimately, they did it because it was fun; it’s what they wanted to do and it made them happy. Still, you don’t have to be a novelist to enjoy writing. Take pleasure in your work. Let it be your escape. With this you’ll experience glorious manifestations of literary splendor -all written by you.

Kevin-K

“Something Extra”

The skin on his arms are just a little darker than they used to be. Still, it didn’t matter to him, he liked the sun. The light of day was fleeting, but he had no intention of returning home. With each step, he felt the ripples in the field of tall spear grass. Such a pleasant sensation on his shins. He tightened the cord of his favourite sun hat, to hamper the risk of it floating away with the forming sea-breezes. Then, he stopped. Dead in his tracks. There it was, a view that was angled so perfectly, it could capture every detail, of the onset of twilight. The suns image projected into the ocean, forming a wavy figure that extended the enthralling solar luminosity. But the more he peered into it’s dazzling elegance, the more he noticed a spectre of himself, embodying memories of his life. Iterations of pleasantry, companionship and fondness assembled. He felt blessed for everything that had happened; and for all that was necessary for him to reach this very moment. It was galvanizing. He smiled wistfully, and turned back. Just as the sun finally set, he was ready to go home.

Kevin-K

A vignette.

 

What I learnt at University

 

Attending University is commonly affiliated with the chance to make your CV appear spectacular, to forge lifelong friendships, to experience the youthful student life, to study any degree for the sake of studying it or to simply reach the career of your dreams. Yet beyond the very structured curricular program a typical three year degree has to offer, university has taught me some valuable and imperative lessons that is applicable in life. Having officially completed my undergraduate degree, I offer to you my gems of wisdom that attending university has bestowed upon me; and no, it has nothing to do with the organic synthesis of aspirin.

1. Time management
   One of the very vital skills in life is how well you organise your time. Not only is it beneficial in managing your studies, but it can appear very attractive on your CV and your job interview. We live in a technologically advanced and fast paced society where we have many responsibilities and tasks at hand with minimal hours in a day, that our initial reaction to such burden is stress. From experience, I had to learn this the hard way. How do you juggle full-time study, on-going assessments, work, research projects, hobbies, attend music festivals, catch up with your friends as well as prepare for entrance exams? Undeniably, there were moments where I stressed out and I was overwhelmed with negative thoughts. I jumped to conclusions saying ‘why can’t university give me more time to finish my work and that I can have more free time,’ or ‘why can’t I just quit work to make things easier for me as a student?’ These thoughts were futile and a waste of energy. Essentially, all I had to do was take a step back, organise my thoughts, set my priorities, focus and address things one step at a time. With wishful thinking we brood over ‘why can’t there be more hours in a day,’ and if there was spare time, then we can complete what is needed to be done in our daily lives in order to go to bed with satisfaction. Unfortunately, this is life and some things don’t work that way. I learnt that sometimes when you have countless things to do where you feel there’s not enough time, the best thing to do is adapt to the time that is given to you. You can’t change time, but you can change the way you think about it and approach it.
2. Independence
   When you were in primary school or high school most things are spoon-fed to you. However, as you grow up, you have to manage for yourself in this world. In University, academics are there to provide to you a brief overview of your unit and then set you with assessment tasks. They expect you to know your work and the content of your next practical and be well equipped with knowledge for your next mid-term exam. But how are we to know what to study when the lecturers and tutors do not provide enough information on the unit? During my time at university, I heard complaints from my peers and classmates left, right and centre how incompetent the unit coordinators or tutors were in teaching. I figured that academics will be there to assist you if you seek the help. If you want to clarify something, send them an email or talk to them directly. If you would like to read up more about the topic, head to the library or talk to the academics where are the best sources for adequate information. Unluckily, not everything is easily provided to you like in primary and secondary school. If you want something, show the independence to go get it. This can be useful in life and in your career where you have to display initiative to manage your responsibilities.
3. In life, you get out exactly what you put in
   At University whether you aim for an outstanding grade point average or not your performance is determined by that amount of hard work you set aside for it. Quintessential in life if you want something, you have to put in the effort to achieve it. If you want to be fit and healthy, put in the effort to eat well and exercise regularly. If your job is exhausting and it obviously strips you of your happiness then quit and apply for a new one that is more suitable for you. If you want to expand your skills and talents, step out of your comfort zone, try something new and work hard at it. Your only limit is you.

-Cowlord 🐮