Those hands and lips that did me much pleasure
That tongue that roamed living me in a state of leisure
You were my drug, my dose of ecstasy
In moments passion I look down upon our bodies
joined as one and I crave this eternity

But is it fate for me?
Is it meant to be?
So says fate

“Nay, only futility
Sure sex is sweet fruit yet as candy too much-too bad for the tooth”

The taste of your juice- mouth, skin and down under
The feel of you, my mind and body shudder-I wonder
could you be my thunder?
If so then I seek for it to Rrrain forever!!!
My avenging angel by Eros sent to subdue my cares
momentarily as we mesh undoubtedly in the bosom of ecstasy

bigstock-Love-in-text-15394607I wanting you, you wanting me, this just has to be Lo… Ust!
So where is the Love?
Question that echoes ever so faintly as we fashion our interpretation of “Love”

bigstock-Lust-44528956Please make a way for fate to say we are worthy
To lose you would hurt me
What to do with these feelings that corrupt me
Cursed ’cause I’m craving your body
while true love is on the high seas…


Personification of the “Genius”

A lot of us hear the word “Genius” and the first thought that comes to mind is “a person with an abnormally high IQ”- True, …but how many  of us know the original meaning of the word?

According to ancient Roman mythology the Genius (plural in Latin genii) was said to have been the guiding spirit or Tutelary (a deity or spirit who is a guardian, patron or protector) of a person, family, nation, culture or occupation… Well it can be said that in today’s world blogging has become a sort of culture and to some extent an occupation for most. Sadly a lot of bloggers (such as yours truly) tend to battle a lot with “Writer’s block”.

I was introduced  to the video below about a month and a half ago but never really paid attention to the power of the message until today-  In it Elizabeth Gilbert, Author of the Book “Eat, Pray, Love” gives a TedTalk titled “Your elusive creative Genius“, educating people on the power of the Artistic Genius.

It spoke to me as a writer and poet …well not the aspiring professional writer/poet type, just the type who posts what she can, when she can 🙂

I hope Gilbert’s presentation speaks to you too….

ENJOY! 🙂 Now did you REALLY watch it? 😉

Perhaps I should throw in a pop quiz just to be sure! 😛

Anyway, after listening to Elizabeth Gilbert’s message I basically developed a whole new perspective of the term “Writer’s Block”, and a less defeatist attitude towards it.

… Be it Muse, Genius or Tetulary, I prefer the idea that we writers of any kind aren’t the ones carrying the burden of creativity,  we just need to be open to the spirit(s) that guides us towards the path and when they don’t show up to inspire us when expected, we ought not despair! It only means they’ve got something super HOT steering, thus patience is required.

However, this form of logic also makes me wonder… “What spirit guides me when I write my pieces?” … Do you know what spirits guide you?… 😐

Thanks for stopping by! And thanks “Genius” for such a wonderful contribution …hehe!

Cheers yal! 🙂

An untitled dream work…

How do I tell a story of night, what words would truly express the moment’s horror? Lend me your thoughts and I will borrow you my imagination, if only for you to experience fully the act that is to ensue.
This is a story of  one, once man…
Now immortal…
One cursed…

(play as you read)

Steal away with me into the night

to a Bastion beyond  many hills, where

darkness looms, time stands still

a realm of the no longer beating heart

to the land of  a damned immortal

… a creatures of the night

Walk with me through these dark corridors

Hold your torch o so tightly…

Its fainting walls whispering tales of centuries

Weakened structures caked with dust

Listen to the moaning winds…

or could it be the many ghosts that hunt its halls?

Into the belly of the fortress we make our  way,

Down winding stairways,

through darkened passages

Hold your torch O so tightly…

Come to rest at the foot of iron gates, shut.

Peer through the gaps to find a  roofless chamber

its filthy, cracked walls bare no corners.

Moon beams pierce the darkness of this dungeon devoid of shade.

At first sight  we see nothing but space and time,

a visiting rodent sneaks a look through the cracks.

Focus still and bring your attention to the heap of ash on the stoney grounds.

Ashes  and Silence…

A scream suddenly breaks through the hush

Shrieks that make even the moaning winds give ear

The remains slowly taking form.

Life reaching  from the depths of hell

… or is it… life?


as dust is molded into flesh and bone.

With every capillary formed, for

every flesh mounted are the painful howls 

and constricting twists and turns…

FINALLY! … Finally, returns the hush,

the transformation lay still and

we hear the winds resume its tales

The object becomes animate, as

though awoken from Hades grip.

Sitting erect, the being looks towards the gate, towards

you and I

Behold the paleness of his face, his

eyes cold as death and yet divulging torment, and

with such deep sorrow he says

This is my fate did you know

to be cursed as Prometheus

Yet even he bore a better fate than I.

For I already damned am therefore damned a second time.

Once man, now soulless creature of evening…

He sites his noble visitor making its way back into the cracks

and with the agility of a lioness he pounces.

The meal he finishes all too quickly.

Signaling in our direction he speaks once again

You would be my first choice but for these accursed bars…

hence reduced to a scavenger am I…

His emaciated form circles the room in an almost zombie like manner

He awaits the Sun…

I await the sun…

The night sky,

She is beautiful is she not?

Day light greets me and

yet I can say very light of it majesty but

plenty of its horror

In this  prison, naked to the sky

condemned am I to be tortured as Helios rages on.

My flesh melts before my very eyes

and what is left of my soul is torn to a thousand pieces

His laments, shrill…

What would Prometheus know of pain?!

Zeus is less a devil than my captor!… These walls!

O that my ashes be scattered to the four winds to end my suffering!


His monologue is halted by the flicker of light from the east.

Dawn approaches, and

with it his executioner … A ball of fire

His eyes resume the horror from the moment he woke

Now frantically  wandering the room as though in search of a place to hide,

Psychological torture besest him as he envisages the pain soon to come.

We watch as though through a peep hole  of a sanitarium, this

tortured soul kicking and screaming, violently

throwing himself against the chamber walls

(…. So this is the cause of such filth and wreckage)

No white, softly padded walls to cushion his impact,

No straight jacket to prevent him cutting and scratching, that

he does in order to sensitize himself towards the impending affliction.

With the last vestige of courage he raises his voice:


 He then curls up like a child in where he best assumes a corner

as one defeated.

Cradling himself he mutters:

No more, No more…

The Sun slowly bearing its face, its

rays descend the Vampire’s uncovered tomb.

Cradling even faster,

His words more audios





Witness his backward transition

Melting flesh and bone,

to blood,

to ash.

Torturous screams return this shredded soul once again to temporary death.

A heap of dust once more, Silence

fills the room

Helios smiles down on what is left of our performer

As all the world is a stage

We applaud, You and I, and

then depart through the dark and twisted maze

of imagination’s fort.

Hold your torch o so tightly

“Everything you can imagine is real.”
Pablo Picasso

What to do when in Love


When in love, fearlessly express your love in a variety of ways. Never worry about what others might say or think. Always speak the truth that lies in your heart.

When in love, gather all your courage with both hands, and feel free to beat up your man, or chase him around the village square as Ntsame Minlame did in Daniel Mengara’s Mema, at the end of the chase, you can always dramatically end the scene by using your machete on yourself, what better way to demonstrate the term ‘crazy in love’.

Continue to love selflessly a person who has demonstrated countless times, the inability to reciprocate your love, a person who does not in any way deserve your love or friendship, when in love, you are allowed major acts of stupidity and great foolishness, after all, it is only fools who love.

When in love, please remember to act…

View original post 268 more words

Meet Scott!

Its time once again to introduce another fabulous Blogger on wordpress.com 🙂

Meet Scott Michell and with him the love of his life, Wéndollyn.  ===========> 


Reading his Poetry blog “Evoking the Deep“, you are pulled into the world of an otter romantic, but then if you are fortunate enough to chats with this amazing character you find that you were right! This very interesting North American OOoozes romance! 😛 😀 To me he is also very comical, a free thinker and pretty much a spiritual kind of guy, however I think this time I will leave it to my featured guest to tell us a little about himself 🙂

Scott Mitchell:

I can’t think of a lot to say about me except that I grew up in a small town and lived there all my life. Childhood was filled with daily adventure seeking with friends. I had a few moments when I felt my romantic and writing side come out, but I bottled it back up shortly after each time. Until 4 years ago, that is and I began spilling out every thought and feeling into poetry. Then, I was fortunate to become friends with Wéndollyn and I made the plan for my first visit to her country with the one goal of meeting her. The visit went very well and we quickly became more than friends (for more about this romantic tale just click! 😉 “Unfamiliar Passage: Back to the Start“). She has filled my life with inspiration and love ever since. She’s supportive of my passions such as writing and photography and we are compatible in every way I can think of. We’re both very serious people, but have our immature moments together as well. One time in Cartagena we had fun on a sidewalk near the beach. Whenever someone was approaching she would keep her back to them and start shouting at me. Then she would swing her hand at my face and I clapped my hands and jerked my face to the side to give the appearance of her slapping my face. Then, we would grab each other and passionately start kissing as the pedestrians looked at us in amazement and confusion. That’s one example of our shared craziness. We also both consider ourselves very serious Christian and our daily conversations almost always include topics of our faith. We talk on the phone or with webcams as much as 3 hours every day and continue surviving the LDR, but we really want to end this distance soon.

 My next visit is in July and there could be some surprises that I’ll publish on “Unfamiliar Passage.”

I work in IT for an automotive manufacturer and I support CAD (computer aided design) systems for all of our North and South American locations as well as Japan.

I can’t tell you I have a favorite piece Scott’s poetry (“Evoking the Deep“) because all his poems are “ON POINT!“, but I will say that the following was the very first piece that got me to click the “follow” button on his blog and I have never looked back since then! 🙂


Grinning as you sip your tea
near an ocean of blue
Anticipating dusk with me
knowing all I crave is you

The music is starting
like a warriors drum
My heart is thrashing
my reservations numb

Your lips of an angel
eyes beaming fire
Feel me approach
my muse, my desire

An anticipated predator
I’ll drink every ounce
No resistance given
yet a scream when I pounce

I’ll give you my all
nothing to fear
With each withdrawal
as you pull me near

I’ll eat your heart
and remove your pains
Now I’ll always be part
like blood in your veins

You can still feel my bite
in the peaceful morning sun
We cut an oath in the night
you’re my goddess of love

– Scottula

WAY TO GO SCOTT!!!!… Not only are you a Wonderful blogger and individual, you are also a FRIEND 🙂

Cheers! 😉

Her Real Awakening

The sky slowly lights up and rays from the still hidden sun softly filter into a dimly lit bedroom, to reveal a dark, feminine figure tossing uncomfortably on her bed. Her body, unwilling to wake continues to fight the break of day , yet in her subconscious she begins to narrate her daily anthem :

“Sometimes I wake in the night. Alone. Thoughts of decisions made. Thoughts of opportunities. Gone. I toss, I turn, and eventually sleep again. I wake to a new dawn, wiser. I awake to the first day….. of the rest of my life”

 Approaching the end of her mental monologue, she lay still on her back. Eyes shut, she inhales deeply,  and as air is released from her chest  her eyes pop wide open. This is her daily ritual for embracing the dawn after which she usually springs up to begin a new day. Today however things have taken on a different shape. Her ritual lacks its edge. On a normal morning everything she did was marked from the moment the sun began to peep through the horizon to her recital and everything else that followed, but presently she seemed stuck  in the moment “embracing the dawn” for much longer that usual. She lay almost lifeless in bed as though desiring for time to stand still. She found herself going over the anthem again and again, and the more she did the more paralyzed she felt. The words seem to take on new meaning today. An expected reaction of course for a woman only hours away from her 3oth birthday. In retrospect surely she had taken a lot for granted in her life time leading her to miss out on A LOT of opportunities, which included a few marriage proposals here and there. Regret was normal for a woman her age, but sadly she doubted that she had learned much from her mistake or that she was any wiser today. Her babyish looks and her overly free spirited way of life seemed to have been her curse.
Summoning up nerve she finally manages to drag herself out of bed to commence her last experience as a woman of the 20’s club. Slowly making her way towards the bathroom she heads straight for the sink. A splash of ice cold water on the face seems to do her some good when she pauses again at the sight of her own reflection in the mirror, and once again she is thrown into a state of panic. Maybe its her imagination but she suddenly notices stress lines and wrinkles across her face that may or may not have been there the night before. A some-what thorough inspection of her facial features is carried out. She pokes and pulls at the skin and at the same time makes funny faces to ease the tension welling up inside her.”You done dey old o babe” she says under her breath while looking back at her untidy frame and playfully pulling at her kinky locks of hair. Standing erect and very still she stares seriously at the mid-aged reflection of herself and suddenly realizes how  ironic the phrase”I awake to the first day….. of the rest of my life”  seems for that very moment in time. Yes, it is her first day…and yet her last as she dies to one decade to be born into the next. She smiles….

I miss you

I miss the emotion I carried while you were here
I miss the laughter and I miss the tears,
I miss the worry and the fear
I miss the love that we both shared.

I miss our brawls and reconciliations
I miss how loving you took patience
I remember how annoying you could be!
I would give anything to have you now unnerving me

I miss every mood that tied me to you
I miss the bad ones, but more the good
Your absence leaves me feeling like I have been run through
And how deep the gash you made, you will never have a clue

….I miss you, I miss you, I miss you

©2012 Festivalking

from the World Wide Web


You set my soul on fire, yet refuse to quench it.
You I desire and thirst for,
still my love as dry as a desert floor,
you will not wet it.

I hunger for you, so why will you not feed me?
I want you so bad, so why do you not need me?
Am I that less than ordinary, that simple or just a nobody?!

I wake every morning and say a prayer for me and you,
On my heart and body parts I have your name tattooed.

I stay by my window each day to see you pass by
…Such sweet salve for my wanting eyes
I wait impatiently for the scent of you,
mmm!….fresh morning due.
I create symphonies that remind me of you;
In my head, I play movies that star only we two.


Okay! Okay!
I see you’re not ready for this much pressure
so I’m “backing off” as you call it, for good measure.
I’ll resign to the background of your life
and I’ll let you breathe
to avoid you bringing in the authorities.
I’ll dream of you and I’ll want you from a distance,
that will be my pleasure for the very instant.
And though you may be cautious ’cause I’m persistent,
…worry not.
I am not obsessed…Just a little turned on by your resistance.

©2011 Festivalking