on NOT raising rapists…

No its not poetry but #Adjustedsails delivers a POWERFUL message here “on NOT raising Rapists”… Enjoy!


“Nobody ever says I wanna be a [RAPIST] when I grow up.” I liked those late ’80s commercials stressing the importance of making early anti-drug decisions by choosing NOT to be a drug-user. As a passionate advocate of abuse prevention, I teach my children, and admonish others to teach their children, NOT to be rapists and NOT to be abusers (sexual, physical, emotional, or otherwise). People usually ask, “How? What’s a practical way?” My response: “Explicitly!” We don’t teach our children much else in vague terms. We don’t JUST say, “Mind your manners.” We say, “Don’t put your elbows on the table.” We don’t JUST say, “Respect others’ things.” We say, “Don’t go upstairs without their permission, or don’t run in their home, or don’t jump on their couch.” Well, I’d much rather your son run across my couch than rape my daughter! Likewise, I’m sure you’d much rather…

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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! 🙂

Līgo Haībun Challenge ~ Prompt **South America**


“Let me say at the risk of seeming ridiculous that the true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love.”


Besides magazines I have read and documentaries I’ve watched about the Inca, Mayan and Aztec Civilizations, there is very little I know about South America. However, during my teenage years I came across the ruggedly handsome face of a certain Latino for the first time on a T-Shirt and below his picture was his name written in bold letters, “CHE”. It was love at first sight! Thank goodness for “Google”, I found him right quick. 😉

Reading up on my new love interest I was quite disappointed to find out that he was dead and that had he lived would have been old enough to be my grand daddy! …But the education I got while reading up on this great man  was an eye opener on what it takes to truly Dream and dream selflessly.

It took the marathon motorcycle ride of a young Argentine through all of South America for an Ideal to be borne- A borderless, united Hispanic America sharing a common Latino heritage…

What a visionary!


He dreamed of one voice
 To dream and sacrifice much
 That he did till death

Melt – The Līgo Haībun Challenge

4:00 P.M– Just getting off work, she races down the road and towards the Bus stop. She’s almost there, but NOT- then her bus begins to move. She arrives at the spot only to meet the butt of the vehicle fading into the corner of the street, that would mean an hour and a half of her waiting for another transit in her direction. Frustrated, she curses. Its lonely at the station so a walk in the cannabis field is the perfect remedy for her foul mood. Sitting in a waiting chair, legs crossed, she reaches into her bag for a stick; Lights it up and drags-

In goes the poison and out her frustration.

The session is almost heavenly. Melting in her seat she  tastes the evening breeze. Dreamily she pays attention as the light from her stick illuminate in the evening hue, its soft feathery haze lifting through the atmosphere;

Inhale, Exhale

Her nerves untwine as the intoxicating odor of perspiration, hers, mixed with fumes of the slowly diminishing stick fills her nostrils. Utter bliss as she sits melted in her waiting chair-  Even the wind amongst the trees offer the symphony of Handel’s Messiah… or is that just in her head? …


From euphoric dance
  Toots from a horn break the spell  
  ...Damn reality!


New Challenge for 2013 but I still have love for my people at the dVerse bar 😉

Thanks Captain!!!! 🙂

Ligo Haibun Challenge here


***The Līgo Haībun Challenge normally has a word limit of up to 220 words or less inc the haiku***



Haībun is Prosimetric writing. The haībun format for the Līgo Haībun Challenge is as follows ~

paragraph (more than one paragraph is fine,or justa few sentences) in prose form of either

  • a descriptive passage , or excerpt from a story/or previously published post 
  • a tale
  • a travelogue
  • a news item
  • a recipe


the haiku to close


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

Fighting his way back home to you…

6.30 in the P.M and just got off the grinder. Peak period for traffic so I’m killing time at the bar round the corner from my office. Its a day like any. I’m tired. I’ve got my sleeves rolled up and my tie undone and I’m sipping on a LARGE glass of larger. I’m having a mental conversation with myself about the happenings of the day when I spot this fine a.. sister about to leave the room. Conversation between me and my mind quickly switches from stories of a hard days work to descriptions of  the vision of absolute sin standing before us.

Now I had hoped she’d do me a favour by just walking past and never looking back. That would have saved me the mental and emotional effort that came with fighting the welling temptation now steering up inside of me, but she didn’t. The siren took my breathe away from the moment my eyes left her backside and unconsciously met with hers pair of … not sure how to describe those eyes of hers. Yes, she noticed me too, but how on earth was I suppose to be glad about that?!

Surely if it was back in the day when a brother didn’t have a woman and the responsibility of a family… well you know the rest. Sadly, Christmas had only come TOO LATE. Damn that Santa Claus!, dishing out the coal all those years only to throw this wonderful gift of lust down my chimney now my hands are tied!

Eye contact must have been for a few seconds but in that time I felt like I had been sucked into eternity. All the should have, could have, would have’s flashed before my imaginative eyes and in that moment I had to muster every drop of will power  to pull myself out of those  pools of sweet seduction.

Self snapped back to reality, I look at my watch and then at my wedding ring while making a fist out of shear male frustration… breathing a sigh of what then seemed like disappointment I look back at her and she’s already got her back turned on me and is walking into the distance. Eyes back on her rolling ass again…  I sigh but this time sure that its in relief.

“A fine day its been so far” I tell my mind, resuming our conversation. “I dodged a bullet and still came out feeling like a sex A real man gives up one night stands for a woman he can't stand one night without.symbol ” 😉

Just thought I would appreciate what a lot of guys go through for the women they love. You are appreciated fellas! 😉

BOX by Dan Robert

Prologue- Remember?

Hold my hand please.

The rain doesn’t feel like rain anymore. It feels like…

Hold my hand.

When I moved, it moved; it swayed this way and that just like the car in that crash. Remember the car crash? The rain poured, and we watched, and the car came, and we watched, and the car swayed this way and that, and we watched. Remember the car crash?

Hold my..

I really want to, but what if it sees us. It thinks its had us, finished us for good. When I moved, it moved; it shifted this way and that. Why don’t we remain like this, shut our eyes and think thoughts? Don’t think about the car crash, think other thoughts. Close your eyes. Remember last spring when you..


You were exceptionally pretty that spring, Anastasia. And we went to the lake. Remember? We sat on that large rock. You named the rock Sir Wobbles because you believed it wobbled whenever you weren’t paying attention. I kept telling you I couldn’t feel it wobble. We had to agree you were imagining things. Just like you to think your imagination could move a rock. I never told you this: Sir Wobbles actually shook. I planned on telling you but I must have forgotten. Remember when the rain came and we rushed into the tiny shed and lit the stove? You looked beautiful in that light, Anastasia. Remember? Remember, Anastasia?




Meet Dan Robert,
Dan Robert
Apparently a pseudonym but none the less the character in question, real. 🙂 The piece you just read is an abstract from a writing project of his.
Get to know more about Dan Robert at www.wattpad.com by clicking on his photograph, and for more from his book “BOX”, kindly click on the picture above.
Comments, Suggestions, Critique will ALL be appreciated… but lets keep it healthy shall we people ;)… and for updates on how the story progresses you can like his Facebook Page (link: Dan Robert)
I can’t wait for the book to be finished!… I get the first, OK the 2nd published copy and an autograph… Right Dan?! 😐
Well until next time folks 🙂Cheers! 😉


You came into my life
with that sunny smile and bubbly personality of yours
I wondered why someone so wonderful would just waltz into my life

I was there for you
I cared for you
I answered every phone call at all hours
I responded every mail and text message

I showered you with praise and attention
and never had an agenda or ulterior motive
I just enjoyed your company and every moment with you

It seemed like bliss, it all seemed wonderful
and then

You’d breeze past me like a hurricane
without even as much as a hi on your way to meet him
I thought he was the past
you’d stand me up even when you called for a meet and never apologize
I’d stand in the cold waiting for you’d show up with someone else
you’d zone out when it was my turn to talk
you’d call me by his name time and time again

The hurt the pain the confusion
so much time together, so many emotions
what does it all mean, am i over reacting, paranoid?

Your mind boggling question like a rubix cube with disco lights
Why don’t you like me?
Are you ashamed of me?
Why are you making me miss you?
She likes me; she likes me not
I can never figure out exactly where I stand

And then those words were uttered
did I mean nothing to you
all that time spent was in vain, meaningless

Was I just an emotional gigolo
a burn recovery ward for your hurts and fights
a surrogate boyfriend doing all the work and no rewards
a pacifier for when he was not available
a dealer to your Attention junkie fixes
only good enough when he’s not emotionally or physically available

I was everything you wanted, needed
everything inside that you wished he could be,
saying all the right thing being all the right things
yet I mean nothing to you because “there’s no spark”

Pardon Me
I should see you when he’s not around


That’s it , I’m done
I’m done, I’m out
You came into MY life
you said he was the past
I never asked much or pressured you
treated you like royalty
and this is how you do me!!
That’s who I am to you

I’m walking away
I should have seen you were trouble from the start
taught me so many lessons , about being with
“on a break” hearts
Jeze…you u have struck the final chord
This is the last time
I’d hurt myself for the sake of being with you
good bye good luck

Tick Toc Tick Toc

Hello , Who is this, WHO
Oh , it’s you
I wondered why I was smelling brimstone
So, What made you remember me today Delilah
You want me to what!!
I should call you what?
Sorry, no more terms of endearment
That ship has sailed,
been given a Viking burial
and gone to Davy Jones locker
As I recall, there was “no spark”
Huh….You’re sad
He messed up, got tired of your ways and
walked away from you
OH I get it, shoes on the other foot now
2nd degree burn
I should meet you where?
You want to give what a try
Re Kindle what?
Woman please, Do I look like a glutton for punishment
It hurts so bad!!, Oh really!!
Cry me a river build a bridge and get over it
Slither away just like you slithered in
like crack cocaine flushed down the toilet
I wave Good Bye, but it wasn’t nice seeing you

By: Oludascribe

PHEW! That was a lengthy one, but a very interesting piece that I’m sure a lot of us can relate with 😉 … the perfect HATE mail! 😀 I pulled it off of a fellow blogger and friend’s page… with his permission of course.

Meet Oludascribe!

Berean -Scribe- Cinephile- Film Maker – Nerdasaurus is how he describes himself on his blog (Link: Oludascribe’s Blog)

He’s mostly into movie related articles but once in a while he gets his poetic groove on and voilà! You have a hate mail 😉

Naturally witty and possessing that Charlie Sheen/Ricky Gervais sort-of dry humor, which he infuses into his writing, you’ll love what his blog has to offer. So stop by sometime ok! 🙂

Next talent coming up soon 😉

Cheers! 🙂