Writing 101 – Day Two: A View of the Park


After summer had abandoned its lethargic rousing, it graced us with its sprightly sun and and warming embrace. It may have been a late arrival, but its fashionably late burst into fruition negated the dreary days of pitter-pattering minions of darkened nimbus. When these days came around I had my Eden to turn to, my sanctum of solace, the loom that wove all that I loved about summer into one tapestry of beauty, who could ask for more. I would head there with a book for the day,  go along with some friends, and other times I’d simply walk my thoughts through the park.

It was a good twenty minute walk to the park from where I stayed. A pretty straight forward route, dotted with a convenience stores. These  shops were perfectly situated to cater to my hunger for all manner of treats. When the heat was boastful and right, the obvious choice was a nice cold treat, the type that was affordable, sweet, cold and coloured my tongue a vast array of vivid reds, greens, blues and purples, the ever reliable ice lolly. A quick stop for supplies and off for the park, armed with a bag full of treats, my excitement would bubble in a crescendo of excitement as I grew closer and closer. A further two minutes from the shops, turn right, and there it was.

Even before I set foot into the park I could see the expanse of green grass, with accents of gold around the football goals, where excited feet rushed around as its gracious host fed there jovial canter, On the nearest edge of the grass was a small playground, the unmistakable creak of the swing set piercing through the children’s laughter. On days like these there was always children’s laughter filling the air, parents sat outside the enclosure as the children played, the stray parent or two joining the merriment. The joy was almost palpable, coursing through the place.

I always kicked my shoes off my feet when I got there. I wanted to feel the soft green right underneath me, warm and welcoming, I wanted every sense to dine on the feast of my Eden. As I walked past the tall row of trees that filed along the left hand side of the grass i could feel the crunch of leaves under the soles of my bare feet, I walk on as they whisper stories, stories of a lifetime in the canopy of their guardians. These trees stood along the edge like family, they all looked similar in one way or another, each with a uniqueness of character to them, the same resemblance that siblings bare. Under there outstretched leafy arms you could hide from the heat of the sun, if its kiss proved too passionate. The wind the rustled the leaves and tickled the skin was a temperamental one, sometimes it blew with a heated passion, other times it would tease the suns power off the skin,  cooled the beads of sweat from the brow and steadied the heat.

The shade of the trees made a perfect location for sitting down and enjoying a read or a nibble. It was always cool and  shaded, the sun would wink through the canopy every now and then , but the trees would keep me sheltered, unmoved as I reclined on its trunk, towering behind and over me, as though reading over my shoulder. The feather bodies that scurried through the leaves would accompany the summer in there joyful riffs. The scurrying squirals would dance along the branches, but they were all welcome company.

Further into the park,only a short daydreaming wonder from there green, was a large pond, alive with life. A span of tranquil libation for the travelling birds. From my observation, this pond was home to two gracious swans that nested on the nearest bank of this wavy watery mirror. A whole host of feathered folk danced in the pond, mallards and a complimentary cast of water fowl waded to and fro, bobbing there beaks into the water, occasionally a crafty bird or two would full submerge itself in the pond to emerge a few seconds later. A circus of motion on so many planes.

I would spend the best part of an afternoon there in that park. Reveling in the broad pallet of colours and sounds. The green and gold of the grass, the blue hue of the watery parquet, the pearly white feathers of the gracious swans with  those orange beaks, the colourful coats of the ducks and there entourage, the blue sky with wondering whites that sweep through it, that golden sun, that crackling brown skin of the trees and there bronzing leaves, the rusting aging goal post that persists to stay and make merry with the visitors. And the symphony, oh what a symphony that would play there.

Take me back to my Eden. I hope my sanctum will remember me and once again we can embrace one another. Maybe again I can let those blades of grass embrace my stride and share with me the excitements I’ve missed in our time apart. Let the leaves hug there branches, but please let a stray leaf or two, one of  those, eager to meet me leaves, come back down and lay with me again. Send me there so I can wave to the swans, ask them about there pond and those rowdy fowls, those acrobatic ducks in there wading and head bobbing.

That place will always live on in my memories, whenever my eyelashes cage close a blink I know i will see it again, my Eden.

Writing 101 – Day One: Unlock the Mind

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I’ve abandoned the idea of the perfect voice, this perfect stream of words to paint jaw dropping and heart stealing prose. Writing 101 you have fed me the perfect excuse to just write, write, write. I know this is the second time this chance has been shared, but last time i was … forgetful, i was resentful of the products that might come from just tapping away at the keys and maybe on an off chance unraveling some goldish hue in the plain letters on the screen. Task one seemed like a no brainer, so this time there were no real barriers to tap tap tapping away into this course. A free write! I like free, Free is good so feet first into the deep and tread water till i do something that resembles swimming.

The concept of a free write is supposedly a constant undisrupted stream of thought, well here it is, just falling onto letter, the meandering if buts and random otherness that roams freely in my personal Serengeti, every now and then the most odd creature will just zipp violently past my periphery and I’m off, easily distracted by this new something that, on second thoughts, might just be the light catching on my fantasies that I tuck in the corner and teasing me with some form of unspoken difference. But pish posh, it had my attention and in my mind that is something that I wont take lightly, out in the real world my attention is a cause for serious assessment, never waste it, use it sparingly and justly, at least that’s what i would hope to tell myself.

The topography of my personal precipice is very much like a rolling sky of clouds, beginning to sound dangerously like a bugois cliche, the trap of many a student scribe, but i plea for your patience as i share a little something here, If you’re reading this and you understand this writing 101 situation, that means you have resigned to the fact that you are entering a land of uncertain occurrences, raw … me, we might take a turn in some mysterious direction at any minute so i urge you to keep your seat belts fastened and hands and all limbs inside the carriage at all times.

Back to the clouds, I often sit, whenever the time stills around me, and give credit to the unspoken ballerinas that prance across the levitated blue, sometimes its black with the hushed tone of the nights sky, some times its red with a solemn anger sometimes it’ll scare you with a new emotion that you didnt think it had. But this setting offers a canvas of great scenes, These soft things fandango and flamenco, samba around each other, throwing shapes at me in such unexpected ways, sometimes they are just moving and i observe the wonder, sometimes we play a game of charades and I internally, enthusiastically, guess right each time, but when i was younger we played the novice version, now im older, every round is a power round, each second breathes a new shape, the sun hurtles across its burning arc as the day zips past, casting a cacophony of light at the dancers, a dog, a bone, a stick and the very occasional, mother holding her baby while dancing with a crocodile.

This all catches my eye, because its there, because its now, because its beautiful, but most importantly because its like family. In this opera of every changing ‘right nows’ i see a physical amalgamation of what lives in my thoughts. The chills in my hearts as i think about it, just echo the effect of the skys map of my mind, Although i have some sorry days, some, not so full of glory days and this internal ballets has a murky ashed aqua attire, but these clouds in the sky never seem down, even under pitter pattering nimbus they maintain a certain beauty. Me and them are family. They are my favourite cousin.

Man In The Mirror


“we are nothing more than enemies!”  the man in the mirror elates,

he hates when I mumble all my musings in front of his face.

Hates when I step into the world instead of him,

instead of king, he says I play pawn, squandering my limbs.

Haunting my inner monologue, hiding in snide soliloquies,

tied to my minds hide, I think he has it in for me!

detesting the vain veneer of never speaking aloud,

perpetuating the notion of seeking solace in clouds.

“Aspirations and dreams!” he echoes every now and then,

Aggravated and mean, he screams until his power ends.

But his power, never ending, is now befriending my whims,

so part of me, parts from me, ever slowly becoming him!

Intoxicated with curious, warm thoughts. I’m furious!

From war torn, the two us waltz and adopt emulous.

I’m challenging his notions! I read whatever he reads!

Peeling back the pages, to see whatever he sees!

Seeing what he has seen has redirected my questions,

softened the hardened head that rarely headed suggestions.

The boy in front of the mirror, manufactured direction,

never to be bested by the rival in his reflection.

Hi!! My name is …


Okay! So it finally happened! I’ve taken a step out of my comfortable world of procrastination and thought it wise to flex my solitary brain cells and flex my creative muscles!

The world of blogging is new to me, so I took the right precautions as an explorer into new pastures and sought to equip myself with a map of sorts. I’m a firm believer in learning by doing, but knowing me, without at least a gentle prompt I’d fall on my face and resort to sitting back and watching the blank spaces my thoughts and ideas SHOULD be filling up.

I have always placed reasonable trust in the magic of the internet, so I turned to it once more in my hours of need and sought out a trail guide to this brave new world. Lo and behold!! It dazzled me once again. I found myself a life line to hang on to while I found my feet, or “voice” as I’ve grown to understand, in this new world. This life line came in the form of a handy blogging guide. “Blogging 101”.

A much needed thank you to the minds behind “The Daily Post” blogging page.

The page boasts daily mission statements for budding bloggers, such as myself. Each day a new task is posted, to help loosen up to the whole concept and get to grips with blogging. I must admit right away, that I’ve been an idle audience. Since discovering the page, I’ve been checking in on it, reading through the tasks and slowly fading off and never really getting my hands dirty. Although “blogging 101” has today issued its 8th daily task, I’m creeping in at the tail end of the adventure, with day one. What better task to open up such a series than with an introduction.

Blogging 101: Day 1

Who am I and why do i blog?

The “who” would be a great place to start, Ill take this opportunity to trip myself of the title “stranger”!

I am, as of the 22nd of April 2014, a 23 year old male, a fan of the written word, student of life and a man of many hats.

I’ve had the privilege of enjoying two worlds in my lifetime, having spent most of my life in Zambia, one of Africa’s proud countries, and currently serving the rest of my sentence in the United Kingdom. Hoping to build to that resume as I go! I’m cross legged at the cliched cross road between where I’ve been and where I’m hoping to go, eagerly scratching my head, thinking about the next steps while reading and writing to appease my sanity.

The next logical question to answer would be, Why blog? Why not just scribble away in a personal journal in the confines of my own room? I always asked these questions myself until I took to blogging.

I initially started up a blog page to share my poetry, nothing more than a canvas for my word pictures. This past time grew with my love for writing songs, a song would take on a new life, and I’d scratch off its label and call it a poem, and it worked. I shared a few poems in a vain hope that it was worth something, maybe someone will see them and appreciate them.

I started a word press page and sporadically added to this poetry collection. The sole purpose of my visits to wordpress was to share poetry and nothing else. However, my eyes were caught by other bloggers sharing poetry, I was spoiled for choice, all around pages upon pages popped into my line of sight. I slowly found myself lost in the never ending river of creative minds sharing a piece of themselves. My curiosity tends to win most of the battle in my mind, so with curiosity boasting another victory, i read on. I explored the sites and pages, from poetry to pictures, from pictures to stories, from stories to a never ending reservoir of text, images and sounds and it was perfect!!

The part of it that spoke to me most, was that there were people out there giving a channel to that little voice in there heads to live through.

This is where I thought to up my involvement and engaged in the action. In person, I enjoy conversations that can take me to knew places, feeding my reality with difference perspective, sharing minds, be it ideas, stories and jokes. So as well as continuing to add to the collections of poems i started to post, I decided share a little bit of what swims through my mind, This is evident on my page. Feel free to explore!

I apologize in advance, and will continue to do so, for the lack of aesthetic beauty to my page. I’m hoping as my mind grows a more bearable and harmonious relationship with technology, I can tweak it to keep readers around longer.

This is my page to share my minds working, but I’m hoping to see other minds work and enrich what my mind has to play with. Giving a little bit more to this blog over the course of the years to come, I’m hoping to develop my writing skills and share my works and thoughts with more people and hoping that a lot more people will share alike.

I cant say whether or not this first impression is one I can crown as Perfect, or close to such, but I’m hoping to ticks the right boxes for my days task and entices a few future visits.


Notes from Paranoia: Trust!!


“Follow your heart they say, Use your head they say. Adding no direction the blind spiral, only in an attempt to sound like they helped!”

My mind and my heart love to play games, they indulge in a pentathlon of give and takes. On the looping itinerary I see the classics, tug of war, hide and seek and explosive bouts that last for seemingly infinite rounds. As destructive as they can be, the rubble the ruckus leaves behind serves as perfect tinder to keep the fires of my curiosity burning. The ambient question mark hooks me with curiosity, which burns bright as I hunger for answers. Trust is on the menu today. Today, like many other days, it’s unknowingly pirouetting on the spit as I chew on the concept. However, my hunger to know, knows no nourishment yet.

What is trust?


“Trust means blunting my blade. Trust is ailing my dependency on me. Trust ignores the strange faces and is lax with the loose lips that leak lies and disguise truth. It’s putting a piece of me in some else’s hand and hoping they are sure footed. Hoping there going where they said there going, to do the things they said they would do and not barter away the piece of me I placed into their hands and waved off.”

Real trust is hard to earn, it’s not the sole purpose of an interaction but definitely enriches it’s quality. We always have an opportunity to deposit a little more trust into ever growing relationships. Trust can be built up, but will always fall short of absolute. This isn’t to spite the few you hold close, it’s quite the opposite. This bottomless reservoir plays in their favour, as it’s always provides room for more trust, new levels to ascend to in the wonderful and weird world of relationships, plutonic and otherwise.

Sadly, every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Trust can be lost, at far greater speeds than it takes to build it up. It happens and unfortunately we see it, sometimes you see someone bring their trust into the frame and it’s a weary vision. Tattered and plagued with patches, stitched firmly on with sweet and sour threads of hope and anger. The picture is subtle but there to be seen. Telling so much about a person but yet giving away so little. In the perfect world, badly placed trust wouldn’t be an issue, but bad investment are very much alive as this high risk, high reward aspect of living plays a leading role in the tale of interpersonal relations.

“I can’t tell you who to trust and why, I cant feed stock to this concept when the winters of cold hearts have left you brittle, shoulders chipped and wondering “why?” . You’ve been unduly introduced to a reality where altruism, is an untrue “ism”. Where it makes sense that if self preservation is too imprinted in human nature, the well being of another is surely an after thought…”

As I look at trust, Turning it this way and that, tirelessly hoping to learn, I fail. The same part of me that feeds trust life, obscures it to my logic. The emotions, the reasoning, the never ending ballet of heart and mind. Depending on the day, trust looks very different to me. I see this familiar stranger and know I can both trust and distrust, out of respect. I’ve seen what you can do!!!


Notes from Paranoia: DIY

“It’s so silly, it just might work” Said the non existent voice in my head!

Just my luck, It worked!! It worked very well the first time, went as swimmingly the second time. In fact, it continued it’s hot streak through the next 7 times that followed the third. All hands on deck!! There is a breach in my minds reality!!

Defying expectations is a blessing and a curse, a double edged sword that cuts swiftly through a poorly constructed picture of reality. Apart from dealing out a refreshed look at life, leaving you feeling like the protagonist who discovers his power of flight, It can also feel very much like discovering a broken egg in the midst of unpacking your groceries. Stay with me here! It’s not the worst thing to happen, but annoying none the less, you can’t help but frantically turn over every egg in search for anything else that’s broken, and anything that isn’t as it should be. Having been right for so long, it’s understandable to doubt the standards by which we measure plausibility when we, ourselves, defy what we thought to be right. When we take a step into the grey areas of our minds and suddenly see turquoise and green, the questions cry out in cannon. Crying out in cannons and muskets of what ifs and whys waging war on the mind frame that proved it’s self… Inadequate.

It goes without saying that we all look at life through different lenses. Similar situations morph under individual perspective. This lens is bent and moulded by the route life takes us through, every now and then life throws us a little something new and updates our prescription.

“Manners don’t cost?! The concept offends me!! Because I’ve known the truth, I’ve felt the truth!! The fear of offending the soft and hard edges gives them permission to solidify, and balloon irrationally. Only serving to cripple those curious toes that will teach you more than those arrogant books. The scholars implied fire could burn, the hot embers just screamed at me. They scream at me!! I can still hear them now…. Never again”

Notes from Paranoia: introduction

I’d like to open with the following statement

The views and opinions expressed by “paranoia” do not represent the values of this page

It had to be said, it had to be done. The flamboyant thoughts that occasionally colour my otherwise rational mind aren’t anywhere close to taking over my logic, at least not by number, but they pose a threat to my self proclaimed homeostasis. These vivid and vibrant strands of ever growing and fraying notions often loiter in the cool grey corners of my mind that tolerate logic and rule.

This mix can be volatile, often leading to unpredictable explosions. Birthing a vulgar bi products that resembles reason, and emanates the voice of a pretentious pseudo intellectual. I’m still wondering if it’s satire in it’s driest form or cause for concern. I’ll leave it with you, the reader.

“Awkwardness is a fictitious paradigm designed to validate the irrational judgment of deviation from unjustified social expectations.”

My eye brows tingle.