Turner wrote another poem? Madness. Here it is.
A man of many words,
A woman of many thoughts,
Silence radiating through,
Communication a flat line,
Hopes and dreams pushed under the rug,
Fear and loathing spreading,
Resentment and pain festering in minds,
Inevitable death and dashed desires,
Never moving and never changing,
A man of not enough words,
A woman of no thoughts.
So, I actually wrote a poem today. I know it’s usually Collin’s thing…but you know! Got to branch out sometimes. Although this one is pretty far out there, if you like things a little more racy. I was inspired by a friends illustrations and wrote this for her and decided to share with you guys. Enjoy.
The silk of her skin,
The heat of her breath,
The burn of his beard,
A red tie,
The rough pads of his fingers,
A dark wood desk,
A thick hard cover book,
The smell of fresh chalk,
Hey, happy belated birthday to our blog, how exciting is that? Again, I’m late on the draw. But I will have you know I did a happy dance on the day.
So, just a few hours ago I asked a trusted friend for a writing prompt, help me get the juices flowing and all that, ya know? She gave me this:
“Explore the relationship between two people who are married or marrying but not for love.”
So I immediately put pen to paper…or fingers to keys, you get the drift. This is what came out. A little rough, but it felt good to be creative again! What do you guys think about writing prompts? I personally love them for times of writers block or to combat boredom. Let me know and enjoy.
My future husband was as unfamiliar to me as a stranger on the street would be.
I didn’t know his likes, or dislikes. I didn’t know if he had a good childhood or about his college experiences. I’d never heard his voice nor felt his touch.
I did know that he was forty-seven, to my eighteen. I knew that his hair was only starting to turn gray. I did know that he was six feet one inch. He didn’t have any children and he had been married once previously, before she divorced him for a much younger man. I knew that he had at least fifty thousand dollars in his bank, seeing as that was how much it cost to buy my hand. But that was all his profile said. He wasn’t an unattractive man, which just confused me more. Why would a handsome, rich man need to utilize our services?
Not that I would complain, Andrew Marshall was rescuing me from my bleak existence in eastern Europe. In turn, he would be saving my little brother from a life of crime, and my mother from the tragedy of that. Not that she agreed with my choice, but she wasn’t against it anymore. Not once I pointed out all the things that would be better for it.
I on the other hand, was terrified. I’d never left my small home. I spoke English, but not very well. I was also a virgin, I’d never been in love. As a young girl I always hoped that a young, handsome man would ride up on his white horse and save me from my life. But that didn’t happen. Instead, my Papa had a heart attack, leaving my mother with a mountain of debt and a delinquent little brother who was lashing out. I had to do something. My friend Jasmine had done this exact same process and was now living in Los Angeles, she told me all about it. How much she enjoyed her older man and the life he could provide for her in America.
It was as if all the answers to my problems suddenly appeared in front of me, I didn’t hesitate. I set up a profile, using the same formula Jasmine did only a year before and within three months, I had an interested bidder. The company I signed up through takes a percentage of the price my suitor is required to pay. The rest goes to my family. After that, he purchases me a plane ticket and applies for all legal permits before I am whisked away from my home, bought, signed, and done. Within a few weeks, I will become Mrs. Tatianna Marshall.
Who she is, or who she will be…is a mystery to me.
I only hope she is someone her Papa would be proud of.
That’s the only thing I have to hold onto.
I’m about to be thrown to the wolves, god help me.
Newest installment in the Jacob series. Enjoy.
I decide to cut the pretense tonight. Angel is coming out with me. I need my fix and the view from her window has outlived its usefulness.
I step into the shower, washing the blood of my last victim off my body, watching it swirl down the drain. Rinsing away my sins so I can be with my angel.
After getting dressed in my typical jeans, boots and denim vest I make my way to her house on foot. It’s not far from my place. I planned this on purpose. We grew up as neighbours…it seemed only fitting to still be near her.
I get to Angel’s house after only five minutes of walking, the blinds are shut tight. Tighter than normal. Did she figure out what I had been up to? I ignore the thought and knock solidly a few times before taking a step back and shoving my hands in my pockets.
The door creaks open slowly, just a few strands of hair and a piece of her smooth cheek showing. She must realize it’s me because she opens the door wider, sticking her head out, keeping her body inside.
“Jacob…you need to leave.” She nearly whispers.
“No. Come out here.” I say, done playing games. We’ve been playing games for weeks it seems. Or maybe that’s just me.
I notice a single tear drip down her cheek. It nearly guts me. This woman is the only one who has been able to get any sort of emotional response from me. “Please, I can’t do this again.” Her voice is raspy. I want to hold her, comfort her. That isn’t me. I don’t comfort, I don’t offer support. I kill, I maim, I steal and I hack. But for her, I do all the other stuff too.
“Angel…” I say soothingly, as soothingly as someone like me can. Using her nickname I gave her as children.
Her head shakes a few times. “No. I can’t let you back into my life just to have you leave me all over again, Jacob. You know how I feel about you.”
I nod, because I do know. What she doesn’t know is that I would and have killed for her. I will always protect her. No matter what she does, or where she goes, I will always find her.
I look up into her stricken eyes, the tears pooling on the blonde lashes and give her the biggest piece of my honesty that I can. “I will never leave you again.”
Why does the color of a person’s hair reflect their nature?
Why does the amount of ink on someone’s skin reflect them as bad people?
Why does the amount of clothing covering someone’s body reflect their sexuality?
I use the word “reflect” as not a straightforward meaning, but an extrapolation to a larger issue. Why does how someone chooses to represent themselves lead others to jump to conclusions about that person? I am extremely grateful that I have an open and artistic mind. I can see these things and appreciate them as art. I can also see them for what they are intended to be. A true reflection of what a person feels like inside or want’s to show others.
I understand that people from older generations did not grow up in the diverse world we younger generations have, and accepting these things can be difficult. They often have negative views on piercings and tattoos as mutilation. In fact, much of this prejudice has to do with religion. I have often seen religious people doing things like giving disapproving looks, whispering, teaching their children that deviating from the norm is bad. Hell, I’ve even seen religious groups protesting outside heavy metal concerts. Have we not progressed past all this yet? From what I understand, I don’t think that anywhere in the 10 commandments does it say “Thou shalt not dye their hair unnatural colors,” and “Thou shalt not put a tattoo needle to their skin.” I thought that loving thy neighbours and accepting others was stressed though. Funny how messages like that can get lost in translation.
We should know better and not need a book to tell us right from wrong. We are beings with a conscience and should know the difference. Because treating these people differently is a form of bullying. And if we are not okay with kids bullying kids, why do we allow adults bullying adults?
Fundamentally, we are human beings, and regardless of how we choose to present ourselves to the world, we all deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. I have always admired these more extreme individuals for showing themselves in such visual ways, open to a wide array of reactions from strangers. I hope that as time goes on being yourself becomes the norm. I know this will take a long time, I’m not an idiot. But I am optimistic.