Princess, The Queen Of The House

2014-05-16 18.16.25

 

 

“Human, if I wanted to be in the picture, I would tell you so.  You see this face? Am I satisfied with it? No. And what do you think about my today’s lunch?! You call that a meal? Oh, come on!”.

The Princess is an unsatisfied cat. Always.

 

As I was preparing the lunch for us, humans, she was just lying in the middle of the living room, without intention to move.

She was still disappointed.

Her lunch, as she considered, was disastrous.

 

“What can I do?”, I thought in despair.

The Princess has to be happy. She is the Princess, after all!

 

My chicken soup on the stow was almost finished.

But the Princess was lying there for an hour as an act of rebellion. That meant she was extremely mad at me.

I was planning to go to the pool today, but how, oh how, could I leave my Princess in such state?!

I started to pet her. She was not purring. Or moving.

“Oh, what the heck. Cats will be cats…I’m going to the pool!”.

 

My beach towel was somewhere in the closet.

As I was trying to find it, I completely messed up everything inside.

I just couldn’t find it anywhere. “Damn!”.

 

Princess came, walking her lazy walk, entered the closet, although she knows how I hate it and how I forbid her to do it.

With a blink of an eye, she nested herself on the pile of the wardrobe, ready to fall to sleep.

“Princess, come on, get out! No sleeping in the closet!”.

Trying to pull her out was comparable as trying to make her eat broccoli.

No way in the World I could do it.

 

“And what about my towel?!”, I thought.

 

Then, I heard something strange noise in the kitchen.

“Oh, the hell, my soup!”. I removed it quickly from the stove.

 

As I was bothering about the Princess, the towel and the closet, the soup has turned into something unrecognizable.

I have never ever messed up any meal!

I am a pretty good cook, and now, I’ve accomplished to ruin the soup?!

 

This day was turning into a complete chaos.

 

And then, slowly, Princess walked out from the bedroom, dragging the beach towel with her.

 

“There you go human. I see how incapable you are. So, where is my proper lunch?!”, asked my pretty Princess with a look worth of the Queen Of The House.

 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/an-odd-trio/

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The Soul Song

dance

 

Dancing through the silence of a day

I’ll dance the pain away

Dancing

Until the morning shimmering sun

Arrays a new day.

 
 

Dancing to the serene numbness

Until I don’t sense myself anymore

Dancing ’till I’m gone

And forget what I’m dancing for.

 
 

Dancing to the indistinct music

Of my splintered soul

Because

No other instrument

Could play so devotedly

 
 

The chorus of my soul song.

 
 
 

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/strike-a-chord/

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You Were My Favourite Flavour

 

BW

 

You had me instantly

At the sweetness of your lips.

You were the spice of my tasteless life

Salty sweat and tears

Through the endless nights.

Bitterness that you brought

After the sweetness had subsided

Hadn’t surprised me

Because

The sour taste of disappointment

Was always the main chorus

Of my life.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/picky-tongues/

 

 

 

 

Freelancing Community, Or How I Learned My Lesson The Hard Way

Freelancing

 

 

I had the weirdest idea in the Universe, to get involved in the Freelancing community and to do some work, as a writer.

Including all the other varieties as a Content writer, Copy-writer, Ghostwriter, you name it, I did it.

Some sites I have floated through are a complete scam, some are worthy of mentioning, and some had left me with back ache from sitting for hours in front of the computer screen and writing and writing..with no results or paid money as well.

Of course, I have done a lot of writing jobs.

The experience had been great with some people I have met as employers, and they are such wonderful persons that I would likely go out and have some coffee with them and chat like friends.

But, there are examples of complete human …no human, excuse me, animal behaviour there, also.

Blackmailing, scammers, frauds, a list incomplete because I cannot find the words how to describe those non-human non-ethic and non-professional entities.

At some moments I felt like a trapped animal with no way out.

And after a long negotiations, harsh words used as well, from both sides, I closed the page with the question mark above my head and feeling little, naive and stupid to the bone.

Fraud again.

Eleven hours of the full work wasted, no money paid, and feedback that this entity provided on my work ruined my reputation right to the botttom!

And all of that happened, because I just refused to be treated like a slave!

There you go Freelancing community!

If you are trying to be a writer-freelancer, never ever think about anyone except of yourself, no matter what they offer or if they even blackmail you.

Keep your dignity, stand for yourself and fight back if necessary!

I learned it in a very hard way, but at least I’ve learned my lesson well.

Punctuation Saves Lives!

punctuation_saves_lives

Punctuation is “the use of spacing, conventional signs, and certain typographical devices as aids to the understanding and correct reading, both silently and aloud, of handwritten and printed texts.”[1] Another description is: “The practice, action, or system of inserting points or other small marks into texts, in order to aid interpretation; division of the text into sentences, clauses, etc., by means of such marks.”- Source : Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Punctuation

Well, punctuation is my OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder).
I punctuate even when I shouldn’t.
I over punctuate, by all meanings, always.

When I edit the text,it looks like a forest of punctuation marks.

I erase some of them,but, I love the play and the scenery they can make.

They are too important to me.

And you now what?

Let me show you how important their use is!

1. “Woman, without her man, is nothing” (emphasizing the importance of men),
2. “Woman: without her, man is nothing” (emphasizing the importance of women!!!).

Choose your favourite, 1 or 2.Do you see what difference they make? I just adore them.

And now a little game!

A sentence and word puzzle, where the proper punctuation is needed and adds a full meaning to the following:

“That that is is that that is not is not is that it it is”.

I tried it several times, playing with it, like a child with puzzles. Amusing, isn’t it?

Share the love of the punctuation power, since it can save lives!

Or you can eat your grandma by mistake!

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/by-the-dots/

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The Saturday Night’s Television Fights

black_white_tv_salesman

 

With the spin of a wheel

And a rolling of a dice

With cards hiding those poker eyes

Starts every my Family Game Night.

 

Saturday evening and the TV is off

The family gathers

To win this gaming fun fight.

The laughter and fun

Dad teases Mum

Children are cheating as always

No boredom is present tonight.

 

With an only move left

Dad scatters through his cards

Mum is awaiting

To see the final result.

Who will be the winner

Of this family gaming night?

Laughter, losers and a winner.

 

There is only one

Who will gain the control

 

Of the TV remote tonight.

 

 

http://tipsylit.com/2014/06/23/prompted-family-game-night/

Yeah Write- Speak Easy Voting Is Open!

Hey folks!

 

I know how hungry you are of getting some more extraordinary good, inventive, astonishing fiction or non-fiction posts!

 

So, what are you waiting for? Go, read, vote!

And please, enjoy the ride. At last, it’s the most important thing in this voyage!

Click-click, on the link!

Yours truly, Tina The Mess. 😀

 

http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/fiction-challenge-167-open/

 

UNDIAGNOSED POEM ON LOVE

Love, the feeling.

Love, the trap.

Love, the surrender.

 

Hit my button

Of emotions and

Set it on the “off”.

 

https://readtapestry.com/s/gGvkSgyfp/

My Own Hidden Cloud

cloud

One day, in the afternoon sky, one cloud reminds and not travelled round.

He stuck with me, it was obvious, and no matter the questions I asked, he stayed silent.

My new guidance, he became my new advisor, in the sky. Saving my dreams, imagination and hopes.

Fears? Oh, fears, he had blown them away, they vanished in his surrounding purple air.

I wanted to thank him for being around, but I did not say nothing, because I scarcely knew, no answer will come from above.

So be it, my purple friend.

Have my dreams stay imprinted in you, veiled from the Earth.

And what are the best spot to hide, then way up high, far in the sky?

Not reachable by anything, the Earth, the Moon or the tide.

Insomnia, you ignorant, selfish creature!

 

sleep

 

Insomnia is a word that describes not being able to fall asleep, no matter how tired you are.
Well, didn’t have it for years and now is full-blown back.
Night passes by, and in a blink of an eye, there it is, morning, sunrise, and all that shit that reminds me how the day started, but I haven’t even finished the last one.
It’s like living in a day that has no ending.
I mostly hate birds. They start yelling, I swear, they’re yelling, around five o’clock in the morning. Just before the sunrise.
Now I’m in the mood for listening some hard heavy metal just to get up my neighbours. If I don’t sleep, why should they?

Ok, ok I am not that cold-hearted and bitchy.

So here it comes a haiku wannabe (undiagnosed poem) which I dedicate to the solstice, full moon, not sleeping.

Good night you say
Hang up the phone
And leave me
In the darkness.
For ten sleepless hours
I stared at TV, ceiling and wall.
Break the circle
Call me
In the moment I finally got asleep
With the sunrise.
I wanted to hurt you so badly
But you’re lucky
You’re not near
So all you get is a pile of
Not connected words
Meaningless sentences.
You don’t understand why.
Maybe, I should just shoot U down.

The Road To Yourself

road

 

Not mine photo. Too bad, because it is perfect.
It represents everything in my mind, colourless, empty, leading…somewhere.

I dream of driving full speed on a road like that, feeling free of everything that surrounds me at this very moment.
I don’t need companion, never had or needed one in fact.
I used to be alone, learned to speak with myself and make my own decisions.
Only thing that’s missing is a someone with who I can share a beautiful, hot mug of freshly made coffee in the moment of a sunrise in the end of the road
In silence.
No words needed.
Free open space. coffee taste, sun on the horizon appearing in a slight, yet visible form, touching my face.
Reminding me that, I am, in fact still alive.
Because, when travelling the black road, alone, you lose a sense of yourself.
As if nothing exists but blackness and speed.

Find yourself. Travel the black road. Bring a companion if you wish. Or lose yourself in the perfection of the moment.

Wherever you are going, you’re always find your way back home.

And to yourself.

Perfect Lovers

sea

 

I never separate The Sun from The Sea. They are One, loving each other in the morning, embracing sunrise with the depth of emotions, sea breeze and soft waves.

If there wasn’t the Sun, the Sea would never have it’s most magnificent look, at the sunset, going from light turquoise blue, to dark blue and deep black, with orange reflections appearing from the horizon.

As the day goes on, The Sun keeping up high in the Sky, waves getting bigger, wind aiming for the clouds.

I lay down in the shade and watch this game.

Interacting, playing with each other, just like two lovers wanting to touch each other, softly whispering through Sun shining and Sea waves crushing on the shore.

All day long they play.

All day long I watch and listen. There are never harsh words, misspellings.

How seductive, I thought. How incredible, I dreamt.

And when the Moon appears, the Sea sleeps, deep, black, quiet dreams of love.

Could this kind of love happen’ to me? Once? Do I dare even think of it?

I know I do.

You broke it, stupid!

Heart

 

Not expected so much rain today. Maybe it will become a flood. It makes me sleepy, moody, down.

Everything a woman is expected to be. But I’m not that kind of woman, so I’m surprised with my own reactions.

I’ll grab some chocolate. Lay down. Listen to music. Think about opportunities and mistakes I have made.

I know, I know, bad choice of thoughts, but it’s my mind discussion which has to be done, sooner or later.

In the name of that, another undiagnosed “poem” ( oh, how I like that term).

Don’t call me

Don’t text me

Don’t even think of me.

You have no rights, no purpose in my life and my mind.

I erased you like a bad drawing from the plain paper, put you into garbage and kicked away with pleasure..

Please, you should do the same.

Our last conversation, silent, with no words at all.

Could I even call it conversation?

I had nothing to say, after you said everything, in four little, tiny words.

I

don’t

love

you.

Enough said. Welcome to the exit door of my life. Please, shut it down.

I won’t look back anymore.

Rebel

Camus-Rebel

 

“I choose my own destiny!”

That’s such a common phrase, that gets me laughing every time I hear it.

What the f…. k can you choose? You are buried down with your own thoughts, worries, everyday obligations that just need to be done! That’s it! Nothing more, nothing less!

There is no excuse for your obligations, in your so-called ” life”. There are no choices!

No excuses for not going to work even if you feel and think that you’d rather stay home.

You must stay “responsible” and execute your obligations as they come.

Every morning when I woke up, and barely pull out myself out of the bed, I sincerely ask myself, where the hell I lost my last ten years? A whole decade?!

Flushed down the toilet, wasted and thrown away. Wasted on others and for the others.

I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror.

Hopeless face that has come to the final conclusion.

You don’t choose anything!

Everything else chooses you. And there’s nothing, absolutely nothing you can do about it.

Of course, you can decide for yourself if you’re gonna wear that pair of shoes today or not… but that’s so irrelevant.

The big life choices and decisions, oh, you thought you made it yourself?!

Do not be stupid! You were probably influenced by people surrounding you, your community and way of life that is „prescribed“ to you.

We are just a mass of entities, like an ant farm, running around, unable to see the bigger picture.

The more you run, the more you bury yourself into the every day’s happenings, the more you become detached from life and from yourself.

I am detached. It’s kinda floating feeling. Acting as a robot, just doing stuff that need to be done.

And the real Me? Cuddled somewhere deep inside waiting… not knowing what am I waiting for.

But I do know one thing.

There is no f…g way to get out of the line that just keeps leading you further and further. No stopping, just moving forward. Walking straight, you with the rest of the herd.

If you think that you are not the same kind and you’re somehow different, you are so deeply wrong.

The truth, the meaning of the life is not available to us, common people. We are just wanderers keeping what we need to keep, doing what we must do, and NOT what we want to do.

You can call yourself a Rebel, someone who will just push and overcome all of the boundaries and rules of the society, to live a life-like you really want to.

Wanna be a rebel ?! Come on, play the role!  You will not last for a day. This game of life has rules! First of all, obedience! If you fight against it, you want last for a day.

I thought that this mind retrospective would be a positive one. But, I do realize now that it is not either positive or negative.

It is just REAL.

Albert Camus said :”The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion“.

I tried and I failed.

But, at least – I tried!

Did you try, ever?!

Black wings of love

cigarette

 

I do not know if I can touch you

The way I want,

The way I feel.

 

I do not know if I could look into your eyes

Sincerely,

Because I am afraid

That you be able to see all the secrets of my soul.

My wings are a little black, and

You’ll probably run away, I know.

 

I do not know if I can wake up next to you

And wish for another day,

Another night,

Another smile.

 

I do not know if I am going the right way

And if I make a mistake now,

Trip over my own words and deeds

I will fall

And never get up again.

 

I do not know why you’re here and who brought you,

What was the idea,

What was the thought of bringing you to me.

 

I do not know whether to thank him

Or prepare another box

For storing the memories away.

The Boy

 

Snow

 

One winter morning, a boy woke up.

He was not any particular boy, or the morning was in any way special.

He knew it was Christmas, but he had long ceased to believe in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, St. Nicholas, and everything else that makes a kid feel like a kid.

Under the Christmas tree stood a gift. He knew what he got. He felt no happiness or joy. He didn’t care. At all.

 

Mom was still asleep. It was early in the morning.

The boy took his favorite books about dragons, made himself some warm milk, and read.

 

Outside, it was snowing.

He wondered if maybe later he’ll go out, but even for that he had no will.

He read and enjoyed his imaginary world.

Where there is no contention, grief, loss, illness and tears.

 

For his age, he had seen too much.

He decided to open a gift when mom woke up.

He will fake joy and play with her.

He knew she was looking forward to it. Knew she loved him so much to the point of the physical pain.

When he was telling her that he loves her, then the tears came. She cried for because of so much love she had.

 

But the boy was in pain because she was always sad. Even while she was laughing with him, while they watched movies, drawing, he could feel some void inside her.

He knew why. He was just a child, but not in his mind. He knew.

 

When she wakes up, he’ll make coffee. That would cheer her up.

 

His friend Fred called to meet with him this afternoon. To play outside, in the snow.

He refused. He did not like to leave the mother alone. He loved to be with her, every possible moment he had.

Maybe mum did not know how he sees everything. How he feels everything.

Despite being just a child, he learned to suppress emotions. Just like mother did.

Their grief turned into something invisible but always present and touchable, like a soap balloon ready to burst.

 

He replaced this surrounding grief world, with his own, in whom dragons ruled, moms didn’t cry, didn’t have to take medications, and moms never had to leave home. Sometimes she was gone for days, weeks.

It didn’t make a difference if he knew where mum left. When she returned, she was different and changed, less sad, but always brought that bubble again with her. Invisible, yet touchable.

 

He did not want to change anything. He knew that everything would be fine. He just to be there, for her, for him.

To be good. To laugh. Tell her that he loves her. Every day.

It didn’t matter, he had only eight years, and he understood very well that life is not easy.

Does not always bring what you want. That ugly thing occurs.

 

Once, a long time ago, he had a father. Now he had an only mother, occasionally in rare moments.

There were times when he asked her something, but she didn’t reply, she just stared at the wall, empty and silent. Sometimes for hours.

He got accustomed to it.

He got accustomed to such a way of life. Mother was all he had, anyway.

 

He decided to go out with Fred.

Mom will be fine.

 

Yet, today is Christmas. Maybe, just maybe, Santa heard and fulfilled him one wish that he never, ever told anyone. He did not want to admit this wish even to himself.

But it was the wish from the deepest place in his small child heart.

All he wanted was Christmas morning full of laughter, favorite vanilla cookies mum used to bake. And a family.

 

He knew that it was probably too much to ask. So he returned to his book, to that what was real for him.

Red Fire Dragon. War in the story land, dragons and elves…

And outside, it was snowing. And it was Christmas. And the mom was still asleep.

 

 

The Lakehouse Incident

 

The Lake

When they arrived at their favorite vacation spot, they found that everything had changed.

For the first time in the five years that they have been coming to their lake house in the hills, Lauren and Tom remained speechless.

While parking the car, Tom has noticed that something isn’t right.

The trees were leafless, though it was the beginning of the summer. The grass, “Wait, what grass?”, thought Tom, there weren’t any, just dirt covered with dry, yellow leaves.

Lauren stood in front of the house. At least the house looked intact. “As if the bomb has been dropped here, my God!”, glimpsed in Lauren’s mind.

She looked at Tom. He was confused, turning around and not believing his eyes.

“Lauren?”, said he, ” are we on the exact place? I just don’t believe this is our lake house”.

“Darling, unfortunately we are. There it is, our house. Intact. But all of this, I just cannot explain it”.

There were no neighbours for miles, nobody they could ask what was going on.

The house doors opening had a same sound as always, squeaking from the rust.

Inside, the darkness, until Lauren turned up the lights.

Tom stepped back to the porch.

All the furniture, everything that should be on the floor, was…floating.

“What the…..?”, spoke Lauren and tried to touch the vase floating in the air like a balloon.

“Just don’t do it!”, yelled Tom from the porch.

But she did. In the moment her fingers touched the vase, it suddenly dropped to the floor, breaking into pieces.

“Who is messing with us? Is this a joke?!”, asked Lauren still standing in the middle of the hallway.

“I have no clue! I’m scared Lauren. Let’s just get into the car and drive the hell out of here!”, begged Tom with shivering voice.

Lauren agreed. She didn’t want to end up in some kind of the secret experiment, or whatever was happening here.

Distant echo of the waves crumbling on the lakeshore surrounded them.

They both turned around towards the lake, which was close to the house, just a couple of steps down the brick path.

The water was raising. At first, they both agreed frightened how it resembled a tsunami.

“But on a lake?”, said Tom.

They started running towards the car.

Lauren, breathless, turned to see the whats happening. Tom was in front of her, just few steps ahead.

The lake floated in the air, just like a big water orb.

In the next second, a gallons of water crushed everything in the radius of twenty miles.

Before the water came, Tom grabbed Lauren’s hand firmly, and their eyes met telling everything. “I love you”, was the last reflection in their minds, synchronized, enveloping them in peace.

*********************

Official report on the Meadow Lake Catastrophic Event: 

“As the government officials stated, the incident at the Meadow Lake that happened yesterday, was a catastrophic event following the series of earthquakes in the region.

The local population has been noticed that there is no threat of new events.

The extent of the damage is yet to be evaluated. No casualties were reported, also.”

*****************************************************************

 

write_now_plane

http://todaysauthor.wordpress.com/2014/06/20/write-now-prompt-for-june-20-2014/

PhD On Terms Loneliness And Plural

girl

 

Solitude is a synonym for a loneliness: noun aloneness.

So, there we have a three nouns, with the same meaning.

For me, they do not “feel”the same, at all.

Yesterday evening I was so mad at you, stuffing your travel bags once again, as I did numberless times before. I felt grief, because your job is so demanding and you are on a trip almost constantly.

I felt grief because your socks have traveled more than I am, they have seen the whole world. The whole world, indeed.

And here I am, putting those socks again into your bag, the bag will go into the airplane, and you will go into the airplane as well, leaving me as always.

That’s solitude. When you are already missing someone who is right next to you, but in his mind, the airplane has lifted off.

This morning, at the airport, we kissed goodbye.

Instantly, as you were gone, the loneliness has come.

That’s loneliness, when you return home and find a pair of forgotten socks. Me and your socks, waiting for you to return.

The days passing by, loneliness turns int a monster.

The monster called aloneness. It eats you, it haunts you wherever you are, no matter what are you doing.

Aloneness is the final stage. The verge of the pot full with emotions, ready to blast off.

I could ask for a PhD on these three nouns.

I mastered them to a perfection.

We have been talking about us, about your airplanes taking off’s, international arrivals and the awful airport coffee.

I had it enough, I don’t want to feel the third monster noun again. The pot has exploded, and I cannot do it anymore.

When you return to our home, where we have lived for the past few years, I will give you your forgotten socks.

I will kiss you because I love you and then I will leave you for good.

Because loving someone so much and missing him constantly, mastering the all synonyms for the solitude, is ruining my life.

I want you in it, in my life, in my presence. I want you, and not the forgotten pair of socks.

If you will ever be able to understand the solitude, the loneliness, the monster of aloneness, then you will find me.

If you do that, I’ll get rid of my PhD, and finally make a plural in our lives.

Instead of “you” and “I” apart, we could make the word “we” or “us”. A new word in my dictionary.

That would be an awesome PhD, about the new term  – “we”, as a plural.

But it’s up to you to decide. The socks, or me. The plural or the singular, it’s totally up to you.