GeoSolus

A world alone is a world at peace

A Rapid Eye

Tired of the flock

And the shepherd’s deceit

Tired of the burning flesh

Extinguished with fresh blood

Tired of the drugs

Killing the cure

Killing the spirit

Killing the heart

For a promise of gold

Tired, oh so tired

Yet sleep evades me

Before I Forget

You stood on the bridge

Holding a flame

The final chapter

To finality’s game

Into The Flesh – Day 10

“Often alone yet never lonely. Solitude can be a moment to breathe and to let thoughts flow freely. An abode for the creative mind and the injured soul alike.’

‘Do you enjoy working with others?’

‘Yeah, just haven’t done it for years.’

‘Why is that?’

‘A lack of reliability and punctuality on their part.’

‘I can understand that being problematic.’

‘It is and usually ends with unfinished projects.’

‘Yet you still enjoy working with others.’

‘Yeah, it’s nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of.’

‘Do you get better results when working with others?’

‘If there is a good connection yeah. If not I’m better going solo which is why I’ve been going solo for so long.’

‘So you have trouble finding people to connect with?’

‘No, that’s fairly easy. Having these connections be reliable and punctual is a whole other story.’

‘Time is money I suppose.’

‘No, time is life. From the moment we are born we are on the clock so someone who wastes your time is robbing you of a part of life that you can never get back.’

‘Mmm, would you say that you are an impatient person?’

‘I used to have the patience of a saint but not any more. Now I’m only patient with certain people and even there that depends if I feel that patience is required.’

‘Why the change?’

‘Simple: I’ve been fucked around too many times by too many people.’

‘That makes sense. Has this been a general theme in your life?’

‘In the important areas yeah. I’ve bust my ass on projects only to have the carpet whipped from under me and on a more personal level, well…’

‘Well?’

‘Empty promises, misleading behaviour, outright lies…I reached the point of not giving a shit or believing the words escaping the lips of a so called loved one.’

‘Is that where your trust issues come from?’

‘Fucking right it is! That’s why I fly solo in more ways than one.’

‘I understand.’

‘Do you?’

‘I really do.’

‘You know what? I believe you do.’

Quadrants

Nothing is the same

Within a constant evolution

Even when the obvious

Overshadows the detail

The Call

You reap what you sow
Feel the pain of your actions
Or the pleasure
Of a multitude of distractions

You have faith
And dance around the reaper
For the one who gives you certainty
Is most certainly a keeper

You get lost in thought
Hope for a chance
To find some kind of balance
Within your notions of romance

To no avail

She Played Solitaire

It took about sixteen hours to fly from Edinburgh to Hong Kong. Hours spent reading a personal diary that spoke of who he was during his past years in Scotland. The adventures that bordered legality and those that could threaten his freedom, all written by hand and bound in black leather. For him it was a keepsake but it could have been viewed by others as evidence. He knew that it was in his best interest to destroy it but there was an old sense of justice that lurked in the back of his mind. A voice from a younger self saying that everyone should be held accountable for their actions without exception. His time would come and that day the whole truth should be set free and so he kept the diary as it was the only record of that period of his life.
Upon arrival in Kong, a smartly lady dressed in white met him at the airport. She was expecting him but she was not expected. As she stepped out in front of him to announce her presence he side stepped her to meet his scheduled rendez-vous while mentally noting the face for future reference. She did of course resurface at several points during the making of his new life asking him to get in to a taxi. One day, after she had ceased appearing for three years, she turned up once more. He got in to the taxi and was never heard of again but the diary. The diary was in different hands.

The Guardian

Love me
Hate me
See if I care
There is no burden
That can’t be shared
I’ll carry you
If you fall
But I won’t let you fall

Be just
Hold trust
And play fair
There is nothing in life
Too hard to bare
I’ll pick you up
When you are down
But I won’t let you fall

Of Crime And Passion

There needs to be more than a spark to start a fire for the flame needs fuel. Now the fuel you choose could become a blaze that consumes you or one that keeps you warm when the world turns cold. The right choice lays in the why you desire the flame in the first place.

Reset

Tempered temper
I walk away
Leaving you
With your absent god

I kept my word
I always do
For no one forgives
One with no lord