A step in the right direction

It may not seem like it, but you, Mad Max and fish and chips have changed my life.

 I'm going to take control, take charge and face my fears head on. No more holding back, no more laying low. I'm going to spread my wings and fly, I won't be looking over my shoulders any more. I won't be looking back thinking about the past. My sights are fixed on what's to come and Baby I like what I see. 

So this is not the end, this is a new beginning, a new chapter. When a door closes countless ones open and I'm ready. This is the life I'm choosing and quite honestly, it's about time. 

See you around stranger, 

-Chocolat

Catching a grenade

The chaotic sound of the sirens around me destabilize my thoughts and make me doubt my motives. The flashing blue and red lights complemented well the fully armed and bullet proof vest wearing officers. I was surrounded and they were asking me to surrender. My head down staring at my blue converse sneakers I tried to understand how a simpleton like me ended up in a situation like this. I have always been an average kind of guy: average height, average weight, average brains, average everything. I presume the only thing that differentiated me now from many other average guys was the weapon I had grasped in my hand, the most lethal of all weapons. 

She stood in front of me with her brown locks cascading down her back. Her hazel eyes imploring me to give in to the injustice I felt. Could it be, that only yesterday I was in the library studying for my finals?

“Put the weapon on the ground. We have you surrounded”. I can feel the sniper’s red beam on the back of my head. A warning I ought to follow if I desired to live. I wish I could melt unto the gray pavement, disappear into thin air, or reverse time and prevent myself from ever having uttered those deadly words. Regrettably, this is real life and not a movie set.  Here, you have to fight your own battles. You can win, be a self-proclaimed hero, or lose and dwell in your pool of victimized misery. Today is my time to lose. I wonder if I will have a tomorrow. The seconds tick by as I stand puzzled by the decision I must make.

I thought I had it all figured out. I loved her -love her- , I wanted to spend all my days with her. I imagined us getting married on a beach somewhere with our closest friends and family on a beautiful sunny day, much like today. Destiny has an undeniably funny sense of humor. I saw us moving into a cozy little house with a big backyard for our kids to play. If money became a struggle, it wouldn’t matter because our love would keep us together. In our home I saw us grow old together, and on the weekends our daughters and sons would visit. And on a warm autumn day she will inhale her last breath, ready to take on the next journey without fear, knowing I would be waiting on the other side.

For her lovely smile, I was ready to cross oceans and back. I would of protected her from blizzards and tides, lions and wolves. I would of done anything and everything for her. With this beauty alongside me, my life would be complete. For her, I surrender.

I lift my head, and look her once more. Pity fills her eyes as a single tear strolls down her cheek. At loss of words, she turns away blending into the crowd.  I look around as the ghostly armed figures I had imagined, dissolve into the mass surrounding me. People coming and going are carrying on with their daily business,  unaware that at this precise moment my life just came crumbling down.

Held in my grasp is the most lethal of all weapons, my heart. 

The Mistress With The Red Lipstick

Trains are very annoying when you’re onboard and everything stops working-the motor, the electricity, the lights- and before you know it, everything is back to normal. Nobody acknowledges that, for a brief few seconds the world went dark. Why would they, when everything is back to the way it should be?  Except sometimes, those first signs of trouble should never be ignored. Now, for example, the train will be delayed, because that minor problem turned out to be a messy technical one. And technical means delay.

I see you. Here you are, with your long chocolate brown locks and dark red lips, holding a Vogue Magazine, waiting. Waiting for the train to get repaired. Waiting to reach your destination. Waiting to step through the station’s doors. Waiting for the taxi that will take you to him.

That smile on your face say’s it all. You’re anxious, nervous but also impatient; you haven’t seen him for some time. You furrow your brow as a frustrating thought nags your mind: does he miss you as much as you’ve missed him? Will he notice the few pounds you shed? You’re secretly hoping he likes you’re new haircut. You have changed your look after having watched In Time on cable one night with him and he wouldn’t stop saying how sexy Amanda Seyfried looked.

Another thought crosses your mind; you wonder what romantic gesture he might have prepared, maybe a delicious home-cooked meal or a lavish gift waiting on the foot of the motel king size bed. But really it shouldn’t matter what he does or doesn’t do. What matters are the precious few moments you spend with him and no gifts in the world can replace them.

Instead you close your eyes and pretend he’s sitting on the chair across from you. His well-built tall physique has been one of the first things you noticed about him. His sturdy shoulders, toned biceps, and sculpted abs hypnotized you that first day you saw him at the local gym.  And how pleased you were to notice that his hands fit perfectly around your 26-inch waist. The sharp edges of his face give him that rugged bad boy look that seem to drive all women mad; and with his dazzling smile fit for a movie star, I can almost understand why you are so enticed by him. When he would look at you with his deep-set urging dark eyes you’d melt like ice cream on a hot summer day. Unsurprisingly, you had more than one occasion to memorize his perfectly shaped soft lips. His upper-lip is fuller than the lower with a well-defined cupid’s-bow. With a discrete smile, you look down and blush at your next thought. Undeniably you can’t wait for his embrace; your excitement can hardly be contained.

I look through the large glass window and noticed we have been moving again for some time; I must have been deeply lost in thought.

Nonetheless, I’m sorry to say that you are silly and pathetic, because you know the truth yet choose to ignore it.  Let’s be honest here, we both know he doesn’t really care about you. He will flash that dazzling smile making you fall oh-so effortlessly under his spell. You are the mesmerized puppet, and he, the mesmerizing puppeteer.

With your fancy cloths, expensive perfume and Barbie doll make-up you hope to impress. All your efforts are unnecessary. You are but a mistress. The perfect mistress I might add. He has done a fine job seducing you. All he needed to do was to ignore you for a couple of weeks. His absence troubled you so much you wondered what you did to deserve this predicament. The wait left you desperate; your days were filled with thoughts of him, and your nights were spent dreaming of him. And suddenly, all was arranged and all was forgiven with the call he gave you this afternoon: “I miss you baby, I need you, come and meet me tonight. I told my wife I’ll be working late at the office”.

Stuck up believing that one day he will leave the mother of his children, you hopped on the first train you found.

I wish you could face reality.

You hum Norah Jones’ song, “I’ve got to see you again”. I pity you. Your blind love for this man has made you disregard the principles you once used to observe so religiously. You diminished that guilt by arguing that all is fair in love and war. Ironically you’ve naively convinced yourself that you have him addicted to your scent and to your touch, that he is wrapped around your little finger.

To him, you are nothing but wide-open flesh. He is the user, and you are the used.  Your sanity is lost at the sound of his name; your heart beats faster at the touch of his skin. And when he whispers those three little words your cheeks flush a vibrant red and you let him take you once more. Now tell me who is wrapped around whose finger?

At last, the train slows down. I take one last look at myself in the window’s reflection while reapplying my Scarlet Red Mac lipstick. I quickly stand up and head for the exit, leaving behind my Vogue magazine. 

Coffee shop

Sweet strawberry lips

Pursed into a smile at the glare of my eyes

Pearling whites teasing me with their sparkle

Skin as soft as velvet, how I ache to touch

Almond shaped and darkly profound, she stares me down

Provoking playfully with the tip of her tongue

Licks the dripping coffee cream off the corner of her mouth

Heart beating faster, fist clenched together

Trying to conceal my hunger

Visions of my imagination trouble my moral fiber

My lips her mouth my tongue her neck

Blushing cheeks honeyed sweat

Lingering and caressing her alluring figure

Sensually luscious lips be mine on this hour

Stop.

I censor my thoughts.

No more than a stroke or a brush

A pebble of a touch,

Perhaps an innocent embrace

Of the lavender honey scent that enrobes her shape

I yearn for a taste.

Just a nibble of those voluptuous lips

A graze on the tilt of her avid neck

A pause followed by a breath.

Her delicate body trembling with anticipation,

A burning urgency filled with desire and aspiration

Devours all that is left of my remaining conscience.  

Lost in those unorthodox thoughts,

Sitting in a little coffee shop,

I didn’t notice her unannounced departure.

Hypocritical Visage

It is quite unsettling how hypocritical people can be. One day they try to inspire you with words of truth and wisdom. The next they act in complete discordance to the speeches they uttered. Apply what you preach, if that doesn't seem to be possible, then by all means do not preach. 

It’s always easy to point the finger on such or such, but in the end you haven’t the right to judge. Take a good look at yourself, stand in front of that mirror and look. Do you like what you see? Good. Now look deeper, do you still like what you see? You may feel completely at ease, thinking that at last you have found the perfect way to live your life. That unlike all the others you have found inner peace and is able to stand above all the rest. Like a moving target, no arrow can hit you. Don’t be so quick as to forget that you also possess Achilles’ heel. Or perhaps, you realize that you do have imperfections and weaknesses. Yet you also believe that by being conscious of your mistakes, you are therefore a distinct being. Understanding when you were at fault is only walking half of the way. Like an astronaut flying to the moon with no means of getting back, you stand there seeming lost and inadequate.
When out of line and aware of your mistake, it’s your obligation to take responsibility for your actions and to try to mend them in whichever way possible. Not hide behind an ego so large as an elephant only to pretend it’s as small as a mouse.

Yes I am of those who believe that talk is cheap. Actions speak louder than words. So please, get off your high horse and remove that transparent mask you always carry on. I’m just hoping that beneath that translucent façade you are not hiding but another hypocritical visage. 

Time Capsule

I stepped inside the capsule and hoped to be taken to the moment it all began, a moment where everything would make sense once again. A moment of illuminating bliss where life, death and eternity would take on a whole new meaning. I closed the door and take in the rusty smell of the metal cabin. Buttons strategically placed all across the walls, some lit others flashing might seem overwhelming to the untrained pilot. On the dusty dashboard is placed my shiny red helmet. I put it on. The excitement of what is to come is almost unbearable, with sweaty palms I reach for the key chained around my neck. The key feels cold and heavy in my hand as I reach for the ignition. I turn it once, nothing happens. I turn it a second time, still no sound. Hoping that third is a charm, I turn it thrice and luckily the engine roars to life. I slip my hand in my dirty jean pocket and make sure the couple of bulbs I managed to salvage were still there. Tulip bulbs, her favorite. I will grow them when I reach my destination. Now, I watch through the window with calming resolve what I am to leave behind.

On my left are the remains of what used to be a beautiful home. There are torn couches, broken chairs and crushed glass all across the floor. Fallen tables, a few crushed family portraits, one headless doll and a shattered crib fill the room. Wood debris and glass shreds occupy the once perfectly soft navy colored Persian rug. I shouldn’t look at the walls. Too late, I already peaked; the creamy white walls are stained. I quickly turn my glare back to the dashboard. I shouldn’t look anymore. Instead I look at my reflection. It came to me as no surprise when I saw the empty look in my eyes. Desolate and soulless they match my emotionless face. My left cheek is also stained. Now that I look carefully so are my shoulders and the upper-right side of my chest. I’m waiting for the pain to sink in, for me to feel something. But nothing. Numbness is all I feel. I breathe out a sight of relief, close my eyes for a brief instant and decide to look again, but this time I turn my head to the right. I immediately regret it. But my eyes are frozen in place. Unable to escape this sight I try to pretend that all is okay. That nothing changed, nothing happened. Who am I kidding; I try to let out a scream. Yet no sound escapes my lips. I shudder.  Lifeless. They are all lifeless and stained. The stench is suffocating me. The blood in my head is pounding while my heart beats to a thump similar to that of a death march. I begin to feel strangely light; I need to get out.

I return my attention to the dashboard, I am leaving and I’m not coming back. This life has long been overdue. I need to head back to the tulips and to the dolls, to that moment in time where the birds still sang in the trees and when the sun still rose in the morning. It is with that particular mindset that with firm determination I pull the time capsule’s handle towards me.

A blinding white light and it’s already over.

Gaza Strip

Grey dust and black smoke

Broken homes, torn limbs everything’s broke

Blood splattered on the ground

Can’t feel a thing can’t hear a sound

Ears still ringing from the explosion

I can’t take this anymore I need a diversion

They say we’re the terrorists, then why is my home obliterated

With bombing plane and monstrous tanks I am greeted

I stand in the street trying to understand why I deserve this

Beside me lays my sister, she always dreamed of becoming a princess

Can you hear the mother’s cries?

Can you see the expression of despair in this child’s eyes?

Men carry corpses trying to save their daughters

While 6 year olds are struggling, trying to revive their brothers

Those unlucky enough to have survived wished they too have died

Instead, they are forced to subside.

And when the Rebellion starts

And rage breaks through all ramparts

We are silenced by the fear of another massacre

It seems to you, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time

It’s my fault I didn’t see the sign, you say this land is now yours

You call it Israel. I call it Palestine.