#review #poetry #collaboration #Volfortat #The_Lost_Poet

A Girl of a unknown land,
In the winter a scarf she had.
But a fang, like a little lamb,
between a tree she sat.
Questioning the intrinsic value,
of being alive and obligations.
Her beauty would knife you,
until you're out of sensations.

She asks the light if she can stay
Her mind is blank, thoughts disarrayed
Longing to find her role in this play
She's a weakened spirit and fades.

Her eyes look up with her soul well worn
A heavy heart and a recurrent sigh is the norm
But a mystical smile cuts through her scorn
Tears that cut her cheeks now be pearls that adorn.

But sudden was the feeling that goes,
As the water in a blink of an eye flows,
That same question perpetuating,
For which her misery she was reverberating

"I don't exist, as such i deny my existing.
I don't believe as a being i am living,
not for my own rambling apart sinning.
And such existence isn't a bell ringing.
i deny it for you because you need belief
And this mediocre existence is but a leaf."

And a being, no man, from the sky appeared:
"Don't worry, child for you have yet to sin,
but no greater than man's own selfish beard.
I am not a dictator nor an atrocious god nor grim,
You shall from me expect no face within afraid"
These were the words from which god was made.

"I only take from you, your freedom, faith i request,
And thinking is prohibited," — He said.

But as she thought and thought, patience was over,
And then she said: "I want a mind with no rover"
And by her heart, she followed, denying god once more,
Denying her fate, her treason to herself and her lore.
For she is not too late, and as such she went,
God's disappearing, to heaven him she had sent.

#review #Volfortat #collaboration #Prose #The_Lost_Poet

Harry, a story.

FIRST CHAPTER

A Midnight whisper, between the long gone mountains of Everest, destroyed by the skies, which in turn where destroyed by the clash of nations, the use of atomic weapons and weeping tears of humanity, that melted even the brighest of snow. A Midnight whisper, between the green grass of France, and the Bohemian farmer. A Midnight whisper, the mountain, the grass, and all shall be consumed. ‘What?’, said Harry, waking up from a vision, perhaps dream, nonetheless strangely enough to consume his spirits, and drink the rest of his sweeping blood. Harry, a shy fellow, and possesing virtue on being right, depending on what view you thinking of it, but there is no right or wrong for him, only what mankind thinks of it, but a little more wishing, he analyzed his own character and developed himself the word of good, for is own, denying god’s view, and secretely refusing imposed laws. Imposing himself his laws. ‘What was that dream?’, he said, agnostic to anything but the Dream. His bed was upon a wooden base, next to a window, that closed his eyes with the dark mist of a new cycle of work. The room was simple, but calm, beneath a table, there was a computer, a state of the art computer of the almost 21th century, it was the year 2000, and he had a bottle of wine next to the computer, ‘I shouldn’t drink before going to bed, messes up with my sleep, and gives me strange dreams’, all he could say of the dream was “A Midnight whisper, the mountain, the grass” – this echoed through his brain, and, with an almost profetic saying, made him believed that today was going to be abnormal, although normal to him, as always.
With a weary mind, he switched on the computer and logged on to Facebook, that was plastered with photographs of his so called friends and their dream life along with countless advertisements capitalising on the insecurities of men like him. These advertisements ranged from inability and low confidence of men who cannot pick up girls at the bar or women who want to have the best looking Victoria's secret model figure keeping their fads and cravings for fast food intact. The reality was twisted and fabricated in the best way possible. This high life to people now was like water to a fish who felt the glass bowl was an ocean.

#review #Volfortat #The_Lost_Poet #collaboration #Prose

Harry, a story

FIRST CHAPTER: https://t.me/WritersClub/337456


SECOND CHAPTER

By browsing through a few pages, where he had written some comments, unrealistic it may seem, and unrealistic it was, no matter of who it was, no friends of his, through what other's call friendship, a major misconception underneath our own noses. Realizing it was already 6:30 AM, he suddenly thought about the meeting at 7, as such he jumped to his feet from his cozy bed and quickly ran to the shower. Everything was more or less voice activated, an intelligence house one may presume, the best a middle-upper class salaryman could buy, and the best trojan Uncle Sam could give.
With one feet in the shoe and the other struggling to get the socks on, he rode the elevator down to his car, jumped in and drove top speed only to realise that the freeway was completely jammed up with the traffic. With nothing much to do aside from cursing himself and the tragedy under his breath, he turned on the in-car entertainment screen to watch local TV news, his eyes loomed over the headline that a middle aged investment banker had jumped to his death in front of a semi trailer with his body mangled and disfigured. To sensationalize this tragedy, the news reader inserted a comment that translated to the fact that his soul was crushed long before his body owing to the huge credit card debt that had amassed over the years. He shrugged his shoulders because such words writhed his soul and made him ask the question he always had but never knew who to ask.
Was this the life we wanted to live in the promising future? What’s the promissing future after all?
When he was still on the freeway at 7 am, he was no longer under duress of reaching his office for the meeting. He just kept driving straight on the freeway till he reached the left turn that took him to the Skyrise where his office was. He worked for a huge name but never outgrew his cubicle in the last 4 years of overworking his mind, body and spirit, never had any ambitions, and for that his death would seem just another dead salaryman, through with Life’s choices, and his own choosing. After getting a good deal of bashing from his boss who wanted him to be present for the meeting with his facts and figures, that were important to show the client that their money was not only safe with Cipher Finance, but would potentially climb the grapevine all the way to a 56 percent growth even in this market. The roulette minded west was pretty pissed by the sheer audacity and cunning of the east where they had spent three decade to milk their money only to find out that the slave was ready to be a master. Economic warfare was no longer a bookish term to be found buried deep in a book on foreign policies to safeguard national interest but rather it was an umbrella term now to denote all the arm-twisting techniques that the motherland countries were playing with the new found fatherlands. In short, the entire economic situation was a chaotic with only the superrich and super powerful government getting the better of it while the people on whose backs, their empires stood were now pushed down or under the huge debts their credit cards brought on with bare minimum credit ratings that were needed just to lease a new apartment. It was horrible but liveable, nevertheless, yes, nevertheless, the people were mad about it.