The pride, tentatively, walked to the water’s edge to lap up a cool drink on a hot night. Breaking the calm, water thrashed about, reaching forward, pushed by the violence, the spray lashed out in all directions. Each animal near the water’s edge instinctively reacted, as taut muscles sprung each escape. Missing it’s mark, the waters gathered […]
Written by Jacob Ibrag She wanted more than he could give her. He asked her to meet him half way. ‘Never, I refuse to settle.’ Walking past her peripheral, he turned back one last time and tried to remember every single detail of their night. Black dress with red trim. ‘Pink lips that I’ll never kiss again.’ Photographer Unknown
One strange thing about the drunkenness of power is that it leaves no trace of a hangover because it never really intoxicates in the first place, instead it infects like an ailment. What it does is put the mind in a state of make believe stupor. It lies to the person, telling him he is indeed invincible and that he can walk naked on a busy road without being seen by the ever present pretentious crowd. When a mad man walks around naked, it is only because he doesn’t logically know he is naked until he is healed. This is quite unlike the drunk man who is always fully aware of what happens to him, if he is still consciously awake while drunk. Then by all intent of purpose, the powerful man lives in that state sandwiched in the mystical void between insanity and drunkenness, while actually being neither of them. So when this borderless state concludes its hazy mazy course, it still leaves behind a lot to rationally reflect on, unlike madness which leaves nothing of its past or drunkenness which leaves no immediate memories or vivid perspective of the past.
Power’s negativity leaves regrets, shame and disgrace, because it can be remembered as it was. In its selfish ways, power has an impulsive mind which with steady time has the tendency to become unwaveringly firm in its will to pursue a course it had lashed on to by its proud faith in its perceived abilities. It takes up a nature rightly construed to be initially foreign to its natural one and summarily makes it its own. Power denies its perilous positions because it doesn’t see it clearly like it ought to. It is an enigma that inserts a conjecturable attitude in itself.
Power is an attitude with an enticement induced with dubious intentions as the cost of most of its decisions are usually more than less not what it is personally prepared to pay for. The potentials of power are commonly not fully tapped and when applied unwisely, never really realized in its entirety. They almost never get fully achieved. The dubious craft of making power create wealth is thus never fully achieved when it is considered that wealth isn’t the attraction in itself, but what the wealth represents always is the absolute objective. It is predominantly such an overpowering desire.
Power craves wealth for the power it gives.
Fever: The Appetite of Fever (Book III)
The Poet in the Poem
sometimes, truth – sometimes, just fancies — always right
The waves continue to crash Insatiable, the passionate seas Their love burns, and in a flash they turn The lilacs and lilies to ash in the breeze.
If there is one thing I’ve come to learn so far, it’s that time is indefinite, unreliable, and precious. We have all lost something to it, whether that be a relationship, an object, or a person. Time is one of the things we can lose but never ever get back. Which brings about the question; […]
As the timid tundra walks Nothing guards against its frigid air. The wind howls Her melancholic doldrums Echo through the bleak of the forest. ©Kenworthy Epistles 2016
Foxes have holes, and birds have their nests, I’m pretty sure we all know the rest; conquering hero, our very own Nero, fire and blood all over the place. Did she deserve it? what do you think… Your stink covers multiple sins, you cheated your way to multiple wins, millions of victims all over the […]
Written by Jacob Ibrag I’ll steal all of her tears away. It’s the least I can do, she gives purpose to my kleptomaniac ways. I’ll adopt her stream till there’s nothing left but a smile on that face. There it is, the curvature of her lips. What I’d do to steal one kiss. She promises to never shed a single tear again. ‘But that’s how I know you’re real,’ I tell […]