Little Coffee Shop

Back from the swirling noises of life is a little place, known by many and unexplored by a few. Great to meet a person or a haven for the weary walker, seeing the little coffee shop as a place to relax and rest their sore feet. Tall, short, skinny, fat, white, dark, all walks are welcome... all of them feel warm and welcome upon standing in this place. Worm tones, rustic feeling furniture decorate this coffee shop but its the colourful customers that make it a wonderful destination. Too top off such a perfect place is the amazing staff, working to make sure each person is happy with what they have. The music playing a relaxed yet appealing up beat mood ensuring whether a coffee or a tea drinker are happy.

This is why we like you Little Coffee Shop.

Concrete Happiness

Beep, click,flash,thump,bang, patter, sounds filling thousands of ears daily. All driving by time and lists upon lists, forcing a life that drones forward. Day turning into night; the only rest is known by those 8 hour evenings, a glimmer of a promise...promising a restful sleep. Weeks turning into weekends chalk filled with activities; luxurious such as sleep for gone, their time too be used. Feet pounding, wheels turning on forever concrete; towers of concrete surrounding all that move beneath them; yet everything is beautiful. Happiness; how could it come in the form of concrete?

For those who we lost.

Rain pelting down against their faces they lower they heads moving forward, at a bruised pace. Backs hunched, arms weak and feat sore they bite down and force this motion, knowing what lies ahead. As each man dares not look ahead at he horizon each one remembers events that may all be wiped out if they do not survive; each man driven by different memories, yet all seem the same. Mud splashing over their boots pants caked in blood and mud they all suffer, just wanting it all too end, but the knowledge of it never ending bites at them, like a wolf eating its meal. Noises muffling any and all taking they bare it all just trying to fight over the bodies too their next post, just wishing it all would end; the terror driving the strongest of men to their knee's as falling comrades riddle the country side. Lost battles never needed men killed for a purpose out of their hands, yet all were willing and sure of why they came; but too their families it was all to hard too bare. As minutes and seconds turn to hours all stops hazard another casualties, forcing all to continue to move its hard to bring even a second step forward over a mound; it brings all muscles to a continuous scream as they cry to just rest, but can't.
Stop. Listen. It rips through them all, each and every man look to each other face stricken with fear as that rusty gear sound becomes a little louder to each one of them; as they have done before they run forward exerting what energy they have too, dive into that trench ahead; for the knowledge of that tank coming, is enough too cause the lot to cry. As each and everyone of them make it they begin a frantic scurry all carrying the knowledge that with a tank, comes a force; being a weak 200 men they can't afford many loses...but its a hard fact too swallow, the enemy is large and more powerful. One by one they all get ready with their shotty guns, failing hand guns, and what ever else they still have, just praying to what ever god that they make it through, not only for themselves but for their families. Heavy foot steps sounding with the tank, the first little wave crawls out of the trench, pleading that they are not seeing, and just waiting for that opening; just wishing this was a dream. Thats when all hopes get shattered 'BOOM' dirt goes flying as a single man lost in a display of mud, it happened, what they feared came true...bullets firing at well, bombs going off, and people screaming. The battle starts for what purpose, is only known too these soldiers, slowly working their way back as the enemy charges forward. The trench alights with grenades flying over and shattering the target hindering them useless. While the battle rages on people cry, people scream, deaths happen and lives are spared but on either side of the field each person is the same; each one driven by the single fact that they just want freedom, but in the end its not known who will get that freedom. All the men falling and living playing a part in what is demanded of them, each and everyone serving a purpose for a greater good; yet they all have a single though in their minds ' I just want to leave? I just want to see my wife, and kids again.. Why am I here?' Yet on all those resolute faces all that is seen is fear and pain, each bullet shot is a new wound earned.
Bodies falling bullets fading, the sound of war silences as a winner looks around; its over...that little skirmish that took lives, is over; but for how long until the next? Its never clear when it will happen again, all that is certain that in the mass of bodies there are falling friends, and family, who played their part, and did the deed.
Smoke settling, sky clearing, desolate landscape is all thats left; will these people ever recover? Will they lead a normal life? As far as each man, and boy alike can tell this is not the end, its never the end, just a false hope as the sky opens and warms their caked skins with sun. But one day, it will end. They hold onto that last remaining hope, using it as the only thing keeping them going; that the one day they come home they get too see their families again. Having the feeling of love wash over them, that feeling that got torn from them as they stepped into this hell.
To all those who fought for us, who lost their lives, who came home missing a part. We thank you; We thank each and everyone of you for giving what was needed and losing what should have been kept. From the bottom of all our hearts we Remember you! Each and every soul that used a courage that is beyond all of us, who fought for a dream of a freedom that would one day give us liberty's. None of you knew what would happen, or come from this, but in the end when you stepped on home turf you knew you had done right. And too all those who lost your life, and to all the families that suffered a heavy loss we appreciate all that you gave, and what you lost. You were the bold few that even in the face of possible death you gave a yell and faught like the devil for what you knew was true in your heart. We can never thank you enough, and will never be able too comprehend what you went through; but each and every generation will never forget the life you gave so we could keep ours.

We thank you. All of us, from the bottom of our hearts, we thank you. And we shall hold your flame burning bright, letting all who left this world know that you, did great.

Brutality of Thought

Waking up early in the morning he works his way into mind numbing state of contempt for a morning, but is this really whats causing his feelings, of hate and sadness. Pressing forward and making sure he's ready he steps a foot out that door and it begins; music blaring through his head phones he walks quickly, for he knows they come... Not only do they come quickly and sudden but they are potent ones, potent enough too drive any sane living creature into madness, yet he seems to fend them off for just a little longer each time. Weaving and dodging he finds his way through the thin crowd then as he finally pass through what seems too be the barrier between his worlds his heart stops for a moment, as his mind screams and revolts against the bitter tanging reality at hand. Taking a look back at what was his most calming part of his day he brutally slams his foot into the pavement and pushes forward at a dreadful pace, that allows for a speedy recovering yet holding him back enough too make any moment painfully slow. Bumping against those who cause the most, he lowers his eyes he has never felt that satisfaction of head up walk...All those eyes boring into him as they know he is bowing down too them, not giving any single one a chance to dig. But it happens, regardless, those painful and quickly tanging thoughts return and his sanity eats away sinfully slow using all his strength not to break down in tears. Each thought grabbing whats left of his beating and bruised sanity and tearing new flesh chunks out...he bites his lip and turns into his old self. Now breaking through it all and ready for battle, his mind turns to pain, as his words ring with sarcasm with a hint of cynicism laced in for a deadly combination. Each sentence he now speaks, or look he gives is enough too bring a full lion down...deadlier then most poisons he licks his lips and bares his ugly nature.
Can this truly be what he has become? Is he this twisted creature that takes pleasure in a almost masochistic fashion too his abusers and his abused mind? Will it ever be soon enough for a recovery?
His mind screams as each seconds pass, grasping at whats left of him, but its almost in vein as each grasp slips further into a burning passion.

Lonely Factor

Crying he sits there huddled in a heap of tears; only thing reminding him of pacing time and future are the red lines dictating a reference for a time. Clenching his legs harder into his body until it feels like a breakable pressure he hides his face again and cries; yet its not for lost...but for a lost ideal. While he fights the tear he suffers in darkness, while he tells a secret too a one he knows not; yet it strangely lifts his spirit...just the knowledge of shared pain, quirks a smile on his face. What ailment they share is only know to those who embrace it in the dark of night...seeing it as the only feeling the quenchable touch of a cold hand. If it were a name Its name is not known in less gone after and relished upon finding...

Insecurity

Tossing and turning within his nightly slumber his mind races with the anticipation he has built just for a day of, love felt for him. Yet he is strangle un-tamed too this new sensation; his heart telling him one thing, while his brain fails at each pass of a new emotion. What is he supposed to do? Is this normal? As he again jolts out of a restless and much needed sleep he begins too cry, and not tears of love; but tears of pain. What is this sensation meant to be felt as? Is he supposed too know what its plan for him is? Why from all the years of help for others not prepared him for this torture he puts himself through..
Is his happiness truly dependent on this so called sensation of love? Does he really need this new emotion? In this truly desperate time why can't his white horse of salvation come and make this mud clear....As his tear stains his face and sheets he looks out of his window and with a hardened resolve he whips the tears away...he knows what must be done; he needs his love too be meant and not just lusted. Battling through all the words they speak the next day, he walks him crying himself into a lull of dull feelings. It was done, he broke the heart and person that said they loved him, yet he felt strangely happy. In the end as he finally turns the lights back on and cleans himself up he realizes what love he craves, is not a simple fix. What he is waiting for is the simplistic lover that allows him to feel lonely...but needed; sad,/happy. And not just a filler to pace the time.
Now proudly walking out of his room he bares the mental scares of the war called love. But as he holds his head up high and heads into the world he feels more at rest and calm then he ever has.

Untitled

You hate me? you only hate me, because I dare too be who you cant! As you dull you razors edge on my skin; as you make me bleed for your pain you feel, I still stand proud and strong. While you suffer your own suffering from past taunts, I take your beaten, and become more repulsive...You ask ' How is this possible, I'm better,faster,stronger, and smarter' Its possibly because I've learned your ways..I grew stronger, as I made you believe I was weaker then you; did you think it was that easy? I am a fighter; I may come across as dim witted, and slow, but I'm quick and passionate...I feel your pain less and less, as you inflict more wounds; and dull more razors. But here, take a new one, and start fresh wounds, and learn quick; as it dull faster as I grow thicker skinned...as your hateful words bounce off me, they come back too you; shaking your foundation, and making you see how you hurt yourself. As I finally turn my back on you and close this chapter for good, I leave you with a single thought ' Was all the pain inflicted on me, and you worth the trouble? Where all those hours of verbal abuse enough too make you feel better?'