What Be In An Apple

What be in an apple?

The Devil Designed his tempest...

Tempting Eve to the very first bite.

Call it theology or a Myth – But I have An Adam’s Apple.

A fruit so tempting or could it be?

But a bed time story  or so I once heard –

“After her very first bite, A deep sleep she slept, poor Snow White”

Fairtale or fantasy – It was a poisened Apple indeed!

To fly high in the sky was once my dream.

Tragedy I complain – everything now a distant memory.

In School I learnt, my dreams can never be.

An apple it seems, fell from the sky – all in the name of Gravity.

Times forever changed and histroy with it.

A revolution I witnessed...

From the book of Jobs, revelations unfolded.

An apple with a missing bite... Tempting mortal man and women alike.

Forever changing life as we know it... An Apple with A missing bite!

Victor Andrews

Immortal Politics

      Funny are the matters that determine the days of our life. Many of us living our lives by the holy books afraid of being judged by the immortal ambassadors of good and evil we have been only told about. Petrified to dare think otherwise which is forbidden by the holy books written by the likes of the saintly. Trying to make measured careless mistakes and then to desperately justify the cause of our actions.  Our vexation for vanity denied and condemned since the first bite of the forbidden fruit.

     I stray mesmerized on the high wire of human emotion that parts the worlds of good and evil as I been brought up to believe. Angels calling out my names and demons in my head distracting my every step of the way. Living on the verge of a juxtapose politics.
   

     God, the almighty, the all powerful sadist. To nurture mankind with the gifts of instincts and intuition and then to set the rules in opposition. Watching us fumble upon the soil of the earth, jumping from one foot to the other. Selfishly denying our prayers for the sake of your ultimate plan.

    Satan, the forsaken humanist. Pampering human kind with his deepest darkest secrets. Feeding him from the bottle all that he craves for. Pitching with glories untold and with promises of treasures of eternal life.

The choice is indeed hard to make...
Should I lean to God almighty, who loves us so much that he sent his only begotten son upon this earth to die for the sins of man?

Or should I crane to the Devil, who loves so much that he stayed with us all through out our lives without resting a second, pitching his promises?

  ... Victor Andrews

The Tragic Irony

God created us in His image or i heard them say,

The tragic irony is humourous indeed.

Man created God in his Imagination for i saw them believe.

Prophets many came and gone to point to the righteouss path;

Mortal fools naive are you to not see the path,

 But worship the pointed finger instead.

To know in our hearts that God is but one,

Hippocrates are you and me can’t you all see?

To brutally slay each other for the name of your God is but another.

All in the name of the God you call as the creator.

In the Good Books of world,

There’s only preachings of peace.

What does it matter? The colour of the skin,

When everything starts from really deep within.

Mortal people believeing immortal vanity:

It’s a shame you all not see,

The colour of your and mine blood...

Bleeds not different but only red.

Victor Andrews

...It Starts...

     Life's story can be similar to one another yet be so distinctly apart. Each one's pain and sorrow amplified and mutilated from the listener to the teller. Unfortunately even our failures and rejections are inspired by the likes of Romeo and Juliet and many more, each one narrating his own history with spice trying to over power one another. Futile attempts to overshadow others and themselves with a sense of valor we never had.

     Everyone has a past. for better or worst. And a million words to console the disturbed. The wounds always heal but the scars always remain. And we wait there hoping things will be better denying the logical side that says that things will never be the same again. Yet we hope for it again. An insane tug of war that forever pulls and stretches the emotional intellect to realms never before known. We wait, failing to realize that we are not just one single individual withing ourselves. We bath in it. A civil war within us between all the forces that keeps us alive being the very cause of us making us wish we were dead within. And it never ends. And our focus, goals,prayers and ambitions revolve around it. And then we shun God himself who we think has forsaken us.

    Times moves on and slowly so do we... at least for those of us who has choose to make it through overcoming the macabre thoughts that's forced down upon us for lack of morphine in our veins. With hopes to redeem ourselves we decide to move on. But unfortunately your not the same anymore. Subconsciously,  the psych within ours tell us that there was a flaw within ourselves and unconsciously we change ourselves. Bit's and pieces off all that we once were eroded away. A new way of overcoming our besmirched failures.

    And things happen again and over the time and experiences with a series turmoil of events we are totally oblivious to what we truly are. Emotions such as mercy and compassion and all the individual qualities snowballed over the years come crumbling down. Like Alice tumbling down the rabbit whole... a deep abyss where one finds almost impossible to awaken from.

    And there is only but one wish... To see the world from the eyes of a child once again. For an UNDO button for all the moments you did all that you shouldn't have. All just to free our hearts, trapped inside the eyes of a person who is now a stranger. And then you wish furthermore to turn back time... to maybe never have had it happen. To go back to believing everything and not not knowing nothing at all.

Victor Andrews