The Fence

by Riaan Raymond

I saw it
Dangling
Fluttering
Moving against the silence
Moving against the wind
Slow
Quick
Shaking with it
Memories and emotions
Pretense and Pride
Disturbing
Violently curving inward
With Grace
With thoughts
With its independence
With its own guilt
Pacing through time

I saw it
Small in its world
Smiling
Obeying
Fueling to live
Feeling

I saw my soul
Hanging onto your fence
Hanging.


Copyright © 2011 Riaan Raymond

All rights reserved. No part of this short story/poem may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of Riaan Raymond.

I have not Felt it

I have not felt it


love is the fruit, the smell of goodness

but tastes of dishonesty

love is the secret buried on your lips

so that the silence cannot awake it

Love is the sacred madness we crave

in times of enjoyment -------------------

and yet , i have not felt any of it....



Love is barefoot loneliness

in search of laughter

and bright eyes

in search of warmth

and the soul that is caught between

sweat stained sheets

and yet, i have not felt any of it



Love is words written to remember

As the brush of his breath dances your skin

and the nakedness of each moment

Coming alive from your weakness

Wishing the day would not end

and yet

and yet

i have not felt any of it.



Love is to me the giving of pleasure and the

birth of beginnings

The collective calmness that destroys us ----


Copyright © 2011 Riaan Raymond

All rights reserved. No part of this short story/poem may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of Riaan Raymond.

Slow Tide

Slow Tide
Falling against a slow tide

Curdling with his rage

Washing away my strangeness

Washing away what is sane

Answering to soothing whispers

My love i am gone ,My love i am gone



Falling against the anger

Of this beautiful moment

Clutching on the scars of my imagination

The guilt we asume- will kill us all

Swept by all my deep emotions

My love i am gone ,My love i am gone



Copyright © 2011 Riaan Raymond

All rights reserved. No part of this short story/poem may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of Riaan Raymond.

Moist

He gazed at his face -now as a complete stranger.He questioned who he was in complete silence now craving a sense of belonging,beneath his make up.He was displeased with his looks and decided to willingly wipe of the layers of his make-up to reveal himself.The first layer was an ode to resentment,The second layer was a tribute to failed achievements and romances.He gently wiped the last and third layer and he was suddenly struck by the color of his skin,underneath his skin.He wished that looking at his face...there would be a person staring back at him that will acknowledge his duality,confusion and the little sadistic pleasures he once felt.He cried,He looked at himself crying with satisfaction.There was a envious voice that said to him..."You are here ,today to live,you are here today to feel,you are here to cry, and all of the worlds eyes can watch you-" He wanted that face in the mirror to welcome anger,oppression,and a strong believe in his inner spiritual being?He was wishing for a change,that didn't linger in woman's clothing,not in the random sexual acts with men who wanted him.He wanted to divorce that lifestyle.He of course wanted a true love,but they are hard to acquire and even harder to keep?His face was swollen up he had for a minute forgot about the incident he had just suffered.What the hearts of men do to chase away evil.Prejudice are unknown evils to minorities he thought.He splashed cold water to calm his face and came to the realization that he was not in a place he knew.This was not his bathroom.These clothes he was wearing was not his...He took a slight step to sooth his curious mind and it dawned on him.His rape? although not physical he assured himself- but now he was not sure? His feminine body felt a discomfort?that he never before recognized .He remembered that he suffered an impact to his head,and a fist in his face.He saw the curve of a man,a complete stranger still cradled warmed in his bed.His abuser?His rapist?His lover?He with the instinct that he knew would keep him safe...covered his mouth not to make his reactions known.He was now in a strangers bathroom crying at an awaking moment of stupidity- Even crying before his own death.He had a glimpse that filled his mind of a crippling fear.He was now afraid,Suffocating with no escape.Bare-feet,messed up black make-up, swollen face.Something surged up in himself -Fear with a desperation to survive...He emerged from the bathroom wanting to take control of his life and " this" moment.No more fear--he said quietly.No fearing stupid moments of danger.He will leave as a quiet victim...his bare feet made signal for the door.Every step made a sound louder that his own breath.He was trying to not wake the man,the stranger but his eyes shot at strangers pants,rolled up on the bedrooms floor.He said no to his curiosity but his body reacted differently.He wanted to have a name,possible address,age -He wanted to identify him.He wanted to know- leave knowing!!!!

But his captor was not asleep - the sound of the door locked closed.Like an alarm.Like the bell before Sunday church.Like the drop of a stone down a well and waiting to hear its deafening sound.His life drawn a close.The strangers enraged grasp caught him. The strangers hands and fists rained on his frailty.His screams did not awake any sensitivity in his captor.His ability to love did not awake any sensitivity in his captor.His intelligence,His religious convictions,His mothers face.He felt something leave -so silently from him.......and as his raped ensued again.


He felt nothing.


Copyright © 2011 Riaan Raymond

All rights reserved. No part of this short story/poem may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of Riaan Raymond.

Prayers of the heart

" I have appreciated all the great things that have occurred in my life.There have been times where i was less than spiritual,less obvious,no more interested,but there was certain gifts within me that was undeniable.I believe in honesty,learning about yourself and embracing new avenues,guilt-free,adoring the bright pleasures,engaging in the moments,laughing from your gut -these are the moments to have.The ideals to safe guard.I have enjoyed the company of many,but prefer to surrender to my own thoughts and ideas,making them live on their own,so independently and free.There is so much more to embrace,He said.If your faith allows it( and it does)There are so much places to place your feet firmly.There are so much more of the strangest sounds of music for your ears to listen to,There are so much more words to read...to have them engraved in your mortal eyes,to have them sail to the depth within your heart,and remain there,lonely as an island.It struck me on a day- the same day, as the sun pierced through the burdened darkness of the clouds...from the voice that was borrowed from the heavens..saying to me,quietly ,yet,with the highest authority -"look up....look up."And i did

Copyright © 2011 Riaan Raymond

All rights reserved. No part of this short story/poem may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or any other information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of Riaan Raymond.

a certain kind of happiness

" with wild expectations and our cold shivering dreams beside us
we seek the happiness that awaits to burst underneath the warmth
of sunshine and mad kisses,only than will we find our happiness? - as lovers
find secret places.We wonder in its eternal blissfullness ,being content with all
beautiful moments that allows us in..."

purpose and pursuit

" every wise person is a person that grows from his own choices and he leads his conscious to a state of ownership"