Rental Poison

I said we were a story for ever after

she said we were words in the wind

i had wrote her a song and now my heart I can’t rescind,

Those words, oh so gentle

Oh her faces when we sinned.

and it seems our love was rental,

wish I never touched your poison skin.

Your poison skin which burned my lips

with every word spoken,

as we connected at the hip

and now my heart is broken.

My golden gifts you parade like a token

from an emotionless conquest

with three words left unspoken.

I love you.

I don’t mean those words anymore

but they used to be true.

They used to be true before you emptied your drawer,

Don’t come here again

Your lies darken my door.

And don’t take that tone, don’t you fucking complain,

You knew what you were doing

Poison runs in your veins.

And experience has spoken, you can only cause pain.

Spreading your lies and your hate shall be your undoing,

that damn toxic lifestyle

you keep on pursuing.

And in the end, I hope it’s worthwhile

when your beauty has faded

and so has your smile.

Hey! So people seemed to appreciate the poetry back when I was posting it so I figured I’d upload some more ^-^ some will be happy and some shall be sad depending on what point in my life they were written, please treat my work kindly! ✨✌🏼

Peace, love, and tranquil vibes!

C.C.

Train Travel

Don’t you enjoy that feeling of travel? The swaying of a train’s compartments as you barrel along the track, that mild panic of ‘Is this the right line? Am I going to miss it?’, followed by that relief of accepting that you’re on and locked in for your destination so correct or not that’s where you’re going. I love those feelings. They’re just so incredibly terrifying but addicting to me!

I love walking on to the train and discovering if you’re going to have company on your journey. Discovering what sort of person that company is going to be. Where are they going? Where did they come from? Will they join you in conversation or just plug some earbuds in resulting in both of you tuning the other out and just jamming to music. I love all of that, it’s just so wonderfully exciting to me. Especially when it’s not just localized to a single country because then you get strangers from all over the world! Oh the places they’ve been and the stories they could tell.

If anyone was wondering what spurred this latest post well, currently I’m on a Via Rail train straight out from Toronto. Why am I blogging instead of enjoying the window view you may ask? Well the lottery of partners passengers ended up with me having a rather demurely pretty woman who’s age I estimate to be within a couple years of mine, she’s got amazingly porcelain skin though so of course she needs to close the curtain over the window to stay out of the tanning rays of sunlight! I don’t mind when this happens by the way, it just makes the trip peaceful/productive in a different way than staring out the window and soaking up the sunlight, it certainly makes it so you have a smaller chance of overheating though!

I always seem to find interesting ways to occupy my time on trains. The last time I was on a train I was coming back from Quebec City and I was separated from my family sitting with this college student that turned out to be a criminal psychologist student, I remember she wasn’t a huge fan of the program though and had been talking about transferring at some point. Not sure if she ever got around to it though. Ah well.

Trains are a wonderful place for people watching in my opinion. There’s all sorts of people from different walks of life seated all around you, bi-lingual stewards/stewardesses walking up and down the train, there’s often not going to ever be a bland train car. Like you’re very, very, very, likely to never get on a train that’s only filled with people of a single demographic. It’s just not going to happen, the odds are astronomical.

Anyways, what do you all love about trains? Do you like their look? The feel of taking a journey by train? How it’s slightly old timey? Heck, maybe you enjoy that clickety clack of the train barreling over the rails. Whatever it is though, I feel we can all agree that trains are a pretty wonderful form of travel that both relaxing, and convenient.

Peace, love, and tranquil vibes,

C.C.

The First Wrinkle

Well dang, there I was doing so well at making an obligatory post without missing a single day before this happened. Even with that cold I still managed to put some stuff out even though it wasn’t super long or fact filled. Well there’s the first of a new category of lessons, we all fall down sometimes. We all have lapses in priority or concentration. But that’s okay.

Sure we all fall down sometimes and sure some of us take a little bit longer to get back up, but the fact of the matter is; we always get up again. Falling down; failure, is practically a requirement of learning. Eventually you may get to the point where a fall feels more like a stumble than an actual fall! A point where by the time you’ve begun falling you’re already started on picking yourself back up again!

I’m back to travelling around a little bit, even though it’s still within the borders of Canada. Today I’m off to London! It’s a lot smaller than Toronto but it’s got great people, a lot of my high school friends went to college there, and it’s got some delightful little clubs! I’d recommend Lavish if you were in a clubbing mood while visiting, it’s got a much nicer and more welcoming vibe than most of the other clubs I’ve visited there. Plus it’s lgbtq+ so however you identify you should be welcomed with open arms!

I’ll be running around the city a bunch over the next few days so we’ll see if I manage to snap some cool pictures of the area. I make no promises though since I’m planning to be mostly indoors and since there shall be festivities I’m not sure how often I’ll have those quiet shutterbug moments. I’ll try to seek some of them out though, maybe a shot of a rooftop patio or something haha.

Anyways it’s going to be great getting back into the swing of things, I’ll be trying to once again post once a day so things should pick right back up! And if not than I blame my London friends and I’ll be back up to a regular posting schedule the second I leave that place! I look forward to getting back in touch with all of you and making this blog begin to grow again! I hope you’ve all been growing in whatever aspects of life interest you as well!

Peace, love, and tranquil vibes,

C.C.

Shadows

Shadows creeping, world quieting, daily fire becomes snuffed out.

Silence growing, stillness surrounding, even a whisper becomes a shout.

This is my favourite time of day,

When peoples masks shed and the truth comes out to play.

There’s a certain tranquility in that frozen world the comes after day,

If we could remain anywhere, that’s where I’d stay.

Warm breeze blowing, gentle as a lovers touch, that warm windy caress, I love it so much.

There’s a perfect solitude that lasts for so long, it’s quick but eternal, yet suddenly gone.

The moment passes as the sky meets the sea, from that smooth tranquil hold, the world is set free.

This was a short one but it’s about my favourite time of day, it’s the most beautiful time in the world. Everything is still and silently beautiful, I love it.

Peace, love, and tranquil vibes,

C.C.

Drunk

You, spitting rain

Gap toothed grin

Arms still, mind shaking

Parched brain, glass breaking

Drunk.

That’s what you are, isn’t it?

Sloshed, sullied, inebriated, walking through an earthquake

‘No I’m fine’ he says as he trips down the hall.

Too pushy, arms wandering, eyes rolling, overconfident, there’s no way this teenage tower could fall, Drunk.

Less than honourable, girl passed out, wasted opportunity, just can’t pass by,

Hunk. That’s what you are isn’t it? Any girl should feel lucky to have you, that’s what she’ll say once you’re through,

Drunk.

Hazy memories, silk smooth skin, no resistance, glides on in,

We were both drunk.

So that makes it okay right?

It’s no issue because there wasn’t a fight right?

As if the mere lack of aggression excuses your action and means that she’s totally cool, and 100 per cent, down with it.

Drunk.

Pushed back, broken screaming, weight of a thousand actions, drips down your neck.

Girl shouting, dick shrinking, sobered up, prick now finally thinking,

Drunk.

As if any amount of liquor changes the weight of your actions.

Pain blossoms around your back, shins, face, actions that cannot erase, the damage you have done to this poor little girl.

Budding flower, chopped off, quickly wilting, barely thinking, just one word, why?

Why? Why? Why?

He was so normal, just another drunk guy, confusion, anger, hurt, breaks down just to cry, why?

Now I hear that he’s getting off since he’s on the hockey team and they’re expected to go pro.

He never finished getting off so there’s no harm in letting him go.

No one cares about that little girl

Who can’t even go outside without wanting to hurl, dirty.

She rubs herself thin, rapidly removing painted skin, can’t even look at a guy, everyone she looks at seems like him,

Drunk.

Maybe she said yes and doesn’t remember, I mean look at him, star player, and he’s such a hunk.

She probably came onto him, since they were both drunk, gorgeous hockey player, every word just deepens her funk.

No one believes her, ‘its fine he was drunk’, as if that excuses his actions and abuses, of a passed out girl. What the fuck is this world.

This is an old slam I wrote ages ago. ✌🏼

C.C.

Fingers Crossed

I’ve got an audition tomorrow morning and currently getting over a cold so right now I need to just head to bed and pray to whatever powers may be that my throat heals up overnight along with this stuffed up nose.

I’ll let you all know how it went afterwards, it’s the first of two opportunities I’ve got over the next few days. Keep searching out how to open those doors people! Keep advancing! Everyday, even when you’re sick, you’re still advancing in life. Don’t let time spent become a regret, never stop moving, evolving.

Anyways keep it real and do your best to live in the moment, we’re all divine beings, we’ve got this!

Peace, love, and tranquil vibes all,

C.C.

The Boy In A Thunderstorm.

Do you ever feel like you’re freefalling and everything and everyone you’ve ever known or loved is just slipping past your fingertips as you desperately try to regain control?

Cause that’s what I feel like.

I feel like everyone else’s life cycle resembles that of a raindrop, a slow steady fall where they can be lifted and spun around by wind’s encompassing embrace; I feel like a bolt of lightning.

Screams out, dashing down to the ground as quickly as possible

But in all actuality it’s my impact that hits first before they hear my words.

By the time I gather the strength to cry out it’s already happened.

The only thing left is a memory of the scream and maybe an afterimage if you were looking at me.

..it’s all very, brief.

Short lived.

By the time you blink me out of your eyes it’ll be like I never was.

A tiny mark on the ground for where my body landed.

And even this will be washed away in time by the rain I call my friends.

For isn’t that what rain does?

Washes away and purifies?

Though if we go with that

Does that not mean by proxy I was impure?

And if I was impure how does that speak of those who came before me?

The brief bolts of lightning who seared themselves into my brain leaving only a brief afterimage in my memories

A little mark.

Perhaps that is why lightning is forked?

So we can revisit the spots of those who came before

And those who will come again.

Perhaps that is also why the rain resembles teardrops,

they both came from the same place but took different fates

and still the rain will linger as dew drops until it yet too drops,

Just like i did

Only slower.

I cannot conceive which to be the worse fate

That of the rain

Or the one that I take.

.

Well my ear thing fixed itself but now I’ve come down with a cold two days before a commercial audition, really hope it clears up in time or there’s minimal chance I’ll actually get the part. Ugh, why world? Why?

C.C.

I Missed A Flower

I missed a flower.

Not just any but the most

amazing and beautiful

Prettiest penny,

And by a penny I mean to say she’s tiny and finding her in your arms is considered lucky.

I like to think that you resemble a beautiful red rose,

That is to say I clutch you to my chest regardless of the thorns.

You don’t want to hurt me but your spikes keep my wound closed.

A nice dull ache as you’re rooted in ground, I prefer to endure this love loss I’ve found,

Rather than throw the pain away

I’ll keep it in my heart

And love for another day.

.

Than risk bleeding to death without you. Without new. I find flowers enhance their beauty as they slowly fade away.

Please don’t fade on me

But if you do, than that’s okay.

You’ve been rooted before and rooted you’ll stay, I know you’ll bloom again one day.

Even if it’s not for me, but that’s okay. As long as they love you.

.

Here’s once again a different emotion/flavour of poem, I’ll get back to posting more article type posts soon but for now people have been enjoying the poems so they shall continue to pop up!

Peace, love, and tranquil vibes,

C.C.

~A Cigarette Daydream~

Everyone disappears don’t they?

Especially the ones who say they won’t.

You were a cigarette daydream

Warm, fading, and small.

I’m not sure when I became addicted.

But running after you was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.

That is to say I had to watch you drift away.

Calling after with smoke filled lungs.

Wishing you would stay.

.

Or maybe I was the smoke.

The daydream.

For I’m losing sense of what is real.

Drifting through life.

Trying to feel.

Something..

One thing?

Anything?

.

Isn’t it beautiful how the wind dances?

In the trees and their leaves, the way it shifts and prances?

I envy the wind.

It’s here until it just..isn’t.

No one cries for the wind.

.

It’s so.

So cold.

I can’t feel my body.

Except for the smoke.

Within my lungs.

Oh, how it used to flow from our tongues.

Those smoke like promises.

To last a thousand suns.

I guess.

They couldn’t even stand.

A single.

Night.

.

I’ve lost myself.

And I.

I can’t see you.

Not anymore.

You’re gone too.

Or maybe here.

But just looked on through.

.

I exist right?

I exist.

I exist.

I exist.

I-I..

.

.

.

So I noticed a lot of people enjoyed The Volcano, this poem was obviously a bit of a different breed from it in terms of both writing style and emotion but I wrote this a year or two before The Volcano when I was in a fairly bad place of my life. Luckily with meditation among other methods I’ve managed to crawl out of that headspace to become the wonderful peace loving, tranquil, hippie soul that I am today. I think in the end I just decided, I don’t care about what career I follow in my life. I didn’t care about following a career. I wanted to find and chase happiness which led me to searching out every possible avenue I could do that from, so I did.

I’m still searching. But the more I travel this world, the more people I meet and places I go? They generate seeds of happiness in my soul. Soon once they’ve sprouted i’ll be able to carry them with me everywhere! Can you picture it? Won’t that just be bliss! Keep chasing your happiness and keep chasing your dreams! You’ll get there, I believe in you. ^-^

Peace, love, and tranquil vibes people,

C.C.

The Volcano

You tell me

Grown men don’t cry.

As a man I am not allowed to cry

As a man I am supposed to rage and shoot fire from my fingertips

And I do not want to relate to that.

I do not want to be the volcano

Smouldering red hot rage

Boiling up

And raining down from the heavens.

I am not the volcano.

And yet I can feel white

hot Molten rage

Flow through my veins

When I think of the way

You told me

Grown men don’t cry.

As if you’d prefer me to build it all up. Whole body shaking

Until cracks breach my skin

And with an almighty roar I fracture

warping everything around me.

Raining down death and destruction indiscriminately

Cause at least that way I’m not the only one who’s hurt.

You’d prefer the volcanic ashes of our love to fall down like feathers

Staining people’s skin with the stories of us. Burning the shadows of ourselves into all of the places we once lived and loved each other.

So that years later once everything has cooled and my heart has hardened up like magma

Others can come and admire the ghosts of our love.

I wonder, can they feel the fear of our final moments?

Moments before I proved you right.

That I was a volcano.

But you, you were the one that set me off. And now I don’t cry

Not because grown men don’t cry

But because the magma in my veins

Pumping through my heart

Has grown cold and hard in your absence.

I both fear and await the day my heart begins to heat back up.

C.C.

(I did mention I’d occasionally post my poetry)