coldmocha.com

A cold, yet sunny December day. Sat in a library overlooking a supermarket car park. Beyond it I can see several high rise council flats, dominating the skies of East London. In front of it there is a crane moving around doing its thing. A few clouds here and there and what looks like a sea gull. It’s white and I’m assuming it is a sea gull, even though I am nowhere near the sea.

This is the spot I have chosen to try and continue working on my novel. Crazy thing is, I finished the novel in February 2010, nearly two whole years ago and haven’t gotten around to working on it since. A lack of motivation is one reason. The other is time. The third is the difficulty in pulling apart something you have worked on for months and rebuilding it again. It isn’t easy. 

So this is me making an effort. By writing a post for my site. Dammit.

The cost of dreams

The costs of dreams they don't realise

Until they don't materialise

And you curse fate

Begin to hate

And get into a state

'Cause that cushy job didn't come about

That fancy car or million pound

Then it begins to cut deep inside

Resisting tears because of pride

All hopes and dreams collide

Leaving just nothingness

Everything a mess

The slowing of time

The flowing of rhyme

Feeling like a crime

And then the question

Why does this happen to me

Dreaming was meant to be free

No hidden fee

So why all the pain

On my heart a stain

Forget about gain

I just feel a loss

Of my fate I ain't the boss

My future I can't gloss

Taking each day as it comes

Feeling down in the slums

Overloading with cliche

This is the price you pay

For daring to dream

Desiring the serene

You begin yearning to scream

But you choke ‘em back

Cut no slack

Cannot let it show

Even though

Nice and slow

It tears you up inside.

But you know the answer is not in drugs

Or riding with the wannabe thugs

That crack an’ dope

Just a more slippery slope

Into eternal misery

Away from the periphery

Of all God’s blessing

His warmth like a parent caressing

Your soul de-stressing

Your problems addressing

In this world and the afterlife

Getting through all the strife

Cutting through it with a knife

‘Til the moment comes when you can sink in prostration

To the Lord of all creation

Every being and nation

And understand

The size of the hand

That you’ve been dealt

The feelings you’ve felt

The hope that you smelt

Was for a reason

Like the change of season

It don’t feel right

But what’s not in our sight

Is the wisdom

The understanding

That Allah is not demanding

Or reprimanding

But giving you the chance

To take a stance

Without a backward glance

At the enemy who drags you down

Making life a joke an’ you a clown

‘til in your desires you drown.

So I turn to the One who can lift me up

Fix me up

Help me up

From my self-made squalor

Ignoring any dime or dollar

Seeking the full measure

Untainted pleasure

Of the One

The Only

The Holy

The Bountiful

And Most Merciful.