A Changed Life

I saw this on my way home from work today and knew I had to share it. My dad used to tell me that every day is the same but what we put in a day is what makes it different. The political landscape of our country has changed today and this is as a result of decisions we all made.

What have you invested in today?

Only you can create your future.

Happy Weekend everyone!

Much love, always!!

 

 

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Solemn London

 

(Extremism is like a cancer, eating deep into our freedom…)

As a lover of peace, freedom, and justice, I am appalled and sickened by the continuous senseless attack on innocent people by Islamist Extremism. Enough is enough! This evil must be rooted out, we can’t allow this to continue. Things has to change. Our tolerance as a nation is akin to weakness, most of my friends, even Muslims, believed as a country, we’ve pandered towards Islamist extremism, we need that to stop!

As a Christian, I can’t openly practice my faith if I were in Saudi Arabia but here in the UK, and every part of Europe, Muslims are free to practice their faith. I believe liberalism and political correctness is changing the landscape of this country.

In the wake of the Manchester and London Bridge Attack, I read William Blake’s poem with tears in my eyes!

I wandered through each chartered street,
Near where the chartered Thames does flow,
A mark in every face I meet,
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.

In every cry of every man,
In every infant’s cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged manacles I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper’s cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier’s sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.

But most, through midnight streets I hear
How the youthful harlot’s curse
Blasts the new-born infant’s tear,
And blights with plagues the marriage-hearse.

************

 Islamist terrorism will not prevail in our nation but I also believe the Muslim communities have a lot to do to eradicate the vermin of extremism.

What are the Imams teaching young impressionable youths in their mosques? Why are young virile Muslims full of hatred and bitterness against Westernisation? I do believe that most of those who hate this country shouldn’t have any business living here.

There would continually be an excuse for evil to reign. The West had been blamed for majority of the crisis in the Middle East but if I remember correctly, the Arab Spring was not caused by the West. I believe in love, forgiveness, and peace. But I also believe in justice. And if there was one consolation to the debacle and orgy of violence unleashed on our cities in recent days, the death of the three cowardly Jihadists was decisive and just.

In this sad times, I pray for the families of everyone affected by the Manchester and London Bridge Attack. As our Prime Minister had said, Enough Is Enough!!!

A Liar In Heaven

Tobias Amos slid the knife into the drawers, stealing a quick look back. He stared at his hands in dismay; it was as red as the sweet chilli sauce Mama bought a day earlier.

‘Where are you, Tobias?’

Mama’s voice bellowed a few yards away. He scanned the room in nanoseconds; saw the red gown Mama loved wearing on special occasions hanging loosely on the sparsely filled wardrobe. He dashed towards it, yanked it off the rails, wrapping it delicately around his crimson fingers, allowing the blood to soak through, his eyes the colour of a limpid pool.

He closed his eyes and was transported to the events of eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds earlier. He could feel the knife ripping through the supple milky flesh, the bones cracked, the gurgles of blood splintered about the basement like the paintings of Michelangelo. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his long scrawny neck.

Mama entered the tiny room, she took in everything, the deranged look on her son’s face belied the calmness she felt. Tobias Amos stood still like a statue, watching his mother’s reaction.

There was an uneasy silence.

‘What have you done?’ She asked in an icy tone, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

There was no answer. He kept his eyes down, all the feeling of conquest and elation he’d felt had evaporated like a mist in the night.

‘Tobias Amos, what have you done?’ This time, Mama inched closer, towering over her whimpering son, whose bravado had dissipated…

******

I haven’t written for quite a while but today, this just came pouring out. I have lots of manuscripts I’m working on, and lumping this with other unfinished projects is a mammoth task. However, I don’t believe in letting a good story plot go to waste. We’ll see how this goes!

I hope you’ll all have a wonderful weekend. I’ve visited several websites and blogs, if I haven’t been to yours, please bear with me, I’ll touch base soon.

Much love friends!

:):)

Here In Paradise…

                                                                                    (Photo credit: Flickr)

On Friday, March 10th, 2017, it was precisely 7.25 in the morning as I walked up the steps of Westminster Station en-route my office. I walked briskly, mentally calculating ‘my-to-do-list’ for the day and then like an image out of a disaster movie, I saw two people, a man and a woman. The man was hovering over the woman, his lips quivering, his gait was like a man under the influence of alcohol, he tried to move away from the woman and almost fell. My gaze turned to the woman, her pale face had obviously borne the brunt of living on the street. Her face was lined with weariness, her eyes devoid of happiness.

I stopped in my tracks.

I didn’t know if I should offer money, or simply give a hug. People pushed past me, a man swore under his breath, but it was loud enough for me to hear the words. I fidget with my bag and moved out of the way, my heart broke into a thousand pieces as I watched them.

The man and the woman were oblivious of my presence, and sadly, I turned away.

Here in paradise, (at least that could be the thoughts of millions of people in other parts of the world) we shouldn’t have homeless people. Throughout the day, I couldn’t concentrate on anything. There was something about that couple, they may as well be working in one of the imposing offices in Whitehall, or maybe, as tourists keen to see where most decisions in the UK were made.

Centerpoint is a charity here in the UK helping homeless young people but what about middle age people, old men and women? I have a passion for the homeless, although I’ve read that some do make themselves ‘intentionally homeless,’ but still, I couldn’t expunge their image out of my mind.

I did some further research and realised that there are many homeless charities all around us. Below are some of the charities in London:

There’s also West London YMCA, they  provide the same services as most of the organisations I’ve listed above. I think if we live in paradise, we should be able to do more for people less fortunate than we are (I know, we’re not all millionaires but we could always volunteer at a homeless shelter). I will volunteer at some of these wonderful charities doing such wonderful jobs, changing people’s lives.

If you’re living in other parts of the world, it wouldn’t hurt to give money to a beggar you see on the street or a homeless person. Some of you reading this may think, ‘well, she’s so naïve, most of these folks are drug addicts and rapists… maybe murderers.’

Maybe, some of them are, but some aren’t. Life’s just dealt them a hard hand.

Maybe Phil Collin’s song, ‘Another Day In Paradise’ would be a great way to finish this article.

I hope you’ll all enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Much love to you friends, always!

🙂 🙂

 

 

Walking Through Time

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(Photo Credit: Flickr)

This year had been full of surprises. From Brexit to the election of Trump to the continual gluttonous appetite of the world’s politicians. The world was gripped by the drama that was the US Presidential election, and as a feminist, I was really rooting for Hilary Clinton. But that was not her fate, she lost the race.

On a personal note, I’ve experienced nothing but blessings this year. I’ve also had my share of challenges, don’t we all? I’ve had dreams postponed but not denied, I’ve seen plans stalled but not destroyed. I’ve had manuscripts shelved but not forgotten. I’ve met new friends and learned some vital life lessons.

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The great thing is, if you’re reading this, that means we’re still walking through time, our lights are not snuffed out yet, for that, we should be grateful. No matter what you may have gone through in 2016, as long as you’re still breathing, and walking, there is hope yet. Don’t give up!

On that note, I wish all my friends here in the United Kingdom and elsewhere in the world, may you have a wonderful and prosperous 2017!

Happy New Year!!!

Much love, always. 🙂

 

On Humanity And Idiosyncrasies

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(My ideal place to be now!)

“Man surprised me most about humanity. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money.
Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.” Dalai Lama

If we continually observe the world, it’s really filled with sad news, war, war, and war! Yet in the midst of the seemingly absurd, grotesque, insane, and obscene, we have to carry on living.

My husband and I were having one of our ‘philosophical chats’ when he quoted Dalai Lama, it hit me like a sledgehammer; am I working too hard?

However, after a brief soul-searching I came to this verdict: I love life, I really enjoy living even when I’m working hard and juggling multiple responsibilities with kids screaming for my attention, countless office deadlines and uncooperative plots ( my novels and several other manuscripts I’m working on).

I am absolutely certain that I enjoy my idiosyncratic attitude to living because life has no part two, there are no dress rehearsals or a delete button. We take what we have, use it wisely and hope for the best, and I think we ought to strive to find joy in life in any way we can.

December is a month of frenzy cum feverish spending, planning, office parties. Why not pause for a while, enjoy the snow-capped mountains, (if there’s one in your vicinity), the fake reindeer, and annoying Christmas jingles that normally grated on your nerves.

I intend to, I hope you’ll all enjoy everyday living.

Have a fantastic weekend friends!

Much love, always. 🙂

Brave Heart

 

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(Photo Credit: Flickr)

”Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” Desmond Tutu

***

John Parker wanted to tell the kind man who’d saved him from death, but the words caught in his throat. He mumbled inaudibly then coughed loudly. He desperately wanted to unburden and bare his soul to Anselm but realised his new friend would probably call him a monster.

Time dragged on, and Parker waited. The silence in the room was as thick as a winter fog. How could he utter such words to a total stranger? How could he tell Anselm that his girlfriend of 12 years had been diced to pieces and kept inside his deep freezer. Why? Anselm may ask. ‘Oh,’ he may simply shrug his skinny shoulders and just give an excuse, maybe, because he caught her cheating and their seven-year old daughter, Amber, wasn’t his after all. How could he tell Anselm that he, Parker, was a psycho, a sociopath, a sadist whose pain went deeper than imagined? How in heaven’s name could he tell his new pal that he’d been in prison; a prison of the mind where walls whispered obscenities and the only respite he got would be to slash himself open. How could he say such words?

‘I don’t think I should be in this room,’ Parker finally said and a sad sigh escaped his trembling lips. ‘I should go now.’

He stood up but Anselm stopped him with a wave of his large hands.

‘Sit down,’ the older man said firmly. Parker obeyed, his eyes staring straight ahead.

‘You’ve done bad things. I see it in your eyes. Even there’s pain in death, killing yourself doesn’t make it all go away. Get yourself treated, ask forgiveness and turn yourself in. There’s still redemption son.’

John Parker stared at Anselm. His English was flawless, he’d dropped the German accent.

‘Who are you?’ Parker asked slowly.

‘I’m your conscience,’ was the apt reply and the room began to spin.

John woke up with a start, his heart beating wildly. He sat up and checked the bedside clock. It was 3 a.m. in the morning. He’d been dreaming, it was a huge relief but the incident in the dream wasn’t far from reality, his eyes sought his wife of 12 years who was sleeping soundly. He’d been hiding the voices in his head well, it was difficult explaining to his GP that he’d been battling severe depression for three years. After the loss of his job and his wife became the breadwinner, he’d slowly sunk deeper into the quagmire of depression.

There’s only one brave thing left to do, he tapped his wife gently on the shoulder, it’s better safe than sorry, he thought.

***

NP: Guys, I’m sorry I couldn’t post this story yesterday, I tried but life just got in the way. I totally had a different plot to this story but then, it occurred to me that men hide their frailty. They go through life as brave hearts, pillars, unmovable and then they crumple! If you’re a man reading this, please, don’t bottle things up if you’re not well. Life is in phases. Talk to your spouse, close friend or even your doctor. Depression affects a lot of people in our society today and some needless deaths could easily have been avoided if things hadn’t gotten out of hand.

The first part of this story is here if you want to catch up: https://seyisandradavid.org/2015/08/11/dreaming-when-awake/

I hope you’ll all have a wonderful weekend!

Much love, always!! 🙂