A piece of prose…

In Suburbia

In suburbia the mind restlessly wrestles with paved inertia and the beat of life passes by on a horizon distant and forgotten, nothing left in the heart to feel and nothing left to jump at with zeal; so passion and a little life has flown away across the roof tops and gone away into the miasma of haste and mortar. In suburbia she raises her head a little from the passenger seat and peers through the triplex, eyes as glazed as the pane she looks through, distant and longing for something that fell from her grasp so long ago. And he walks with solemn purpose but with no purpose all at the same time in a semi-detached nation of indifference, indecision and inaction. There is a job and a duty but no longer love nor zest to spring forth the dreams that a long forgotten youth once hinted at with an eye’s caressing glint of eagerness. And the drum goes on, the tarmac marches on, the streetlights turn from blank to sodium orange and the sky turns turtle on the mark with racing headlights searching out a lifetime’s journey of déjà vu. In suburbia he longs for the day to break free and make good on the grand promise of travel and writing the book; but turns to the Valium provided for the masses to sedate any hope of breaking from that nine to five he once swore never to be part of. In suburbia she peers into the mirror hanging jewellery from her neck and bunching her hair back waiting for a day to parade in grandeur and pride; But nothing, but nothing. Not even the clarion call to action or the faint sound of a song seeping through that was once felt so deeply inside. And so it goes in suburbia: the pavement cracks and the creeping cats, the windswept parades and vaunted charade of breaking loose. But in suburbia the ring road has you encircled, with your hard-shouldered love waning and verge-side passion wilting before an ever darkening horizon over suburbia.

This is a ‘little’ something that I have been working on for a little while now. It’s not finished but I decided to post it here hopefully to spur me on to finish it…

Purpose by Victoria JK Lamburn

Your glistening eyes are the very eyes that my mother would have said, “Step away!” are drawing me in, luring me deep into your uncharted territory that swims beneath the piercing blue. And what lurks beyond the iris’ ocean? Do you even know yourself in your quieter pensive moments reserved for only you within the four walls of ticking clocks? Seldom does a thought fuse and the moment then snaps and clicks and suddenly it becomes sense itself…

Only for brevity to snatch it away, and then your ocean of thought and emotion is occluded by mist at the shores; riddled as the tide, ceaselessly, rhyming an eternal paean for time and confusion. What is the purpose of you and those devious eyes, the purpose of you and your thoughts? The purpose of me drawn to those eyes and your soft delicate face around, what purpose does it serve us to be locked with our shy little stares and quiet little lost moments at sea?

Then there is your hands drumming towards my beating heart, a delicate flick of the small hand to sweep that lone lost lock of long blonde hair from the left, dazzling me with a sapphire’s glare full beam ahead of me. Your nails, though not manicured look nervously bitten but neat and clipped. Here I am on your deserted shores that, beckoning me towards the rocky isle that screams with echoing fate of others who’ve struggled towards pleasure.

And your eyes haunt me when I close my own to chase away the fear of a heart’s aching love. I’m trying to hide behind my veil, rummaging through my soul to find the deep and burning fear that reminds me of the last call from a fanciful voice and alluring eyes that whipped me with sharp black lashes. Maybe there is nothing more than to submit myself to your enticing shores and in wild abandon plunge uncertainly into the ether of fate.

Copyright ©2009 Victoria JK Lamburn