Haley Michelle Roberts

It is what it is called, and what it's called is nothing.

 

 

 

Someone once told me
that right before
a man dies

he sees his life

Flash

before his eyes.
As cliché
as the word
itself.

But I know
I’ve lived to see
far too
much
to view so easily
in a matter
of Seconds.

Life is not a car
racing through streets
as much as it is a
Train
surpassing both
Love
and
Hate.

I’ve seen flowers grow pretty pinks
and mellow yellow's
sometimes soft blues
aboard the Poison Ground.

I’ve met people who stand in
Silence
the
Presence
of a
Statue
weathering
the weather of whatever may
Grace
their Path.

But their Voices
so sweet
with the honey-dripping
resonance
of a thousand Angels
carrying on for miles
reaching
Lands
of the ancient Unknowns
the internal ears of the
Brave
both young
and old.
But mostly Whispering
secrets
to me.

Do you hear the Music?
The nostalgic cry of
forgotten
Rhymes.
In the dark of
night
a Tapestry
with patterns of
closed Doors
laid over the
Radio.
Yes, it is stored away.
Perhaps it has carried news
of a lost War
or a sunken ship.

Have I neglected the Shadows?
Forgive me, I have joined the Ignorant.
The ones who do not see
the Beauty
of another's
Soul.
The ones who have not
felt the
Stun
of their pair of
eyes
connected to those
of the
Overlooked.

On this day
that I will not date

I shall weave this Tale
into the pages
of a Journal
that may or may
never
be Read
to tell the reader
or just
something
the thoughts
etched
into every inch of my
Skull
before the torrents
of Distractions
sweep them away:

I believe a man's Life
does not flash before his eyes
in the second before he dies
but
Flashes
Before his eyes
while he
Lives.

Lumindaur.

   

Once upon a time, in a land far from here, there lived a fair maiden in a small cottage by the sea. Her name was Nicadamea, and she was gifted by the Heavens with a talent so strikingly valuable she had no choice but to live a clandestine life. Like the Midas touch, her gift was strange, and utterly impossible to control. She sought out a cure from wizards, sorcerers, pixies, and apothecaries alike, but to no avail. Her blessing was her curse and she thought of nothing else but how to destroy it. Very few had heard of the girl, and only in whispers was she ever mentioned in the most private of conversations. For those who did take much notice in her affairs had a tendency to slip away, subtlely and unnoticed. Like "the face that launched a thousand ships", she was beautiful. And forbidden. And the army was on its way.

_____________________________________

 

The High King thought he had buried this secret long ago. Like a skeleton rattling at his door, it had risen from the blackest depths, unannounced, and was now threatening to tear his fortress apart. There was not a day that went by where the High King did not think about it; it was his secret: that small voice that whispers to him in the night, expressing his darkest and cruelest of demons, exposing him as the man he truly was...

Alas, he did not have much time. In a matter of hours the army would arrive at his castle. And what would he do? He could not fight-his people were unarmed and untrained- there had never been a need for such a defense. He knew his people would die for him, and while he still remained in the province, his enemy would be merciless.

The High King rushed to his bookcase and removed his worn, faded copy of "Lumindaur, A Place of Love, Beauty, and Battles." The structure began to swivel and recede into the stone wall. This hidden room had once been home to his father's collection of adornments and ancient weaponry. Valuable in his day, priceless now, the High King thought as he remembered the shining assortment. Briskly, he threw open the wardrobe and changed into his father's cloak, black as night, and thicker than the fog that was now settling over his territory. This attire had always been saved for the most desperate of times. And indeed, the time was now. As the High King gathered himself and hurriedly prepared to leave, he heard a voice that turned his blood cold.

"Care for a word, Captain?"

_____________________________________

It had been ages since Nicadamea last had company. A handsome young lad had arrived at her doorstep, sopping wet, covered in thorns and briars and other frightening elements of the Lumindaur forest.
“I’m sorry to bother you so late in the evening madam, but I’ve traveled a long way and I’m afraid the news can not wait.”
Unsure of what to do, Nicadamea welcomed the stranger in and began to steep some tea, for it was obvious his journey had been tiring and unpleasant. As she listened carefully, the young man proceeded to weave a tale so unmistakably accurate that Nicadamea knew it could not be a lie.
“What is your name, sir? I do not believe you’ve yet said it.”
“Please forgive me; my name is Zacharias, like that of my father’s… I know it is unwise to trust a stranger, but I beg you, please see reason. You are no longer safe here… the borders of Lumindaur will soon be flooded by an army so fierce they would not hesitate to kill even the smallest child that mistakenly got in their way. And if they were to discover your… shall we call it talent? Well, I can’t bring myself to ponder the horrors they’d try and create. I plead with you… seek safety. Pack quickly; I can start you on your journey. If you walk north of the river bend just to the left of here, you will come across a shallow pond. Looming over it is an overgrown olive tree, quite as ancient as the forest. With the proper instrument, a means of escape will be revealed to you somewhere below it. I urge you to make haste and leave at once. I promised someone very dear to me I would aid you on your way to safety. It is essential-”

Zacharias was interrupted by the sound of footsteps nearby. Thousands of footsteps. The border had been breached.

 

_____________________________________

"I know it was you who took it from my kingdom." The man growled.
"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about," The High King tried to remain calm, " Nothing in Lumindaur has ever been taken. My people have worked for centuries until their backs gave out, and they have earned every bit of what they have."
"Ah, but you are mistaken. How cleverly you word your argument, however, I do not believe it lies within Lumindaur, nor has it ever. Allow me to clarify. I believe it has been kept far from Lumindaur's eyes, for what an uproar it would be if such a thing were to be found here, considering Lumindaur's shall we say... bloody history? You were quite mislead if you thought we would not return for it one day. My people have not forgotten what you took from them..."

_____________________________________

 

There's a lot more. I'll eventually gain the motivation to type it.

Good night, my imaginary followers...

There is something very fulfilling in the recording of one's thoughts. Did you know the human brain isn't fully developed until around the age of 25? I could potentially look back on this in seven years and consider myself quite foolish. Well it's too late to turn back now... the ship is sinking and I'm taking you with me.

Nephilim

are terrifying creatures. I have a recurring dream that I'm in biblical times, and one of the nephilim courts me. I, a simple human, am obligated to accept. Then I die during childbirth, because nephilim are giants, and thus have vastly enormous heads. Also, there is no technology. There isn't even water. Scary, scary stuff.

 

Probably stems from reading Many Waters about ten times too many. None the matter. I just wish I dreamt of the Seraphim instead...

Kitum Cave.

 
  
 

I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over.

Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.

- Kurt Vonnegut

 

 

My soul has never felt more connected to a foreign place than Kitum Cave, in Kenya. Located on  Mount Elgon, isolated from most society, it holds what is probably the most devastating and vile virus that exists on planet Earth. Ebola is said to have originated there; some speculate it was a mutation hidden within the cave walls, unleashed by elephants' scraping tusks, and managed to cross species within the murky bowels that is Kitum Cave.

 

I want to go. Those who know the risks wear a Level 4 biohazard suit. I want to explore, unprotected, and walk hand-in-hand with mother nature. The good and the bad. And let fate decide the rest.

 

P.S. Everyone should read The Hot Zone by Richard Preston. Fascinating book. Changed my life.

 

 

King Richard's Faire.

 

I can't wait three more months. Take me there. I miss escaping into another world where it's okay to believe in magic and fairies, and to embrace eccentricity. And Disney is too far away. I need to see Paolo Garbanzo.

P.S. I took this picture last year. He's my favorite.

Salutations!

So the summer is rapidly approaching and I finally have enough time to start reading again. I've picked up House of Leaves for the third time; it's one of those books where you discover something new each time you read it. I miss winter already, but I can't wait to go swimming. I want to build a tree fort as soon as absolutely possible. That is all for now.

 

 It's good to know I'm also boring over the internet.