Nothing But Love

I may be homeless

but I’m still human

I have a heart

you know

How could I live

with myself

if I had run away

when others needed help

I have nothing

but love

that no bomb

or knife

or angry word

can take away

You have nothing

but hate

for a world

you don’t understand

I have nothing

but hope

for the people

who walk the streets

I sleep on.

 

Inspired by the kindness of a homeless man in Manchester 22 May 2017

No Place Like Home

They arranged to meet by the old pier on the lake. There was a fishing boat there that belonged to her brother. No one had touched it since that day it was found adrift. He was presumed drowned. Some said it wasn’t an accident and that her brother was experienced on the water. The weather was fine so there must have been more to it. Maybe a suicide ?

Like young lovers they ran along the beach, avoiding the slashes of moonlight where they could be seen. Malik pushed as hard as his small, skinny frame would allow. She started the spluttering motor and he jumped in before she could get ahead of him. He wasn’t a sailor by any means and the cold and wet of the take off made him shiver as he gripped the edge of the rusty vessel. He thought of the journey to get here and how this one was short and straightforward in comparison. Short, but seemingly never ending.

Sam smiled at Malik, of sorts. She was scared and this was no lovers getaway. In truth they weren’t even really friends, but they had a job to do. Her brother had started it and there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t meet the same fate. Whatever that was.

Each smash on the waves made Malik feel sicker by the minute. He thought of home and how he wasn’t sure where that was any more. He didn’t care that much about the place. It was the people that mattered. He felt a little guilty at being safe while they still lived in fear.

There was a relative calm as they slowed down on the approach to the cove. It was pitch black on this side with the moonlight firmly tucked away behind the mountains. They dragged the boat up onto the beach and waited, like unsuspecting prey.

They were on time, but half an hour; an hour; two, three hours went by and nothing happened. No one came. They were in the right place but she started to wonder if she’d got the wrong night. They argued when Sam insisted they go back before anyone got suspicious. They’d notice they were missing. Then a flashlight shone from up the hill. There were voices. Whispering but loud and echoey in the stillness.

Three men appeared from the shadows. Two with guns, and a fat man with a big smile and a walking stick. He hugged them both and told them they were doing a very good thing. Everyone was pleased.

Sam remembered how she had got here and how the journey had nearly killed her so in a way she was happy to return the favour. She knew how much they would have paid for their terrifying journey though.

Sam looked at the boat and wondered how many there were and if they would all fit and wouldn’t it be tragic if they drowned so close to their destination. She was relieved that it was to be only four. They could manage that and their debt would be repaid and their family back home would be left alone. They could all get on with their old and new lives.

Plenty room for her and Malik and four boxes. No people to help smuggle. Instead they had 50 kilos of pure heroin and a list of numbers to call for distribution up the country. Get rid of it all and they were in the clear. She might even see her brother again if she  did a good job

She stared at Malik as he smirked at her, shoving an envelope of cash into his jacket pocket. She was totally adrift.

 

© Ash Cheyne 2017

Daily Word Prompt – Adrift

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Insta Grat

Suns up

Surfs up

What’s up

with you?

You want it

now

You want it

here

Your first world dilemas

that you’d kill the mood for

That you’re entitled to

like anti social media and

insta grat

People starve

as we develop yet another new app

that makes us want it now

want it here

That stick

That stone

That’s all that’s left

now that they’ve got

their insta grat

The big red button

that saw the planet descend

into the dark.

 

© Ash Cheyne 2017

Daily Word Prompt – Descend

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ooh La La

The French do it so well

although you’d be forgiven

for thinking

that they don’t spell it

that way.

En fait ils le font.

In fact America

has given us farce.

Actually no,

a complete arse

wholly focused on his own ego

when most of us wish

he would just go

and leave behind the

choreographed confusion.

A gifted farceur

if only

he got his own jokes

Sadly

the farce is strong within him.

Supreme Leader May

or may not

rip us from Europe

Depends what we think

or vote

or does that really matter

as the place is

already in tatters?

Falling in

and falling out

yet all we never

talk about

is the love

that is all we need.

 

© Ash Cheyne 2017

Daily Word Prompt – Farce

On the Edge of Success

With wide eyed wonderment

we fly through the mountains

threading the eye of the storm.

Clouds dive for cover

changing colour

like hopeful chameleons.

Propellors strain against the wind

creaking

as we grip the arm rests.

Hears beat faster

at the danger

at the sheer beauty

at the power of nature

to make you love something

that could kill you.

I wonder about the baby crying

and if he was going to anyway

and the old man behind me

moaning about the luke warm coffee

and it terrifies me that his may be

the last voice I hear.

I stand upon the precipice

listening to the silence

smelling the indifference

seeing no reason to step back.

I open up amidst the heckles

clinking glasses and a desire

to be entertained.

They laugh

eventually

and I smile inside

at the things that scare us half to death.

To be judged by others

who are not peers

but mere guilty bystanders.

Sad.

Edgey performance.

 

© Ash Cheyne 2017

Daily Word Prompt – Precipice

 

Just Desert

I am surprised by the gesture but not the hospitality. She was always good at that. The good doctor has even made a chicken dish for us. I can’t imagine a vegetarian tearing away at a raw chicken for the benefit of her ex and her replacement. It is important to get along; the three of us. We have kids after all. Kids away at university but still kids. Our kids, she insists.

Nicki brings a pecan pie and loads of booze, which she mostly consumes. Can’t blame her really, having to come over and be real nice in the house “we” built together. I don’t know where she puts it. She’s not a cheap drunk, by any means. She holds her emotions pretty well.

Civilised, I think you would call the evening. We all three bite our lips more than once and of course I feel as I always have, that I’m the cause of it all. No one would argue with me on that one. A relief then, of sorts.

We embrace politely; French like and leave feeling like we’ve made progress. Set down a marker. I drive, as Nicki’s alcoholic sedatives have finally kicked in and she’s out for the count. I smile an arrogant, masculine smile and as I reach to turn the radio volume up a little I see a text come through from Helen.

I’m expecting that she’s got all sentimental or has had a change of heart and decided to rant or maybe we’ve left something behind. None of the above. Just one short sentence. Strychnine – you have about an hour.

© AshCheyne 2017 All Rights Reserved

Daily Word Prompt Challenge – Hospitality