Dec 20, 2011


Five Sentence Fiction

She clutched feebly at her throat, struggling to keep the hysteria from bubbling forth, but her flesh was in a panic and it all seemed so beyond seriousness.  Her mind was drowning in sensation as she collapsed upon the rich sofa, tossing aside the adorning cushions and sinking into the satin layers of her gown.  The bright chandelier glared at her from above as it swayed like a pendulum, the candles fluctuating nervously while everything seemed to race to the rhythym of her pulse as it crashed beneath her chest.  Her painted lips fell open in laughter at the sight of the beautiful room dancing around her,  straining to lift her thin arms she flitted her hands back and forth, orchestrating the lights and colours that were spinning so fancifully, and wondered if this is what it was to die.

Wasn't it marvellous?

Craving the old centuries,
Jaq xx

Dec 6, 2011

In Denial

To find these midnight musings quite interesting,
and that which is formed so readily.

Watch them there.  Look as they stand silent, none wanting to acknowledge, pleading ignorance to the obvious.  They exchange glances, unaware that their eyes betray them.  How proud these people must be to deny the truth that blatantly glares at them, and from a face so newly devoid of such sheltered naivety.  The curiously binding nature of a feeling of injustice, especially to oneself, that we expect to be owed at least that much.  Agitation and nervousness have casually scented the atmosphere.  Attempts to evade the radiating force of righteous anger have fallen to an unrelenting standstill.  They will not concede to abandon their delusions and she will not forfeit without their confession of guilt.

I turn to leave and find my hands are shaking, fingernails drilling into my palms as fingers curl tightly inward.  Even my body is denying what it is so forcefully faced with.  No one is looking at her, as if she now possessed the suns ability to blind.  The polished floor upon which we all stood invoking an immense degree of fascination.  I sense the tears of frustration that she is battling to withhold but she has lost and the moisture escapes.  Her shoulders collapse at the centre of a gathering of mutterings and the shaking of heads, disappointment has risen to combat the fresh desperation.  Gentle hands seek earnestly to lead her from the sight of others and there is minimal effort at defiance.  That bold stare connects with mine before it is buried beneath her shame.

Deep within a place I had no knowledge of, my soul is crushed.

And I don't know why.

I prefer such vagueness in defence of severe editing,
and wonder at the different perspectives it instills.

Jaq x

Dec 4, 2011


Simplicity is bliss upon the surface,
Until we delve deeper to discover the wonder of its complexity.

The level rises as droplets plummet
To shatter peace so hard earned
Continuing lines interrupt that cold calm
As darkness spreads above

Silence creates from monstrous clattering
And pattering as intensity augments
Atmosphere fills with swirls of
Precipitation unable to halt
As they are hurled to splinter

Calm reclaims as the darkness
Moves on its rage of tears
To raise a death toll elsewhere
As corpses maintain their downward
Tread through crumble and claw
Of blackness become saturated
Warmth attends that left
Evaporating all traces

From the ancient,
Jaq xx

Dec 1, 2011


Write On Wednesday
'Notre Dame de Paris'

To the unknown past that lays behind, and holds its patrons close to heart.

Whimsical spatterings of light erupted from my footsteps, dancing beneath my trepid paces as the shadows shied away, retreating to their mass within the darkness as I watched.  Consumed.  The single flame rose from the wick steadily crafting its shape within the wax, hot drippings creeping from the melted pool. 
To wonder at the murky stone that surrounded myself, what lives must have transcended this same thick tunnel, the long past flesh that filled these halls, such history to be forgotten.  The loneliness of being left behind had been daunting, an old soul caught within a people who have abandoned such philosophical thoughts. 
Can I not yet find a place here?  The slender sickly guide to my sight continued to sweat profusely as the light hungers so, wavering against the damp drafts that journeyed with us.  To have waited like so many before, I am grateful.  The weary stump of wax is cast aside upon reaching the gateway to the open air, salvaging it from its imminent demise.  To now share their fate by sealing my own by the steely resolve of the executioners blade, I am honoured.

May I finally rest upon the wooden block and feel this release in its finality.

yours faithfully,
Jaq xx

Nov 27, 2011


Sometimes a string of words can form a deeper meaning.

Being so close to fall but still too far,
Holding your breath for fear of losing it,
And never knowing what will happen.

The truth at its cruelest.

Then sometimes its just words.
Jaq x

Nov 18, 2011

The Other Side

Write On Wednesday
"Very Pleased to Meet You"

As they wait and wonder,
will an unexpected reveal be imminent?

"You go on, I'll be okay, I can dream the rest away"

These are the words that are emitted with clear focus and pleasant volume.  And the coincidence that arises to compliment this post could not have been more prepared if I had intended it so.  Here I was awaiting something to flow to my fingertips from some unknown and meaningful part inside of me, and the playlist I had crafted one night previous showed me the way.

That is the truth of my existence, music and melodies guiding me through the chaotic scramblings that revolve constantly in my mind.  It is my one true passion; that which I have joyfully dedicated what portion of my life that I can to.  All of my writing is inspired and influenced by the songs and albums that I delightfully acquire, I cannot listen to the mixture of carefully crafted lyrics and instrumentals without sinking into a different place, exploring the concepts they propose, visualising how the video clip should be directed...

I would be the first to admit that I do not publicly declare the presence of my creativity; it took a while for even myself to acknowledge this pursuit.  The few times I did choose to seek advice or even a slight response to a piece it was often brushed aside with indifference, thus I prefer my anonymity.  I am the secret scribe and until I secure a sense of stability, so I will remain.

And so I sit and gaze at the distracted spring weather evolving outside the window, feeling some relief from the last few weeks of stress, pondering where I should start in regards to editing and developing the wealth of ideas that have been conceived thanks to WoW.  My future is aligned, and I look forward to hours spent wandering outside with a notepad drenched in illegible thoughts.

ever present within the shadows
Jaq xx

Nov 9, 2011


Write On Wednesday,
"We are learning to make fire".

The scorched earth growled weakly, flinching beneath the unyielding fingers that clawed at it, relentless in their effort to tear at its substance. An irrepressible blaze radiated across the landscape, engulfing all that succumbed to it.

Through the flames a smile spread as maliciously as the element it had invoked.

"Tonight, we learn to make the Fire little one".

The whisper caressed the air just as the fiery tongues lashed at it, hissing in return.

There were some who drew strength from the chaos that rose from the darkness; and the Mistress was one. Although she stood silent and unmoving, her eyes mirrored the harsh scene, light dancing within her determined gaze as it reveled its glorious release.

The eternal hunger burned restlessly below, constantly seeking sustenance without repent. Heat glared at all that surrounded it cowering the living into submission. All the while the inferno reached desperately for the sky lingering above, sparking and falling in frustration.

Unable to withstand the radical fervour being shaped before him any longer, Ollie took flight. A small current lifted him from the grasp of the smothering smoke clouds and helped to settle his agitated feathers.

Beneath the untouched heavens, the Fatherland was eclipsed in a burning anarchy.

Chaos empowers the soul,
Jaq xx

Nov 3, 2011

Ausmusic Month

Welcome To...

For the month of November, a radio station worth listening to Triple J are celebrating Australian music.  If you have not had the luxury of being aware of the treasures that lay in waiting you have been sorely deprived.

Australian music is true enjoyment and can be found in abundance if you know where to look, best of all it is always in season.

Here are a few tunes I recently discovered from Triple J Unearthed which manage to form quite a complimentary playlist.

Baby Teeth - Caitlin Park
Dead Loss - Little Scout
Face the Fire - Jimblah
Tapioca - New Navy
Vintage Books - Cloud Control

Feel free to browse through the hundreds of local artists, download these fine soundwaves, or stay tuned for more delightful music updates.

And don't forget to wish everyone a Happy Ausmusic Month!

This is my obsession,
from sjp.

Oct 26, 2011

Night Vision

Write On Wednesday
"I Thought I Saw"

Our awareness can become our enemy while waiting on a street at night.

I thought I saw...

A silhouette skittering across the skyline.

The destination unknown and origins undecipherable.

But that split second had been captured upon my retina.

The briefest moment of a stranger's dash beyond the veil had become the latest feature screening through my minds eye. A recurring flickering motion pitched in greyscale.

Something so peculiar and rapid occurring within a zone of central normality, it hardly seemed correct. The unconcious shroud that covered the unremarkable smear of suburbia had been pierced.

Tiredness and a straying gaze were far from helpful companions on such a dark and deserted night, and reason had seemingly abandoned me.

My will argued radically, determined to dissuade itself from believing what it had just moments before established as truth.

A thought that swung on the slightest of pendulums.

Anothers presence became apparent through a blinding beam of light that suffocated my vision, instantaneous in its effect to render my senses redundant and leaving me with only a fluttering percussion radiating from my chest.

A sudden flash and a secondary dash.

The certainty that clung to me felt impulsive after such agonising deliberation; but certain I found myself to be.

This was not my place.

Some things should remain unseen.

Jaq xx

Oct 22, 2011


When one word can cause an eruption of images...
Whats to stop them evolving?


The instant reaction to this word was rebellion, graffiti, something rushed and adrenaline flowing.  I attempt a mental blank before revealing the word but once this thought process began it was difficult ignoring images of streets leaking through from previous exercises... 

She ran breathlessly, it was always so fast paced.  The air was sucked in with such force it stung her lungs, choking as she exhaled, leaving but a moment before she gasped for more.  Her feet showed none of the distress her internal organs were suffering, connecting with brick and concrete, releasing like a trigger to leap to the next obstacle.

Of course I could not possibly resist the ever present temptation to continue...

Her heart pumped frantically, its pulse vibrating from her fingertips and echoing against the empty walls as she clung to them.  The harshness grated her hands as she propelled herself onwards, always moving.  She laughed deliriously at the thought, keep moving, never stop, rebelling against stillness, only movement kept you alive!  Every muscle synchronised and in harmony flowing across and between everything she came across.  Soaring and tensed to embrace the suffocating solidity of the buildings around her.

How contagious it becomes, where do I stop?
Jaq xx

Oct 16, 2011

One Word

Devising new ways of procrastinating and skirting the obvious,
while finding the motivation to push forward.

During one of my progressively frequent wanderings through blogs and writing prompts I gratefully stumbled across this interesting development.

Each day a new word is provided to which you have precisely 60 seconds to write.  Just write.

The word I was allocated was Advice and this was my input.
That was how people controlled her, with advice.  Carefully constructed words of advice.  Disguising opinions and orders as helpful and caring words, for your benefit of course, to guide you and nurture you.  Confining you.
 always Jaq xx

Oct 11, 2011

Hey Somebody

Write On Wednesday

That strange experience of acting out,
what we have seen played across the tattered cinematic screens of our minds.
And knowing it's all wrong.

The city was silent as it was steadily consumed by the cool night.  The silhouettes of wanderers prominent.  Intent stares swung back and forth, scanning your surroundings was habitual, but when they rested on him and watched as he passed by...  His unease was only intensified by the constant mutterings that infiltrated the air.

His name repeated itself.  A brief second of eye contact.

Another glance in his direction sent his nerves itching.

His brain panicked when footsteps sounded too close behind him.

Every shadowed crevice along the street welcomed a new degree of paranoia.

He was completely vulnerable and it flooded him with dread; the inevitable nature of retribution tormenting him.

Lighting a cigarette just to give his hands something to do, Blazor found himself too preoccupied with his own nervousness to even inhale the dark fumes.  A hobo member of the homeless masses approached wanting to 'bum a light' so he handed him the smoldering roll as he walked past, ignoring whatever the decaying man mumbled in return.

Needing another distraction he peered through the splintered screen of his mobile, the number of missed calls and unread messages an unsympathetic warning of the impeding confrontation.

One of the nameless sauntered past, their shoulder thumping into his and unbalancing his possessed train of thought.  The vagrant brandished a knowing sneer at Blazor's reaction to the contact before moving on.

He couldn't take it.

The tension was overwhelming to the point that it evolved into irritation and progressed into anger.  He wasn''t sure if it was fear driven impulse or some form of determination that provoked him to abandon his evasive wanderings through the streets and face the threat looming over him.

The rusted chain link fence around the warehouse exhibited a myriad of fissures; a skeleton of security.  Blazor weaved through with routine coordination, his body following the ritual that had once governed his life.  There was no time to consider what he was about to do, he knew reason would dissuade him if he let it.

They were all there.  Blazor could feel his hatred for them surfacing; their life, their habits, what they did to her.  It was like peering behind a curtain to find something you sensed was always there but had forgotten.  He recognised the one he had never trusted, carrying himself with the usual arrogance mingled with whatever he had been smoking.  And he threw his compressed fist at him.

"You're so bloody dead yeah"  his opponent spat, uncertainty flitting across his face as he scrambled back to his feet.

"At least I won't have to look at scum like you Duke"

The crowd gathered in anticipation, most too stoned to realise what was actually occurring, others hysterical with the thrill of the unexpected.  Blazor had had enough of pleasantries, he knew Duke had every advantage but didn't care.  He was going to walk away from all of this.

The collision was chaotic; each blow hummed with aggression that was bordering on riotous.  Instinct and experience were irrelevant during the onslaught, only the ability to uphold a constant barrage of force seemed to make the difference.  Nothing was controlling the flood of violence; all knew it would be an unrestrained assault.  Ultimately the brawl ended before the bloodlust did.

Blazor left Duke where he had fallen; a bruised mass collapsed upon itself.  He found shallow breaths escaping his lungs as he stooped to gingerly cautiously remove the small knife Duke had struck out with and landed in his thigh, some form of shock registering at the blood that surged from the gash.  He would deal with it later.

"He's no Duke" he murmured to the skulking bodies gathered round, "and my name isn't Blazor".

They all watched him.  From the corners of their eyes, beneath their hoodies, from the alleyways.

He didn't care.

It was strange how quickly everything had been thrown upside down, how a familiar world had suddenly vanished and left him on the outside.  But being on the outside had its advantages, he didn't have to live by that world anymore.

As he wandered the streets quiet and still, his mind blundered incoherently, and a thought stood alone.  He would be a nomad and find what he needed, he would sacrifice all he had like she had wanted, so he could walk away.

Put a name to the face of the voice inside my head.
Jaq xx

Oct 7, 2011


So many paths to take, but the journey is always the same...

Truth Doesn't Make a Noise - The White Stripes

The fluroscent light above flickered anxiously stream of white fluorescent lighting above made everything seem too sterile, one globe wavered anxiously, too stark a resemblance of the night that had brought them both here. Nothing had changed and it was slowly eating away at him.

"I don't... understand..." he pleaded quietly.

"It's not up to you" she replied, her voice emotionless as she stared across the room at nothing in particular.

"Then who's decision is this!" He stood up pushing the chair away angrily as he moved to the window. The frustration of not having a clear answer mingled with confusion until he couldn't take it anymore. For him the choice was obvious, last night made it so, and her refusal to see that was distressing. He turned around suprised to see she was looking at him at last.

"I can't just stand by and watch you kill yourself! Why won't you listen to me Sophie?" He stepped towards the bed gripping her hand in his, her attempt to jerk it away devastating his already spiralling emotions and forcing him to hold back the words he needed to say to convince her. To prove to her there were better things than living in a hole with a gang of destitutes. Her reaction to his touch just as he was about to admit the feelings he had always entertained were possible left him with only anguish and dispair.

She had become a stranger, and he couldn't help but dwell on the distance that spread between them. The depressing realisation that she had surrendered any chance they had together, and expected him to sacrifice the same only made him want to cling to the few memories he had left. When there had been no need for constant bravado and they could relax from the struggle to survive; they could pretend they were happy. For him that had been better than nothing, but now she wasn't pretending.

Solemly he looked away, a small part of him in denial, still believing that for as long as he held her hand he could take her away from here and keep her safe. But apparently that wasn't up to him.

His body screamed in protest as he let her hand fall from his and moved to the door. The hopsital corridor seemed to mock the bleakness that was now consuming him, as if the raw ache that rose inside of him was not as real as the wounds that existed there. As if nothing he felt even mattered.

Suddenly she stiffened, her indifference seemingly distorted by the emotions he was failing to control.

"I can't just walk away from this Blazor" she said venemously, each word painful in its reality. "And it's time you saw that neither can you". She sat glaring at him, daring him to deny it and attest to his ignorance.

For a minute he stood there, completely drained.

"It was nice seeing ya Espy".  There was nothing left to say.

Consequences always come after.
Jaq xx

Sep 22, 2011


How can you possibly know?

How could you possibly understand what it is like to have all these thoughts?

The feeling of inability, the inability to express what you know would be fantastic if you could only get it out.

The constant, unyielding desperation that only knowing how can inspire.

Not comprehending anything else except the voices in their thousands greeting you, reminding you, turning you to a different perspective you did not think was reachable.  Urging you.

The utmost sadness that swells up gradually from that small space inside of you when you see the others who think they know how. 

But they can never know how like you know how.  Because they have never heard your voices, nor seen what you have seen through their eyes, they cannot tread and trip down the same pathway as you and discover what you know is wondrous.  Because you know how.

How could you know?

How could you possibly understand what it is like to have all these thoughts?

This is what it means to be a writer.
Jaq xx

Aug 24, 2011

Scarlett Street

Write On Wednesday
"Take a Walk"

How easily a stream of consciousness can run away from us,
but reality is often quick to catch up.

The wind drifted down the street, carrying the obnoxious sounds of the suburbs with it.
She peered through her gentle lashes and watched the black and red thatched skirt bounce against her legs as she walked.  The afternoon sun drenching the world in a scarlet sepia, inviting her mind to wander as her body did.

"Scarlett..." she whispered; intrigued by the way it flowed from the lips.  Her lips.

Thrilled by this world of red and mystery she now traversed through, swishing her skirt as she walked, the movement of her hips maintaining its momentum.  What if I could be Scarlett?  She cast her eyes across the auburn air that hummed with the possibility; a brief reflection replicating this thought as its wavering figure imitated her stride.  The legs seemed impossibly long and slender as they swayed past her and she became entranced with her own pace, summoning some unknown confidence that seemed only fitting for her rosy world.

She was Scarlett

The one the burning sun bowed to each evening, and who was blessed with the beauty of the promiscuous moon herself.

Gentlemen would quarrel and brood for the chance to escort her, their faces flushed the deepest red in her presence.

There would be nightly cocktail parties held in ruby ballrooms where her guests would gather in awe as she descended the grand stair case, her deep crimson gown a shimmering expression of her true self. 

Her soul would be constantly alight and inspire a searing passion in all who sighted her...

The static sounds of the suburbs punctured the air in one eruption; like resurfacing from a dream.  Suddenly the area appeared less inflamed by the illusion of the retiring sun; the shades of scarlet a little less sharp.  Voices carried through with one in particular catching her attention as they called after her.

"Mary wait!" The boy reached where she stood, still recovering from her submersion.  "You dropped your cardigan".  He smiled as he returned her worn possession causing her to blush slightly, reminding her of the remnants of her daydream.

"Call me Scarlett" She said coyly, slipping her hand into his.  He watched the action and began to smile, gently stroking her hand with his.

"How about I call you Mary and you can call me Mark,"  he laughed as her blush increased in intensity.  "And you let me walk you home"

Take a Walk.  See what you find.
Jaq xx

Aug 13, 2011

Philosophy #1

A truth in its simplest form is easiest to understand.

My mind is carried,
Music is my saviour here,
Everything else falls.

Jaq xx

Aug 3, 2011

Sit Under a Tree

Write On Wednesday
"Sit Under a Tree and Write"

The visual can be a powerful incentive, you just have to see it.
As nature resides.

Through the sea of camoflague she tread, the moist earth warm against her bare feet.  The compulsive wariness that is the only defence against the strange vanished as she opened herself to the illusion.  Her mind was out of the question, processing her surroundings only with her eyes.  Without realising it she began to trail her fingers lightly across the natural architecture; the swaying canopy supported by sturdy wooden pillars that appeared to glow in the setting sun.  Above, a mosaic of purple hues formed through the treetops.  It was like the forrest was split into two worlds, seperated by the fractured light that spilled from the sun and what was reflected from the sky.  A soft wind floated past spinning inconspicuous particles through the shafts of light, throwing them into sight.  Zara felt the breath slip from her lungs as the air glistened, the life that pulsated in everything there embodied by a spark.  In the distance a windchime released its metallic hum, beckoning her to memories of her childhood.  This area teased with the irresistable yet was always just too far out of reach; possessed by a haunting waltz that Zara could never quite keep time with.  It made her want to cry and laugh and jump all at once so she could only manage a strangled gasp.

This place was too much, every inch threatening perfection, no one could belong here for too long...  It was torture to consider leaving.  For the first time since she arrived Zara stopped.  Glancing around she realised the trees and air and light continued their mysterious dance, and felt a sense of loss that it had not stopped and waited for her.  All this was not here for her, it had merely allowed her to be here.  Turning around she stepped out onto a rocky outcrop and closed her eyes, imprinting those elements in her mind, too frightened to think that the memory would not be eternal.  And with the final note from the chime she retreated to the safety of the known.

forever Jaq xx

Jul 20, 2011

Write on Wednesdays

Write On Wednesday
"Status anxiety"

If you know the security guard at a chemist your a druggy...

Blazor glanced up at the fluroscent light that was flickering in the alleyway before gently laying down the limp body on the pavement.  The faint blue light casting a gruesome scene through the shadows and making it seem as though there was a stranger at every corner, watching him, judging him.  Feeling the paranoia creeping up his spine he knelt by the body with his back to the brick grime covered wall, ready to sprint at any sign of movement.  He strained his hearing against the night but was met with a silence that seemed to crush him.

For a few minutes it was all he could do to look at the bruise growing from the inside of her forearm.  Everytime someone made that mark it was like creating a blackhole that sucked the life out of you; it never stopped.  Holding the arm he rubbed his thumb over the artery as if he could erase where the needle syringe had entered.

" there?"  he muttered, sweeping the thin blonde hair away to reveal a small graze lining the girl's cheekbone.  Cursing under his breath Blazor had began to gingerly remove grains of dirt and asphalt when a sound coming from behind him just about sent him running until he realised it was his phone vibrating against the brickwork.  Staring at the number he felt his heart beating faster but for a different reason.

"Duke what the hell are you on!" Blazor hissed.  "Espy's in a real bad way and I'm thinking I'll need some legals-"

"Mate, this is not on, bring her back and I'll forgive you.  Otherwise things are gonna get twisted"

"Forgive me?!  You've bloody killed her!".  Blazor immediately stood up and began pacing; leapt up, his body launching into a furious pace, events were moving too fast for him to get a grip on.  Agitation itched at his skin and the need for urgency lingered on the edge of his thoughts.

"Don't freak you pussy she just shot above her weight, now bring my goddamn girlfriend back before I get real angry" Duke growled back.

This wasn't right; and without fully being aware of it Blazor was yelling at Duke to stay away from her and throwing his mobile into the darkness of the alley.  Kneeling beside Espy once more he placed two fingers against her neck and prayed for the first time in his life.  The swell of emotions choking him until a dull throb radiated beneath his fingertips, the smooth rhythym enveloping him until he could breathe again.  Cradling her small frame he rested his head on hers as the turmoil of fear was replaced with sheer exhaustion and closed his eyes, still praying she would open hers soon.

Jaq x

Jul 1, 2011


I am here to release the words that are constantly fluttering about within my mind,
to recreate those moments of rapid inspiration that are often forgotten,
to further explore my own ancient scrawlings, and
to ultimately uncover the stories within.

Waiting in anticipation of your curiosity...
x Jaq
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