The Burning of Notre Dame

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My heart bleeds in the flames of Notre Dame. 

We look to the spire, the hand reaching for the heavens, as a symbol of ancient protection. These architecturally beautiful monuments of historical whispers are reminders that there is something divine in this world. They’re a symbol of the bridge between man and the spiritual protector. The burning, crumbling stone evokes emotions akin to a grieving child at the funeral of a fallen parent.  

The bells are ringing in your ears. The bells that sounded so often through the city streets. A vibration that would paint the city in light, if only for a fleeting moment each day. Bells that would say, ‘Remember the true nature of your existence. I’m your protector, your saviour.’

Perhaps the tears are a realisation that the divine protection, that the connection to the spiritual realm, has been been destroyed. Perhaps the men fighting the blaze, frantically trying to save the ruin, are a symbol of our half hearted repentance. Like a man overcompensating when his wife has decided to leave him. He begs and pleads silently as he cleans the house and takes her out for a coffee mid week. But, she’s already destroyed. He can no longer salvage this wreckage. 

I grieve for the loss of such a beautiful cathedral.

Yet, the church isn’t a hand reaching for the heavens as a symbol of ancient protection. It’s a hand reaching down. Despite the fire, the chaos, the despair, this divine connection will be mirrored in the hearts of believers who recognise true, ancient love.

In the end, everything will burn. So what do we do until that day? 

Hearing Hearts

Once upon a calming sigh,
A gentle whisper flutters by,
Hidden just for one to know,
A secret code of hidden flow.

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Sleeping deeply in myself

My heart knew not it’s parallel.

Never had a voice been heard

To wake it up without a stir.

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Unveiled in a rapid beat,

My chest starts pounding rhythms sweet.

Not a choice to start to fall,

But an answer to it’s call.

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A treasure trove of blinding light,

It wasn’t sought, it came in night

Such was the day without control,

I met the one my heart will hold

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Written by Randall Evans.

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I’m not done with this one, I’ll come back to it over the next few days. Comment below and let me know what’s going on in your world 🙂

Mind Control

Beware the path of instant dread,

That easy stream inside your head.

Red herrings swoop and plague your brain,

“What could be? Is it me?

Conclusions falling cold as rain.

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Infant thoughts so soft and small,

While waiting longer for a call.

Clawing, scratching, desperate plea.

“What to do? Not a clue!”

Don’t follow your anxiety.

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Quenching thoughts of self destruction,

Will your way to their disruption.

Avoid the fall into the view,

“It’s all done! I’m no one!”

And choose to think anew.

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All you do is all you can,

Your mind’s direction needs a plan,

To stop the worry based on myth.

“I was true. Tomorrow’s new.”

Control the voices you live with.

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Written by Randall Evans

The One You Need

Strive to be the one you need,

But search your inconsistency,

For injustice that is thrown on thee,

Reflects your incongruity.

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What are the traits you have in mind?

Are they the ones you left behind?

As you seek it’s true you’ll find,

Staring back your judging eye.

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Double standards in your heart,

So within yourself is where to start.

Look deep within and strip apart,

The real sin inside your heart.

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For kindness to find be kind.

If selfless you seek, rewind.

The values you must align,

Should shine from a place inside.

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Seek the one who makes you whole,

And be the one you’d want to know.

So when connection wakes your soul,

Your seeking heart can be on show

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Strive to be the one you need,

But search your inconsistency,

Remember words graced from above,

Your neighbour as yourself you love.

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Written by Randall Evans.

If you like it, hate it or appreciate it let me know in the comments below. I also love reposts… and chocolate chip cookies.

Hearts Don’t Beat

Is it ok to be happy ?

To feel a joy inside my heart?

Feeling soft and sappy,

Looking to a brand new start.

All my rhymes have rhythm,

That hardly change at all.

But crafting with precision,

Reflex not how in love we fall.

Messy, bright and typical,

My breathing tastes so sweet.

Inside I feel that I am full

Winter pierced with summer heat.

Hearts don’t beat when they’re in love,

They pump out warmth and light.

Endless streams of boundless dreams

Kiss a soul goodnight.

Written by Randall Evans.

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Please connect with me below and let’s crash the WordPress servers with the amount of writing we do !

Gateway

Unexpected memory of a corridor
Voices roaring down the hall
A birthday held when I was four

Not for me, for the jolly good fellow.
An old man’s song if ever bellowed.
On a night that feels both mad and mellow.

I mused a moment, child’s mind,
Who were his friends there by his side?
They loved him then and so did I.

Lucky were the men back then,
To know my grandad as a friend,
Someone on which they could depend.

I wonder if he would be proud
If he had lived to see me now.
The singing voices growing loud…

He blew the candles on the cake
One day he lay and would not wake
Now floating down a gentle lake.

Nothing in this world will last
Our candles burn into the past
And shadow we no longer cast.

Unexpected memory of a corridor
Voices roaring down the hall
A birthday held at heaven’s door.

Written by Randall Evans

Puppy Dog Eyes

I’m a spot in a puppy dog’s eye,

I, in eye, insignificant am I?

The tiny speck in the cutest face,

You notice not my rightful place.

I’m a nothing, if not the key,

A detail smaller than a flee.

But details add to masterpiece,

Piece by piece and none the least.

Have you seen what draws the spots?

The mystic pen that draws in dots?

The ink that hides reality,

Designed by divine majesty

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I’m a detail, nothing more.

To show creations biggest flaw.

That normal isn’t that at all,

It’s overwhelming art and awe.

Written by Randall Evans.

Shadows and Shame

The excitements builds rapidly in the invisible space between my lungs and my throat. It’s so powerful that my fingers start to tremble and I’m forced to close my eyes tight. Please, please let this feeling pass!

I have friends who struggle with real addictions. I watch them relapse into substances and thank God I’m not addicted to those. I alway try and give advise and act lovingly towards them, but who am I kidding? How am I any better? I’m worse.

There’s a shadow in my past that follows me. I didn’t know it was there until this moment. It’s impossible to see a shadow in the darkness, but when the light starts to seep into your life, there it is. Following you… Reminding you.

The moment passes. I can breath again…

I go to the local Woolworths for some sort of escape into normalcy. Movement is healthy. Doing something normal is healthy.

The lights of the supermarket seem unnaturally white, but it’s good to see other people shopping. I imagine that this is all they have to do, that their lives are so simple, that they have nothing going on under the surface.

If only I was just there to shop.

No, I was there to escape my shadow.

I fill my basket with one packet of M&Ms, a block of dairy milk chocolate, cookies (reduced to $2), meat pies on special and a 2L bottle of milk. I feel like a woman who’s just gone through a break-up. Actually, I don’t know how they feel, but certainly in movies this is what they do.

I get home and put on the TV. Family Guy isn’t my favourite, but tonight it’s hilarious. I dip my cookies in a warm cup of tea. I’m ok. I’ve beaten it.

I’m ready for bed, but the feeling comes again.

Just do it. Get it over with.

It’s 11:11 and my shadow leads me out the door.

I walk past the stairway. A flush comes over me and I keep walking. Head down, hoodie over my face. It’s a cold night… I look normal.

“Please God, let me bump into someone.”

I walk past a pub that taking the chairs inside. Nobody recognises me as I keep walking into the night. But, there is nothing ahead. I turn around and go back, passing by the Pub again.

“Someone call me. Text me. Something. Save me!”

My heart beats faster and faster as the decision comes closer and closer. My shadow has me by the hand and won’t let me go.

My whole body is shivering.

I pass the stairs again. This time I take a quick glance upward. The pink walls remind me of the smell. The smell of essential oils and fabric softener.

The smell of excitement and shame.

I stand on the edge of the street. It’s freezing. I could just go home.

No.

Let’s get it over with.

I’m not at a bad point in my life. I thought the darkness was a phase, a black hole in my past that I’d overcome. But no, I was wrong. I’m haunted. I’m drawn into darkness. My shadow will lead me. My sin leads me… And I follow.

Lord, forgive me.

I walk up the stairs.

Written by Randall Evans

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Thanks for reading The Vile Mint. If I was able to spark your imagination, make you think or open your mind to new perspectives, please leave me a comment. I love hearing from readers and building relationships. God Bless.

Silence

A week of trekking through torrential rain has my energy depleted, but as I turn my eyes to the sky I see her. The oldest tree in existence. I fall to my knees beneath the terrifying branches that hang over me like the pain of time pressing on my chest.

In my delirium I get to my feet and press through the sinking mud to the base of the great tree. The wind laments it’s warning in accelerated oscillations, throwing rain through the darkness, but it’s too late now. I’ve come too far.

I throw a rope around the oak. The creatures dwelling inside flee their home. The fear paints their faces with each lightning strike. I tie the rope and jump down from the tree.

It’s time.

I pull with all my might. The rain falls through the canopy. The rope burns my hands until they bleed. The deepest roots that hold the fabric of the universe together start to vibrate and quiver. They Scream, “Why? Why are you doing this?”

I squeeze my eyes shut, but I don’t stop pulling. As I use every single cell in my body to pull, it starts to end.

The world begins to slow in it’s spin. The roots start to tear through the surface of the earth, but they desperately cling to the ground like a child’s hand as she’s being dragged into torture.

The world slows even more…

I know what I’m doing, but I can’t stop. I’m looking for forgiveness as I’m committing the crime.

The wind and rain and lightning all form a harmonious plee in the last second of time until:

Silence.

The world’s stopped spinning.

In shame. In loneliness. I sit upon the centre of the universe. The great tree is nothing more.

Written by Randall Evans

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Thanks for reading The Vile Mint. If I was able to spark your imagination, make you think or open your mind to new perspectives, please leave me a comment. I love hearing from readers and building relationships. God Bless.

Disjointed Desire

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Law of nature,
And of time.
Mine is nothing,
In this life.

Vision in the season of depletion,
Incompletion’s my only foundation
Repletion of all but a reason.

Strife in man.
It’s here to stay;
I separate…
Emancipate…

Revealed by desire
Of a simple smile
No barrier between self and liar.

How to discipline this mind?
To stop the cycle that I hide,
Solve the puzzle in my soul.
Hold my hand… Make me whole.

This is The Vile Mint
Written By Randall Evans