Ā© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh ā Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2019. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blogās author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh ā Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Tag: memories
A bit of introspection on the train home…
My character & the coin
I had a relationship with patience.
She would calm me with a pause before my lips.
When hunger emptied my core, sheād fill it with a soft aroma.
Any doubts that lay with me, she could cast away with one question.
But i never loved her.
My head was turned – i saw a beauty that promised to fulfil my every desire.
We would sweat our bodies sore caressing spherical wants. She made me a better player than i was.
Wrapped up warm in front of a fire we poured every fantasy into pages that turned over quietly – perpetually, like her, like me. She made me a better writer than i was.
She was the opposite of patience, a constant need for the now. However, i couldnāt have known one without the other.
My greatest weakness, becomes my greatest strength – two sides, same character, same coin.
By Alpha Cauwenbergh
Crying babies and writing
Random piece i wrote on the train home…I look forward to having my own little bundles of joy š
Ā© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh ā Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2018. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blogās author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh ā Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
A Poem About A Poem
I was planning on writing the third installment of my Deep With You sci-fi erotica this week. However, i felt completely unmotivated to do so, making the whole endeavour feel like work, and not an expression of the soul. So, with the help of my brother’s inspiring idea to write a poem about a song i like, the addictive internal buzz of creativity returned!
I present my first of many Poems about a poem, or PoemsĀ 2. I’ve never seen or read a poem like this (doesn’t mean it doesn’t already exist) so the format, rhyming scheme, content, and tone within a tone are a work in progress, and may differ dramatically in future poemsĀ 2. This piece is built from/within the song Dust by Frank Ocean off his mix tape Nostalgia, Ultra.
Dust 2
Whoās that talking in my lab babyā¦? Is that you?
A voice, the familiar but estranged ā can it be you?
No, I wonāt put you out, what would this place be without my muse? Nothing special.
Every book in here, I wrote.
An empty shell ā hollowed out emotions canāt stain ā the page is blank – with nothing special.
Every book in here, I wrote.
Some Iām not too proud of, some I wish I could burn – too many pages I wrote, wish I could revise them.
Life breathed through flames, and into the air my shame ā rain pours from sky and face the same, wish I could confine them.
But thereās no erasing, and the best advice I got was keep writing, keep living, and keep loving.
Destiny – a woman, her hands ā fate – will cradle your arm. With pen still wet, her support is felt behind – violinist and bow keep loving.
When the ink dries, and the pages turn to dust, so will we – turn to dust. So, will we turn to dust?
Dust
Whoās that laughing in my Lab baby? Is that you?
The smile of a thousand un-lived days, is that you?
No, I wonāt put you out, what would this place be without your smile? Nothing special.
I fell in love with you girlā¦you let yourself inside, with no respect for privacy.
When alone the words do come, but sometimes, the barren waste of pain masquerades as privacy.
You said thereās too much on my mind, then you ripped out a page, and set that thing a blaze ā I quit writing. I kept living. I kept loving.
The Haze appearing in this place, an atmosphere of dismay, but space cleared that away, I kept living and kept loving.
When the ink dries, and the pages turn to dust, so will we – turn to dust. So, will we turn to dust?
Dust
Alpha Cauwenbergh<Frank Ocean
Ā© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh ā Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blogās author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh ā Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Soul Teaser – Aeryn vs Aeryn
Deep With You-Part two: Green Eyes
Click For Part One – incase you haven’t read it!
The session continuesā¦
Our two lovers, still within theĀ throesĀ of passion, continued burning through the lust that evaporated off them. The steam their beating bodies produced, condensed onto the wood and glossed paperback surfaces Anissaās slender stomach was pressed on.Ā DraykeĀ was in control now; her face turned to the side in a futile attempt to watch him as he worked, her back gently arched – lumbar muscles contracting with beautiful tone. Her ass elevated up slightly off the desk, which, despite its fullness, was being completely suppressed by his powerful hands – no movement allowed if not by his design. So rare was it for her to submit to him, he took special pleasure from such primal positioning.
āAre you ready?ā He questioned, as though not already making the warm opening between her squirming legs pulse with each stroke. The way he expanded her soft entrance with slow pelvic movements, made her crazy with heat – she moaned, wanting. Knowing what was to come, she responds with a look of cautious appetite.
āYesā¦āĀ DraykeĀ filled his palms with the flesh of her posterior, gripping her hard enough to hurt; the deep relentless pounding of her wet intimacy began simultaneously. The sensations he could feel around and along the length of it, where driving him to addiction and he mercilessly drove every inch of himself into her repeatedly. His stamina almost endless,Ā AnissaĀ wasnāt sure how much more she could withstand. However, she loved the duality of internal ache and climax perpetuating pleasure. The tingling sensations were like wild static charges frivolously erupting from the brief spaces between them. āDonāt stop! Deeper! Harder!ā She screamed in complete defiance of the authoritative force behind each of his thrusts. Drayke knew from how rash her breathing had become, and the way she was struggling to keep herself on her toes, that she was close to another orgasm. Although, his pride did take exception to the ability she had – unlike all others, to tolerate his full length, breadth, and sexual aggression, his need to please her thoroughly came before his own ego. And knowing every erogenous crevasse on her body, he slowed down his tempo, and switched tactics.
Releasing her blood warm left cheek from the archaic grip of one hand, while keeping one enslaved in the other, his change in pace had brought her back from the edge. Now she was staring over the cliff face, starving for the explosion of gratification that the climactic fall would bring. Nevertheless,Ā DraykeĀ held her back from it; her private parts were weeping and trembling – imploring him with every deliberate entry. Left hand, channeling desire into his mind by manipulating itās voluptuous captive into revealing moreā¦His other hand scheming to gratify her naughtiest pleasures, found itās thumb roaming – she knew itās destination. Thus presenting it to him obediently and unashamed, waiting impatiently, coveting the multiple sensations. He proceeded to satiate every need welling up inside her as vigorously and completely as she could handle, causing her fatiguedĀ spiritĀ to helplessly scream in ecstasy. Finally, he let her fall – her body crashing into the aftermath of desires. Seeking his own completion, he unloaded his lust; their primeval tones synced and echoed erotically through the aisles of this large room of learning.Ā Their breathingĀ gently returned to normal as he kept himself inside until she went still.
Just outsideā¦
āFor God sake theyāre at it againā¦ā One of the men from the General Support Staff says to his female colleague – who canāt help but laugh childishly as they walk past the Star Chart Observatory entrance, onĀ their wayĀ to the Chamber of Rest and Recreation. In another room two tiers up, a far more important conversation was taking place. Dr. JasmineĀ SamoyĀ was having a holographic video communication with one of a party of three corporate grade individuals, whoād invested heavily into the voyage to Slaverās Moon. Her office was sparse, clean, and clutter free, just like the plain unbranded attire she wore on her lightly tanned skin. Most paper materials had ceased production after the global blight of 2050 ravished Earth I plant life. Any wood based products found in the solar system now came from Earth II and only to those with very deep pockets. Surrounded by bespoke, pale yellow coloured walls, she sat, legs crossed, on herĀ slenderĀ aluminium stool as the conversation unfolded.
āDoctor, have you been able to verify the origins of the sample we sent you?ā the voice says impatiently through the static interference.
āSorry, I couldnāt hear you before, we must be travelling close to a solar storm. Yes I have Sir, but the results are unexpected. I would like a few more days toĀ retestĀ the sample against the āNouveuxā elements.ā
āImpossible Doctor, my associates and I have to report your findings back to the president of Black Tech industries tomorrow morning in person.ā
āI understand that Sir, but I am putting my career at risk just by possessing this sample. If the Captain knew I had it on board, let alone theĀ realĀ reason we were going to Omega Seven, heād probably stick me in a cell.ā Dr. Samoyās tone was elevated and laced with genuine fear of the multitude of potential consequences that lay ahead.
āDidnāt you say that youād be able to handle him?ā Dr.Ā SamoyĀ paused⦠āListen, itās too late for cold feet, our time is fast approaching, and we all have to be ready for what Black Tech are going to do with Slaverās Moon.ā Dr. Samoy knew this to be true, and narrowed her focus away from the doubts and towards what was necessary.
āI understand Sir, it will be taken care of.ā
āGood, Iāll let you get back to work, send me aĀ holocomĀ transmission of your final report on the organism within the hour.ā Before he could click, the holocom closed, Dr.Ā SamoyĀ quickly speaks,
āFather, one more thing – do you have any objections with me removing PrincessĀ AnissaĀ from the situation?ā Her father, VincentĀ SamoyĀ – galactic entrepreneur and former Earth II government official, responds cautiouslyā¦
āIfĀ it doesnāt affect the mission, deal with her anyway you see fit.ā
CaptainĀ DraykeĀ D. Hamiltonās vessel, The Trafalgar 7 – built from the finest interplanetary alloys, glided through the darkness of space, navigating fringe science like it were the bedrock of itās existence – neared itās destination. Unbeknown to both, there was a deep sickness growing within its vast interiors. A mutinous affliction eating away at all facets of engineering aboard the ship, and at its centre, a onceĀ mild-manneredĀ woman stood, the conductress in front of her ensemble of dissenting voices and disgruntled characters. From here ā ChamberĀ 207e, she garnered the infection.
āYouāve all seen the way she favours him! We all know what they get up to in the Captainās private quarters!ā
The gathered white coats and hard hats roar in agreement.
āNot even the decency to keep their relationship professional in front of the crew, kissing on the bridge like theyāre the main characters of some tacky sci-fi erotica! But I ask you? When was the last time any of you kissed your loved ones?! Didnāt the Princess say that this would be a simple six-month diplomatic voyage? But now, Iāve been told by theĀ onlyĀ person who deserves your respect and loyalty – that when weāre on Slaverās Moon, the Captain will impose a complete blackout onĀ holocomĀ transmissions! And whose idea is that?? His royal concubineās!ā
Groans of derision saturate the air.
āSheĀ is on this ship to look out for our best interest! The interests of herĀ hand-picked,Ā non-military crew. But noā¦sheās upĀ there, servicingĀ the Captain with the same mouth she needs to be sanctioning the dim-witted mercenaries when they abuseĀ you,Ā Tom, for having a stutter, or sexually assaultĀ you,Ā Jane! In this room, we have some of the highest intellects on Earth II, yet weāre treated like 19thĀ centuryĀ mineworkers! WITHOUT US! THE SHIP GOES NOWHERE!ā She screamed, the womanās face red with the design of anger as her once blonde hair thrashed wildly around, itās new dark sullen tones of brunette and purple danced in the indistinctĀ fluorescentĀ lights as she gesticulated frantically.
The horde of once civilized workers fed off her vehement protestations, yelling back angrily in affirmation of her message. If the sound could escape these walls, then civil war theyĀ would haveĀ signalled.
With her concert of manipulation completed, the conductress left the engineeringĀ tiersĀ to return to her room. At the same time, far away in their own private circle of reflection and deduction,Ā DraykeĀ andĀ AnissaĀ discuss the mission and the progress of their journey towards it.
āHow much longer until we arrive?ā She says, as her mind wanders back and forth from focus ā still having flashbacks to their session in the Observatory.
āThe Solar storm is a bit of a nuisance, but Trafalgar can handle it. Weāll increase our velocity once weāre passed this system of planets.ā
āHow long Dray?ā
āTen daysā he answers avoiding eye contact.Ā AnissaĀ was the only woman able to bring out such boyish guilt from the Captain.
āYou said it would only be a couple more days, and thatās what I told my crew.ā
āYour crew? I thought I was the Captainā
āMaybe when Iām not wearing underwearā
āFunny – but Iāve told you to stop thinking ofĀ the crewĀ as your personal responsibility, you treat them like theyāre your own kids.ā
āI canāt help itā¦anyway, I donāt want to have this argument with you again. Just give me some good news I can tell the ship.ā As concerned as he was about this maternal sense of hers, it was also one of her more enchantingly softening traits. It made him want to say the three words to her heād caged inside his chest.
āTell them that theyāll get an extra 100MGs for each extra day that weāre overdue.ā
āCan you afford to do that?ā
āNo, but our investors canā
āI donāt think theyāll be happy with the cost of this voyage increasing again before weāve even arrivedā
āTheyāll be happy with what I tell them to be happy with.ā He responds, a layer ofĀ disdainĀ palpable in his words, as if recalling an unpleasant history with one or more of them.
āAnd you?āĀ DraykeĀ swiftly changes the subject.
āHave you thought about what youāre going to say once we arrive? The people of Omega are not known for their empathy…ā
āIāve been thinking about it more and more the closer we get, but itās nothing Iām not used to ā hostile negotiations are my specialty,ā she says with an assurance born from the many power-obsessed dictators sheās verbally wrestled away from office and country. However, the situation they were moving towards was mutating rapidly into one unrecognisable from the mission brief theyād received upon departure.
āI know they are,ā he replies with a flirtatious smile. āBut, when dealing with theĀ Omegians, I find preparing for the worst becomes prerequisite.ā
āYes I can tell from the charming group of mercenaries youāve brought along.ā
Drayke andĀ AnissaĀ continued their discussion for a further hour, sitting close and taking in enough pheromones to propagate attention-stealing affections. Despite this, their un-clarified relationship status took a back seat to the importance and responsibility of the task.
Far beneath them, the wheels of fate turned continuously, and one of its cogs was circling at the same pace our conductress was walking, heading patiently towards her residence. Once there she noticed the sliding door was already unlocked. Unfazed, she slid it across and walked in. Inside, the room was set to a brighter lighting arrangement than sheād left it. Knowing what this meant she speaks out into the room.
āAlready making yourself at home I seeā In response, a women steps out from the bathroom, jet black hair, long and heavy with moisture. Her face was smiling inĀ expectancy, the rest of her body taut from the fresh chill of conditioned air flowing around them. She steps forward, exposed parts moving accordingly, and says.
āBlaise, how did it go?ā the conductress always loved it when she said her name; there was a tone to it that suggested a hidden sentiment behind theĀ formalness. The naked woman before her, though unassuming in her appeal, had found a way to lure out parts of her she never knew existed. Unlike the immature male suitors, she had during her formative years in a New England suburb. Blaise, missing the strength of character sheād just displayed to over fifty people, responds sheepishly.
āIt went well babeā the words, blushing out of her. She was shorter than her lover, and was never more aware of this than when giving a report back to her. She was wearing the white and black engineering department uniform of overcoat, one piece and sturdy shoe, she played with the buttons on it subconsciously as she continued. āTheyāre definitely with us, the bit about the Captain not allowingĀ holocomĀ transmissions was a just perfect, and they behaved exactly like you said they would.ā
āOf course they did, have I ever lead you wrong, Blaise?ā
āNever babe, butā¦when are we going to go to the next stage of the plan? If we leave it too long, some of them might find out that not everything Iāve been saying is the truthā¦ā
āDonāt worry about that for now, Iāll let you know when the time is right ā
āOkay then, but I should probably go back to work though, itās still a couple of hours before lunch and need to lead from the front.ā
āOh definitely, I donāt like slackers. However, before you go, can you help me get dressed?ā the chill in the air suddenly changes to something warmer, something seductive. Blaise, pleased to no longer have to wait to touch her replies,
āIs it the purple underwear the Doctor is wearing today?ā
To be continued
Ā Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh
Ā© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh ā Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blogās author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh ā Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Episode One of my ‘Alpha Stories’ Video Blog – Questions & Competition
Ps Stay tuned until the end to see the exclusive reveal of The Atheist’s BRAND NEW 2nd Ed front cover designs!
Who wants to be a character in my next short story installment?
Got a very cool competition for you guys & gals!
Text/private message or comment with any question you have regarding me, my writing, the creative process or anything insightful, and I will do a video blog answering them all!
The person with the best question will become a character in one of my next short story installments!
I’m a very honest and open person, so don’t feel shy to ask me anything!
Deadline for questions is this sunday night. Can’t wait to start creating! (happy face)
Was shown this old poem I wrote in 2011, I felt it had aged quite well, so i’m sharing it with all of you!
Waiting to fall (2011)
I stand at the precipice waiting for someone, or some feeling. My mind is clear but my vision is hazy at the precipice waiting for that feeling.
Tingles in my heart, butterflies at the start, the dance of that feelingā¦
I know its name iām just waiting to fall.
The heart is deep, out of which I could crawl I know its name, that feeling⦠Iām ready to fall.
The times nearing, even at a whisper I can hear it. Although deaf to the meaning, when you speak its clear that its you that draws me here.
When you smile I know that its my heart you own, when we rest or play all doubt I fore go.
You raise my spirit to a point I envy the rain,Ā falling so care free with no fear of pain.Ā But you can wash it all away, new emotions I shall obey, like gravity for rain your love is the reason I came.
Futures untold as our story unfolds⦠Future is safe, I feel it when in your arms iām enclosed.
Your cares and affections are to me like a womb, I will stay there where its warmā¦and let your heart play me a soft tune.
No longer fearful of my impending fall, darling there I will stay as my emotions formā¦until the day love is born.
By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh