Narrative – Page 2 – Mecca-Amirah Jackson

The Promise of Bacchus

October 25, 2015November 13, 2015by Mecca_AmirahLeave a Comment

Murmur my name Each time you take a sip, Do not forget my story As you refill your glass And stumble along until your Unchaperoned death... I lost my way in the bottomless cups, Singing a merry tune, Whistling at the sharp tang, bewitching as it beguiles a daydreamer, enraptured by the faults of the [...]

Narrative

Like a Flower

October 21, 2015November 13, 2015by Mecca_AmirahLeave a Comment

She was weak in the mornings, Neck bent and eyes downcast As the radio played throwbacks, Fetid breath and rough hands Dark brands, wide and deep, Back bent and eyes bruised, Yellow teeth and Old ripped up photos That reminded her of her childhood. As she rocked slowly to sleep, Woken by creaks and footsteps. [...]

Narrative

Fading Youth

October 19, 2015November 13, 2015by Mecca_AmirahLeave a Comment

Youth is like a plucked rose– loved with avarice eyes and guarded in a well-lit shell that decomposes with the stench of capricious fertilizer. She is pretentiously trimmed and tailored, fashioned in a glass vase, voluptuous shapes, undulating in throes of desire (a gift from snobby Sarah from Westchestor! ) Fiji water tepid, seventy-five degrees of adulterated dampness. Under the artificial, [...]

Narrative

The Beginning

October 18, 2015November 13, 2015by Mecca_AmirahLeave a Comment

Flaxen hair with crushed Ice blue eyes, Like fallen snowflakes She descends from Valhalla With an inherent grace and speed. A Scandinavian beauty With a calm visage, like floating Decaying glaciers- She stood with a Viking's honor And Thor's pride and arrogance- A voyager who has lost her hurstwic Wandering and drifting as she Became [...]

Narrative, Short Story/Prose, Thoughtful

A Killer Who Became A Farmer

September 16, 2015September 2, 2022by Mecca_Amirah4 Comments

A man with distant and cold eyes once told me that he wanted to become a farmer.... I asked, "If you could live a life bereft of responsibilities and money were no object, who would you want to be?" He said, "A farmer." "A farmer!" I responded confused. "Does that sound so impossible that a [...]