http://slow.writerscafe.org/Namaahammond The original writings of author Namaa Hammond en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776072691 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 A blessing from the ancestors http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/2792684/ In the studio where we first slept, I was lying down on feasible, broken shellsI wish I stayed flowing in my green tie-dye dressThere is another life for you to hold and to kiss, and now I have my self to amissMy last bargain was never dismissedsome feet below, in my final enuresisPerman.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/2159865/ Dear Jeras,Thank you for harvesting peace, bringing rewards with every cycle around the sun. I know you refuse to hear me speak such solemnity, so I will testify inside these binded scriptures, until I am free again. Within every page pertaining to the inside of our precious maple tree, I sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/2105239/ A continuation of Anthemic, yet the journies are unpredictable yet very much effecient for Nyx and her drug abuse. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/2105236/ The Life of A Drug Addict I'm not writing this to be ashamed or to feel better. I am writing this because I am tired of trying to help myself or get help to escape these demons. I have not been sober since I was a child. Even if I was sober for six  months, my tolerance remained the same. So I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1997410/ Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Acceptance to change the death of possession and accumulate transformation from old to new. It is here and it is winter again, but a bitter winter. When I look outside at the empty parking lot its like a rebuilding for transformation. When you l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1754941/ Coming soon. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1754938/ A rag doll coming to life. Augustine spills her heart out to William from her darkest place to her most positive views. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1702209/ Dear William, Who gives as s**t about the holidays, who gives a s**t about me? Junkies, homeless people, punks, hippies, everyone is selfish and they just pay attention to the nuclear politicians roaming the world, the pope, and every other religious leader raping children and raping us as people of.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1697978/ What a funny thing it is when words simply come to life, although I deserve nothing good. I have more stories behind these pages to tell and if you were ever reading this. William, you would be appalled. I have last determined I cannot overcome my addiction and the cysts and malignant tumors in my .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1696394/ The river ran dry and the well was gray. When the moon tore my soul open I knew to respond. I turned on the radio as they played my favorite tune, the one my old half and I once listened to. The thoughts that spun in my head rambled until it shook tears to my eyes. I tried so hard to hold it back, a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1584711/ To love is to let go. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1564053/ Dear Weaver, Spring time is peeking through the brightest clouds of the northern hemisphere. I could hear the birds of the summer chanting as they fly over the budding tree branches. The date is April 1st, 2015 and it has been two years since I have seen you. But now I speak to you on a daily basis .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1507985/ Broken hearts and false lullabies are all lying in the ancient story of the man in the black cloak. The storm that rides within his rage and the envy inside of his ebony black eyes battle my guardian spirit and the flightless cormorant I once was- this is not yet the ultimatum. Once upon a time I h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1463563/ Weaver: Good. I am finally sedated enough. But how much is enough really? I have had enough. My collection of Percocet and Klonopin should get me through the next few months. I am feeling weary. I need to make sure I always have them with me, I hate running out. The pain will always be back. I take .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1457108/ Dear Erebus, I have lost my mind and I have lost my consciousness, therefore I shall open my somber thoughts to the darkest shadows of your deity- the shadows of your mourning and the shadows of your past. I want to learn your story. They are the trails to your will and compassion that have led me h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1444417/ Flames scattered savagely on the cold blood-red grounds of Mayi Sano on October 23rd, 1689. A woman dressed in white grieved for the loss of her second eternal soul, and another was fighting the fight of a warrior to stop the burning flames. The stake held a woman dressed in black, leaving her limp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1431211/ The Dawning of all Trials http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1431209/ Dear Iah, The time is 18:41 and I am gazing blankly at the empty white pages before me. The keys of the typewriter you had given me for Christmas echoed in the back of my head. Brimming with destitute, the keys scratched through my numb fingertips as I turned my eyes to the black oak canvas be.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1358992/ The moonlight defies hissoul in my eyeA wind so thin crawlsunder my skinHis soul and life is why Icannot dieFor he I can complete lifewith A wall of cement cannotpreventA bond so strong even atdawnThe hour strikes ten andcome forth a scentIt is he who my growth hadspawnThe air .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1355099/ The Final Testimony http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1354738/ 12:50 AM http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1342399/ The dust driven behind my anemic lids had transformed to blindness as my eyes rolled back. The tears welled up inside of my socket, then released as my eyes drew forth. Like a militant sheathed in a wrought iron vest, I stared outside of my foggy window sill hoping for the clouds and rain to shroud.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1330880/ Two sticks withstand thy snow and landBuried sleet inside a plateauThe struggles, only to find no handAn entrapped bird was bound in snowFlying after nothing in the air that's freeSets of  flightless arms not in flightLosing all sanity in the midst of seaI've grown too old to seek the lightFly,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1315335/ Dear Weaver, The chills that dropped from thearctic sky formed into a solid winter freeze, dropping to atemperature of -25 degrees Fahrenheit in Cheyenne, Colorado. The snowwas covering the grounds and it was a cloudy day, leaving the colorof the great outdoors dull. Everything was dul.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1303054/ Dear Haides, The time is unknown, and I have been trapped and entombed for what seems to be days now. I cannot feel my body and the senses of death are punching the clock before my eyes. The sound of my breath seemed to be slower and deeper each day, for all I could hear is my breathing, and my decr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1290467/ Dear Haides, The snow peeled itself from the November skies, leaving the ground and the deer passing each leafless tree white. Everything was white. The world from the view of this window sill, all this color. White. Delicate, drifting drops of white moved in the cold wind hitting the glass window a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1273069/ Dear Weaver, Cheyenne is altering as much as theleaves of the maple tree in front of the Briony Bistro. Admiring thescenery of the coming winter season, I looked through the large,opened glass window. The wind brushed over the wooden table that I amsitting on, as the ashes of my cig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1270641/ Fromthe dawn of the lands he crawled 'neath the sandsThestrings once stems now stand at my handsHiswooden core that hath depicted blackAllgrew into my veins so I gave backIplay melodies that give me abilityTotune his voice to a song of choice Tohear him sing as I pl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1268437/ Wandering death bird 'tistime you wakeTime to steal a soul whomonce smiledSnow is falling on theblind snakeThe screams of agrief-stricken childFly to my window, snuffthe candleFlutter your skulls andbones up highYour omen, a wish I'llhandleBut the dust cannot touchm.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1267357/ Dear Haides, The bleakest November rain and winds have distressed the whitest clouds, morphing them into gray. The overruling power of the thunder roared through the skies and echoed through my window pane. The beaming rays of the moonlight have not shone for three nights. I could pretend it does no.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1266150/ "The Heart of The Beggar's Tomb" http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1263525/ Dear Haides, The dignity of a man shalt do what thou will not. Do what thou wilt shall not be the whole nor the equity of the laws beyond the Land of the Odds. Fear no more, Haides for I may have found another way home, in which you have shone the light to. But the Land is as dark as it gets. I cann.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1254010/ First Chapter http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1253149/ Forgotten darkness once my lightMold my windows from glass to stoneMy days so dark, you stay and fightMy darkest cove, you're what I callhomeMy coldest pleasure, you leave me emptyI dig for answers while I lay in dirtMy sensual obscurity, I find in youtrinitySilence of your rem.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1241488/ Dear Weaver, It is time to say goodbye- just fornow- I promise. Maybe someday we shall meet again in this unforeseenrevolving earth. Your spellbound company had never appeased mydistress. It did not pacify my torment as expected. Nevertheless, Ihave no other way but to explain it, rout.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1238173/ Dear Haides,   I am picking up crumbs that have already fallen on the ground. The ones below the broken branches of  the decaying oak tree. The oak tree which I had found and left behind on this path. This path to the freedom that I have gasped for. The air which polluted everything I.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1233981/ Sleeping in dust, acid and chainsSits a Locust, in ashes he drainedThe orator left no mercy and drownedFrom ashes to ashes they all fell downThe beggar and piper still remained Pretentious sinners and benevolent believersSent various splinters for them to deliverThese sacred blisters sent the h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1231855/ In the midst snow it sleeps in black And the streaks on the window slowly crackA black crow settles before thy kneesBegging for mercy, its pain to pleaseIn the rivers so dreary, there unleashed a sackThe shards of ice cut through its wingsThawing through shadows to get to the kingThe crow .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1231854/ One morning the winds stoppedA tsunami coiled over the seven seasTowards the day, the grounds drifted apartThe distance much longer than it seemsThe sound of the melodies breath'd in his noseThe sound waves brush'd against her pale white lipsThe color of autumn had left and roseThe pain is the only .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1231851/ An inch of earth in phosphidePoisonous dirt of roots and vinesSprouting turned the green to clayA blackout churns life to decayA grasshopper in a treeLaments the beggar to be freeFrom chirrs to tears, ear to earHe fell to his knees, signs appear  The shovel stained in parquet The pray.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1231850/ http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1231849/ After a lost night, I now know what an emotional mess feels like. It is the chaos that is eating my mind, despair circulating through my veins, or perhaps the the cancer that is radiating through my organs. I must admit that the feeling is by far a hoax- an addicting hoax. The needle that pricks you.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1231378/ Dear Haides, The autumn foliage turn and ponder along the road, trickling and scraping in a rhythmic pattern, I could hear an entity sing, but only in umber. The tormented voices echo directly through my ears every night. It is a mortifying night terror or another ethereal presence begging for mercy.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1231205/ Augustine gets closer to reaching out to the "Weaver" and loses all hope after another disappointing event. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1230269/ Dear Weaver, Today I sit here alone with my dry cigarette and coffee. The clouds are looming around the sun as I gaze through the stained glass window and the gray curtains I just bought yesterday. Every weave in the curtain is a duller shade of gray and the folds curve smoothly. I cannot .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1225231/ Dear Weaver, You. It was you. I walked into the Bistro today as I glared into the glass door, opening it to find you there again. The awkward melodies rang in my ears as I lowered my eyes and looked to the wooden-tiled floor. I felt my stomach crumble and turn as my head begin to burn up. I did not .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1225229/ Dear Weaver, It has been a while since I last wrote you, but not much longer than I have been to the Bistro. The date is April 16th, 2013 and I am staring upon these papers before me; Those papers that I promised to publish and launch at the Briony Bistro. Now I do not know how much longer I have to.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1225227/ Dearest Weaver,  It is lonesome and it is spring time. I have just left your presence for the night. Although, you may not notice me and I probably do not exist in your world, I still am writing you this letter. Maybe I will never see you again, nor will you see me. But, knowing that you could .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1225225/ A true story of a writer and a coffee bistro server who fall in love, but always remain distant. With friends always surrounding her,the author still had her hopes set high on reaching out to him. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Namaahammond/1225222/