Short Story No.28 Jacob

Jacob had an honourable business he sold for a few thousand which he used in whatever way he deemed fit over time, living in a council house he had done up with new interiors and decor. The drawers were full of classic titles in literature, movies and a wardrobe of casual suits, depending on whatever way he wanted to play his cards on particular days. Besides this, his rooms were spacious, clean and neat. Lionel felt it was an ambient space although rather quite discreet living quarters, that was larger than it first appeared from outer appearances.

His friends would come around to his house to discuss plans for the weekend,

Short Story No.26: Wayne

It’s what Wayne stood to gain that roused him from his leisurely life, too long had he lived in the glories of his past. He complacently was implacable and his aloofness, ignoble. From there he admired, passive in his attitude, gratitude could not take the place of his resentment, he needed to be stirred by the fire, to move forward in life, to seize the days. He talked to his old neighbour who lived in a semi-detached terrace house, with a lovely patio, and a dog kennel. He was friends with old people in the place of his own self-assertion, expecting people to pat him on the back or glorious praise from the historians, them. He admired his friend he perceived to be less intelligent than his person. He was amused at his friends progress and condescended to smile, in a moment of forgetfulness. He thought in his heart how his intelligence could not match his, offsetting his friends practical accomplishments through subverting it’s natural emphasis (for him) in this way. His friend once said to him ‘why all the praise?!’ in an unexpected outburst of insolent pride or anger, that was crossing the line.

Was it because Wayne thought so highly of himself, with the praise he would usually lavish upon himself, that he generously could extend it to others in an all-too-shallow act? He thought he could reposition himself as i he sat in the office of his mind. He was looking for work, and in his jealousy, congratulated himself more, taking comfort in doing less, making it regal. The stress of concentration, he was used to that, he languished in his self indulgence, before he made a new attempt. His friend was admired at work, though it was dished out formally as the Employee of The Month award, people were restrained in their overt expressions of emotion, they were professionals.

Wayne wondered, where his time went on idling. He felt he was creative, and wanted to settle for a better job, which took time to reach, but was now within his range of possibility. Not all those who search are lost, or so went the cliche. He saw himself as being of service to his neighbours so he didn’t look for work as much as he would have. They had lived life, and were more than happy to keep him where he was. He became unconsciously responsible for their emotional life in the past, kidding himself, in the place of an active, blazing life he now forged. He turned his face aside slightly in their presence when their two faces were facing toward each other, for a moment as he said hello, his smile was kind.

He was relocating to a district not too far from where they were, he knew he had to escape the smug complacency that he and his neighbours knew. He had to face the front, see to his left and right, see what was behind and ahead again, he wasn’t taking sides backing others, he wasted to have his own wherewithal to be the centre of his own world, not off in a corner, in someone’s corner.

To be a true, free spirit and move to a neighbourhood that aligned with his thoughts and wishes, and the person that he was. Gatherings had to be tempered with adventures of self, initiative and forthright expressions.

His neighbour smiled to be talked with, and he approached first with friendly overtures. Replying with short, proud and happy responses. He always took the initiative, and now he was more directed in what he was doing.

Wayne thought to himself about the scenes and Judy. It was the world they had between them, the world they had in front of them that dawned on them and shone. Didn’t they have the full right to make their glories as did any other generation before, as convenient as it all was for them? Laptops, i-pods, and mobiles. In the celebration of style and writing and culture, of friendship and the reflection in the company of the tribe following much merriment, he had known in these days.

How many books did they read, how much fiction, how much fact, before life dawned and new beginnings were begun. How much yearning, before life’s stirrings. Sometimes they sang along with the song they knew, sometimes they sang the song they dreamed that reminded them of all that life could bring them.

The true pictures of themselves, words and images of life. So many words that are thought and thought, brought them to what they now saw.

Story No.27 Rupert and Greg

Sometimes Greg smiled because he understood, sometimes he was in repose because he understood, looking at him attentively, as his friend ashamedly confided in him, looking up at him, smiling the whole time as he was speaking. Even on the phone calls he took, you could hear his smile. Either way, his friend had to learn for himself what he wanted to do. Was he getting it right? That was the basis of their friendship and what it revolved around.

Sometimes, Greg would talk from his own experience which nudged Rupert from his self-absorbed ponderings. Steering the conversation purposely in his direction some people could not really listen for long without talking about themselves or how their stories are related to their won, when they weren’t doing back with something bigger and better.

Some people so centred in their own train of thought that they weren’t actually listening. Sometimes Greg would be thinking about something whilst listening. So then Rupert would ask for affirmation: ‘are you listening?’ Greg would succinctly summarise what he was saying, but it wasn’t just a small indication of what details he had caught onto, but rather it was the main of it together with his response. Naturally, some people retained more information than others. Rupert couldn’t keep up with his own impressions and thoughts, let alone what was going around him, therefore, he would sometimes talk a bit loudly, not paying attention to his surroundings, saying inappropriate stuff, that was vague and incoherent.

The Eaghams Weekly: The Lyric Play – Complete Lyrics


The simplicity of the elements
Wood, water, fire, metal
I turn to
To distil with ink
Fine words of my rich verse
To write of this nature that we have
The Londoner’s lingo, the hip hop
We’ve walked
And the rock we’ve scaled
And broken out into step by step
The Traveller, of horse, of boat
Of train and of road.

The Lyric Play

Prospect Calendar / Fall of The Tyrants / Parallelogram Telegram / Road Less Travelled / Silence / Sage Fire / The Drum The Bell The Strings / Withdraw / Subterranean Storm

Prospect Calendar

Wash out
In the year of around
The lyrical lounge
No band just a wavelength
Broadcast of life’s rogues
In the town

Missing the days when I was younger
Analogue days
We played arcades
We used to play marbles on the draintops

You and I
In the momentum
Of the crescendo fathom
Work my way out
Work my way out
On prospect calendar

Getting past the nights to a dayjob
It’s simple after it’s hard
It takes time to move from
Slow to fast
Always be steadfast

These are the years we’ve been waiting for

Fall of The Tyrants

The fall of the tyrants
The chair collapses
Broken legs, disarmed
Words dispatched
The small ship of an iron
On the navy blue
Buttoned shirt he mans
That he mans
Hard pressed to shake hands
Crooked like a walking stick
The same crook be humble today
Oh understand

The fall of the tyrants
The fall of the tyrants

The debts settled
The score now written
The music composed
The money laundering
It all balances out
In the ordering

Eats the kipper tie
Big fish, little fish
All the scams and the lies no suprise
No suprise

The fall of the tyrants
The fall of the tyrants

Parallelogram Telegram

Through the inbetween
Been rolling with the punches
Straighten up before the hunches
I’ll reel in a hook
To write this line
If what you longed for
Was only a short way
Would you hurry your step
And seize the day

Paralleogram Telegram
Paralellogram Telegram

The world’s a stage
The people and the places
The shape of things to come
To write this line
Trees thunderbolt the sky

Parallelogram Telegram
Parallelogram Telegram

Road Less Travelled

Draft till craft
Wood and strings
It’s a kite
It holds my heart
In it’s frame
It’s a sailboat
It holds our dreams
and tells them to heaven
Bring it all together
A fine seam
Know what I mean

I’ll take you on a journey
On a road less travelled
The winding road we unravel

Custom made beats
We aren’t cutting down to size
Cooking the beats right
So it’ll be no flash in the pan
Pushing the button
Of the fake outfits


Wheatsheaf harvest
The March of Spring
Crescendo Harvest bring
Now you wont go against the grain

When they unplugged you charged ahead
Horses and thunderbolt
When they spoke up
You were silent
Trying not to find fault

Sixty seconds worth of distance run

Sage Fire

My will building tracks
Fires build
Moving like a motion picture
To forge this work
From desire

Sage Fire Fire Fire Fire Fire
Fire Fire Fire
Sage Fire Fire Fire Fire Fire

On the journey
Providing beauty, vision
Ladder along mountain

The Drum The Bell The Strings

You give life to all that was borne
Got an axe to grind
Chop wood, carry wood
We don’t broach the branches that’s twigged
From that fount of knowledge
Cos the secret is out

We’ll need no rebellions
Roaring our rout
As we move around so rapidly
Race the chequered flag
Of the dream

The Drum, The Bell, The Strings
The Drum, The Bell, The Strings

Break the ice in the cold war
Peal of thunder
We’ll fire neurones
On the live circuit


Falun Gong
Practiced by a 100 million in China
Before the persecution began
in July of 1999

Thousands have been killed
For a belief
To be true, to be kind, to endure

Falun Gong is Good
I’m telling you now clearly
Let truth be understood
The fabricated lies on Chinese TV

Thousands have been killed for a belief
To be true, to be kind, to endure
The CCP will not be
So withdraw and withdraw
and withdraw

Subterranean Storm

Were historians tracing the trees
To their roots
Whole forests uncovered
and brought into view
Were artists sculpturing rock
and wordsmiths too
Been writing these rhymes
Through and through
Been reading the spine of book

In the subterranean storm
Plans redrawn
Redouble on the windmill
Early morn

We used to listen to Tagore
In our longee on the Bay of Bengal
Elephants trunk of memory
The oak tree recall
History of the ebony and ivory all

The Eaghams Weekly: Short Story No.20: Ajaz



The EaghamsWRITER BIO: Zubyre Parvez (BA hons) studied English Literature at Hertfordshire University. He writes song lyrics, poetry, short stories, reviews, and articles for The Eaghams Blog. His poetry won runners up in a competition judged by Simon Armitage and Margaret Atwood. His poetry has been published in Kobita. His articles have appeared in The Epoch Times as a journalist for the newspaper. He has worked for New Tang Dynasty Television as a journalist. You can catch up with his tweets @TheEaghams

ARTIST BIO:The Eaghams aka Zubyre Parvez is an Urban Indie singer songwriter from London. His song The Roots was played on BBC 1Xtra by DJ Excalibuh. He has collaborated with artists such as Mr Hectic and Jason Air formerly of Island records. He has played at The Garage, and various open mics.

Album Reviews and Music Influences: Watermark by Enya

Source: Wikipedia

A great album, again, and it captures vast dimensions. It’s wistful in all the right ways, I was reading a book named by the title of this album called Watermark by Brodsky I think it was about Venice. I think Enya was inspired by this excellent travel writing, an alludes to it. THE EAGHAMS 9/10.