C Kuzo Write

Spilling the ink


So, she changed her name to suit the character inside.

The real her,

The one who actually existed.



Daily Prompt: Waiting/Dying to Reign


It’s a cancer this love thing, a disease with no cure for those who suffer it.

It’s the most pleasurable pain soothed only temporarily by romantic ballads, as her soul mourns behind gigantic fake smiles and raised cocktails.

 Funny, isn’t it? The way the human heart can convince itself that wrong is right ? Trick itself into oblivion when actually, it knows…

 How they can  keep each other warm under a blanket of lies, that slowly sucks the life out of their souls.

When he leaves her warm embrace to replace it with a ‘hot’ plate she cries,

but not in front of him…

 … the tears of a whore are much in vain because when she chose her role in his life, she gave up her heart and all rights to kindness, sympathy.

She became satans’ queen

But only really to those who don’t live where she feels…

Daily Prompt: Candle

via Daily Prompt: Candle

A Broken someone


Don’t be fooled by the flash

The arrogance is a lack of confidence

the  smiles are faked to warm your heart

that flame is nothing but the dim light of a candle.

Crying tears of melting wax at the thought…the burning truth,

Dead in one blow.


PACE Yourself


Like many other people, I am a sufferer of the “I hate my job” syndrome, so what I do a lot of the time while I’m at work is try to find an escape. Doing what I love, and trying to find ways to make money from it, ultimately, writing.

So I get on this miracle called the internet and start searching for “opportunities”, which I do find, but then I fall in love, I become so excited that I follow every link and subscribe to every newsletter, then I try to establish myself as a freelancer, send things here and there, look, I go nuts, taking on too many challenges but in the meantime I don’t really have what anybody is looking for, I want to write these things on a whim by the deadline date, If the subject doesn’t interest me I move on to the next one and so the struggle continues.

No feedback! Unfinished projects, mostly stemming from not really having all the requirements needed to complete a certain project. Not even a blog. That’s not always okay! yes fine I’ve always been a bit of a chancer and with writing it’s a matter of if you’ve got it you’ve got it, even though chancing has landed me in some really nice places in life. Really? What more do I need to demotivate myself from pursuing this “dream”?

Nothing really!!!


Soul searching ,that’s what’s next, ‘googling’ meditation, how to calm yourself, learn how to align your chakras ,listening to your inner self,  a few dozen websites with the same information, more subscriptions, links, pages and pages of things, then I relax. These pages slowly stop being read, get thrown away in the next spring cleaning session because; I’m okay. All good now…

…Until I’m not!

WHY am I still not waking up to doing what I love? Oh yes, maybe I need knowledge, education…internet… join all the free online courses I can get my eyes on completely jam pack my email account with all this information from everywhere that it eventually exhausts me. I am a monster. A greedy little thing who wants everything from everywhere NOW, and that greed gets me nowhere! Except back to my mediocre life, back to me wondering why things don’t work out for me seeing as I try so hard, back to “I don’t know why I still have to go back to that dull grey office” and I know I feel that way because I know I can have the life I am living and dying for.


Oh yes, content. I need fresh work, some ready work, so I spend my “free time” in the office writing down my thoughts, feelings, creating a little book, adding pieces editing this editing that I become so hyped about the fact that I’m finally trying to make a move towards a better life (AGAIN)which is waking up to wanting to wake up to get ready for “ work” which in my mind  is getting a HUGE cup of tea (not coffee) and sitting down at my desk or kitchen counter , couch or even bed and typing my life away blissfully.

I guess that little reminder rekindles the desire, and brings me back to trying. Sigh. It’s a nasty cycle.

It gets me here where I am now, trying again to find opportunities (as if I haven’t already found them)

The internet is full of wonderful people with great advise about how to do this, that and the other, but we don’t necessarily find on Google : “How not to get too excited and bombard yourself with information because it’s going to lead to your destruction or completely slow you down on this hunt for a better life” .

So currently I am learning to pace myself.  Inspired by a dear friend of mine.

I now allow myself only so much information, try one thing at a time follow it through to the end, then if it doesn’t work let it go. Take a break, but not too long move on to the next ONE.

I find that writing a list and actually using it is getting me much further than ‘free styling’ through tasks and life altogether. There’s even more time to just enjoy the tea in stillness, come back refreshed and inspired.

Speaking with friends who understand and offer tips on how to move forward,

Finding friends who have already arrived, you know those online people who offer fantastic free advice, those ones, there’s plenty to learn from them.

Investing money in things that take you a step further, creating a website, and making it attractive,  instead of meaningless shopping sprees (I have a weakness for online shopping)

Then, trusting in the plan. Keeping in touch with this plan at a reasonable pace, believing in the talent and the purpose. Pursuing it with love, instead of greed.

Breathe in,

Breathe out,

Go get them!!!

A letter to my page

 Blank page.jpgOnce again on the search for inspiration.
When after mounts of immense joy, beauty and laughter the moment of silence comes and it not the silence of peace, it’s the silence that disturbs the silence of peace… Emptiness. Not a real void because after being so happy the contentment is actually hard to push away, so to feel completely empty is a mission on it’s own mostly because when I feel something I would rather feel it to it’s max than experience pieces of things I don’t know, Cravings of soup and cuddling under a warm blanket or walking under the romance of the sunset.
What do I want?
It makes me cry, Weep short drops of tears a moment before I laugh at my own madness. I’m sad… but I’m not.  I want a drink but I don’t.  …So I write to you….My most loyal friend. When I make no sense you still nod in agreement as if I had just said something so profound. Maybe you’re my inspiration, maybe you’re just my comfort. Here when I’m happy, here when I’m sad, here when I’m excited, here when I’m …
 when it’s quiet…
Filling in the blank spaces and yet not. Just being and letting me. And again you came through because now I want to cut this page into a thousand small hearts and scatter them on my entire journey home…to the soup. The silence. The unexpected uninvited undeserved pain. The strain of strained conversation and fighting sleep for fear of appearing rude.  Trying to pay attention. Feeling in my heart that sometimes assuming the role of a parent isn’t for me.
You’re my best friend
My blank page

The Greatest Love


Is it not much easier to listen to the voices that advise you to give up, because throwing in the towel costs much less than the turmoil it costs to hang on.

But as one grows older you learn to discern between that which must be forgotten and that which is worth the price.

To love is to suffer as Christ did for us. And in that suffering is the kindness, the gentleness, the peace and selflessness described in the Bible. Is it not true that, that which you suffered for is the same you hold dearest to your heart?

Does this not ignite a desire to love as Christ has loved, to forgive as God forgives, and to see through the eyes of the Holy Spirit residing in you?


But…it’s frightening isn’t it?


To love like God is to love without expectation,

Even though loving is a gift on its own and being loved a privilege,it is a challenge for a human to not feel entitled to the same


Still it is a possibility as we are created in the likeness of God.

And using that as the truth, means we are able to remove selfishness and the worldly desire to be loved, just so that we can love.



Dreaming Truth


I grew up in one of those areas, one of those towns where children grow up in perfect peace but grow up to amount to nothing at all. A place where dreams are dreams and reality is only that which you are exposed to everyday. What you see, smell, taste, hear, and touch…but not feel… But I dream, I see,  And in my twisted mind, I believe…



Hello I’m Catherine Kuzo


So I have finally decided to write about myself. I mean, the real reason I never did it before is because I always had the idea that my life was boring. Silly really considering I wouldn’t even be so passionate about writing if I had nothing going on in my life that inspired me to write.  Shall we start with why I write?  Well, (soft music please) I was a very sad child. Always had my lip hanging on the ground, crying myself to sleep for no reason and believing that my parents would be happier if I just left, but I couldn’t leave…because even though I felt my parents didn’t want or love me, I still thought leaving them would disappoint them and I certainly didn’t want to add to the bad feelings I believed they already had about me.

So I wrote.

At first I didn’t even know I was writing, I mean I was so deeply sorrowful that all I remember from my childhood is being unhappy.  I remember the first person who told me I was a good writer. My grade 5 teacher.  I had written something for an assignment and she told me to make a copy of it so that she can publish it in the school magazine. I never made that copy. That could have been my first published work. But it never registered to me. I Bet If I were to tell my 7 year old daughter to do the same thing now. She’d expect do it NOW.

That’s me paying tribute to the first person to acknowledge me and my unrecognized talent.

I continued to write (still not realizing that I was being creative) just pouring  out my heart, my feelings which my father always said children don’t have, but my pages listened and felt with me, they comforted me with their silence and obedience to just stay put while I express myself.

I painfully went though primary school in silence, and when I did get friends, the best way I communicated with them was through writing letters.  High school came and I gained the title of the loner, still oblivious that my writing was a talent, not just a getaway. I wrote and wrote, and submitted when in grade 8 my English teacher said I wrote well. Still thought I was just good at copying what I learned from the text books and put it in my own words. My History essays rocked and my English orals scored high. But because of what I was subjected to every day, my self esteem stayed the same.  It was when I was 18 and I was packing to go off to tertiary that I noticed just how much I had written. I had notebooks and diaries, notes on paper and tissue and envelopes. As I was packing I awarded myself a moment with my notes and found soul in what I had written from childhood. I packed all those things and took them with to keep me company in the new world I was about to face. While there, I moved from place to place until eventually I was placed with my cousin who is 7 years older and many more years wiser. She taught me how to speak. I shared my writing with her and she loved it. She thought I would do very well as a writer and taught me how to express myself in speech, I did.

Although until now my writing has only been for myself and once for a man I loved. I continued and stopped. And when I stopped I felt the void, I felt the loneliness, when before, I was never afraid of my own company. And now I have begun again. I may be rusty, but I know with time I will find my throne in this vocation again, and I plan to rule my kingdom with grace.  I plan to marry this plan. My first love.

I am a writer

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