A twisted skeleton
Beside busy highway -
Umbrella abandoned
When fierce rains made it splay,
Upward, outward, useless?
A corpse lays in the street -
Server's black cash apron,
Tossed away in the heat
Of mad furies from work,
When she was called useless...
So much trash, scattered 'round;
Relics of our culture
That one day will be found
By descendents, for sure,
Who cast us as useless.
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
16 June 2017
05 May 2017
"The Smoking Feline" ( P.o.t.D. 5/5/15, no rev)
"'Twas no ordinary feline,
Rather an assassin divine -
Skilled at striking birds from the skies,
With her claws, sharp as steely knives;
Or, if the birds flew out of reach,
Then, swift with blowpipe, she could breach
Their feathered breasts in single blows,
Sending their souls where God 'lone knows."
(waiting to see if I can post the picture that inspired this, over here)
Rather an assassin divine -
Skilled at striking birds from the skies,
With her claws, sharp as steely knives;
Or, if the birds flew out of reach,
Then, swift with blowpipe, she could breach
Their feathered breasts in single blows,
Sending their souls where God 'lone knows."
(waiting to see if I can post the picture that inspired this, over here)
09 February 2017
"The Meadow" (P.o.t.D. 2/9/15, no rev)
Slipping through the shadows,
Its coat as dark as night,
Its green eyes all alight;
The cat owned this meadow.
The mice trembled in fear,
Knowing it was so near...
Its coat as dark as night,
Its green eyes all alight;
The cat owned this meadow.
The mice trembled in fear,
Knowing it was so near...
16 January 2017
"The Curator Whispers" (P.o.t.D. 1/16/15 rev 1/16/17)
What a wind whispered, while winding its way
Around the graveyard's sentinel tombstones!
Yet still, a silence made it deafening -
No animals would speak in beastly tones.
Just a month ago, cold earth clods crumbled
All over her corpse, when laid to rest 'midst
Frogs' croaks, squirrels' chatter, and birds' sad chirps;
All simply asking, "Why silent, good Miss?"
Her gift was to speak in beastly whispers;
Whereby, through grunts and squeaks, she could divine
What needs animals had, prior deferred -
Making them be furry friends, oh so fine!
Her death was ghastly - happened suddenly
Through fiendish actions of her employer,
A museum caught up in gluttony,
When they learned she had become betrayer.
See, she was tasked with building collections,
Yet she balked at filling the science hall.
Her fears of silence won; she warned the beasts
Of traps and poisons that would freeze them all...
Questions linger on the whispering wind -
How'd the museum find out, how'd they win?
Around the graveyard's sentinel tombstones!
Yet still, a silence made it deafening -
No animals would speak in beastly tones.
Just a month ago, cold earth clods crumbled
All over her corpse, when laid to rest 'midst
Frogs' croaks, squirrels' chatter, and birds' sad chirps;
All simply asking, "Why silent, good Miss?"
Her gift was to speak in beastly whispers;
Whereby, through grunts and squeaks, she could divine
What needs animals had, prior deferred -
Making them be furry friends, oh so fine!
Her death was ghastly - happened suddenly
Through fiendish actions of her employer,
A museum caught up in gluttony,
When they learned she had become betrayer.
See, she was tasked with building collections,
Yet she balked at filling the science hall.
Her fears of silence won; she warned the beasts
Of traps and poisons that would freeze them all...
Questions linger on the whispering wind -
How'd the museum find out, how'd they win?
16 June 2016
"Roadkill" (P.o.t.D. 6/16/16)
A twisted skeleton
Beside busy highway -
Umbrella abandoned
When fierce rains made it splay,
Upward, outward, useless?
A corpse lays in the street -
Server's black cash apron,
Tossed away in the heat
Of mad furies from work,
When she was called useless...
So much trash, scattered 'round;
Relics of our culture
That one day will be found
By descendents, for sure,
Who cast us as useless.
Beside busy highway -
Umbrella abandoned
When fierce rains made it splay,
Upward, outward, useless?
A corpse lays in the street -
Server's black cash apron,
Tossed away in the heat
Of mad furies from work,
When she was called useless...
So much trash, scattered 'round;
Relics of our culture
That one day will be found
By descendents, for sure,
Who cast us as useless.
05 May 2015
"The Smoking Feline" ( P.o.t.D. 5/5/15)
"'Twas no ordinary feline,
Rather an assassin divine -
Skilled at striking birds from the skies,
With her claws, sharp as steely knives;
Or, if the birds flew out of reach,
Then, swift with blowpipe, she could breach
Their feathered breasts in single blows,
Sending their souls where God 'lone knows."
(waiting to see if I can post the picture that inspired this, over here)
Rather an assassin divine -
Skilled at striking birds from the skies,
With her claws, sharp as steely knives;
Or, if the birds flew out of reach,
Then, swift with blowpipe, she could breach
Their feathered breasts in single blows,
Sending their souls where God 'lone knows."
(waiting to see if I can post the picture that inspired this, over here)
09 February 2015
"The Meadow" (P.o.t.D. 2/9/15)
Slipping through the shadows,
Its coat as dark as night,
Its green eyes all alight;
The cat owned this meadow.
The mice trembled in fear,
Knowing it was so near...
Its coat as dark as night,
Its green eyes all alight;
The cat owned this meadow.
The mice trembled in fear,
Knowing it was so near...
16 January 2015
"The Curator Whispers" (P.o.t.D. 1/16/15)
The wind whispered while winding its way
Around the sentinel tombstones;
Yet the silence made it deafening
For naught would speak in beastly tones.
A month ago, cold earth clods crumbled
Upon her corpse, laid to rest amidst
Frogs burping, squirrels chattering, and birds chirping -
All just asking, "Why silent, good Miss?"
She had a gift of beastly whispers,
Where, through grunts and squeaks, she could divine
What needs, that before, the animals had to defer;
Finding them to be furry friends, oh so fine!
Her death was ghastly and happened suddenly
Through the actions of her employer,
A museum caught up in greed and gluttony,
When they learned she was a betrayer.
You see, she was tasked with building collections,
But she balked at expanding the ecology exhibit.
Her fear of loneliness won out, and she warned them,
Of traps and poisons that would freeze them forever...
A question lingers on today's whispering wind -
How did the museum find out, how'd they win?
Around the sentinel tombstones;
Yet the silence made it deafening
For naught would speak in beastly tones.
A month ago, cold earth clods crumbled
Upon her corpse, laid to rest amidst
Frogs burping, squirrels chattering, and birds chirping -
All just asking, "Why silent, good Miss?"
She had a gift of beastly whispers,
Where, through grunts and squeaks, she could divine
What needs, that before, the animals had to defer;
Finding them to be furry friends, oh so fine!
Her death was ghastly and happened suddenly
Through the actions of her employer,
A museum caught up in greed and gluttony,
When they learned she was a betrayer.
You see, she was tasked with building collections,
But she balked at expanding the ecology exhibit.
Her fear of loneliness won out, and she warned them,
Of traps and poisons that would freeze them forever...
A question lingers on today's whispering wind -
How did the museum find out, how'd they win?
12 April 2008
Dream (4/12/08): a tango..?
3 scenes from a dream this afternoon, and a pondering about who she is:
The lady is slender and tall, with shoulder length red hair, and some amount of fame and possible notoriety associates with her. Who she is, is up for interpretation, but I feel her fame needs to proceed her, as the events described attach themselves easily to the price of fame?
When I first encounter her, she is pouring her man into the back seat of a black luxury car, as he is so far gone from some active addiction that he has lost all faculty of movement. I pause in my walk along the street, puzzled by this scene, and ask her, "Why are you still with him?"
At which point, she turns, with a tear on her cheek, and recounts a story from ten or more years gone by, and the scene in the dream dissolves into scenes from that story.
The two are seen on a stage, he in a formal black tuxedo, and she in a flowing white dress; they are practicing dance movements haltingly and stutteringly. Then, all of a sudden, as their eyes meet, or perhaps as his hand provides a strong anchor of support, something clicks. She begins to move freely with him, falling into the tempo of a tango, letting go of all worries of the outside world and the audience filtering in.
Several hours later, I now see her backstage, wrapped in nothing but the black tuxedo coat, positively beaming. He is tending to her needs, still dressed in all but the coat, and soaked thru and thru. I want to say that there's blood on his lips, too.
I'm thinking the tango turned into a bit of burlesque, and I want to associate this with a pivotal moment of overcoming stage fright, where the lady surrendered to this man.
Now, this is a dream, so who the lady is, is still up for interpretation. My first association actually thought maybe this was Lucille Ball, and correspondingly Desi Arnez. Then, I thought maybe it could be Cher..? Most likely, though, thinking about her physique, I probably modeled her after a real-life burlesque performer (who was incredibly hot) I saw during the Texas Burlesque Review at South by SouthWest.
The lady is slender and tall, with shoulder length red hair, and some amount of fame and possible notoriety associates with her. Who she is, is up for interpretation, but I feel her fame needs to proceed her, as the events described attach themselves easily to the price of fame?
When I first encounter her, she is pouring her man into the back seat of a black luxury car, as he is so far gone from some active addiction that he has lost all faculty of movement. I pause in my walk along the street, puzzled by this scene, and ask her, "Why are you still with him?"
At which point, she turns, with a tear on her cheek, and recounts a story from ten or more years gone by, and the scene in the dream dissolves into scenes from that story.
The two are seen on a stage, he in a formal black tuxedo, and she in a flowing white dress; they are practicing dance movements haltingly and stutteringly. Then, all of a sudden, as their eyes meet, or perhaps as his hand provides a strong anchor of support, something clicks. She begins to move freely with him, falling into the tempo of a tango, letting go of all worries of the outside world and the audience filtering in.
Several hours later, I now see her backstage, wrapped in nothing but the black tuxedo coat, positively beaming. He is tending to her needs, still dressed in all but the coat, and soaked thru and thru. I want to say that there's blood on his lips, too.
I'm thinking the tango turned into a bit of burlesque, and I want to associate this with a pivotal moment of overcoming stage fright, where the lady surrendered to this man.
Now, this is a dream, so who the lady is, is still up for interpretation. My first association actually thought maybe this was Lucille Ball, and correspondingly Desi Arnez. Then, I thought maybe it could be Cher..? Most likely, though, thinking about her physique, I probably modeled her after a real-life burlesque performer (who was incredibly hot) I saw during the Texas Burlesque Review at South by SouthWest.
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