Monday, January 30, 2012

Dark Room

In a dark room
In a castle far away
Lies a woman dressed
For a mosaic masquerade

A crazy twist of fate
Brought her here.
Like a tennis match
Between God and Satan

She had been a dancer
In a local bar
When a dark haired stranger
Saw her tap dancing act

He strode up beside her
Like a golfer lining up a putt
And asked her if she would
Like to join him in a drink.

Soon the room was spinning
Like a discus in a meet
When she woke
She found herself in this room

She knew she had a man
Her clothes had been changed
Dark haired stranger?
Or some angel from heaven?

Doesn’t matter
Now with child
Like a modern Madonna or Job of old
She is now unholy wild.

Friday, January 27, 2012


The spring winds down slowly
No one to reset
No one to rewind

No one to see
The fracture in the spline

As we go
The slack grows
Until the tick
Pulls no more.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Streetlights-Part 2

The crescent moon peeked over the trees and reflected in the puddles.  As they climbed in the camper, Kari turned on a battery operated lantern hanging on the door.    Randi stood passively, not sure of his position.  He found a towel on the side bench and began to dry off.  

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Why not?  Just because I had a crap day doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.  And besides, that would only make me feel bitchier.  God knows I feel like it.”  

 Kari found her IPod in the center console and plugged in to the radio.  The first song was Fly Me to the Moon.  She took Randi in her arms and began to slow dance, her flowered dress rustling with the rhythm.   He felt uncomfortable and pulled away.

“Were you serious about being on your last tampon?”

“Nah.  I picked up some before I came into the diner.  So you don’t have to worry about having to find a store open, unless it was a liquor store.   Look, all I want to do is relax and have fun.  We aren’t going to get physical.  I don’t do red wings and I don’t think you do either. ”   She smiled and tried to gauge his reaction.  

Sitting on side bench, he pulled out his pipe and lit it.  He felt warmth he hadn’t had in a while.   Kari was an interesting chick, if that was your style.  But it wasn’t his.  He’d hustling men forever.  A quick suck and they were on their way.  Transactions for money and weed, that was all.  No muss or fuss and no whining over what color the condom needed to be or whether they should be held afterwards.  Cold?  Yeah, but he didn’t like relationships.  Too much baggage and pain.  

Ms. Marty entered his thoughts involuntarily.   He learned about buying acceptance by following the rules there.  She had wanted a little girl, but Social Services sent him instead.  And he paid the price by being dressed up in girl clothes and one piece swimsuits.   Summertime Fun was what Ms. Marty called it.  She would make huge fuss while he modeled stuff.  Then she would find something wrong which brought out the belt. She took special joy in lifting up his skirts and watching him squirm.

 She even let him use it on her a couple of times.  He smiled slightly at the memory. The slapping sound as it made contact on her fat body and her coos and moans.   She would want him to rub her down afterward.   Each session was followed by ice cream.  It was these lessons that let him survive out here.  Adapt to what the people want.  And they seem to like him as the petite little blond on the corner.  

The IPod shifted to Alive.  Taking another toke, His head began to nod involuntarily to the beat.   He began to cough and passed the pipe over.  

“What’cha thinking?  Kari asked as she drew in.  The pipe went out and she set it on the table. 
“Not much.  Just how good it is to be dry and warm. Thank you.  It isn’t often I actually get treated like a human.  Most people ignore me or pick fights.”

Kari smiled sadly.  “I have to admit, I must have been pretty drunk not to realize.  But really, you are the prettiest queen I have ever seen.  And you don’t act like most of the queens, with all the drama.  I almost felt like I was talking to a sister. ”    

“I was taught pretty well.”  Randi winced and fell silent.   His breathing became ragged and he began sobbing.  “I.. I mean…”

 Kari waited a moment and tucked him in her arms, rocking him slowly as the sun peeked through the window.  She crooned a soft lullaby as he settled in to a deep sleep.   As she undressed him, she admired his thin little body.  She really did like little boys.  Tucking him into the camper bed, she kissed his cheek.  It was going to be a wonderful weekend. 

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Simple (Blogophilia 48.4)

A title
Ruler of the world
Riches abound
Fates determined
Is it my responsibility?

Not a moonwalking king
Another clay idol.
To be taken down
In a blaze of glory.

Human, I am
Wishing nothing more
Than a glass of retsina
An a sliver of baklava

The great wealth
Of the soul
Is to live frugally
Contentment to the soul.

Simple life
Simple soul
Slipping into the ether
Heard no more.  


Topic-Tyler Myrth
Lucretius Quote-Sallon Newlove

More pic guesses-Idol, Thriller, Black or white, Glove, Beat It. 

Saturday, January 21, 2012


Damn, the cramps were starting again.  Kari hated driving with them.   As her stomach tightened, it reminded her of her boss. “Charlie Cramps. A fitting nickname”, she thought.  Only he was messy and a pain 24/7, not just once a month.  Always grabbing and wanting to fuck her.  And a tampon in the mouth didn’t shut him up.  She had just told him shove the job up his ass after flipping him over the bar.  She had spent the rest of the night with a bottle of Smirnoff she took on her way out.     Another swallow and Charlie Cramps would no longer be a memory.

There was a bang and the VW Bus died as she pulled into the empty lot.    “Oh, God”, she thought.    What was it this time?    Rain soaked her bright red hair as she opened the engine bay and saw the missing belt. “It’s 3:00 fuckin’ AM.  Shit, what I am gonna do?”    She looked up and saw the lights of the all night diner.  “Maybe I can borrow a phone.”  

The door of the diner was clear glass and cater-cornered to the street.  The only customer was a small blond woman seated at the end of the counter.   She sat on her perch like a butterfly trapped in a bubble, a fuzzy image reflected on the misted window behind her.  Fragile and vulnerable, piercings dangling from the scarred face, she touched Kari’s heart.    She had wanted company with her misery and this looked like her only option.  There weren’t any bars on this block.  She settled into the stool next to the woman and drunkenly tried to strike up a conversation.

“Awful night.” 

Butterfly stared silently into her coffee.   It was like talking to a statue.  Kari brushed her wet hair out of her eyes and tried again.

“I said it was a bad fucking night.  I got fired from my job and I beat up my old boss.  My roommate moved out two days ago.   I’ve used my last tampon and I’m cramping like crap.   And to top that off, my camper broke its fan belt for like the fifth time this week.  I don’t have a spare and it’s 3 in the fucking morning.  I guess I’ll just park it for the night a take a cab home.”

The waitress behind the counter looked up when she heard.  She was going to throw Kari out but the blond head tipped upward with a sad smile and said “But you are on the right side of the ground and breathing.  Sorry to be rude.  I’m Randi.”  She held out her hand.   Kari shook it and replied.

“Kari.  You alone? ”

“Sort of.  I’ve only been here a couple of days.  It’s hard when you don’t know anyone.  By the way, an old pair of pantyhose will work for the fan belt.  I had to do that one time down in Florida.  I was lucky I had one.  I hate wearing those things.  Anyway, I’m just killing time until work.”

The waitress brought coffee and asked if Kari would like anything to eat.  She said no and went to the jukebox and put in a couple of coins.  Indigo Girls poured out of the speakers and the mean night melted away.  They talked for hours, bitching about jobs, men and life. Randi noticed a bunch of balloons that had been left by a birthday party.   She gave one to Kari and both giggled and danced .  The waitress was watching.  They weren’t too loud, so she just let them go on.  It was better than being bored.  Finally, Kari asked Randi if she had a place to stay for the night.  Randi said “Is that an offer or a come on?”   Kari laughed as they left the warmth of the diner.  

The rain had begun again.   Kari touched Randi on the shoulder and said “Tag!  You’re it!”  They ran and chased each other through puddles,  dipping behind poles and cars.  Children of the night at playing against the dark anti rainbow.     As they approached the camper, Kari slipped on a leaf and brushed her hand up against Randi.   Time stopped and she stared in shock.  “Things are not as they seem, are they?”

Randi flushed and said no.  He opened his mouth to say something else, but couldn’t.  He wanted to tell her of the loneliness and the pain.  About his stepfather.  About the foster homes. .  But no sound would come.  The silence mixed with the rain as the makeup, hair dye and illusion rinsed out of them both.  They were left with only each other.  Kari brightened up. 

The gift wasn’t what she thought and it didn’t matter.  “I came in tonight looking for a friend.  I still have one.  Come in the camper and get warm.” 

Friday, January 20, 2012

The Yell

The yell
The scream
Shaking with the cosmic dog
In his jaws
You stand.

It runs
A minute
Maybe two…..

Then the hours
Of sleep that follow. 

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Zealot

Dubai shone like a mirage.  Something in the air brought on from the heat waves from the sand below.  It is a magical city that is as wicked as Gomorrah.  To the Zealot, it represented everything evil in the modern world.  The buildings and towers rise toward the sky like so many steel penises looking for whores to service them.  And the infidels stream in and out like so many worker bees, moving dollars, yen, for the Zionists.

This newest one.  Dubai Tower.  The local media celebrates its entry in the Guinness Book of World Records as the tallest occupied building.  It is finished, but not.  Only the bottom 20 or so floors are being used and everything else is for show.  It reminds him the story of the tower to heaven he read in the Jews’ scripture. 

The man had traveled much from his home in the Saudi desert and was considered wise in his homeland.  He had been to Evil Zion, Evil US and Evil Deutschland, but this monstrosity was a greater insult than any of those places.  How Allah himself had not smote this place was beyond him.  

The Zealot peered into hotels and restaurants. They were all giving their patrons a taste of the lap of luxury.  He saw infidels and the hypocritical pious as the same.  He understood where the Wahabists got their rage.  The use of resources for wasteful purposes.  It was easy to demonize the masses.  Most did not understand.   All had lost their way.  Yet, the Wahabists were as hypocritical as the “pious” Imams sitting at the cafes, with their constant killing of the infidels.  The Word on high prohibited killing in all circumstances.  

He was at a loss.  Many voices from the past claimed they were the voice of the One.  Prophets, Messiahs, and Oracles all implored the people to turn away from violent  and deviant behavior. The people then twisted their voices to justify the violence towards each other.  The falseness and pretense was overwhelming to him.  He could not speak.  A line from a song he heard in New York played in his head.  Zero Hour, 9:00AM.  And I’m going to be high as a kite by then.  He took a swallow of the sacred wine in the flask at his side and said a brief prayer.  

He went to the front of the Dubai Tower. A Zealot’s statement is always his own.  He would not involve any of the infidels.  From his jacket, he pulled the jar of petrol.  Even as the Phoenix must perish in the flame in order to rise again, he hesitates.  The cliff edge for his life.  He did not feel the oily substance as it cascaded over his tunic.  And he did not feel the heat when the match was struck.  He only saw  light.  And the light was good. 

Monday, January 16, 2012

Whisper (Blogophilia 47.4)

Whisper down the lane
Like the warm summer breeze
She left two days ago
Left you high and dry
Only the clothes on you back.

To hell with her, you say
As the motel sleepers
Make you wish you were one, too
As you whisper down the lane.  

Topic-Colleen Breuning Keller
Brad Pit Movie-Leta Violeta
To,Too, Two-Barbara K.

Pic Guess-Blue Lagoon, I won, cold fish, Pot,

Seven Habits (Blogophilia 46.4)

Good morning, everyone.  I hope everyone has enjoyed the Development Conference.  The seminar topic is:  Seven Habits of Highly Caffeinated People.  My name is Robert Covey.

Most o f you are familiar with our books on the organizational habits of effective people.  I began this project with by brother, Stephen, to see in what other ways personal productivity can be enhanced.  But when we did the research, we found that most effective people are not only highly organized, but are highly stimulated.  And the stimulant of choice is Caffeine?  Caffeine has been keeping Night Watchmen, Middle Managers and College Students awake and productive for millennia.

Why caffeine?  Well, it is widely and legally available, in comparison to other substances.  And most users find its effects to be predictable and consistent.   Compared to Cocaine, where there is an intense high for 20-60 minutes followed by hours of sleep, caffeine’s effects are much milder and last for several hours without reinforcement.  And Caffeine comes without the Illusions of Grandeur effect that often accompanies Methamphetamine and Dexedrine.  It is a much more user friendly product.

Coming in a variety of intake media:  Coffee, Sodas and the newer Energy Drinks are cheap and easy to obtain. Fire up that coffee pot and you are on your way.  Or if soda is your thing, a quick trip to the store is in order.   It is still available in pill form and in IV solutions in some Third World countries.   Humankind has long relied on the Java Jive to maintain and succeed in planning and “Putting First Things First.”  Walk the streets of Miami, New York or Seattle and see people flock to the favorite stand or store to get their daily fix.

So, how do the super productive use caffeine to enhance the habits they already practice? Interestingly, we found there were also seven habits that ran in a similar pattern to the effectiveness habits that we have researched so thoroughly.  They start with the idea, walk through the idea with the cup in mind and spread the wealth and abundance to all those they touch in the acquisition, preparation and consumption of their favorite caffeinated beverage.  They always keep in mind that they are not alone in this world and that all that supplies this wonderful elixir of life should benefit.

Caffeine users as a rule are proactive.   As soon as they know they need a pick me up; they rush to the closet or refrigerator.  Do they have their drink of choice?  If so, do they have enough to carry them through the time of need?  Most people in modern society are a Tabula Rasa without that initial burst of gas in the morning. 

Almost all users have an end in mind when they begin this quest.  Whether it is the fizzy head of dark cola or the fragrant smell of roasted Kona beans, they anticipate the pleasure of consumption.  Some even look forward to the interaction with their supplier, chatting with the Barista with the rainbow contacts and multicolored piercings about the weather or the dearth of intelligence in modern American Politics, or the odd homeless person looking for change to handle their version of a pick me up.

First things always come first with the effective caffeine user, whether doing it themselves or purchasing their daily fix.  The choice of venue is vitally important.  Any way the wind blows, caffeine should be enjoyed in a serene environment.  To get industrial grade swill out of a litter strewn late night drive through is almost like picking up a streetwalker.  While you might have your need satisfied, you never can predict the after effects.  The sound of the bottle opening or those first glorious shots of steam should be the primary sound you hear.  And the aroma should fill your senses better than a bottle of Veuve Cliquot 2009.

And the effect user goes the extra mile to make sure that all caffeine exchanges are a Win-Win for all involved.  Whether it is with a little extra tip at the counter, or sharing his steaming cup with a bag lady, he is sharing his bounty so that others can be more effective and caffeinated.   Benefits should be conferred gradually; and in that way they will taste batter.

The effective caffeine user seeks to understand the world in which he inhabits and in that way, confers the information needed for him to be understood.  This process is an ever changing game, since mankind is generally fickle, hypocritical and greedy.  Parameters change constantly and the caffeine user is in constant reeducation mode.

But the outcome of all this effort to maximize the caffeine experience is the synergization of caffeine consumption and effective production.  To show an example, go into any sales office at 7:00 AM before any of the associates have and their first fix.  Most aren’t even able to form coherent words, much less complete thoughts.  It has been said the first three hours of each work day is lost due to the overall ineffectiveness of the staff.  Intelligent caffeine consumption combats this tendency.

Finally, this process of education must be repeated constantly.   Like in the original book, sharpening the Saw is vital to the success of the program.  Just as your body turns flabby with disuse, your mind sputters and wheezes without the daily stimulation caffeine so cheaply provides.

So, drink that Kona, Columbian or Monkey seed.  Swill the soda.  Your life and career depend on it.

Thank you so much for your time.  The free drink bar is in the back of the room. 

Topic (Any Way The Wind Blows)-Nina Nixon
Machiavelli Quote-Tyler Myrth
Tabula Rasa-Sallon Newlove

Pic-Colleen Bruening

More Pic Guesses-Rainbow tears, rainbow vision, kaleidoscope eyes

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Across the Table

So we sit
In the outdoor cafe
Bottle of Aquavit
Bottle of Rose

We live tonight
To exchange marks
Of thoughts white
And thoughts dark.

To plan once
And cut twice
Me as dunce
And you nice

When all is
Said and done
We have this
And a gun.

It may be
Our only fantasy
Our only vanity
Oh, so easy.

Whining. (Group Blogging Experience 35)

"That's too much work!"

"I don't see how they expect this to get done."

Whining.  I hear it every day.  Usually by the same people.  Like a little kid who know no better than to sit in the middle of the room and complain about every little thing.  It is a negative energy that sucks the life out of every one around them.

My mother was a whiner.  Nothing was ever right.  Nothing was ever good enough.  And yet she herself would do little to nothing to improve her situation.  She never realized that for all the time she spent complaining, she could have at least progress on the problems that plagued her.

Even today when I hear the whines at work, I cringe.  Why are you complaining?  You are employed and have good health.  90% of the world is in worse shape.  Just hush and keep going forward.  It is the best we can all do. 

Friday, January 13, 2012

Blue Rising

Going up
Against the sky
People down below
Are jealous

I rise up
to meet Mother Sun
And look below
For sustenance.

As it has been
For ever and a day
The spring
Is my call

To rise up
Against the sky
And wake the
World anew.

(c) 2010 Christopher Mitchell
Photo (c) 2010 Bonnie Godbee Photography, Savannah, GA.  Used with permission.