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Showing posts from April, 2012

Games (Blogophilia 10.5 and GBE 2 50)

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  And finds his trusty Thisbe’s mantle slain. Whereat, with blade , with bloody blameful blade, He bravely broached his boiling bloody breast. And Thisbe, tarrying in mulberry shade, His dagger drew, and died.-Midsummer’s Night Dream, Act V, Scene I Ol’ Bill playing mind games with lovers and strangers again.   One makes an assumption and acts, then the other makes a worse assumption and now they are both dead.   This is basis of serial romantic drama from time immemorial.   And when we read this kind of thing, what is our reaction?   Men usually go, “Better them than me.”    Women generally take a more sympathetic view.   Both go: “Well, that is just a bunch of strangers anyway, why should we really care?” I think we care because the relations between men and women have a transcendental quality about them.   Whether they go well or poorly, the intense emotional change the fabric of who we are.   A joie de vivre springs within us and the first

Len Foote (Blogophilia 9.5)

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The happy journey begins On two lane blacktops Purple haze rising To the falls of my youth. Blue moon in lightening sky Sun has risen mightily by Mr. Turtle In my hand As I step into the woods Five miles to the inn.   And adventure there in. Memories good and bad Play as I walk Past the white rabbits And old artifacts. I reach my spot Only to fall asleep Dreaming of ancient ones Who trod this way before. I awaken with a start With a nudge from above To see what I came for. Great Spirit awakening Again.    Wish you were here.  

Mill Ruins

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The walls are crumbling now,  Remains of the old gin. Built and burned Rebuilt and torn down. The shouts of the workers Echo over the dam. Echoes of rifle shots hang And the blood of soldiers Rest beneath my feet. It has been many years Since time stopped here, While life speeds on Just over the ridge. I sometimes wish to go back. To a slower place and time. Life was simpler And richer And more real Than the artificial world  we have now.   

Pornography (Blogophilia 8.5)

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Sitting in the dark Alone with his thoughts And his computer. Images flicker Shock, Obsession,   Forbidden Euphoria Lived vicariously No commitment Burning bridges To the outside world The stellar night passes Paying no heed Looking for another hit.

Hickory Nut Falls

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A hickory nut falls As I sit at Vickery Crick Next to the rushing dam. I spend my day Listening to the Rushing water, Waiting for your call. © Christopher H Mitchell 2009, 2012

Mermaid

A pile of laundry tossed against the cold stone staircase, at least it looked like that until the sun began to shine on it. Like a lizard sunning itself, Terry slowly began to move. He had survived another night. Struggling to his feet, he wipes away the brown and kaleidoscope in his eyes.  A chill shook him down to his core making his hands feel like they would break off.  The muscles along his abdomen clinched uncontrollably as what little there wanted to be set free.    “Jesus.  Where am I?”   Wiping the spit from his face, he reached down and felt for his pants.  Still there.  Better than the last time.  It wasn’t that good and he nodded off.  It scared the crap out of him when the cop’s baton touched him down there. The girl wasn’t anywhere in sight, either. Just another day. He ended up leaving he jail in the jumpers he had been booked in with. Bastards couldn’t even find a donated shirt. A bit of sadness set in. Mama would have been proud.   No, she wouldn’t. She w

Source of Comedy (Blogophilia 7.5)

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It said the source of all comedy is pain.  Most comics and entertainers have an innate need for attention.  The problem with this is people don’t necessarily want to hear about your problems.  Unless you can take their mind off of their problems.  Take for example Steve Martin .  He understands this.  You rarely hear about his personal life because he knows that would take away from the silly image of him with bunny ears or the indelible image of him in suburban Atlanta parking lot begging for tips with Martin Mull.   I have been accused of thriving on chaos .  I really don’t feel alive unless it seems the world is falling apart. It is the mark of a child that grows up in a dysfunctional household.  Stability is something that other people have.   My wife is having a seizure?  Tip her on her side to keep the airway clear and make sure she doesn’t hit anything.  Wait until it is over and let her sleep it off.  My Mom drunk?  There is nothing to do there except stay out of