Sunday, June 30, 2013

Shadow Captain (Blogophlia 19.6)

Port too long
No tall ship wanting 
To sail away 
To Parts unknown

I am but a loser who
Gets lucky
From the sympathy 
of the passerby

My call to sea
Was shortened
By a the fear
Of the riptide

Of the undertow
From fears and dreams
I am but a Shadow Captain
A fly on the wall

Dolphins breach
Thirty feet offshore
Calling me to play
I scoff at their gall

This son 
Of a son of a sailor
Only crabs on shore now
No vessel to loan


Picture (c) Don Teuton, Savannah GA 2012, 2013

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Mirror Image (Twisted Tales 148)

There she was.


But it couldn't be.  I went to the funeral.  I personally kissed her cold lips in the funeral home after signing the Cremation papers.  Told her good bye and wished her peace after her long struggle. And I walked out. wondering where I was going to do.

All there has been for five years is emptiness, existing on vodka and smack. Sun isn't bright. Night isn't dark.  Been with a few women and  a couple of men since.  None of the relationships were right.  Just cold comfort and self inflicted pain to erase the memory, marking my time and until time to face the cremation pyre. 

But here she is in the mirror. Smiling?  For what?  I can't reach through the glass.

When she first came, I thought I must have had something slipped into my drink.  I wanted to run, but I found myself transfixed by the hazel eyes and curly hair.  Must be something in the Horse doing it.  Maybe I should stop chasing her.  The dragon of my past.

She came again a few days later.  I hadn't had a drink since the first incident, so I wondered if I was cracking.  But the smile was bigger and she came closer to the glass. I admit, I got closer, too.  And I swear I caught the scent of Plasir coming from her shoulders.

It is now a week later.  I haven't been out of my apartment.  Haven't showered or shaved, either. And she is beckoning me to come.  To cross over to her side.  The smile is bigger and the dress is sliding off her body.  I can feel her hands and they are strangely warm against my shoulders.  Leaning in to the glass, our lips slowly meet. The warmth flows and the image turns red and liquid.  That sound is irrelevant.

I'm home. 

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Heartbreak Hotel (Blogophilia 18.6)

Bed is empty now.
Lipstick smeared on my pants
Ribbon tied on the bed post
As a reminder
Was she pretty?
Through the bottom of the glass,

Harold's came in to view
As night bloomed over the ocean
Weary and dry, I pulled in.
Ponytail behind the bar
Put tequila in a glass
And my life into
A spin.

Whiskey voice turned my head
Blond by choice and lined by sun
Rode hard all her life
Still looking for a Prince
In this pond of toads
The next was to be kissed.

Sharing stories of hurt
Of cheating and deceit,
Hating people and loving persons
Making all the wrong choices
We knew there was one more
To make.

The room was spare
In the old seaside place
Ocean breeze came through the cracks.
She opened the jalousies so we
Could rock in time with
The surf.

I loosen the yellow ribbon
Covering her bust
And drank deeply
From her well
Returning the favor, we were
Fighting our fears
In place.

Dawn cracked and she left.
Had to tend bar day shift.
She said I could stay.
Didn't know what to say.
Put a Twenty on the table,
And I left.

Photo (c) Christopher Mitchell 2013.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Night of the Loving Kitty

Hello.  Kenny Kitty here.  I know you were expecting a story from Christopher.  He was a bad human this week.  He attempted to substitute Alpo for my normal diet of baked organic chicken.  He must think I am some sort of animal or something. And when he put on the horrible smelling flea goop; I had to put my paw down. He was ruining my street cred with the ladies.  I clawed him severely and sent him to his crate for the week.  Through his whimpers, he mentioned something about a story due and begged me to let him out.  Humans need discipline, but I did take pity. 

So, gather around Kittens.  Listen and learn…

Once, there was a small cabin on a lake.  A young couple lived there and they were in love.  They woke each other with a kisses and retired in the evening with a cuddle.  All was good except one thing.   They had been together long enough that human kittens should have come, but fate had not smiled on them up to that time.  There had been questions on this and this bothered the Amelia, the wife.  Her husband, Martin was more patient, telling her: “Dear, Amelia.  We may be poor and not with child, but I have you and the stars.  I will always be content.”  These words soothed Amelia and they would sleep well. 

One day, the couple was returning from the village. Her mother had spoken again about the lack of children.  She was saddened by the remarks and was taking it out her husband.  “Martin, is there something wrong with us?”  We have been married for more than two years and still no child.  Could we be barren?”

Taking his wife in his arms, he replied, “Wife, I do not care what they think. I could go through my life childless.  But as along as you are in my arms and loving me, I will praise the heavens.  You are my gift from God and I desire nothing more.”  He meant every word of what he said and she smiled. 

Rain started as couple turned into the gate.  They hustled down to the porch, and saw a small kitten lying on the ground very still.  Amelia picked him up and took him inside.  Muddy and wet, she couldn’t tell if it was black or white.   They sat on the sofa cleaning their new companion with an old towel.  He was dark silver with a beautiful soft coat.  A warm feeling came over Martin and Amelia as the kitten cuddled with them.  They knew an empty place in their lives had been filled.  They fixed a hearty stew for dinner, saving a bit of meat and sauce for the kitten.  He soon slept contently on the floor and the couple went to bed.

A large full moon rose over the lake.  Blue and large, it ascended over the trees.  The Double Blue Orb moon was out.  A single moonbeam came through the window and struck the kitten and soon began to stretch and grow until he was as large as a lion.  His little purr became a growl.  He was, William Felix, the Werecat.   Rising from the floor. he began to pace the room. 

He breathed deeply, savoring the aroma of dinner.  This wasn’t his first transformation, but it indeed had been the happiest. Most people would kick or shoo him away.  Those humans died.  He looked forward to seeing and tasting their blood, delivering pain to them in kind.  But these two had shown kindness and mercy.  They were to be rewarded for their love.  A quick lick finished the last of the stew and he padded quietly down the hall.

Stopping at the bedroom, he heard odd sounds.  Most of the human sounds he had heard before were screams of horror.  These were different.  High pitched sighs, short breaths and low moans.  He looked around the corner and found the couple entwined.   Martin was still clothed and his head was on his wife’s breast.  She reached for his shirt, pulling it above his head.  He tugged at his pants until they came free.  She stroked him tenderly.  Amelia knew her husband’s words were true.  He was content with the stars and her, and she with him.   William Felix entered unnoticed.  He padded up to the side of the bed.  The cat lifted his head a growled “Pet the pussy.” 

Martin reached down between his wife’s legs and began to lightly trace around her heart.  Amelia arched her back and purred loudly, wanting more.  He pressed slightly harder, kissing Amelia tenderly on the inside of her right thigh. He turned his head to the left to continue when they both saw the cat.  They both gasped and jumped back.  

“Who or what are you?” Amelia cried.  “Take what you want and please don’t hurt us. We took you in to our home thinking it was a good idea at the time.  Woe upon our fault.”    

The silver mained beast growled softly:  “Please don’t be frightened.  You have passed the test.  My name is William Felix.  I once was a prince in a far land, but my consort was an evil sorceress.  Jealous was she and she walked in with me and another woman, she cast this spell.  Most of the time, I am the gentle kitten you found.  But, tonight is the Double Orb Moon and I transform.  If my current companion has mistreated me, they are killed on the spot.  But, you and your husband showed me mercy and hospitality.  And I wish to love you both.  So, please, pet the pussy.” 

And with that, William Felix jumped on bed between the loving couple.  He touched noses with Martin and kissed him, then turned to Amelia and did the same.  His large, supple tail wrapped gently around Martin and gently squeezed, sliding up and down the shaft.  Martin moaned and began massaging large cat’s shoulder blades.  William Felix began to purr and they both came closer to Amelia.

The cat began to nuzzle her raised nipples.  She began to sigh.  “Oh, Precious Kitty, please love us forever.”  The cat softly kneaded and petted her, putting his cold nose between her legs and tasting.  Their moans became louder and quicker.  Amelia reached under the large cat’s belly and began to rub. His growl was almost deafening.   She guided the cat into her and cried out.  The three souls shared each other as a storm grew outside.  Martin picked up Amelia’s Silver Handled hairbrush off the night stand to groom the great cat.  As the brush touched his back, there was a clap of thunder.  William Felix screamed and everything went dark.

Martin came to his senses first.  He looked down and saw the huge cat was replaced by their kitten, contently asleep under Amelia’s breast.  The evil spell had been broken and they were left spent.   Amelia stirred and looked at her husband and kitten in wonder.  Then, smiling, she kissed her husband and they slept contentedly together. 

On a warm day the next spring, Catherine Marie came smiling into their lives.  There were no more questions from the others.    One morning, Martin came into the bedroom after his bath.  Amelia was nursing Baby Kitty, as they came to call their daughter, with a dreamy smile on her face.   Felix the Kitty hopped in Mama’s lap and nuzzled his daughter and they purred in unison.  Martin had his wife, his stars and a beautiful daughter, and a companion unlike any other in the world. 

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Another Night (Blogophilia 16.6)

Another night
We meet
Knowing it is wrong
Others depend on us
Others want our time
But we steal away
Here to the belfry
The finest of hours
As the others
Sell the sky.
You fall on me.

Two against
Disapproving eyes
Serious case
Of Affection
Against the powers
Of Minitrue
And Doublespeak.

Tasting like
Pecan rinds
Drying my mouth
As rats
Nibble at noses.
Should I die?

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

A Big Orange Idea (GBE2 107)

Half my life ago.

That is a bad topic for someone in their mid fifties.

Even saying that is admission that I am more than half way to the exit.

Working at this little retail start up with the big orange idea.

With four semi crazy people that knew they could do hardware better.

Seventy hour weeks.

Cold pizza from the Thursday Night marketing meeting eaten for breakfast on Friday.

Going from four stores

To eight

To twenty six.

To fifty five when I left, exhausted three years later.

Leaving a fortune behind.



I wasn't cut out to be rich.

I would have been miserable.

But Bernie Marcus is still the coolest person I have had the pleasure to know. 

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Imaginary Friends (Blogophilia 15.6)

One by one the guests arrive
The guests are coming through
The open-hearted many
The broken-hearted few

And those who dance begin to dance
And those who weep begin
Welcome, welcome, cries a voice
Let all my guests come in
From "The Guests"
by Leonard Cohen

When I was little, I had imaginary friends. We'd gather in my room and talk over apples and ginger ale.   I would talk to them and change my voice to have them answer me.  My family thought I was strange.  And, indeed, I was. I had to be strange to navigate the waters of an alcoholic couple who were completely incompatible with each other.  Add to it, four other siblings doing much the same thing, there was always great drama around. So, my friends were my way to escape, and the central "I" stayed back in the control room of my brain to make sure none of them totally took over.

Yes, Dis-associative Disorder (sometimes called "split personality") is something I have always been intimately familiar with.  A few times when I was a teen, I was in therapy about it.  I was angry, fighting type, that was always letting the harder characters take over, when all I wanted was for all of them to live in harmony.  Through some miracle, I got it in my head that it really was my responsibility to reign them in.  And with that, I was able to use them for my benefit, rather than the other way around.

I began journal-ling a bit in college. Soon they began to have their own voices.  The Centaur, Charlie the Office Boy and Yves Milleux became the representatives of emotions, fears and foibles I couldn't handle in my central personality.  And by seeing things in third person, I was able to reconcile a lot of pain and hurt.  And the beauty of being a writers is you can still play with your imaginary friends and have meaningful conversations and nobody (really) thinks you are crazy.

My friends still play with me today.  Whether it is Jerry Goldstein, or Kari Summers or any of the other apparitions that have been in my stories, each of them is a part of me.  They are the guests in the poem.  And always welcomed here.