six word story (by Alex Lloyd)

“I’ll open up when everybody’s laughing”.

I’ve loved this song, this album, for ages. And I thought I should write a short thank you to everyone who reads and honours me with supportive comments on my blog (one that has no idea about its identity at times, but it’s fun!) and I have so enjoyed connecting with you through it. To steal another line from this song: “I’d go with you on a road to nowhere.”

profile

There has been a lot on my mind lately. And before that, also. And, no doubt, before that. And then, for a while before that, not so much, because I had the flu really badly and I was just annoyed more than anything.

I have had different things I wanted to write about. But then my mind wandered, as it does, especially when I am hungry, and I found myself remembering the first time I read Jack Handey quotes. In a little store in Missouri, USA. Twenty plus years ago.
I laughed so hard I forgot I was on this planet for a moment, with all of its bad news infested bad newsiness. And as there seems to be so much of that lately, my mind returned to that happy place. So if you need to join me there for a moment, you are most welcome. These are for you (well, if I am honest, mostly for me, really. But I hope you can enjoy them too).

Also, I can’t remember why I titled this “profile”. There was a really good/pertinent/profound/moving reason for it, but you know, I am hungry.

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“If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr Brave Man, I guess I am a coward.”

(Oh wait, now I am, maybe, remembering why I called this “profile”.
Moving on…)

 

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Images shamelessly stolen from who knows where exactly?

disappear

this rake isn’t as heavy as I thought it would be,

I feel your suggestions as you’re watching me

make these corrugations –

portal permutations,

at least,

they were in my dreams,

the ones

bursting from the seams

of my mind’s eye.

 

From here below periphery,

silent door’s epiphany,

you hear my eyes as you look at me…

 

one of my current ear worms. if you need a little energy boost, or a push through a portal or something…(and if this video doesn’t play for you because you don’t live in the best country on earth 😉 there is this acoustic version:)

Lyrics:

Continue reading “disappear”

ALP

So after FFP and I figured out how to share this, because I am a bit share illiterate, and we are staring at our screens wondering where the ‘reblog’ button went…I am giving this a go…

If you are so inclined, click on this. I thought it was a gorgeous piece. And by piece, I mean the poem, as lovely as the artwork is.
LOVE it FFP!

(Also, I love that it’s not on Valentine’s Day).

 

Enigmas like this Don’t come ’round every bend: How best he be told, (In language aptly bold) Of the love, The constant LOVE I have for the storm of him? My impassions brimmed, I aim at words to tell it all, Make other love-claimers ashamed, Inadequate– Though even my claim is not Commensurate To the […]

via Alp — Fitful, Fearful, Phantasmal

title? but I’m trying to restrain myself

Life, its cruise, untils and snooze and streams of semi-consciousness,
time and ruse and bills and flus and beams of demi-righteousness,

cracks and crevices,
furtive nemesis,
falling in
deceitful fetishes,

the current, it fools
in ego pools

and just how many tsunamis can fit in here,
exactly?

I’ll be over here with my tea,
retracting
ly

 

 

im sorry
Remember this? I mean the meme. I mean, I hope you didn’t drive your truck into a tree…

 

 

mercy

*Trigger warning: there’s a picture of a clown in this post

 

 

clown

I have started cleaning house.
I’m going to be brutal. (No, really…)

Then two days ago I found this.
It belonged to my twin brother.
Why I have it, I cannot answer.
(Mostly due to temporary paralysis, and now I just can’t remember).

But it is,
truly,
the stuff of nightmares.
(And italicized, centralised, poetic importance.)

And I swear, I heard some synapses burn out when I saw it. And others that absolutely refused to be created…

(Also, if you can, take a moment to listen to this…
oh my…)

the tears, like that sky, were blue,

balmed in a constant, gentle stream.
Filled with achingly quiet strength, healing purpose. Vibrating with the tenor of a generation.

He carefully strung his violin with them, using the instructions in the back of the book he was holding.
A journal he had found in, of all places, the attic.

His beloved father’s journal.

Sigh. What a beautiful performance.

 

Featured image: my husband’s

100 Word Wednesday : I was a dream running down her face

I love Gina’s creativity. What a beautiful post, words and photo.

Singledust

100ww_w56Image by Matthew Henry

I was a dream that ran down her face, in rivulets. I was washed down by the rain into the drain. I became a dream in a stream. She slumped over her phone, texting. As she cried, I ran faster down her cheeks.

Someone touched her shoulder from behind; I heard a voice speak louder than the dripping raindrops. She turned around and I stopped. I stopped running down her cheeks, I was soaked back up into her heart.

“Sorry I am late. Am I allowed to kiss you here?” the voice speaks. She nods, I feel safe, for now.

Thank you Bikurgurl for hosting 100 Word Wednesday. I have missed writing stories. This is my first after a long time. Visit the link to read more tales.

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A.S. I love you

such a brilliant, thought provoking, and beautiful piece of writing!

Fighting the dying light

I’m the man in the iron cage, the pilgrim with an unrepentant, unyielding heart, the prophet who has regressed into a poet with anguish breaking through bone, and then skin, the tendrils tying my tongue, muting my real howl and creating a soft shriek which they consider beautiful. I’m the Kierkegaardian stereotype, a freak tortured and tormented by his panoramic paranoia, a twisted, fucked up birds eye view of skulls and enemies, of corpses punching keys and hate, and I can’t see a horizon. I’m the label of everyone’s disgust, an animal in an asylum which sensibly speaks, but in alliteration—the zookeeper’s delight. “Look now, here’s Mr. Bipolar. Hysterically jump or flat line, it’s your prerogative, but make sure you entertain, because they’ve paid with their time and energy. Be Quick!” But the more I rattle, the more they rile. The more I lie, the more they cry, until I…

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