ebullient decay
I love this. Just another piece of FFP’s I don’t want to forget!
Hindsight knocked.
He brought Bravado,
And close behind, Blame did follow.
I invited the First
Then shut the door
To keep away the Second and Third.
I pulled out a chair for the guest to sit
To stay and chat a little bit.
We sipped our tea,
(Hindsight and Me),
And no one else sat in between.
The grey sky and sea are one today.
The only discernible difference,
the texture of the latter.
The encumbrance of the matter
in mind’s funnel
distracts and disturbs.
Protracts and perturbs
still the distilling,
the stone at my neck
is blunt from the milling.
I ponder this song about addiction.
Another one I’m addicted to.
The frictionless sky
and the turbulent sea,
I sway between
the knowing way you look at me
oh mind’s eye,
and the mystery of unease,
the sky gets me there so soon
compared to the past,
on the sea,
in a tempested moon.
(photo credit: my brother)
he called her thursday – part two
one sweet potato and
one eggplant, listed after the fact
of purchase
one notepad
one pencil
one cup of Russian Caravan tea
one wind chime, dulcet tenor
one sugar craving
one lizard
is that a sack of potatoes?
stop thinking about chocolate
one ‘learning French’ app not accessible
one ladder, with a hammer, on top
one vignette of a tree behind a tree behind a tree
one speech balloon wafting from a person passing
intercepted by thought balloon puffed up by farce-ing
birds
rustling
distant echoes of congratulatory applause, not imaginary
one pale butterfly, resolutely flying, accidentally beautifying
one letter discovered on the next page, never sent, of something half forgotten
one match lit
~
Quite a while ago, this amazing writer: Fitfulfearfulphantasmal
did an awesome post, which was a story in list form. She challenged me to try it and it fell by the wayside for many reasons. But I just remembered it, so inspired by the idea, I finally got around to this feeble attempt, as part of a longer story.
Today I got a notification that a comment I made, under someone’s blog post, was liked. I read the comment and wondered when I wrote it as I had no memory of it. I clicked on it to go to the actual site, and I saw that it was made by someone else! But WP attributed it to me! Yikes!
Has this happened to anyone else? I am not tech savvy…
Here’s the post: Marge
Edit: My Admin bar also keeps disappearing when I go to my site and to some others…it seems to have affected my ability to “like” things as well. So apologies…I have read lovely things today, and the last couple of days, and haven’t been able to “like” them. I have contacted WP, so we will see.
that we are
each tooth an infinite word
unconscious and inherently
reaching.
devastating, jagged edges
formed of unhearing,
the cacophony of selves
buckling and distorting.
devastating, the beauty
that comes with Time,
soul of audibility,
awakened peregrination
through quiet
Here we go, just doing our thing. Living in bewilderment as we bump into each other stepping out of time machines. I just did so tonight, when I looked at the calendar and realised it’s been 2 years since I started blogging. I am pretty sure it was only a couple of months ago I wrote a post for my first anniversary. This post actually:
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“So check it out, it has actually been a year today since I started my blog!
And I am a little drunk right now for all kinds of reasons, so I don’t plan to wax long and lyrical about what a freaking honour it has been. Okay, maybe just a little…”
via WordPress Anniversary… holy…
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I’m sure there is a perfect song somewhere to capture this credible moment in time. But it is almost the 8th now, and who cares really?
And, I also have glasses for my astigmatism and blah blah. I do see things differently. It’s been startling, to say the least.
This is me with my glasses, not looking startled. I texted this to my husband one night when he was working late, to show him I had started the fire. It made him laugh. I am not photogenic. But I consider this my “all I do is win” look. Which kind of goes without saying. Which also goes with the song I posted last year. And in case you can’t be bothered even looking, and who can blame you really, I will repost it for you. I love it.
(I have cut to the relevant moments).
PS, in case you didn’t know this about me, it’s not about winning. Unless, you consider not tripping every time I step out of that dang time machine, winning. In which case, I have been quite the winner lately. Could be my glasses…
Peace, love and perspective, Everyone. Thanks for enriching my life, I am so appreciative.
could you please play it again, she didn’t say
while she was driving to find the nearest place
that could remove this tattoo
this timbred tattoo
storeyed diagonally through
dermis traitorously diaphanous
I have been spending some time with my lovely mother, and we just had a great time laughing at this. I thought I would re-share it.
It pretty much left me thinking, what the hell am I doing writing this crappy poem? So I am sharing this instead.❤
This looks lazy. Although, remember, looks can be deceiving. Well, except in this case. I am being lazy.
But, this is worth your time, I promise. It went around a couple of years ago, and because I’m so obviously filled with love for fellow humanity, and not just chocolate, I thought I’d bring it back around. Maybe counter clockwise this time. But when you get a chance, do yourself a favour and read it. For all of its philosophical poignancy/hilarity/downright jocularity.
It felt so much like a Wednesday – porous and drifting…
It wasn’t quite cold enough to start a fire, which kind of threw him. It’s always nice to have a fire to work by, when the Wednesday dig starts. But he reasoned with himself that the digs were getting shallower. Dr. _____ said that was a good thing – the need was lessening, you know, to build defences from the debris he found. They thought he was inching closer to jumping off and grabbing the drifting instead.
He wasn’t sure. He looked down at his journal. Apparently he had been writing in it.
those notes are soaring above me, but there’s blood all over my un-reach. This is the refrain. I need to re-write the refrain. I need to let it rain.
I also need to work on my rhyming.
Maybe Friday.
part two – he called her thursday
“Your iron is low, oh so low,
just take this supplement, it will help the tempo
because you’re not losing weight as your thyroid is slow,
so if you just lose some weight, you’ll help yourself glow
with vitality, and something else French sounding…”
no, wait, that was my mind screeching
to a day dreaming side step
and I have a few questions now, about the sound of us pretending
we have the time matching
this fee that you’re charging
to “bedazzle” me with reasoning
cyclical
while just reading something
from the back
of a sample drug pack
“why is my iron low?
Is it because of my liver, that it just doesn’t know
that my thyroid is struggling
with what doesn’t grow
our minds and our spirits,
and I would go on
but I’m tired”
She wanted to go back to the turquoise. She’d always loved the navy blue but now, her eyes sewn shut with the thread of trauma, she couldn’t tell if she were in the navy blue or the black. The black in his eyes when he showed her those images – jagged, psyche tearing shapes forced into her angel shaped child mind. It all changed that day. A contempt for beauty, for purity, smoked its way through her mortar and hallways. She swore her fingernails were green, bile green, from climbing the walls. She wanted to swim again in the navy blue but she knew she needed a shark cage now. She had to protect others from the sharks inside with her.
If she could just get back to the turquoise.
I thought long and hard about the quote for today. And a couple of bible verses kept coming back into my mind. For all kinds of reasons I won’t go into, I am thankful for them. So my quote for day 3 comes firstly from Paul’s letter to the church at Philippi:
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honourable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (ch4:8).
And the one that got me intrigued about neuroplasticity in the first place, years ago:
“…but be transformed by the renewal of your mind…” (Rom 12:2b).
Thank you so much Erroneous Choices, for challenging me. ❤
Such an apt name for someone like me who is hopeless at remembering names and references! So this is quite a challenge! But I am honoured that this has come from someone I have grown to love as a dear friend, (not just as a phenomenal writing talent).
The wonder of WP, our lives are so different, but our connection is something I truly cherish, Erroneous Choices.
It’s cold but I ate some ice cream, coffee covered ice cream, and had a memory of the way we used to fill up on coffee beans from that one coffee shop in Colorado before hiking in the mountains, do you remember that? We’d stuff some in our pockets for the descent as well.
Or maybe that was just me.
You have that awful coffee hating gene mutation that I still pray there will be therapy for one day.
And here I am, on flat land, loading up on creamy caffeinated bliss for the descent I seem to be on. But I remind myself, I have lived long enough to know that this world is a circle hanging in space – which way is up? (We do have a world map with the correct orientation of Australia at the top, but I digress. Kind of).
Those descents can be deceiving.
I’m having more ice cream. You can join me any time.
(How perfect you are, o purveyor of artist’s soundless voice
to express my utter bewilderment at humans’ flailing choice-
s…)
No, you are not a divinely appointed player
to use and discard “toys” as you see fit
the creative souls in cyber land
to pluck as you cry, “I quit”
while winking at another
fingers crossed behind your back
be creative with your score card –
notches? or marks scrawled in black?
O precious souls so broken,
your self worth is left in tatters
I know you crave deep healing
but this is not what matters –
to be “chosen” by a phantom
when your worth is beyond their sight
you matter just in being,
their attention – darkest night.
Take the hands of those who care now
the lifelines that they offer
protecting pride is useless
when it’s safety that they proffer.
Humans, look what we do
when we confuse the tools we need
to really see each other…
My goodness, what a sad loss to the WP community.
How truly blessed, to have crossed cyber paths with such a wonderful person. RIP 🌸
It is with deep regret that I to have to announce the sudden passing of my father Paul Lenzi. He was the cornerstone of our family and will be missed dearly.
He began this blog as a creative outlet and as a way of sharing his poetry. He never imagined it would develop such a large following, and the overwhelming support he received from this community touched him deeply. On behalf of our entire family, thank you.
We are proud of the legacy of words he left behind.
Rushing to the coat check, she was trying hard not to obsess over him not believing something she had said in the car. He had said it was absurd.
It was making the skin on her arm itch.
Irony did that. Well, in particular contexts. She wasn’t sure what this was.
She had felt so warm while they were driving and had wondered if she were overdressed. But then, he was the one who was filling the car with decorated axioms, making sure to remind her how insightful he was. She had cringed wearily, then chuckled at the awful jokes forming in her mind – she started thinking she didn’t need her wisdom teeth when she digested his words, only her incisors. She could try to be environmentally friendly, she supposed, and recycle all of this packaging, but it wasn’t even pretty.
And now he appeared with two effervescent glasses, as her arm started to bleed.
She was allergic to champagne, she had told him in the car
A friend sent this article to me this morning:
Elon Musk’s chilling Artficial Intelligence warning
(Edit, the video on there has since been removed).
Very interesting to say the least. I think it is a bit of a must read/watch. Also because ignorant me would love the input of anyone who knows a lot more about this than I do. On the video: “facebook recently shut down chat bots after they started speaking their own language”. What does that even mean?
And no, I don’t plan on getting a self driving car any time soon. I just bought a second hand car that’s manual for crying out loud. It’s been a long time, and gosh darn it if I don’t love the heck out of it. Manual cars are super fun. And as my elderly friend in Colorado has always said, “I like to drive my cars, not have them drive me”. If she only knew where that was really heading…
I think this was a great idea! And difficult.
If you want to read a number of short and inspiring snippets…
Christine is known for her writing prompt challenges on her blog Brave and Reckless. She will be hosting a Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge at the Go Dog Go Cafe. The prompts are designed to be quick challenges that can be written in 10 to 15 minutes, inspire you creatively, are fun, and get everyone interacting. Please post your response to the prompt in the comments below and show your fellow posters some love and support. All members of the Go Dog Go community, including Baristas, are welcome to participate. Feel free to share this post on your own blogs and/or Facebook.
Christine is always looking for cool, quick writing prompts. If you have a great idea for a future Tuesday prompt challenge, send it to her at christine.e.ray@gmail.com
Today’s prompt
Autobiographical Ten Word Story: Tell us your life story (or a part of your life story) in ten words
I love Gina’s creativity. What a beautiful post, words and photo.
Image 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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