All the King's Fools -Enter the Fool-All the King's Fools3 years ago in Drama More Like This
Pennies for the Fool, hark! Pennies for the Fool!
What hath come of those who serve the Fool?
Those most generous of men, the Fool’s men,
The babbity remnants of his great court.
Generous to thineselves, in that palace
a brothel to gorge both mouths of man,
mouths with want of ale and those too unwise
to know when the Feast makes more fools of them.
Fools serving fools, and they still serve more fools,
I am no more a fool than he, but alas,
He dressed himself a King. Ne’er a king comes
of one with a court full up with pea soup.
Now his soup he buys in pennies, and the
pennies for the Fool, pennies for the Fool,
Seem far less cruel a fate then no coin at all.
That Kings bring Fools alike, the ne’er-do-wells
may hath called their poor sire by his beard.
The king of Albion but a King of
Vegetables, his court those many beasts who
feast on his misfortune.
DepartShe was still youngDepart3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when she switched lives
with the boy next door
They had grown close enough
that most sought one for the other
But closeness relies on proximity
and that dooming wall of distance
was more than physical separation
But closeness relies on dependability
and they grew comfortable in their separation
where the other had grown up
But closeness relies on harmony
and like the plates that shift slowly beneath the earth
they find they are once again strangers
(Story) You Are Strange, Aren't You?(Story) You Are Strange, Aren't You?3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Somewhere off in the distance, Cenek fancied he could see the sun making a final gasp for attention before it was lost in a sea of darkness. Somewhere beyond the horizon. Wherever it went, he knew in his head, by some primitive instinct, that it would be back on the 'morrow. Only if it failed to rise again would he know that the Shadow Spirit had died in vain, to save the Light Spirit who surely resided within the sun. The story of Nandryx tended to have little differences in detail depending on who told it, but he remembered as a young tom, before the mountains had split and the Spirits welcomed Shadow Tribe back home, that someone of familial significance had told him grandeur stories of the Shadow and Light Spirits in particular. It was most noble of the Shadow Spirit to have sacrificed himself for his sister. For a number of seasons Cenek had liked to imagine that he could take after that example himself. However, he had finally come to terms with the fact that his own soul was not
MiscommunicationMy mongoose breathed a story,Miscommunication3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
words dripping in bright colors
from his mouth
to shatter at my feet.
Songbirds escaped from my eyes
to chase the winter bubbles that formed
from the creature’s broken syllables.
The savor of Chaos shifted
to a perfect D minor,
and its tremor splashed shadows
across the canvas of feathers and fur.
They surfed above me
on a vermilion wind
which tasted like Persian sunshine
and smelled like painted starlight.
Sound failed my tongue
and vanished from my ears,
for colors abandoned me on shimmering wings
to join the beasts in flight.
My feet turned to stone
as their eyes slid around their heads
to capture me.
They asked me why I had no face.
I told them I had not heard the tale.
5:173:305:173 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
A perfectly respectable time.
Not like 5:17.
No one waits for 5:17.
the time should not exist at all.
even ten-minute increments:
Those are perfectly respectable times
Those times are when the body
attached to mine
when it looks at me on its wrist.
It doesn't have a use for 5:17.
It despises 5:17
because that is when it either
accuses me of moving too fast
or of moving too slow.
I am perfectly dependable
(so long as it remembers to change me
once in autumn
once in spring).
Perhaps I will try, just once:
to switch my time to one more welcomed
when it looks at my face.
It will stop this...
With my obese, old-fashioned cousin
on the opposite wall,
I am worth the effort
of raising its wrist.