If you Read ThisMore Like This
Ok my friends
If you’re reading this
Then you’re the ones
That left the check-box
So I must ponder
At this time
With my art
I have been here
A long time
Am old as dirt
Younger than sand
During that span
Had ups and downs
As all must face
At one time or another
Trial and error
Learn by doing
Baptism by fire
Was my learning curve
Dark to light
Photos to thoughts
Many ways to weave
The many dreamscapes
Dream to dream
My vision has
Become more clear
As a rise upon the ladder
Current Greenwich Time
Am standing still
As time slips backwards
Have I gone blind?
Is my skills gone missing
Is the dreams become
Nothing but a mere blur
My head spins
My heart hurts
To my feet
The climb to be
The best as one can get
Is not a lite task
Some have to work harder
Just last year
My dream flew upward
60 -- 90 golden stars
The MockingbirdDoctor, do you have a minute to spare?More Like This
The call was directed at my mother midway between the second and third floor in our apartment complex. Four of us stood on the freshly cleaned stairs. Mother, myself, the cleaning lady, and her little daughter.
Could you please spare some cooking oil?
It had to be one of the rare times I heard shame in someone's voice. The shame of having to ask burdened her immensely. She clasped her hands as she looked at us, and rushed to justify after a moment of silence.
I want to cook for the kids. It's been a week and I couldn't get paid to buy some.
I never knew words needed so much power to come out. She tried to shrug her nervous tone with a smile, but couldn't quite manage to. Instead she looked down.
I didn't wait mother. She taught me better, I knew better. There was much sorrow in a single question, and not the kind of sorrow a mother should be uttering in front of a child. I still heard bits and pieces of their conve
Daddy, I Felt Nothing"Daddy's going to hang himself."More Like This
"Don't be so silly!" Mum said, flummoxed.
I think I'm gonna be sad
I think it's today, yeah
The girl that's driving me mad
is going away, yeah . . .
Three days he spent in the attic;
three days in his solitary lair.
Three days polishing his brasses.
Three days of mounting imminence;
of refining his ominous air.
. . . she said that living with me
is bringing her down, yeah
for she would never be free
when I was around . . .
For three days, the tinny
misleadingly upbeat strums
associated with his presence
were played on repeat.
For three days, daddy sang
with no other intent but to intimidate
manipulate - defeat.
. . . before she gets to saying goodbye
She ought to think twice
She ought to do right by me . . .
Three moments spent, morbidly transfixed
as gently he swung, by bag strap noose
and I, aged six, thought, 'it still groans
- pull on his feet.'
. . . my baby don't care.
My baby don't care.
BrevityThere was an explosion.More Like This
“That's it?! I've been working on these pyrotechnics for months, and all I get is 'there was an explosion'?!”
“Sorry. This is flash fiction, not an action movie.”
I'm easyTell me what I want to hear.More Like This
Name for me the thousand greens
you saw in Ireland.
Tell me how a single piper
saluting the sunset
moved you to tears.
Describe for me
exquisite sandstone carvings
on Indian temples
and dangerous border crossings
in South America.
Tell me what I want to hear.
Seduce me with stories
of marvelous places
I dream of seeing.
Tell me what I want to hear.
Say my poems mean something.
Say I matter to you.
Lie to me. I'm easy.
I'll be easy for you too.
To Sing a WarHush, hush, sweet child,More Like This
close your eyes, sleep time has arrived.
Don't you worry about
the sound of bullets tearing down the land,
nor the scent of blood that begins to rise
with every rose that blooms and
every man who dies.
Hush little one, let me sing,
an oath for a rebellion that worshiped a cause:
Justice and freedom for all.
But once the stakes soared high,
so did those who screamed to
wage war in the name of victory.
Only greed and hate remain and
we're never going back home.
Close your eyes dear son,
There's no point asking
when daddy is gonna be back.
He's somewhere beneath the rubble,
right next to the bread he was so proud to score.
Maybe he's watching from above,
and praying for our suffering to end.
Sleep well beloved boy,
I'm sorry you were born without
a future nor a place to call home.
In a country where money entitles the rich
and condemns the poor, and digging graves
is the growing business everyone aims for.
Sleep, please sleep, I know you're starved but,&
Bigger Fish To FryI'm sitting here quite hopefully with penMore Like This
in hand, my favorite clipboard on my knee.
Where are the poems?! I get a phrase, and then
get stuck; no lines appear: not rhymed, nor free.
I've had this problem for a month. Will it
get any verse? Frustrated now, I'd like
my thoughts to plot together and commit
a poem. Oh hell! Won’t inspiration strike?
My dreams are not of publishing. I've big-
ger fish to fry. My writing group meets in
two days, and this week I don't want to dig
through last year's work to read (again)
some older piece. The minutes on the clock
tick past. Why can’t I lick this writer's block?
DWF seeks answer to Singles adConspicuous consumers,More Like This
who have nothing to lose but their cash,
and are more interested in air conditioning
than enlightenment on a humid July evening
bustle around me in the bookstore,
taking down and putting back coffee-table volumes
of Ansel Adams and Gauguin.
I thought I'd make a really good impression
if I waited for you in the art section.
And from here I can see the clock clearly.
I've been checking every thirty seconds since five-fifty-two.
We did say six?
Your message said you liked good conversation;
and your looks have never inspired a woman
to run screaming from the room.
Being a realistic veteran of the Middle-Aged Singles Game,
I suggested we first meet over coffee
at the Barnes and Noble cafe.
It allows for a speedy exit if my first impression says
"this guy breathes through gills"
and my second thoughts echo
"I'm not in the business of retrofitting amphibians;"
or, for lingering conversation,
in case I glimpse a prince beneath the pinstripes.
HeronsThere is a small heronry near where I live. Sited on the bank of the Ladybrook and nestling in tall Scots pines, this breeding colony comes back every Spring to re-build nests, lay eggs and raise its young. I've been lucky enough to watch this annual event over about 25 years. At one time there were as many as 18 breeding pairs, but now, I think the number closer to 9. The local landowner has cut down several of the nesting trees for some unknown reason.More Like This
The high swaying tree tops with their densely packed needle foliage make viewing of any chicks by the naked eye all but impossible, but a long lens, patience, and a still day can pay dividends. The female herons attend the nest and chicks, while the males fly far and wide for food and for sticks to build and reinforce the nests. The herons are pair bonded, and the females can spot a returning male at about 1/4 mile, letting out a shrill call of greeting. The females also guard the chicks from their arch enemies - the crows, and now als
Messages I. Just. Can't. Anymore. He won't stop messaging me, Facebook, twitter, text messages, and empty phone calls. He won't leave me alone. I can't sleep, he starts blowing up my phone around midnight every night. I beg and plead for him to just leave me alone, just to let me sleep but my cries seem to go unheard. I even called the police once, and after about 2 minutes of investigation they summed me up as crazy.More Like This
Maybe I am crazy....
But I know I'm not.
His messages started out short, a few words, always full of meaning. I text back to please stop, that I don't want to talk to him. These lasted a few weeks only a couple times a day....Then....I think he got mad at me....They started getting creepy...
You miss me
I miss you
FrostHe looked timidly down the street. It was, like the ten previous times he’d checked, empty. Devoid of any and all human life.More Like This
But not empty, no. There were the bodies remaining still. No one had come to clean them up- or more likely, those who came had perished too, contributing generously to the rising pile.
He kept walking, stepping over silent faces, over mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. Over all the faces of the innocents smited in the greens and yellows of life.
The City had died, that much was visible from a glance. Bodies were strewn over streets, park benches, in libraries and coffee shops, in cars and buses and skyscrapers and apartments. But the decay hadn’t set in yet, oh no. The butchery had ended, but the processing hadn’t yet begun. The ungodly stench was only just starting to leak out into the crisp air.
And the frost was everywhere. The white frost, they had called it. The frost that didn’t melt. Come from the sky to punish you, free
Undo myselfI cut my hair.More Like This
It was the only way I knew how to physically rid myself of him.
I cut the strands that he had pulled his fingers through. I cut the soft locks that he had spent hours helping me sort out. I cut the hair that he had so persistently encouraged me to grow longer.
The first few days were the hardest.
It was empty. I didn't know what to do with my hands, now that I didn't have something to constantly tug at. My neck was constantly cold from the sudden exposure. And I was naked. I didn't have anything to hide behind. It was just me and my raw lonesomeness against the world.
Then the first few weeks had been the hardest.
I had spent years constantly altering myself to please another. I had forgotten how to be myself. It had taken time, considerably longer than just a few weeks, to unravel myself. To figure out which parts of me was my own and which were his. Cutting my hair had been the first step on that journey.
I had spent, as long as I can remember actually, trying to be ob
Don't Mourn For MeShe was in my bed, where she had been for the past few days. Despite pleas from everyone, she refused to go anywhere else.More Like This
I watched her sob her heart away and I almost wished I hadn’t done it. Seeing her there with so much anguish carved into her lovely face, it almost made me regret my choice, almost.
In the end, it had been worth it. The pain and the sorrow were all gone.
“Stop mourning for me,” I begged as I sat beside her, bed remaining the same under my transcendental body. She had to let go and move on.
She sobbed violently and pressed my pillow into her face, no doubt trying to breath in what little of my scent remained.
“It hurts too much,” she said through choked breaths. “Sometimes it feels like you’re still here,” she quietly added as her sobs began to subside. It seemed like that thought brought her comfort.
“I know sweetie but you have to move on,” I told her in a gentle voice. “It’s not your f
I adopted your scars onto my bodyYou came to me in the midnight of your lifeMore Like This
While I was in the twilight of mine
I was barely breathing
But you were suffocating
And so I breathed my air into your lungs
Leaving myself to be the one gasping instead
Perhaps it was the angst of your soul that drew me in
Or the beauty of the pain in your nature
The selfish selflessness that left me in such wonder that I could ignore the pain i felt
I adopted your scars onto my raw flesh
So that you could again walk among the living
While I laid in happy agony in the grave you abandoned
You promised to return so that we could change places one day...
You Are BeautifulYou Are BeautifulMore Like This
To the girl who cuts herself to bleed away the pain,
To the girl who starves herself because she isn’t “skinny enough”.
To the boy who takes drugs to “fit in” with the jock,
To the boy who is bullied for reading his books, rather than play boy magazines,
To the girl who believes she must strip down to nothing to get the love and compassion she yearns for.
To the man who feels like a failure for the lack of money he holds,
To the women who feels out of style for not having the newest trends,
To the teens sniffing drugs because it makes them a part of the “in crowd”,
To the teens who sits alone, because they have no crowd.
To the boy holding the pills in his hand to end his life,
To the girl with the fabric belt around her neck, feeling like she is worthless,
To the man who looks at his life in shame,
To the woman who looks at her life in despair,
To the one who is persecuted for their beliefs,
To the one who is persecuted for t
Do You Know Who I Am?Do you knowMore Like This
Who I am?
I am Fear,
I am Hate,
I am Lust,
I am Rage.
Let me inside your head.
Let my voice,
Fill you up.
Fill your stomach,
Fill your heart,
Fill your lungs,
Fill your head.
Let me be all that you taste,
All that you hear,
All that you smell,
All that you feel.
Do you know who I am?
I am Addiction,
I am Temptation,
I am Sin.
You can't keep me out.
I am already inside...
What's Happening?"She seems like a whore"More Like This
"You're kind of bitchy"
People say I'm--
"He's cheating with you, isn't he?"
What are you--
"You act like such a slut"
I haven't even--
"You sure you're not a lesbian"
"God, you're so lazy"
I am not! I--
"You never take anything seriously!"
Maybe, but I--
"You're, like, a 9 on the scale"
"You're so nice all the time"
"I never knew you were so deep"
There's a lot of--
"You're what this place is missing"
You really think--
"You're always so optimistic"
Well, yeah, I--
"Everyone loves you"
"I think you'll go far"
I dont know--
You ask me what I'm talking about
When I seem so so confused
Why won't you just make up your mind, everybody
It's not like I've got something left to lose
I'm beaten down and brought back up
Now, every single day
Is this some sick tric
To My RapistYou killed yourself the other dayMore Like This
because you were finally going to jail
for what you did to me
and countless other kids
and let me tell you
how livid that makes me.
I hate the fact that you stole
my virginity from me.
I hate that you’re not getting what
I hate that you took
the coward’s way out.
But most of all
that I didn’t get the chance
to forgive you
and for that
The Talisman"Take this talisman, darling," Mum said, placing a clear stone in my open hand. I felt like an eight year old receiving her weekly pocket money.More Like This
"Mum..." I sighed. Her superstition wore me out sometimes.
"It's a talisman of protection! I'm trusting you with it, now you're sixteen."
"Well, your spells didn't work before. I still got bullied."
"But you never had your hair pulled again, did you?" Mum said with a patronising I-told-you-so tone. She smiled gently and stroked her thumb against my face. "I'm so proud of you, Kate. You didn't have to go to Sixth Form, but you are. I know school's better now-"
"They still think I'm weird," I said flatly, cutting her short.
"Who cares what they think? You got Fyn now anyway."
Yes, Fyn, I thought sourly. My only real friend who still teased me about my batshit crazy mother.
"I don't need the talisman. Everyone leaves me alone now," I said.
"Please wear it, sweetheart. Just under your clothes? I worry about you. So many
Hush Little Baby... “Hush little baby don’t say a word… They’re looking for us and we don’t want to be heard.”More Like This
The sinister whisper sent shivers down my spine. The rough hand against my mouth, the hot breath against my ear, the prickly rope around my wrists. Everything came into sharper focus when the sound of footsteps made the floor above us reverberate. I whimpered quietly, and the hand tightened. The breath at my ear stopped for an endless second.
“Hush little baby don’t make a sound… They’re looking for us and you don’t want to die.”
FFM15 7: The Accurate Tales of Sergeant ScrumTraffic Warden Trev did not enjoy his job. It was difficult to feel needed in one’s career, when one could easily be replaced by a stick with three lights on it. Even so, he returned to the intersection each day. Blow whistle, left palm up, wave traffic through. Blow whistle, right palm up, wave traffic through. No, Traffic Warden Trev did not enjoy his job, but it was necessary.More Like This
A woman’s scream came from the road behind Trev. He spun around, causing two motorists to nearly collide. A screech of tyres and the shouts of angry drivers rang out. Trev ignored them. The scream came again.
Traffic Warden Trev leapt off his podium and raced across the intersection. A car swerved to avoid him, crashing into its neighbour. A van slammed into them both.
Trev slid across the bonnet of a taxi and sprinted down the alley. He tore off his hat and police vest. Beneath it was a different blue uniform. Trev pulled a mask down over his eyes. The Traffic Warden w
HauntedAll that remained was black and charred rubble: They had destroyed everything. Theo walked around the building he had once called his home, running his fingers over the scarred stone. He could still pick out the fireplace but it was the only landmark he could recognise in a world that had been ripped away from him. He closed his eyes as he tried to blot out the images of burnt and bloodied bodies strewn about the village.More Like This
“I should have been here,” he whispered to the fallen walls.
But you weren’t.
Theo whipped around but there was no one behind him. His eyes darted over the ruined village, looking for the source of the sound.
You let us die.
“Who’s there?” shouted Theo, pulling a dagger from his hip.
You let us burn!
Fire erupted into life in the fireplace behind Theo. He could feel the heat against his back and as he turned around he could see a figure in the flames. “Who are you?” he asked, taking a step towards th
Twin FlameMore Like This
My twin flame, I sense he is near.
Not far or close but in my heart,
when I go to sleep or think alone.
The vibrations appear and I sense my
twin flame is near. I never meet him nor
know what he looks like. But deep down
inside I feel as though I'll see him.
Everyday I try to run, he is the chaser
and I am the runner. I fear to feel
the long lasting love, but inside I know
I'll need it.
Magical and sweet, is when I'll meet him.
But I fear the worst and not sure
where to go.
Deep down in my heart I feel as though
I'll meet him. I can;t run away for ever, away from true love.
But what if it is like the others? What if I get hurt?
What if its a mistake again?
I dream of him but I don't remember what he looks like,
only his hair is yellow like the bright sun.
Mysterious as I think, inside I feel I must wait.
I am in fear, and in confusion but I guess I'll have to wait
for my twin flame to get here.
The FallPepper arrived a moment too late. The demon lunged at Grey; its body shaped like a giant wolf and tore at his shoulder with coal black teeth. Pepper felt her heart stop as Grey screamed in agony, desperately trying to kick the demon off. She pulled a bowie knife from her boot and charged at the demon, throwing herself onto its back. She buried the knife in the demon’s neck with a frustrated yell and felt warm blood splatter over her arms and chest.More Like This
The demon roared in pain and tried to throw Pepper. She hauled the knife from its throat and jumped down, lashing out again, drawing a thick red line over its face and removing the use of one eye. The demon coughed, showering the ground with dark blood before stumbling sideways. Pepper stepped back, waiting for the demon to die but it raised its head one more time, locking eyes with the exiled faery. With one swift movement, Pepper hurled the knife at the demon where it lodged itself in between its eyes and the demon toppled sideways w
OrphanedDorian couldn’t catch his breath. His vision flickered as he pulled his eyes away from the blood bath in front of him but the images wouldn’t vanish. His mother’s slit throat and the dozens of cuts and gashes over his father’s body filled his vision with red. Dorian stumbled backwards, slipping on the blood covering the floor and waving his arms as he tried to regain his balance. He fell against the nearest wall, his breath coming in ragged heaves. He dropped his head trying to understand what had happened when a horrible thought crossed his mind.More Like This
“Blair?” he said as he looked around the living room, trying to find the familiar figure of his younger sister. “Blair!” he shouted, stepping around his parents bodies, slipping on congealing puddles of blood but no one answered.
As Dorian hunted for his sister the front door banged open, “Put your hands up!” shouted the men that poured through the door.
Dorian looked over them, the
radiancei am runningMore Like This
on blood and light
fluttering firefly chasms
in spaces once
i spit silver silences
that colour quickfire
a vivid fragility
i'm not faded;
Haiku Request: Earth's TearsIf it pours down, doesMore Like This
It mean Mother Earth's weeping?
Does she mourn like us?