Endless Rain

I hope it rains forever,

So the same places don’t feel the same,

So I don’t need to feel too alive,

So the same people won’t speak,

So it’s as if the world’s already died.

I Hope it Rains forever,

and clouds block away the sun,

and droplets form on the ceiling,

and make the weak ones run.

I Hope it rains forever,

and starts drowning all the cars

with lightning and sparks,

I Hope it rains forever,

That one could rest their mind,

and thoughts patter on the asphalt

and run off through the gutters and storm drains and pipes,

far far away,

staining the oceans blood red and orange

trailing off into time.

Forever.

 

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Lovers in Space.

The farther you pull back,

The less it all seems to mean,

But looking in on a moment,

Bears all the significance.

 

The lights of a moving carousel,

the smell of pine and fried dough,

Smiles that wont go away,

Standing on the grassy dew covered hill and looking up at the fabric above,’

and wondering.

And not having to wonder alone.

 

Sky rocketing through the clouds and weaving among comets towards the vast uncertainty of the big ocean of reality,

Peering out from the cramped cockpit at a flinging tendril of star energy,

Not minding the close spaces or the empty floating candy wrappers in the cabin,

Or the crumbs, or the love.

There are filters after all.

 

Walking across alien landscapes and marveling together at odd temples covered with blue lichen,

Reaching for each other under a green sky,

and being human in a strange, futuristic land,

on another planet,

in the emptiness of all space,

two specks in the multitudes,

Knowing that when you pull away it all seems like nothing,

But here and now,

Is all that is.

all that is needed.

My best gal.

“The wine is quite good.”

“pardon me?”

“I say- I say the wine is quite good.”

“Oh you think so?”

“Indeed I do.”

“Well it’s always good to hear that a man’s wine is appreciated after all the time and effort taken to pick the dandelions off the side of the highway.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah, it’s dandelion wine.”

“Really? i didn’t know you could make wine from dandelions.”

“Oh absolutely, Ive been making it since I was 10.”

“that is something.”

“Yep- And I haven’t been sober since.”

The man let out a horse laugh and the scent of fermenting liver and pipe weed emerged forth and entered sharply into the taster’s nose.

“I say, the aroma of your dying innards pares well with the wine.”

“Oh thank you sir, I really do try to maintain my demise as vigorously as my wines.”

“So do you only make dandelion wine?”

“Huh?”

“I say do you only make dandelion wine?”

“As far as I can tell.”

“Well…alright that should do for the sacrament anyway.”

“Always a pleasure to aid the clergy”

The year was 1930 and vaudeville was all the rage, the Sachemo kid and Kimmy Rats Bottoms toured the world-round performing their famous dandelion-wine-clergy skit. Tragically they died in an accident when 150 bullets riddled their car from the precision rifles of the G-men on the trail of Bonny and Clyde. Our fearless G-Men got them in the end though and just goes to show that there is no cost too great for our feds to stop the outlaw and the spread of communism.

 

 

Memories

From my childhood, I recall a few images that remain vividly imprinted in my mind. Despite the years and experiences gone by and the desire to become a self-sufficient human person being grown up thing, these moments remain forever embedded in my memory.

Snoopy and Charlie Brown were talking on the TV upstairs. I ran at full speed. Snoopy and Charlie Brown were also talking on the TV downstairs.

I was driven by exploratory desire. The trunk door of my Mom’s Saab ’93 was heavier than I expected. Trunks are dark.

I yelled Bam! each time I threw a toy into my basket, all except for the last time, when I yelled DAMN! I turned to my mother who was nearby and apologized, but she only looked up and said “What for?” I mumbled “Nothing” and silently continued, contemplating if only I was aware of my own experiences in life.

 

 

Prompt Source:

Prompt 872

Simple or Brilliant?

As he turned, unsure of weather he had leave to go, he blurted out to the only one who could hear him.

“I am the undevoted man of the unseen, half a being, dipped in Chrome and part of the machine. Wisdom leaves a tarnish, but I like the way it mutes the sun. I’m the man of light and chief of all undone. You cannot stop my march as I bumble past your life. I am not solid enough to hold, but I can still cut you like a knife. I am master of the inbetweeness and I shout “balance” in my mirror, come away or stay with me, I cant tell if I want you nearer.”

He said and then left.

The wise woman would say about men like him:

“Tread carful when you see this creature mired in his swamp. He is a storm of high mind and base desire moving towards impossible dreams and unheard of wants. Truths and lies boil in the same bubbles and so rapid do they rise, not even he knows which are his troubles. Tread carful.”

Spark

A shock wave runs through the system.

Time is fast approaching,

bring us to the event horizon

of all things great and terrible.

I was sleeping in my bed

I was covered and warm

I was pushing away my life

and now I am alive.

Should not have

hit

snooze

Unbridled

Where does the wind go?

Where does the time go?

When will the sun stay,

always in the sky?

I feel that there’s a rhythm,

and the song will never end,

but I know that there’s an ending

I just don’t know when.

I hope that one day then,

when it all comes crashing down,

I can see the lands where all that time had gone to,

and where the winds are all around,

where the sun shines every morning,

and a song.

If there should be a higher dimension to go to,

and more dimensions below,

am I still in the beginning,

or am I near their height?

I must be somewhere in the middle.

Living out this strange life.

 

 

Stuck

With a sigh she opened the screen and the lights dazzled across her face. Entering through the pathway into another world. A place of magic or intensity, life, and drama. Not like reality. Somehow reality was less vibrant. Looking around all of the surfaces and corners of her apartment, the usual tree outside by the stoop where she would suck down a cigarette to bookend experiences. None of it penetrated her. Other people were flat unchanging beings except by location. Somehow all of her friends just felt like a far away collection of vague faces in the haze of a humming backdrop to it all.

So she spent her time watching videos, collecting more and more information from the little box who she began to think of as more of a friend. Her and her computer. “Hey that could be a show!” she’d think, nothing about a computer and a girl as romping friends could be bad. They could talk about memes together and joke about how in those fleeting moments where the girl was an artist, that her self–confidence was a wreck and she was better off just getting back on youtube or whatever.

The thought circled around and she almost got up to write it down but then she really wanted to see how the finale would end. The memory of the her and her computer friend faded until it was unreal, faded into the humming blur where all her friends lived along with the collection of a million other possible experiences. Hours between walls and watching the glowing rectangle. As sleep gnawed at her eyes and she could feel herself wasting away. Still she managed to raise a finger and tap for one more hit.

Death would dawn on her as season six was in its climax. “I only get one life.” the thought said to her. But it seemed so wrong. How could she only get one life when she had experienced so many lives. Even history in grade school covered a vast swathe of lives. Literature, movies, comics, all worlds to enter, to jump into. ONE life? that’s absurd.

But the pang of mortality would return as she watched the screen unblinking. “This is it, I’m using this time right now.” she shook her head and went back to the world, hoping, wishing that the lights could just make her forget who she was, what she was, and what she knew. she wanted to fade into this make believe world that some caffeinated room of writers had made piecemeal for some executive who cut half of it out and sent it off to a social coordinator to get “sharability” or whatever the FUCK they call it.

She was scared. And fear drove her to seek to forget as a matter of course. Why confront a fear you can do nothing about? How do you stop the time from slipping away? How do you keep from dying? You act like you want it. You become lethargic.

It was always amazing how hours could tick by. re-runs, re-watching, re blogging, re-entering the world of these people who had so much more beyond the surface level. She smiled at the jokes, wrapped herself in comfort, while the endless cavalcade of stimulus lulled her further and further away from herself.

She watched and she forgot to live until all the world felt like one great watching.

It was all one big show and everyone was always on it.

but it was real.

and

It’s over now, go click on something else.

Edge

I feel like a shark with a hook in its mouth.

Torpedo fast predator,

razor blades for teeth.

Stuck with this metal thorn,

a splinter tied with coils of cord that run deep and seamless

into the cartilage.

With no way to get it out,

I can only hope it shakes off

before it grows deeper inside

forever.

And I wonder if I would be better or worse off.

Resonance

“Well you know she stepped up to me- had on these boots, like you know, like they were they were from the 1800’s, but there were skulls on em’. I’m rollin’ a jack and I watched her come up and she steps right in front of me, and BAM lands that pointy thing right between my legs.”

“She stepped on you?”

“Nah no no, on the stoop man, like on the concrete, like she was just out to scare me. All the tobacco in my paper goes flying and I get pissed off, I’m like “WHAT WAS THAT FOR!” and she leans in at me right up next to me and she says “whats the best part of life?”

…and that would be the kind of thing she’d do, just to get a rise out of people, you know rile em’ up, get them out of whatever, like cruse control they all act in. I mean I’m in it to, I try not to get stuck in it, but now I feel like my cruse control is just being paranoid about being comfortable.”

“What’s wrong with being comfortable?”

“Well it’s not real is it? Being comfortable isn’t being happy or sad, it’s being content, its not quite all there isn’t it. Maybe that’s just how I feel, I feel like I’m never comfortable. I’m always trying to get away from it, being content, cuz if your content you’re alright with nothing. Like if your content you are just fine with death. Letting time past with forgotten dreams. ”

“oh.”

“Yea, but I still love just laying down and I used to just exist and it’s a hard gear to get away from. It’s easy now with it all, all the TV programs. I guess being comfortable is just not getting anything, not reaching. People wanna be comfortable. I do to, but If I was  comfortable I’d never get anything done. But then I don’t know what I need to get done anyway. If it’s alright to just keep going and hope you end up somewhere. I’m just all chopped up and divided, and I don’t know if I’m the only one or it’s just a human condition. You know?”

“So you have doubts?”

“Shit yeah I got doubts. I’m a hypocrite. I’d like to think everyone is.”

“So what did you say?”

“about what?”

“When she asked you what the best part about life was.”

“Oh when she slammed her boot between my legs.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought about it, I had nothing to say. If you’re put on the spot like that its hard to get it out. Now, I just shoot out the first thing that comes to mind and damn the consequences. Not very responsible, but forget being contemplative. It’s just a god-damned Hamlet complex. ”

“So you didn’t say anything?”

“I thought, and it was a sunny day so I said sunshine. And when I said it, it didn’t feel real, you know, i was just trying to put something out there. How the hell can you- there is a whole world out there. Just pick one thing out of it. It’s all too much man. It’s insulting, and why should I be put on the spot about it.”

“You got upset.”

“Yeah, she riled me.”

“Like you said she does.”

“Yeah, that was how she got a rise.”

“Give others a rise?”

“yeah.”

“So what did she say?”

“SO I said sunshine, and just sat there. Like a dope, and she didn’t do or say anything for a long moment. She knew how to make a moment…significant. She looked at me for a while, she was right up in my face, and then she closed her eyes, she took in air through her nose… deep deep in and her chest rose and her stomach filled…And then she held it…and slowly she let it out through her mouth…and I got the smell that a close breath has….you know when it’s more CO2 than regular air…. And she let it out and she said : “BREATHING.”

“Did you agree?”

“I did after she said that.”