i have not contributed lately due to offline pressures and responsibilities. but if there is a pure soul out there in Philadelphia willing to come over and help me post my ‘real web page’ let me know. must be an expert coder and designer. will pay.
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Jump though your landing is uncertain.
Laugh until your tears well over.
Caveman never be, but do evolve.
Crank up your vibrations and feel.
Filter out negativity, focus on now.
Clues to the meaning of life.
Photo Credit: http://uncommonchick.com/what-is-the-meaning-of-life/
Six on the Sixth Prompt – Mar 2015 (More …)
Sara cringed. Arnie, enraged she made scrambled eggs and not sunny side up, flung the plate at her head. A thin stream of blood crept down the side of her face. Years of falsely claiming she’s clumsy, hiding bruises and living in alienation and fear. “No more,” she screamed as she gripped the handle of the cast iron skillet. He crumpled to the kitchen floor with one blow. The second blow ensured he’d never hurt her again. His high fences finally came in handy. She buried him in the soft earth by the mushrooms that resembled sunny side up eggs.
PHOTO PROMPT – © Erin Leary
Like an Aardvark digging for termites,
Ronald clawed under the Apple tree.
His Truck’s high-beams, the only light.
“Pay up or we Kill her.”
Money Left. “She’s under the tree.”
Papers headline: Kidnapped child buried alive…
photo credit: http://guyanachronicle.com/buried-alive/
Six on the Sixth Prompt – Feb 2015
There is a place where beauty and evil lie intertwined
Where hope becomes that moist, sweet air which liberates before it confines
Birds above and sky crisp blue do not whisper of such things
But he will bellow with deafening rage, “I am the Yellow King!”
You count the flat brown patches as you race through the green maze
Fourteen so far as you turn toward the voice, not seeing fifteen, your open grave
You claw and scrape to leave the pit as his steps draw closer
“My lovely, you will never leave this place. You are forever in Carcosa.”
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Melanie Greenwood
My heart has never mended from the pain it suffered
When you turned your back to me, I never felt so helpless
Countless years pass as I pine for what was lost
I grieve for the love I had, I grieve for what it’s cost
To you we were nothing but two ships passing in the night
To me you were the sun and the moon, oh how my heart took flight
I stand here now a shadow of my former self having lost what I once loved
Wishing better my ship had stayed docked, better never to have loved
Ben returned home. He completed rehab. His fourth. He fixated on the screen and courtyard. His parent’s estate was opulent, “…yet the screen… the courtyard…” he queried aloud. He felt his sobriety rested on solving this mystery. “Why put a cheap screen in this house? Why eat facing a barren courtyard?” After several moments, he gradually realized he was looking at himself. The home’s opulence represented his rich kid façade; the screen, his ugly heroin addiction; and lastly the courtyard, his empty soul. “Benjamin, are you ready?” “Yes mother,” he called out, knowing this meal would be his last supper.
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields
“Humans are creatures of habit. No matter how clever they believe they are, their habits are always their undoing. Gurser’s habit was life insurance. First victims: his in-laws, the Ropers. Car accident. Nothing definitive on the crash, but he’s a skilled mechanic. Next: his mother-in-law. Easy target. Her depression over the sudden loss of her son and husband consumed her. He used her prescribed sleeping pills. We may never have caught him, but Al used the same bottle of pills on his wife Edith. See Sheriff? Habit.”
In a defeated voice, Sheriff Marsden muttered, “Guess that’s why you’re the eff-bee-eye.”
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Claire Fuller
“Sometimes, a man’s gotta upgrade,” hissed Al. Edith broke their vows. Again. Sleeping pills in her brandy dociled her. He loaded her into the rusted wagon and let the exhaust fumes finish her off.
“Al, I’m real sorry ‘bout Edith. Your wagon’s back from impound. We ain’t found no note, but most of the town knows ‘bout her mamma. Sometimes the apple don’t fall far from the tree. Shame. We’ll push this through so you can bury her by week’s-end. “ Sheriff Marsden headed towards the door, “I noticed your new ride. Sweet.”
Al quipped, “Sometimes, a man’s gotta upgrade.”
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jean L. Hays
“Superior? Really?” Melissa thought as she marveled at the dented and peeling laminate table top complete with over-sized dime store candle. She believed she had hit rock-bottom with the ‘Trav-is-New’ Jesus freak who brought his bible on their first date, “I believe all answers to our problems are in the Good Book.” She wished for the rapture for that ‘Trav-is-sty’. But ‘Brad-to-the-Bone’ took the cake, “I have a B.O.G.O. free coupon on entrees! Let’s go Dutch on Sum Dim-Dim!” “More like Sad-to-the-Bone,” she lamented to herself as she deleted her online profile while Brad brandished his coupon between his chopsticks.
photo credit: Marie Gail Stratford
“Thomas hide! Now!” The storm was here. “But mommie I’m scared.” Thomas glanced at his birthday cake. The 10 candles were still burning though the cake littered the dining room floor with the overturned table. “Go!” she screamed with terror and courage in her voice.
Thomas darted into the cellar, bolting the door behind him as she had taught him. He squeezed his hands against his ears, but could still hear glass shattering and muffled screams. Then silence.
Thomas unbolted the door. His mother lay crumpled on the kitchen floor, bloodied. “It’s alright Thomas. Daddy’s gone.” His storm had passed.
photo credit: Kelly Sands
She stared at the screen, eyes blood shot red, spine spasming, and thought, “I don’t have it in me. I can’t create with my tank on Empty.” She had worked 14 straight nights. Sunday would be her first day off. Or so she thought. “Could you cover this Sunday? I hate to ask but we are short.” begged the supervisor. She had put in for a transfer on the 9th night but Corporate denied the request. She was also embroiled in a CNA suspension whom she reported sleeping, “Could you please give another statement as to how many times you saw the aide sleeping and what you did to intervene?” questioned the Director of Nursing in a seemingly innocuous office email. The Company had already settled in two lawsuits of negligent death, now there’s Sleep-Gate.
“Good morning beautiful,” texted Brian. She had no clue who he was. Maybe from OKCupid. Maybe from that dance club last summer. She didn’t know and had no interest putting any thought into it. “Hi. I’m headed to the gym,” she lied, “talk to you soon,” another lie. She wondered why he kept texting her, “Because you have no interest in him.” she answered aloud.
But she also had no interest in sex, “The longer I go without sex, the longer I can go without sex.” she remembered saying to her therapist. She didn’t even have interest in self-pleasure. But her body told another story. When counting narcs with Remi, the half Egyptian, half Russian male nurse, she felt a heavy moisture between her legs, “Great. Just what I need. My period.” she grimaced to herself. When she went to the bathroom to survey the damage, she found clear slippery fluid instead. It seems standing next to an attractive man made her body prepare for an act that was never going to come (tongue in cheek).
So she sits and writes with no particular purpose, other than to say, “I am still here. Battered but still here.”
Awenasa pleaded, “Father, tell me the story again.”
“It is late child,” he hushed, “but if you promise to –.“
Awenasa bounced into bed gleefully, “I promise Father to offer seven blessings to the Great Buffalo Spirit!”
Father acquiesced, “Many millennia ago, when Earthlings consumed their resources, the Great Plague consumed the planet killing almost all life. What remained was the Tree of Life. From it sprung true evolution of all which had been denied freedom and dignity in the yester-years. From this new life, came a new people who blessed their planet with what Cherokee name?”
“Awenasa!” she burst with triumph.
“And what does that mean child?”
“My home, Father. It means, My Home!”
photo credit: Madison Woods