Thoughts – Page 6

Thoughts / May 8, 2019

Good Night

I called the rain and it came. Night alone was insufficient.
Come on baby

To witness and permit my dis/quiet. My cheerless lullaby.
La, la, la, la, la

I sigh my side of the story. The dis/respect and dis/honesty. A sincere betrayal. My ridiculous indulgences. On repeat.
Baby take my hand

Loved falsely. Without strength and without fruit.
Baby I’m your man

Evicted moon and runaway stars. I laugh at the poets’ dependence on the subcelestial. Ha! I am the fool with avian heart. Writing per requirement. (By far my weakest drabble!) A dead end bitterness.
Don’t fear the reaper

Read More 0

Thoughts / May 7, 2019

An Introduction to Envy

I am seven years old at my cousin’s McDonald’s birthday party and I am Happy™.

I cheer the birthday girl as she opens and aahs her tower of unmemorable gifts.

Her Mommy materializes a promise pink suitcase. White-painted block letters parade purpose: Going to Grandma’s. My hard initiation to presents-inside-presents follows. Footed pajamas and a day outfit. A pouch with lip-gloss and her very own bath things. A favorite picture book to conjure candy-coated dreams.

I wish her smile to go the way of doomed balloons in the corner.

I wish I didn’t delight in this hive inside my heart.

Read More 0

Thoughts / May 6, 2019

An Introduction

I am afraid of being a copycat; I am a scaredy-cat copycat!

And yet, this word/world has called me and pulled me close (sweet-n-safe breath, an almost-kiss square on my lips).

Drabble. I thought I knew his game – chitter-chatter prattle, purpose-less.

Wrong guy, she says. Drabble is not Drivel. She properly introduces us.

Drabble is different. Flexible and free, but with holding structure. No games. No exhausting ambiguity.

EXACTITUDE [100 words].

She says that she will be with him every day in May. I want to too.

How can there be enough to go around?

Just play friendly. Source:

http://somethingkaty.blogspot.com/2019/05/definition.html

Read More 0

Thoughts / December 7, 2016

Sour Grapes

I have been locked out of my blog. The tragedy lies in the identity of the culprit.

I cannot join the chorus of complaints about middling web hosting services and technological glitches; not even can I lay the blame at the corporate feet of the perennially incompetent Time Warner Cable. I haven’t any tales of Prim infiltration by Putin’s Russian hackers. No, I am the problem. My choking perfectionism precludes me from even making a start.

I soothe the pain of procrastination, of abandoned passion, with mental manipulation, my favorite being that I am not meant to be a writer. Negating my history—my absence of memory sans the written word, my first grade story writing, the engraving of words upon my mind—I tell myself that this writing thing is but a folly. Worse, I may even want to be a writer purely for ego gratification, for the cool and the cred of the writer image.

My excuses are but crippling untruths. I am sad living without writing.

I want to let myself back in.

Read More 0

Quotes, Thoughts / March 28, 2016

Last Words

Some accuse me of morbidity, their assertion supported by a scaffold of dark twigs; my fondness for cemeteries and storms, my ubiquitous clothing choice in the color without color, my reliance upon heavy literature, my collection of dying words. I wish that I might lend them my lens, an owl bestowing her nighttime sight to the worshippers of the sun, that they might see beyond the limits of labels to the radiant core of all—Beauty.

Who is it? Who is it?
~Billy the Kid

Does nobody understand?
~James Joyce

The sadness will last forever.
~Vincent van Gogh

Read More 0