Sunday Is Forever Vampire

 

 

But I just don’t want to disturb the peace right now

OK so the washer is on in the background

Not completely silent

That’s different than something on the screen

TV screen

My feet are cold from fresh air through the door

Yeah cold

This is great

I can’t wait for fall to be here more than summer

Tired of high temps and oppressive heat

Change comes with the new sun born from an eclipse

It renews the New Year 2017’s promises, resolutions, and intent

Works for me

And now time for coffee

As scenes from horror flash through my mind

The warmth from dripping blood wraps its arms around me

Or Jason’s bloody slashes

Or Michael’s gut-wrenching stabs

Jason’s met Freddy but Michael wasn’t there

Sounds like a Sunday brunch should be arranged

Can you imagine a movie with those three?

Then the Scream villain shows brandishing his knife

May he have a seat or will they cut him in half

Remains to be scene or seen

That horror warmth if you can wrap your head before it’s removed

It’s calling knowing my mood

What a day it could be

Psychotic killers, bloodthirsty vampires not pretty boys

No

Plus espresso and me

That’s the way it should be

 

 

 

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Whatever Happened To Que

 

There was a lot to digest. First his mom was dead but she wasn’t seeing she’d appeared to him and they’d stayed up most of the night drinking coffee and talking about where he’s from, the dad he never met and what’d happened to her so he’d know it wasn’t as horrendous as everyone else thought… he could go on and on making her not your average ghost or more accurately not a ghost at all.  Was she a volcano goddess, Hephaesta, Hephaestusa, Vulcana – wait, wrong planet – Volcana for volcano that wasn’t her nemesis as it turned out, but now he’d have to google Greek gods to see the Roman name. So dad was special, a fire being of sorts, and his mom was, well, had  always been different. He couldn’t keep up at the same time he didn’t want to. It was all kind of cool… in a hot lava way.

An affinity with volcanos means great power. As reveling in the thought tried to sneak up on Que, he was all too aware that would mean a responsibility that would show itself as he grew, and most importantly he didn’t want to learn it the hard way. You don’t get something like that for free. The fine print was obviously going to have to do with self-control.

It occurred to him in the midst of everything swirling through his brain responsibility had just introduced itself.

 

 

My Lost Episode

 

 

I didn’t think twice when I saw it

The end of the season and the ritual incomplete

But you both had always been each other’s nemesis

What else would be new

So let’s see what a new season brings

Though I’m growing weary of the same routine

That wearing thin schtick

But

When I saw this episode in the towel I threw

I threw in the towel on watching anymore

Nine seasons would suffice

Actually more than enough

He could have died

Let it be written let it be done

Let it be

The demon made human

Interesting could have been his life

If the producers wanted to push it so

I wouldn’t have cared

Wanting him dead more times than I could count

In the way a demon dies

Relief and release

It should have ended and for me it did

You could have gone back to that place

The boys home

And to the one you’d fallen in love with

At sweet 16

Enough turmoil had passed for you to live your dream

Now was your time

And the series could have ended in dignity

As far as I knew

My opinion as such

But seasons march on

Without me

I’ve seen enough

 

 

Hypnagogic Or Am I ‘Nopompic

 

Getting ready to relax this ran through my head:

 

When you wish upon a star, it doesn’t matter how close or far

Or what you do, your dream comes true

But what about if you choose stand tall

And decide to wish on nothing at all

Or not to wish but ride life’s call

And vow to topple every wall

And stand against another’s thrall

Should there be no wish and your dream’s all you

What would happen, will you rise or fall?

 

So I guess there’s no sleeping yet and I wonder if I can rewrite it so everything doesn’t rhyme. I hate it when that happens. Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme all the time… for heaven’s sake listen to me.

 

Let’s see.

Aaarrgh!

 

When you wish upon a star, it doesn’t matter how close or far

 

We don’t really know where they are in proximity to earth but we can see them

Indicating a clear night leading into a clear day

But will we have clear thought

There’s something

Maybe the rhyming will be broken up if I talk people to death

Unless our pets learn how to read

Or a wild animal finds pieces of newspaper flying around

They’ll read it too

There are secret lives we don’t know about

We can’t necessarily see

 

Or what you do, your dream comes true

 

In the movies they do when magical things happen

But just ask Hume about that

If it happens then it’s natural not magical

Just an every day occurrence you know

 

Anyway

 

But what about if you choose stand tall

And decide to wish on nothing

Ok, so remove ‘at all’ and that changes but doesn’t hurt its flow

What’d’ya know

There I go

Again

 

Or not to wish but ride life’s calling

Let the tune it plays fill you

And vow to topple every obstruction but it’s not if you don’t dwell on it

Or perceive it so

And stand against another’s thrall

What one does to talk you out of who you are

Take that twinkle-twinkle

Should there be no wish and your dream’s all you

What would happen, will you rise or fall

When you refuse to wish

 

Yeah, that’s it

But that’s not all

 

My goodness it’s hopeless. I guess it was meant to rhyme in spite of my best intentions. Looking at the salt lamp’s reflection against the table lamp behind it, the figure on the wall resembles a bat, cat’s ears forming the wings but the head is too narrow resembling a perch to rest on like a gargoyle overlooking a city from on high. Something’s off, but as long as it doesn’t start flapping I’m good with it. Luckily the sky is getting light so it’s too late for any manifestations. Interesting, the shadow is more defined, your final hurrah old friend? Be that as it may, you’ll fade soon enough and I’m making another coffee then watching the clouds gather for the brewing storm, the shapes and colors they’ll form. No sun will be shining today.

 

Damn.

It is hopeless…

 

 

 

 

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