A Graveyard Hanging On The Wall

Nothing to talk about really

And it’s getting closer to Halloween after all

It’s just that

I’m sitting here feeling cozy with the weather outside uneventful but cooler enough there’s an intimacy wearing sweats, holding my espresso, and the setting low enough for heat just in case it should drop that far it might run a few seconds of warmth no more but it shouldn’t have to

Feeling alive with the change that’s about time it’s really fall better behavior as far as I’m concerned

Offended at September my month carrying on like it’s July shouldn’t it know better

It should

All is forgiven now that we’re here and it damn well not hit 95, 85, 80, I don’t want to see 70 nor 60 is too much of a risk

No better than 50-something if it knows what’s good for it not to incur my wrath

What’s this all about

I just wanted to write settled into the blankets, the comforter thrown over the couch with the laptop doing just that sitting on my lap

Typing while I wear warm clothes listening to the dryer while it adds a little bit of heat

Nothing overwhelming

Thinking soon enough it may snow outside, seeing snowflakes in my mind, feeling the fresh air coolness rejuvenation

New life

Yeah wrap your head around that fall and winter symbolizes new life like a bucket of ice water wakes you up

Speaking of which let me take this last mouthful of coffee before it becomes iced

 

Didn’t Vanilla Ice perform in a Ninja Turtles movie

Yeah they or he did

Worried espresso  might keep me up longer now I’m not

When you’re tired enough nothing can keep you awake or at least not me

Not even those caffein pills sold at convenience stores for truck drivers to help them stay awake

Legal speed or aren’t they sold anymore I don’t know

Anyway

I think that’s it

The dryer stopped but I don’t want to get up

The Alchemist’s Cauldron

A stack of old books though with candles burning how dark it looks. Bottles and jars there, what do they hold? I can’t see them clearly, so ancient so old. Is that a shadow of a crow or a real one? Look closer with me that together we see.

 

Who Knew?

Shirley’s roommate had the house lit up brighter than a Christmas tree when Shirley

came home from work. Both TVs were on and all the lights save Shirley’s room while

she was on the landline clutching her cell in the other hand in case of a call. Finally her

bedroom TV went out, which meant one less item on, but Shirley had to give up watching

television in the living room or reap her roommate’s hovering, comments and impatient

insinuations. Shirley moved.

 

True Love

Ralph was into things he never admitted to Fran; he never let her in on his secrets. She

was patient and let him be himself, always happy with his company. It happened the car

was confiscated, which put a damper on his extracurricular activities. Fran could have

chuckled to herself about it but the car he was using when that happened was hers. She

had to go to the police department and haggle with them to get it back.

Bye Ralph.

 

 

Smile

Reece was having trouble getting her deposit back on an apartment she had moved from. She was learning the hard way her agent was very dishonest. While having a heated debate during an appointment with the agent one day, the agent angrily blurted out how she was stuck paying Reece’s landlord extra rent because of the date she’d moved that he didn’t expect. (It seemed he and the agent had some kind of arrangement about how long Reece should live there without her knowledge or approval.) That cut what Reece would lose to half the amount, which was better than losing it all.

 

 

The Pacifist

Bruce’s mom couldn’t shake the heartache she felt for Bruce ever since his breakup

with Lucinda. She knew Lucinda was much too old for him and as a graduate student in

Psychology her agenda for him wasn’t romance, but data toward dissertation. Life goes

on, but it was difficult for Bruce to shake off what had happened. A few years later,

Bruce’s mom happened upon Lucinda’s name on a social chat site. She baited her

sending an offer of friendship, which Lucinda accepted. Bruce’s mom let communication

remain open for about a month, then sent a message:

“When I first sent the offer of friendship, there was a bit of relish behind the notion of

telling you off. I decided it wasn’t worth it, not that at times there aren’t things that need

be said. Then I thought I’d start a healing process. Healing for what exactly? We’ve never

been friends. After what you did to my son we’re never going to be. Any salutation or

good will wish would be false on my part. I have no desire to extend my arm around you

and say, “Let bygones be bygones”. As victims of a pre-meditated attempted murder that

includes his sister as affected as we were, I don’t think we owe you, the perpetrator,

anything.

All of this to say I’m removing you from my list of friends. I guess something was said

after all; so much for the soft-cloth mom theory. If you wish to use any of this for

personal or professional dissertation, you must purchase the rights to my property from

me first.”

Right after she clicked send, she removed and blocked Lucinda from her page, got up,

opened a beer and settled back, basking in satisfaction.

Sunday Is For Vampire But…

Defining vampire…  I watched two movies, horror it said, about boys who murder. One was 13 the other 9, and it was incredible what they could do. The Paperboy began with a murder but throughout the movie it was evident mom now deceased was the culprit. The horror was in his life and there was closure at the end – one of his intended victims survived and came back with the law before he murdered yet again. Mikey on the other hand was horror in it’s truest sense. The child murdered without provocation, without conscience, without soul and it was without end.  How could adults be so useless I couldn’t help but think. Un-intuitive, weaker than a child, so overwhelmed each stood still so he could harm them with an end that was no ending. Psychologists find him traumatized but stable just needing patience and love as he is placed with a third family…

There are all kinds…

Sunday Is For Vampire July 2018

So I looked up the Chronicles of Riddick that was after I’d watched The Wolfman. Vampires still on my mind I was reminded of a conversation… why? Can’t say, “My friends and I have simple tastes, we drink Busch Light”. “My condolences” I’d said. The beverages offered after assistance given moving a heavy piece, yes could’ve done it myself but I can’t let anyone know, not in public, in daylight; anyway were a higher end, good quality and potency cast to the wayside by simpler tastes. Suit yourself I’ll keep them is what I didn’t say. Later that Christmas holiday the trash men received a bag I know they didn’t throw into the back of the truck for refuse or recycle amounting to a six of cheer. Well appreciated might do it again next year.

Simpler tastes aren’t worth a bite on the neck or anywhere. Thin, watery, cheap blood  let the wolves have him, tear him to bits, move on. I remember walking by a pizza box discarded in the grass two half eaten slices overrun by ants. On the return trip the box was still there, the pizza was gone, a few stragglers remained overseeing the cleanup ensuring nothing left behind. Have fun wolf-friend life’s natural shredder not created by Oliver North, leave his remains for the ants.

We have to look out for each other after all…

Issues

Imagine my surprise when I opened the towel to wipe my face and saw stains. Thought I took care of that. Don’t usually leave evidence around, that proof that something’s awry not that anyone would believe we really exist with all the hype these days and faux superheroes that draw everyone’s attention away from reality. I laughed to myself though I know the body is gone safe in the hands of the Necro who took it with the trash last night. Like everyone else I simply put it out the night before, nothing unusual and no need to worry about it in the morning. More time to have juice, make espresso, just sit and think, I mean why not. Just saw a movie the other night with a vamp that eats apples. Apples! Where do they get these ideas? Still, we’ve come a long way from blood only with everything else making us throw up though there is that one thing after all this time, dead man’s blood, is till an issue…

Time Stands Still

 

Running between speeding cars a hobble in my step

I’d written a little something about this before

Ankle twisting possibly opening the door to meet my maker

But in this case could it be

Cars slow down for me I command

Not likely

It’s the hormone release that gives slo-mo oversaturating

But I need to spring

Mythical creature I transform

Not prepare for impact and brace

What’s up with that

Adrenaline where’d you go

Made it ok no one saw

Transformations beyond human sight

Or out of it anyway

Glitch on

Trying to sit up and write but the internet won’t cooperate

Down more than not grates on the nerves

The last one means I’m almost out

Wish there were a spell to cast

Automated help desk says could be maintenance from midnight to seven any given day

Every given day I sneer

That’s my time

Find another way before I conjure

Wouldn’t like me when I’m angry

I don’t turn green

 

What can I come up with to fix this…

 

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