The Lousypoet

I was starting to feel desperate. When had I been put here? How long had it been since my wings had stretched to their full extent? When might a tasty moth get afraid of the moth traps in the pantry and make its way over here? These bars seemed to close in on me at every turn. I couldn’t even sing my song that used to make me so happy. I tucked my head under my wing and groomed myself relentlessly. If I were to meet my end here, at least I could look my best.

A (very) short story…

Jason had often thought about moving. As he sat in front of his computer, he typed mindlessly, Wilmington NC real estate.

“What is the weather like in North Carolina?” He wondered aloud. The house remained silent, though he was sure after the cold wind beating it had taken earlier, it might very well welcome a move to North Carolina as much as he might.

There really was nothing keeping him here. His wife had left, they had never managed to have kids. And then there was the whole matter of the body in the basement…

This is a work of fiction…

It was hard to remember how long I had been in the tree. My legs had long since lost feeling and my back ached in ways I knew no conventional meds were going to solve.

The daylight had long retreated behind the hills and night had embraced the land in a comforting blanket of darkness. I knew I would have to wait this long, why I had gone through my nightforce rifle scopes and picked the best for the job. Below the silence was shattered, something approached.

I looked through the scope and the night exploded in varying shades of green. Through the scope was the world in microcosm. Small, contained, illuminated against the night; a place where the crossing of lines and the increased pressure of my finger were the difference between life and death. I wasn’t delusional; unlike some of the others I had yet to accept my role as god-like. Instead, I saw myself as the hand of fate. What happened through the scope would change the world; Bradbury’s butterfly effect.

I steadied the rifle against me. Felt the familiar weight in my hands, nuzzled into it like a lover, waited for the right moment, the time when fate would guide me to action. Breathe now, 1, 2, 3, squeeze…

She had never seen a diamond so large. Despite all the jewelry she had, none sparkled and held the light captive such as this. It represented all her most cherished dreams. A ring, a singular, unbroken circle representing eternity; commitment, stability, perhaps even a lifetime of love. It seemed so singularly odd yet natural that such a simple trinket could encompass so many things.

She sighed heavily and handed it back to the clerk. Today was not the day, no matter the intensity of her desire. She walked out of the store, her mind lost in a revelry of dreams, and found herself knocked flat on the floor when she met what seemed an immovable object.

The “object” reached down a hand, that she followed to the most amazing eyes that sparkled almost as lustrously as the diamond, and a smile that filled with warmth and kindness.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” He exclaimed. “Are you hurt?”

No ring on his finger, nor girl on his arm. Maybe not today, but there would be other days for a ring to be purchased.

I have travelled ‘cross the wastes
Navigated the labyrinth of midnight’s madness
Forsaken all those who would still call me friend.
Fell to my knees, skinned my hands,
All so I could cross this threshold.
Now the sword in my hand hungers for your flesh,
thirsts for your blood.
Will you stand?
Will you draw your steel?
Let the thunder of metal upon metal trumpet one of our honourable deaths?
Or will you prefer to sit idle,
Awaiting the sweet silent embrace of oblivion.
The hour draws near
My moment is now or never.
Decide, for I am coming…

The Empire of my mind,
With its vast open plains
Helps to mask the pains
of their tortured king

It’s no secret to anyone who has spent some time reading this blog that I want to be a writer. The desire burns greatly, even if there is only smoke to show for it

Part of my issue is that I come up with these things in my head, but they never grow into a fully formed idea, story or poem.

So instead of abandoning these notions to the darker corners of my mind, I’ve decided that I’m going to write them here in short, literary bursts. I refer to them lovingly as Fragments. Because really, that’s how I see them, as fragments of an idea that has yet to fully find its voice.

I might not ever do anything with these. But here they will exist, and by using my little tags at the bottom of the post, I can quickly group them together to see if they impart any new inspiration.

So without further rambling, here is the first fragment…

With your finger trace a line,
the difference between yours and mine.

In the light we will spin and dance,
in the darkness take a chance.

The demon vents its rage
The angel tries to assuage