Tuesday, December 29, 2015

it seems i have an acute case of vashta nerada - i need the doctor!


i've wasted so much time pretending i don't exist.....

the truth has always been the weight i feel, the heaviness i combat each moment with breathing....

the illusion, more real than the truth, until you sigh, and hold your breath

a glimpse comes like a flash of light, suddenly the weight is lifted.....

now i have to remind myself each day...that none of us ever existed....

there are parasites that feed on humanity....

look them in the face and reveal them.....watch them starve as we fade into nothingness...

lost memories without a skull to call home...circling the planet...... we are but ghosts of our past....

haunting and feeding.......

Friday, December 25, 2015

evie pratt.....


it's my time……but the universe keeps me waiting here and now until it comes back around…..

she's alive - the robot version of my mind…..

she lives in a braver, newer world……….

you will know her one day…..or forget her depending on the curve of time…..

on this Christmas the gift of knowing her would be yours but not mine....infinite letters arranged through space and time……..stars burning all the pages to land on…….but this i will give you……just her name, and then her story when she comes alive……..off to bed, sugar plums and the wonder of who is Evie Pratt running about the corners in your head…….pillow dreams and realities………someday you'll all be seeking me.....

Thursday, October 29, 2015

wrote this in january and never posted it...so here you can have it now....

for 23 days a very busy spider has been spinning her web....
not to be confused with the very busy spider of course....
sticky and tangled words can often collide.......
but who claims ownership......none have claim.....all have claim....or so said legolas without his wig....
off i go now.....to find who i truly am......
the darkness is luminescent

the shadow of who i used to be....


i used to be a writer, but they took away my hands....

i used to sing stories, so they cut out my tongue.........

i used to read books and drift off into other places, but they stitched my eyes closed

the pain carried me until i stumbled upon my hands...

my tongue grew back like a venomous snake and i lashed out with it....

i tore the stitching from my eyes and used it as a rope to free myself....

and now i will make them pay...for all they have done, only they aren't real and when i strike i look like a fool swatting the air.....

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

a letter to the editor about the new 845 drop off rule at school....


The Wheels On The Bus and Cars lots and lots of cars

            Day four back to school, the lines to drop off are long, winding bafflements.  And they only lead to the parking lot.  The bell has rung to start the day and parents and students are still walking in from what seems like miles away.  It's district wide.  Implemented like a highway design I suppose, and we all love getting stuck in traffic there as well.  Rush hour has met its match on one side street leading to an elementary school.  These plans were sorely written and laid about.  The quiet classroom withstands the shouts and beeping and utter disappointment of taxpayers.  Not a thing can be done, I assure you, but retaliate in a quiet manner if you can.  As I walk past and through cars and buses with little room I see a multitude of unhappy faces and hear an array of interesting word choices.  Well the only thing to do is not care until drop off again tomorrow.  See you all on the battlefield with water bottles and pack backs as we contort our faces and shake our heads in disbelief. 

Thursday, July 16, 2015

hogwash to rinse off your face ....


not quite awake....this i can't fake...

burning books inside my head....wishing famed writer's hands were dead...

born and bred to work instead.....

pasting words together with keystroke and desire.....

my ideals refuse to meld by touch of fire.....

 

this song is long and old it seems......

it's the cry of unrealized dreams...

 

with crown on head or wearing a weathered mask of skin....the end bears the same famed print of artwork....

may my vision be keen and the ocean seem real....

as i sit and turn the pages of time.....

Thursday, May 14, 2015

i'm not the only dreamer......


The glow of the clock mocks me………

It regards my past insolence…

It reads me thoroughly and sees my eyelids overcoming my ambition…….

And just when I've settle into the person I am supposed to be….

The god damn thing begins to yell at me... again

I fight back delivering a slap across its face and then again it retaliates…..more horrible screams…..

The destroyer of dreams…..

One day I shall open this head and hand over my mangled mind…..whoever unfolds the thoughts that are crushed and dreams that are lost….know this…..they shall become yours…….a curse rather than a gift…….a summons……a dream…..nothing more than a rift….