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Water and Ice

July 29, 2017 — Leave a comment
ice-foto-topic-snowflake2-4
I recall a short story I had written in school back in Scotland looking out of our window at the whirling snowstorm blanketing our streets, roofs and gardens. We were young. My teacher said we could reach for the stars. I questioned that statement.
It fell fast and hard as we threw snowballs at each other in the back green. We stopped and together the three of us made a snowman. Over five feet tall with chestnuts for its eyes and baby carrots for its lips. I was so uncomfortable, perspiring as a chilly wind blew through my thick wooly jumper specifically made to keep you protected from the elements.
When completed, I stepped back to admire my work. The snowman’s expression was not one of joy but fear. I rearranged the lips physically with my fingers turning them into a smile. But as the snow fell faster the expression changed once again and looking into the chestnut eyes of this inanimate object I knew there was nothing else I could do.
There was nothing he could do either. He had no brain, therefore no courage, no heart therefore no pulse, and regardless of my desire to alter this thing I could not change, I watched helplessly as its physical appearance morphed moment by moment into something I had not created. A thin crust of ice had formed around the body. There was nothing left but a large lumpy pile of snow as icy blasts shot through our garden.
And they told me I could be anything I wanted to be. That’s what the teacher said. Anything. Reach for the stars. And I guessed it was all a lie. I knew at the end there was one ultimate truth. Whatever we were here, we would all disappear, regardless of our understanding of love and hate.
I walked towards the snowman and systematically pulled it apart. I swiped, punched and kicked as the wind blew harder and the fierce biting wind attacked every fibre of my flesh. I crushed this thing until it was gone. The water was still water, the ice was still ice but the man was no more. Because, quite simply, he had never been in the first place.
I looked up at the dark grey clouds and felt thousands upon thousands of snowflakes swirling around me, melting on my lips and blinding my eyes. I was awake and I knew I was not dreaming. I knew I was alive and I knew in my heart I would be spending some extra time in space on this little planet.

images

I try to think

Of happiness,

As a concept

Encapsulated in its own image.

And laughingly believe

I’ll be happy,

Just by bringing to mind

The thought,

 

That thinking happy thoughts

Would then follow

Without effort

And all would be well.

 

But happy thoughts only

Materialize ,

Not by concentrated effort,

But by avoiding,

All these wicked

People From hell.

 

 

 

 

Image from Beliefnet.com

Breath In Deeply

November 28, 2015 — 1 Comment

Seated on a wooden chair
Elbows on the table
Hands elevated cradling a mug
Of Columbian dark coffee
With a little more sugar
To lighten the mood

As the flickering images
From my bland H.D. T.V.
Tripped around the walls
And the voice from the newsreader
Painted with blush and mascara

Now running down her cheeks
Flipped her script over
And looked straight at the camera
Pretending she was looking at me
And said a nuclear device had been detonated
In Times Square
The third such incident in America that day
And I watched her scream spitting blood

As the picture cut off

And I laughed so loudly
Because I knew this would happen
I knew this would happen
I knew this was going to happen
I had always known this
Was going to happen

But nobody listened

Because nobody wanted
A world where
The truth conflicted with the shallow
Thoughts and expectations of a generation
Built on the hopes of material desire
Because deities were not marketable commodities

You had your wish granted
And God is gone
From your life

So breath in deeply

And scream

That way
You will not suffer
When your insides

Once home to a soul burns

The hollow screams

Will fade

<a href=”http://” target=”_blank”>Hold on to the Light When the Sun Goes Down