A poetic journey through my mind

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Back in black

 

Well, that was scary. Hooray for WP and scaring me half to death, thinking I was going to lose a years worth of new work, plus all the old stuff from 18yrs. old on. *gulps* But it’s all good, the baby/blog has been saved, and we will just have to live without the fancy-schmancy fonts that I’m not sure anyone even noticed, anyway. ;p

I apologize (only once, but I’m allowed one.) for taking so long to get back on track, and let people know what was/is going on. All I can say on my behalf is that, as always, real life got the better of me. One of these days I’m gonna wrestle that bitch to the ground and pin her for good, but for now…not so much. 😉

Real life update I just got over an 8 day bout with Salmonella, 5 of them in the hospital (Thank You again, St. Vincents!) but on the good side, I lost 15 lbs. and had 5 days of the most gorgeous view of “my” St. Johns river, even though I could barely appreciate it at the time. I took some out of the window pictures, hopefully they turned out well enough to throw some up in a bit. I’m still not 100%, but I’m working on 99%, and I think I can be happy with that.

Work update…what is this “work” you speak of? I know not this word. >.< Have had a totally uninspired last few weeks, which is partly my fault, as I firmly believe in the “use it or lose it” philosophy of poetry. The more you write, the more you feel like writing, and the more that little window/camera/file-cabinet/treasure box in your brain opens up, to collect even more. So my next casual goal (because if I make it firm right now I’ll scare it off…:p) is to write -something- every day. If it’s postable, I will do so, if not, I’ll let it sit a few days, go back to it, and see if it’s postable yet. *g* The Magic Refrigerator Door philosophy. Just because you just checked the fridge, 5 minutes ago, and found nothing, doesn’t preclude the possibility of a fridge-fairy, or maybe some flying space monkeys with interdimensional powers, having slipped something in there without your knowledge.

All that aside, I wanted to touch base (Hmm…base touching…I’m touching your base…we must be -really- good friends… ;)) and let y’all know what was going on, and what hopefully -will- be going on. For now I’ma take my crazy-lazy-hazy brain away, and go marinate it in Mt. Dew for a while. Love ya more!


Back in black

 

Well, that was scary. Hooray for WP and scaring me half to death, thinking I was going to lose a years worth of new work, plus all the old stuff from 18yrs. old on. *gulps* But it’s all good, the baby/blog has been saved, and we will just have to live without the fancy-schmancy fonts that I’m not sure anyone even noticed, anyway. ;p

I apologize (only once, but I’m allowed one.) for taking so long to get back on track, and let people know what was/is going on. All I can say on my behalf is that, as always, real life got the better of me. One of these days I’m gonna wrestle that bitch to the ground and pin her for good, but for now…not so much. 😉

Real life update I just got over an 8 day bout with Salmonella, 5 of them in the hospital (Thank You again, St. Vincents!) but on the good side, I lost 15 lbs. and had 5 days of the most gorgeous view of “my” St. Johns river, even though I could barely appreciate it at the time. I took some out of the window pictures, hopefully they turned out well enough to throw some up in a bit. I’m still not 100%, but I’m working on 99%, and I think I can be happy with that.

Work update…what is this “work” you speak of? I know not this word. >.< Have had a totally uninspired last few weeks, which is partly my fault, as I firmly believe in the “use it or lose it” philosophy of poetry. The more you write, the more you feel like writing, and the more that little window/camera/file-cabinet/treasure box in your brain opens up, to collect even more. So my next casual goal (because if I make it firm right now I’ll scare it off…:p) is to write -something- every day. If it’s postable, I will do so, if not, I’ll let it sit a few days, go back to it, and see if it’s postable yet. *g* The Magic Refrigerator Door philosophy. Just because you just checked the fridge, 5 minutes ago, and found nothing, doesn’t preclude the possibility of a fridge-fairy, or maybe some flying space monkeys with interdimensional powers, having slipped something in there without your knowledge.

All that aside, I wanted to touch base (Hmm…base touching…I’m touching your base…we must be -really- good friends… ;)) and let y’all know what was going on, and what hopefully -will- be going on. For now I’ma take my crazy-lazy-hazy brain away, and go marinate it in Mt. Dew for a while. Love ya more!


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please “like” this post if you can see it…i’m trying to find out if i have to fuss at WP to fix the blog.  *grumbles*


new/expired blog… :(

I don’t know what’s going to happen to this blog, but I can’t afford to renew it…hopefully it will be available again at kyotzeta.wordpress.com.  *crosses fingers*  If not, please check Various and Sundry Nonsenses or KC’s Co-op for news.  *hugs*


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How to send your name to Mars!

How to send your name to Mars!

This is my certificate commemorating my submitting my name to the Maven Space Program for a DvD that they are sending to Mars! I love this idea! Anyone may submit a name, and -all- will go. I thought I should put this here, as this goes to my twitter acct. as well as my fb acct., so the most people will see it…I hope. 😉

http://lasp.colorado.edu/maven/goingtomars/send-your-name/


Desert Knight

city lives and canyon eyes, the blue of distant skies,
crystal air and pinon scent compete with smog and lies.
through city traffic, city noise, he walks as if alone,
his mind awash with starfields, and the scent of cooling stone.
the smell of burning refuse fills his clothing and his hair,
the flames that warm the icy night reflected in his stare.
the city teems with tortured souls, a million silent howls,
a beast that grinds the spirit fine within its slavering jowls.
he walks alone within its jaws, and dreams a different night,
cold and clear, the stars so near they fill his mind with light.
and as he walks, the starlight gleams, a shimmering silver glow,
it spreads its wings behind him through the dirty sleeting snow.
and everywhere it fills the air, the scent of pine and sage,
it stirs the stagnant city smog, and cools the sullen rage.
and in his wake, the city’s ache, the all-pervasive pain,
is smothered to a fitful glow, an ember in the rain.


Things You Need When You’re Sad

This is a new favorite page for funny-sad-thoughtful-silly-and-sometimes-mildly-dirty-stuff. This one hit home, so I thought I’d share. 🙂


Writing practice: 5 minute stream of consciousness, subject: School Days

walls of shattered glass scribbled with lipstick hieroglyphs, an ancient language of rage and hate and pain and love and other unsavory things above the surface bearing eons of genetic markers in smears of blood, tears, sweat and skin, a history of life contained within four walls. in the halls, scattered floes of paper, lines dripping down the page, clumped and lumped like biology experiments gone wrong, any moment wait to see them raise their monstrous heads and roar the power words of Trigonometry or Calculus until the walls drip and show the secrets of the Universe…or the library, whichever comes first.  metal coffins line the walls, lids sagging open as if hungry for more young flesh, for the scent and taste of …teen spirit?  empty chamber, with sagging scuffed marked and pocked wooden floors, still echoing with screams and moans and cheers and sighs, with bounds and rebounds, falls and recalls, and buzzers ring.  above, sullen light flickers and crackles, dust-covered tubes hanging, some dangling almost to block the path, almost to mark the path, to show the way to yet another hall, another bleak perspective.  tumbled tables, legs in the air, helpless dinosaurs tossed across the tiled room to land where they will.  phantom scent of grease and mystery, of hunger and appetite denied, leads to the chamber of horrors, each counter scarred and marred by generations of vessels slammed ringingly on their surfaces, and giant utensils whipped and dragged and slicing into vegetable matter and flesh alike, indiscriminately.


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St. Augustine Light House

St. Augustine Light House

I used to live right down the road from here, could walk to the park/boat dock at it’s feet…just thought I’d share some Spring-in-Florida goodness. 😉


Blue and Grey #4 (WIP, prose, crit. welcomed)

(This one is a bit longer, but it’s the end of the chapter and I didn’t see a good spot to cut it, so here it is.  :p  Hope it’s been a good ride so far…it’s been neat for me to see and know other people are actually reading it.  I’m thinking about trying to finish it before November, somewhere around 7,000 words or so…what do y’all think?  I’m halfway there, now, so I know it’s possible…but is that a good length for a short story?)

Sev scowled, and nodded. That’s sorted…go on, take it. She grinned, and began scooping up the pile, already scoping out the main drag for a good spot. Let the newbies take the one under the sunbeam, she’d take the one where the beam’d be once the people started coming…and -away- from the entrance, where the non-serious shoppers wandered in, and blocked off the view of the good ones. Cuddling the pile to her chest, she began shuttling back and forth, her grin widening as each new layer became visible. Putting each find where she felt it got the best show took the best part of an hour, and by the time she was done, the first trickle of customers was heading in. As usual, the day went by quickly…maybe a little too quickly. By the time the torches went on, and the night crowd started filtering through, she was already wondering what to do with herself that night. Tossing a quick if insincere grin up at her replacement as he approached, she sighed, and adjusted the new scarf she’d appropriated for herself as she stood. Ok, ok…you can have it. Anything happening?

He shook his head, already more interested in sorting and sifting. Party up t’the Hotties, but you know how that crowd gets…and I heard something about a new singer over t’the Kitchen Sync. Oh, and Jamie wants t’talk t’ya…said it’s important. Butt-in-a-sling kinda important. He looked sideways at her, quirking his lip at her suddenly nervous expression. Hell, relax…she prob’ly needs someone t’chew on for a while…it’s Jamie, y’know? If she don’t got somebody to bite ever day, she gets cranky. Maybe the Spikester ain’t been licking her boots right, huh? He grinned nastily, and put on a whiny tone of voice. Why doncha ever -listen- t’me, spikie? Left -then- right…left -then- right…are you just stupid? Is -that- your problem? Blue snorted…then outright giggled, swatting him beside the ear. You…are gonna get us -both- in trouble, she ever hears you do that. Ok, I’m off…just…be careful, huh? And don’t let that big piece go to anybody but Old Dave…he’s been looking for one just like it for-ever.

She shook her head, and headed off down the hall, after one last wistful glance at the treasures spread out all around her. Not till the weekend. Sellers-day was coming, just two more days…then she could pick and bargain…for whatever was left. She bit her lip, trying not to anticipate what this little “talk” with Jamie was about…Spike being her best friend wasn’t going to hold her here for -much- longer, especially if Jamie got wind of her…nocturnal activities. Sidling through the torchlit shadows, she wondered again what was with the lo-techs and lighting. Sure, it made it more…romantic, in here, and got people buying more…but they acted like even having lights back in the stores was somehow bad. Just a few little lights, and they’d double their productive time, instead of having to rush everything, then leave it sit all night. She shrugged, and slipped back into the shadows behind the “sales floor” with relief. Less smoky back here…and less temptation.

The store was dark, as usual, the only illumination coming from the tiny candle that sat in the mouth of the stores sign/mascot, giving a soft glow to her somewhat frantic looking features, and the tiny fire in the barrel that sat in the middle of the main room. The off-duty team sat around the barrel as usual, and someone had been in a giving mood, obviously…there was a strong smell of cooking meat, without the charred-hair smell that meant rat-thing, and a jug of chilled water sweated gently in the heat. She inquired as to Jamie’s placement with a raised ‘brow, and was directed to the back of the Lair…behind the double-row of beaded curtain that blocked off all light from the back room.

Boss? She moved to the curtain, parting it just enough to stick her head through…and received the usual grunt in reply. Slipping the rest of her way through the surprisingly heavy beads, she waited a second for her eyes to adjust, then paced forward to kneel down by the pair of figures who curled together in the middle of the cushions covering the floor. As her knees hit the cushion, two pairs of eyes opened, and one mouth grinned…but which was which was hard to tell. The gravelly voice that spoke was -definitely- Jamie, though…and -not- in a good mood, so most likely -not- the grin. What’re you doing, Blue? She blinked, confused, and shrugged. Talking to you? She tried. The voice snorted, and a rustle from the darkness revealed itself as Spike sitting up and moving out of range. Lemme clarify…what’re you doing that I don’t know about? That takes you out all damn night? That brings you back beat to hell and gone, and dirtier than a Raver at a Pow-wow? What…are you…doing?

Blue…gulped. I uh…I got stuff, boss. That’s all. You said, long as I’m working, you’re good. You said, when Spike and me got here. She blinked, as a light flared, revealing Jamie’s face all too close to her own, looking rather demonic in the flickering flame of the tiny tea-light candle. I said…yeah, I did. But that’s before I saw. You’re working, yeah. But one-a these days, you won’t be. You’ll be down t’fill, only -in- it, steada on it. Now me, longs it don’t affect the Claires, I don’t give a smack…but Spike, he likes ya, and I’m not liking it when he’s too worried about ya to do his…job, y’hear what I’m saying? She glanced over her shoulder at him, the look on her face softening into as normally…human…as Blue had ever seen. Spike, for his part, kept his eyes down, hiding his face behind his curtains of soft blond hair…but Blue could tell he was upset by the set of his shoulders. So…either y’tell me what’s happening…or I got no choice. I gotta letcha go.


Daddys Little Girl (fan-fic “Firestarter” by Stephen King)

Just a little fan-girling…I -love- Stephen Kings “Firestarter”, I have ever since I first read it, at twelve yrs. old.  I didn’t watch the movie till years later, didn’t want to spoil the book…but I was surprised to find that I liked both.  As long as I thought of them as separate but related stories, they were both awesome.  I love Drew Barrymore, and she was so cute in her angst-filled rage… ;p

Anyway, here is my little tribute, a short-story-ish non-canon look into the world of the Firestarter, part one.  Enjoy.  🙂

 

The old cars long familiar motion failed to soothe, and Charlie shifted, restlessly, head pounding with the rhythm of the wheels. “You ok, baby?” Her fathers voice was intentionally low, and his eyes sympathetic as he met her pained gaze. Forcing a shaky smile for his sake, she nodded…and winced. “It’s ok, daddy. Just a little headache. Just need to sleep…”
His nod said that he knew the truth, but like her, he would let it be for now. “You do that, baby. Get some sleep. We’ll be stopping for gas pretty soon…maybe even get a motel room. You’d like that, hmm?” She smiled again, and kept her exhausted sigh as internal as she could. “Mm-hmm. That’d be nice. Love you, daddy.” “I know you do, baby. Love you more…” A tired grin was his reward, before she turned her face to the darkness outside the window and deliberately closed her eyes.
He sighed, carefully keeping both hands on the wheel although he longed to reach out and touch her soft hair…to reassure himself that she was still real, still there, still with him. Not like…the other. He shook his head, quickly, banishing the thought before it could take hold. All his concentration must be on the road, on keeping them safe, keeping moving. But god, he was tired.

The lights were sharp and white when Charlie woke from her half-doze, glaring through the windshield, reflecting the exhausted face of her father pitilessly in the glass. She winced again, and deliberately pasted on a bright smile before shifting in her seat as if just waking. He glanced over at her as he pulled into a spot under the canopy. “Just getting gas, like I said. Do you want anything? A soda, some chips? We can get some real food once we get to the motel, ok?” She just nodded, then shook her head, gently. “I’m ok. I…I’m not hungry.” He searched her eyes, then nodded as he got out of the car. “Just let me know, ok?”
She was pretty sure she’d never be hungry again, not with the memory of her last meal still so fresh in her head. The phantom taste of her mothers grilled cheese sandwich stuck like glue to her mind, mingling with the scent of tomato soup…and the other. Angrily, she brought her hand to her cheek, brushing away the memory and the tears that began to leak from her eyes. No. Not thinking of that. They were both scrupulously avoiding any hint of what they’d left behind, and as far as she was concerned she’d like it to stay that way forever. “Ok, daddy. I promise.”
Curling into herself, she watched him move around the car, pumping gas, moving to go into the brightly lit store that stood like an island port in the darkness, the big rigs like ships around it. This image amused her, and she began to embellish the picture, adding the sounds of creaking sails and excited voices, her active mind keeping itself busy as it always had, her favorite toy.

In the store, he gathered a few bottles of soda, a box of crackers, and a brightly furred little bear, and moved quickly to the cashier. Placing his items on the counter, he kept a bright but somewhat harassed look on his face. “Hi. I’m sorry to ask, but is there any chance you can cash a hundred? I’m traveling with my little girl, and I forgot to get change…” She sighed, smiling down at the little bear, then up at him. “I’m not supposed to…but all right. For the little one.”
His smile warmed, and he reached in his pocket for a worn one dollar bill. Holding the bill folded close in his hand so that their hands touched as he passed it over, he summoned the picture of a one hundred dollar bill into his mind. Worn, but not too much, a crease across Franklins face, a reassuringly recognizable bill. Holding the picture, he concentrated with all his strength as she carefully counted out his change, bagged his items, and handed them to him. He almost staggered as he pulled away, the sudden exhaustion that always accompanied use of his gift almost overwhelming him…but the thought of Charlie waiting out in the car gave him a burst of manic strength as he hurried back out the doors into the night.


Requiem for a State

Deep within the ferny swamp,

a mossy hillside beckons me,

beneath the fireflies that romp

and play about a great Oak tree.

Beneath the Oak, upon a stone,

a figure sits, form cloaked and still,

awaiting my approach, alone,

a statue, grey, upon the hill.

Gnarled knuckles grace the hands

that rise to lift the heavy cloak,

revealed, the spirit of the sands,

the Lady of the great Live Oak.

Tangled hair of spanish moss,

and eyes a deep palmetto green,

the scars of years lie mapped across

the softest skin I’ve ever seen.

She meets my gaze with patient eyes,

her smile as soft as summers hum,

her voice, so deep and old and wise,

whispers “Child, I’m glad you’ve come.”

 


Garden

frightened flower in the dark,

silent, cold, and trembling,

feeling every bite and bark,

each angry word, dissembling.

the glare of disapproval, shame,

searing unprotected skin,

a creature formed of guilt and pain,

that burns and burrows deep within.

fragile flower, tender child,

know the world is bright, and wide,

come out, come out, to gardens, wild,

and taste the sunlight deep inside!


Mother

Swelling, growing, life within,

Kicking thrusting hidden limb,

Tracings under rounded middle,

Madonna, smiling, just a little.

 

In potentia, the child,

Soft and sweet or bright and wild,

Rough and tumble, party dress,

Peaceful time to sit and guess.

 

Knowledge gained, the plans begin,

Dream the life so deep within,

Dream the hearts that pulse as one,

And yearn toward tomorrows sun.


Wow…

Apparently I haz an anniversary.  Sometime in the last week or so was Kyotzeta’s first b-day with WP.  There should’ve been clowns.


Blue & Grey 3…and a question. (prose, wip, ccw)

Up till now I’ve been throwing these out there in approx. 500 word chunks.  Would anyone like to read more at one time?  I have a good deal more written, I just wasn’t sure how much people wanted to read.  🙂

Ok, now back to our regularly scheduled mayhem…

The Mall was bustling, now that noon was almost here…runners tramped back and forth between stores, their overflowing backpacks and hip-nets glinting with hidden possibilities. Sifters perched before their mountains of plunder, quick hands flying as they sorted out the trash from the treasure…handing the trash to the crafters, for a final sorting and possible rebuilding, and the treasure to the sales crew, setting up their spaces down the center court. Smells and sounds drifted like smoke above the tiled floor, and Blue hurried down toward her spot trying not to pay too much attention to either.

Passing banks of collected aroma, she wove her way between them with only a quick glance to scout out possibilities…the Gap crew seemed to’ve picked up some coffee somewhere, or at least something with a passable imitation of its smell…the Hotties had their usual day olds, and what looked like a pile of excrement but was most likely whatever topping they’d concocted today. Blue’s sensitive nose twitched, and caught the scents of cinnamon, brown sugar, and some other spice, as she hurried past.

Hey, Blue…the voice was soft and hoarse at the same time, and the small sifter that stepped out of the shadow of a column and into her path was a study in contradictions as well. His face was slow and expressionless, but his hands and eyes twitched rapidly, almost in unison, enough to make the light of the tiny hand-rolled he sucked on look like a laser-toy. Hey…just wanted t’say…better not let Big Rob catch y’all letting that cat in here, y’know? I mean, far as I’m concerned, cats gotta have shelter just like the rest of us…but you know how he is.

She carefully controlled her voice as she tilted her head at him, a fake confused expression on her face. Cat? Billy-G, what -are- you talking about? We ain’t got no cat. You think Jamie and Spike’d let a dirty ol’animal get inta their precious stuff? I -don’t- think. She chuckled, dismissingly…

Uh-huh. Whatever…just wanted t’say. He turned away, the tiny point of light inscribing whorls and spins of light in the shadowy areas between the columns. Just sayin…geez. His voice trailed off as he slipped back to his pile…and Blue carefully didn’t let the shaking start until she was safely out of his sight and headed down toward her own pile.

Sev looked up with a hassled look on his face as she approached, nodding to the little runner at his side. Ok, ok, I got it…tell Spike we’re gonna be on time, no matter what -some- people think… He bit his lip in a habitual gesture as the kid took off past Blue, and hollered after him. And -grab- something on the way back…you think we live on charity? Then he turned his scowling eyes on Blue, and shook his head. And you…you ready to do some sales this time, or you gonna pass out like last time? I haveta take over for you -one- more time…

Blue shook her head, confidently. I’m on it, Sev…really. What’ve we got today? Anything good? She moved forward toward the right hand pile, going gracefully to her knees to hover her hand over the contents…not -quite- daring to touch until the sifter’d given permission. But even from back here she could see that her group had done their usual good job…the glint of shiny plastics and sturdy metals could be seen through the grime, and even the bundled cloth looked like it held surprises of the positive kind.


Topside Down (Kava #3, prose)

As I opened my mouth to respond the usual way, with a smart-mouthed comment, I noticed something strange out of the corner of my eye.

The room, at least what I could see from my prone position, looked like a movie set for the interior of the Titanic. Heavy on the gilt and chandeliers, and pictures of people on the wall that all looked as though they’d swallowed a live fish and it wasn’t agreeing with them. All that wasn’t the strange part, though. The fact that the wall seemed to be melting…was.

I glanced at the wall and back at the Woman, just as she clued in, and a string of that strange trickle-purr language spewed from her mouth…but this time it was more like ice cold white-water over jagged rocks as crows cawed above. She jumped to her feet, holding back another spate of coughing by sheer force of will, and began unbuckling, unlacing, and unlocking the restraints that held me to the table.

Meanwhile, I was watching with no little apprehension as more and more of the “scenery” softened, liquified, and slowly began to drift down the wall. No idea what was happening, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. As soon as I was able to sit up I quickly finished off the rest of the restraints, swinging my feet off the table…which promptly disappeared, along with all the other furniture in the room.

The Woman in Red was finally unable to hold back another racking cough, although this one was interspersed with what I had to assume was her version of some very unhappy language. I moved to her, just as the floor seemed to tilt under our feet, leaving us at about a five degree slant upwards, toward the double doors. Deciding to act on my lifelong philosophy that cowardice is the better part of saving your life, I attempted to scoop up the Woman to carry her to the door.

I say attempted, as she didn’t move an inch, and I felt as if I had attempted to pick up a smallish pick-up truck. Through the cough, she shook her head, and straightened, holding her hand out to me. “I appreciate the attempt, Mr. “Blake”…but the support of your strong shoulder is all I need at this moment.” I moved so that she could rest her arm across my shoulders…felt like a couple bags of cement…and together we headed uphill toward the door. Where the walls had reached a certain point in their slow slide I saw behind some what appeared to be dirt, complete with very confused worms and plant roots, and behind the others, closer to the door, very old brick work…strange thing is it was placed…sideways?

All this was glimpsed as I struggled to reach the door, with a very beautiful and -very- weighty Woman as a complication. But finally we made it, and stood looking out into the hallway for a good five seconds before I could close my mouth. The hallway…although it’d be more proper to call it a tunnel, as it was round on all “sides” but the floor…was packed completely full with the strangest crowd I’d seen in my life…and believe me, that’s saying something.

Some walked, some scampered, some flew…a few even seemed to swim through the air…and all the traffic went one way. Up. The floor had tilted yet more, until everyone was climbing at about a 25 degree angle…which was fine for the flyers and swimmers, but not so much for the others. Then I saw one of the flyers pick up one of the smaller…things…and carry it to the end of the hall, where it promply dissappeared and the flyer came back for another. A pair of swimmers scooped another straggler, a lumbering fellow who looked to’ve been built of driftwood, up into a modified chair-carry and swam “upstream”…although slowed somewhat by their burden.

Around this point I realized that in the seconds that I’d been staring, the “floor” had tilted yet again, to an even steeper angle, and hurriedly waded out into the flow with the Lady. Startled by my own thought, I rewound and re-examined it, then turned to look at the object in question. Yeah, what my brain had instinctively recognized was a fact. This was not a Woman, or even the Woman…this was The Lady. Not that her appearance had changed any, or any other part of her…but every fibre of my body knew that this wasn’t someone to be fantasized about, or even casually admired…she was suddenly projecting an aura of majesty that I can’t say I’d ever felt before…or since, to be honest.

I carried/supported her out onto the sloped floor…and a movement out of the corner of my eye signaled the full collapse of the room we’d just left, leaving the door behind us looking down into a seemingly endless fall of black, rimmed with bricks and dirt until the light cut off the view. Gulping, I moved a bit further up the slope, as the crowd around us grew thinner and thinner, slowing to a trickle of the slower swimmers and flyers…and us. At this point the floor was tilting a few degrees every thirty seconds or so, leaving me struggling to carry Her cough-racked form a few feet at a time, pushed from behind by a small crowd of the…things who’d stayed behind for just this reason.

Suddenly, the weight on my shoulders disappeared, and I turned, startled, to see the Lady turn toward the tunnel wall and punch her right hand straight through, panting with effort. Turning back towards us…myself and the few flyers/swimmers left…she spoke, softly, in her strangely intriguing language. There was a distressed sounding reply from the group behind me, and her next statement was sharp, again very much a command.

With another distressed babble, and a few of them taking turns to duck out from basically holding me upright to touch her face, or clothes, or just press some unnameable part of themselves against her, we began to move upward again. I didn’t resist, as it was obviously her wish, so her voice from behind caused me to jerk in surprise and look back. “Thank you…Jake. I appreciate what you tried to do more than I can say. We -will- see each other again…I promise. After all, we still have to have that little chat!”
She laughed, lightly, once more the Woman in Red…until the floor began to tilt once again, and she called out urgently to the little ones who began to push harder. As I watched, she turned and punched her other fist into the brick wall, until she appeared to be embracing it…and then she was lost from sight as without her weight the flyers almost threw me up the tunnel.


Updated Home Page :)

http://kyotzeta.com/

Just in case people come in through the back door, post by post…I dunno how it all works, but I wanted to let people know I’d changed it to reflect the “new” blog idea of poetry -and- prose.  🙂

 

KC


Ann, our key (poem)

I’m going cynically insane,
the more I try to use my brain,
the more I see the lies and pain,
my mind runs’round like a wagon train!

Cognitive diffidence, I really don’t care,
if my mind is here or there,
or hiding from the truths dark glare,
in a special sort of anywhere.

Lazy fair, the rides are free,
as long as you don’t mind the fee,
most will pay it happily,
to buy their couch and their t.v.

Free dumb, as the people glare,
at all the folks who take the dare,
to learn to live, and to take care,
not live in castles in the air.

Ann, our key, I turn the lock,
and stop the ever ticking clock,
that pushes businessman and jock,
and dare the laws of man to mock!

This one is dedicated to TRG, who has done more for my writing bug than I have, simply by being, as his name suggests, a helpful, amusing, appreciative and above all supporting…gentleman.  ;p  Thanks, Boss!


Question

This question is for my primarily poem followers.  I’ve been on a prose kick lately, with a few poems here and there…is that all right with you, or would you rather I move the prose to its own blog, and reserve this one for the poems?  If it helps, I’ve been considering that…have a blog already that’s perfect for it…Various and Sundry Nonsenses …but I’m being lazy and procrastinating.  Plus I don’t want my new buds in the prose section to have to change bookmarks and whatnot, or add yet another blog to the pile I’m sure they all follow.  >.<

So let me know, all right?  *hugs*


Horror in 33 words or less. (TW: tear-jerker)

Fun little challenge by Eric Alagan…thought I’d give it a try, since I’ve been struggling with the 100 word stuff.  Let me know what you think, then hop over to his page and check out the rest, in his comment section, if you feel like it!

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Tiny red sneaker dangling nervelessly from one shaking hand, she stood frozen in shock, half in and half out of the patio door, her other hand fumbling her cellphone from her pocket. “911?”

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For Rowan, on her Fourth birthday

“…and though she be but little, she is fierce.”  William Shakespeare, “Midsummer Nights Dream”

little wonder, precious child,

tiny princess, sweet and wild,

silly angel, rainbow pearl,

oldest sister, great big girl,

all these are the things you are,

but not all that you will, by far,

for as you grow and reach so high,

one day you will reach the sky,

and spread your branches over all,

my Rowan tree, so strong and tall.

I love you, baby-girl…Image

 


Brother Mine (#2 in the River series)

brother mine, still standing tall,
though your back’s against the wall,
for the sake of what I’ve been
you will not let the evil win.

when we were young, and only two,
for questions I would look to you,
and when I passed you, won the race,
nothing but gladness filled your face.

and when to school I finally went,
you couldn’t know how much it meant,
to have you there, a paper guard,
even when the times got…hard.

even when the needles flew,
the wires and the hands of blue.
when I called, you came to me,
and at high cost you set me free.

you gave to me what could have been,
the world you worked so hard to win,
for sake of me, you crossed the line…
and sacrificed your life for mine.


Image

Whut?? I don’t…even…

Whut??  I don't...even...

So these are the recommended tags for my last post…ummm… WP is on some serious drugs, man. Only explanation. Well, not only, but the other is too conspiracy theory to even say. >.>