prose Winters BloomWinters BloomI crouch to pick up another piece of firewood, dusting off the light snow it accumulated in it's brief exposure to the winter air. Tucking it under my arm amongst the rest of my quarry I stand and admire the surrounding environment; alpine and picturesque.Taking a deep breath I glance toward the lake with its center of water, rippling in the subtle breeze, and its border of ice. I reflect, as the lake does, on previous dreams that the gentle ripples of my minds embrace have generously transformed into a reality. So it's not perfect. I'm smart enough to know that perfection can never be attained, but this is the closest I will ever get.The gentle assault of a snowflake on my exposed cheek brings me back to reality. The reality of a secluded log cabin shared only with the love of my life and mother nature - both reasonable tennants. I meander around the obtrusive structure of the cabin toward the front, the elevated entrance fenced in foreign wood. I glance in the window
prose The GatheringThe GatheringI've never seen the house this full before. It has been like this since I got up. So many people, and such a morose atmosphere. Strange, but then the house is prone to gatherings.I wonder if they have enough food.I shuffle my way toward the kitchen, evading various people from my life. Past and present. It appears someone has had the foresight to provide food for this occasion. My brother, no doubt, the caterer that he is. I reach for a sausage roll, amongst its peers on their communal soggy plate, but a second glance reveals some Cheese and Pineapple on cocktail sticks, so I divert my cause toward the new victim.A noise distracts me, a dreaded noise from childhood. Those nights spent awake listening to its penetrating shrillness through the paper thin walls. Then, as now, there seemed no reason for this noise, making the wail cut deeper.Stillness has enveloped the hallway between the kitchen and living room reducing the difficulty of my desired, unnoticed transition.
poem Howhowyou left me feelingwarm inside, renewednew purpose you'vebestowed in mebut now the feelings coldit's not you I wantbut another, exasperatedis how I feel nowchased by thoughtsof one from the pastmy decision has beenmade, again, againis my judgement reallyshrouded so?I do not knowall I know is nowthe here, the otherhow can I make youunderstand howI feel?
poem Fakerfakerso now you saythat all alongit was just playand I was wrongand now you think,I'll trust in you?I'm on the brinkyou have no clue'cause all the whileyou were faking ithow can you smile,not give a shit?well now I'm throughbecause for mecaring for youwas no fallacy
poem In The Shadow Of A PlaneIn the shadow of a planeDeath waitsin shadowsYou yearn to be morewhat's wrong with you?the trail accross the skyI wonder where they're goingThey are the birds of mankindflying free... (are they?)A shiver runs throughas it's temporary eclipsefleets over youremoved from the light againLand, water and airWe don't own this placeit owns uswe owe the worldengrossed in contemplationmetal hurtling through the skyin planes we trustwell, some of usthose of uswho can be freelike ants beneathmindlessobliviousare they free?but just like the antsdeath will catch youin the shadows
poem Conditional Friendshipconditional friendshipyeah, sure, we're friends(when I have time)I listen to youno really, we're friends(when it suits me)you can come overdon't be stupid(subject to terms and conditions offer available for a limited time only)I'm your friendwhatever
prose DivulganceThis is written half as self converse and half as real converse, based on a conversation I had.This has 8 main secions, and a finale...My style is all over the place for this piece, but then so was the conversation.Hopefully my divulgance will provide some amusement, and if not... then mental anguish is just as good.Enjoy1.if you can see a problem... then you can work out a solutionchoicesdeal with it, take the pain, and get on with lifeor end it allyour choice2.am I a good person?deffinatlyI don't knowI feel like I'm notrottenwhy?...I think I'm the most interesting person I knowI'm skepticalDon't you think you are?Fuck my fucking pillsI don't know what I think about meI've never really thought about meDoes that mean I think about other people??Well I said I dont really think about me...as far as I'm concerned...I'm not importantI don't exist...there is a world around me...and people, and things...but a void where I should beit's the piece I lost from